“Always the bride’s maid, never the president.” -Hillary on election night
Bust out your reading glasses, touch up your Lasik surgeries, and start polishing those glass eyes. The political “Casey at the Bat” herself, Hillary “Two Strikes and I’m Out” Clinton, has come out with a book detailing her latest strikeout, and the subsequent lack of joy in not just Mudville, but the entire planet that it caused.
I mention “latest” strikeout because the title that Bill’s bitchier half came up with, “What Happened”, could just as easily have been used for her disastrous 2008 campaign, when the country went black and then went insane. It could have even been about the intimate details of exactly how Bill broke the Monica news to her, right after he convinced her to get inside that shark cage. Or about the time she burnt the soufflé. Either way, the title is lazy and ambiguous at best, a giant sack of wet cow shit at worst.
Hillary’s tome also continues the tiresome trend of rejects from the 2016 election using their last fleeting glimpses of celebrity to cash in on some crappy scribblings. First, as the Wu would put it, “Big head nigga” and world-class nobody John Kasich somehow squeezed his melon just barely into frame for the cover of a book about his own campaign, “The Invisible Ran”, before several other politicians followed suit. There was even a book written about Hillary’s campaign a few months ago by two people who weren’t even on it, called “The Hearsay Chronicles.” But I would have thought Hillary had enough money squirreled away from all those Saudi speeches to have to stoop so low.
To tantalize insomniac sufferers into purchase, the juicy excerpt the news keeps reading so far is frightened little Hilly’s description of her debate with the Big Bad Wolf of Wall St. just days after Pussy-gate, where she was uncomfortable with his looming presence and irksome “breathing down my neck,” which Bill can attest is the first time she’s felt somebody’s hot breath on her neck in years
Hillary also claims that despite such menacing tactics, what really threw her off was an incident that both the audience and cameras missed however, when at one point Trump went for his trademark maneuver and deftly slid his tiny hand under the podium to grab a meaty handful of her pussy, creating the effect of a life-sized ventriloquist dummy. A startled Clinton briefly changed expression in mid-sentence, but plowed ahead with her emotionless, pre-rehearsed nonsense anyway. Experts say they haven’t seen such podium imperviousness to genital hi-jinks since the first “Police Academy” movie.
One special treat for this “Diary of Anne Skank” is that Clinton Hillself will be gracing her tens of fans’ ears with her sultry, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice by reading the audio version of the book. Hopefully with more passion than she reads a teleprompter. But the good news is, now the public can experience the same joy as her poor (both literally and figuratively) Secret Service agents whenever we want to hear a boring old woman prattle on about what second place feels like.
I mean really, who the fuck is going to buy the ultimate loser’s handbook? I doubt there’ll be a lot of copies bulging from people’s stockings come Christmas morning. I’d rather a lump of coal than that hunk of shit. Think about it, why would people read her blitherings now when during the election cycle they had the chance to see her speak live and would rather opt for dental surgery? Meanwhile both of her opponents, Bernie and Fuckface, were filling stadiums while Hillary had tumblwweeds leaving her speeches early. Her campaign rally tour was called, “I Am Woman, Hear Me Bore.”
Other than by Jets fans and possibly the Brooklyn Brawler, Hillary’s “Loser’s Guide to the Galaxy” will remain as unread as bedtime stories from a deadbeat dad. I’d rather read “The History of Grass Growing.” The non-marijuana version. And it’s not like it matters if she writes something scathing about Trump—he can’t read anyway. I heard his reading tutor is Floyd Mayweather. Plus it’s been damn near a year since Black Tuesday. The rest of the country is sick of hearing it get dissected post mortem al-goddamn-ready. We know what happened sweetie, you blew it.
Interestingly, “I Blew It” was Hillary’s first choice as a title, until her publisher informed her that was already the name of Monica Lewinsky’s autobiography.