To: Camille Paglia
From: Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton
Re: Our college Days
CC: Bill Clintion, Ellen Degeneres, Oprah, NOW, Emily's List
Dear Cami,
I have been reading your latest screed and I must say I am very disappointed. I see where you go after Bill again about that stupid tramp Monica. Get over it already. It is no big feminist issue. I don't care if he used young girls to service him so I can concentrate on implanting my plans for world domination. Don't you remember all those times in college when we were in the steam room at Lucille Roberts talking about how we were going to topple the patriarchy and take over the world? I mean then you could put your finger on it. I mean you always put your finger on it.
Don't you remember the good times?
By the way I still have those pants. Huma wears them now. She loves to get into my pants.
Please be a dear and donate some of your vast riches to the Clinton foundation or at least use my Amazon portal to show your appreciation for my activities as a model for women. I think I deserve much more than obscure college professors who are drunk and disorderly even if they do write about you on their failing blogs.
Toodles,
Hillary.
_________________
*A guest post from Trooper York
12 comments:
*This post is part of a ongoing series published at Trooper York.
"I ain't got no mail."
"And don't get that cigar anywhere near my pants." -- Hillary!
A striped top and she's a jailbird.
OT: hehehe
I just attempted to call 1-800-SA-Truck
(Salvation Army) to schedule a truck to pick up some items for donation--- and...
I accidentally dialed it incorrectly and got 1-800 free sex!
LOL!
"If you are a male and you want... "
Click!
Luckily I hung up before they wanted my credit card.
Hey - Bill can relate so it all fits.
paraphrasing Paglia...
'can you believe we are going to put these people back in the White House?'
Paglia is a breath of fresh air..well maybe a tornado of fresh air. And that photo is priceless.
AllenS, she has not seen Bill's cigar in a long time…
" One of my favorite movie clichés is the bit where the old pros — and maybe one eager rookie — get together for one last job. . . .
[T]he ChappaDataQuitIt or E-PotDome story (okay, we’re still looking for a better nickname) reminds me of those kinds of movies. The silent whistle has been blown. The sleepers activated. The old timers have been notified. I like to imagine Lanny Davis right in the middle of a meeting with an African dictator when, suddenly, his assistant hands him a note. All it reads is “Cankles Is Down.” Lanny abruptly terminates the meeting, pushes back a briefcase full of krugerrands, and races to some hellish Third World airport, telling his aide, “Let the Redskins know they’re on their own. The Clintons need me.”
Flash to a canoe on the banks of the bayou. James Carville has just caught a catfish with his bare hands and proceeds to tear apart the wriggling fish, Gollum-like. He eats the entrails first. Then, suddenly, a flare goes off above the tree line. That’s the signal. He throws the bulk of the carcass into the river, where gators churn the water to grab it now that the apex predator has departed. He makes his way to the shoulder of a dirt road where a limousine is waiting to get him to an MSNBC studio as fast as possible. His suit and tie, neatly pressed, are waiting for him along with as many hot towels as he may need to remove the fish viscera.
David Brock slinks out of his leather onesie and races to his command center, bustling with Dorito-dust frosted 20-somethings at computer terminals. “This is a level-one-alpha scenario. Cancel all leave. Turn off all X-boxes . . .”
Sidney Blumenthal, consciously dressed like that French guy in The Matrix, leaves his table-for-one, and heads home to sacrifice some creatures to Baal in preparation. They’re all coming home."
Jonah G
heh.
I'll bet Americans would reelect Bill in a heartbeat, baggage and all. Hillary's fatal flaw? She can't fake concern. She ain't Bill.
"I just attempted to call 1-800-SA-Truck"
RRRRRRiiiiiight.
We're all friends here. No need to hide your obsessions.
What did they say when you told them to come by and load up your junk? That's not exactly subtle.
Bags - hehehehe
If you attempt to dial 1-800-SAtruck and you push 1 instead of 2 with the A and the C (because you're mildly dyslexic) (and the ABC is closer to the 2 but it's right next to the 1 -sssso tempting!) You might get 1-800-free-sex.
I'm not exactly sure what I did wrong but it sure was funny.
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