Bram Stoker’s Hillary: Notes from a Hillary hater’s handbook

Published 16 years ago -  - 16y ago 61

The true Clinton legacy is emerging. Bubba has decided to complete his plan for turning America into a nation of perverts, recipients and thralls by turning the keys to liberalism over to Hillary. They share the obsession that the most expeditious place to subvert the nation is from the highest seat of power. Both Hillary and Bill’s DNA carry the manic genes for ambition and self-accommodation. Hillary slathers with lust for power. At this point Bill just slathers. Both have spent their lives in a struggle against the realization of their profound nonentity. To paraphrase Lord Acton, Bubba corrupts, Hillary corrupts absolutely. The present global crises are Nature’s Way of telling us that there are just so many Clintons one civilization can endure. The emergence of two Clintons in a single generation demonstrates that karma can be vindictive.

It was hoped by optimists that Bill and Hillary would one day shoot each other down in a fusillade of truth. The media thwarted that. The press is poised and eager to replace the Ozark twang of Bubba with the contralto ravings of Hillary.


The lady is ground zero for all ass-kissing, sycophantic journalists, although the Hillary “spin” machine has slowed down like a Dell printer with a hernia. There is a growing resistance to the notion of a Hillary Presidency. Those few journalists who have fallen under her spell call their beat the Witch Watch. She is not only the darling of the press but the teat on which the mad dogs of liberalism suckle. The media sees an election of Hillary as yet another way of absolving Bill for the multiplicity of his crimes.


Hillary is Vampira in a pants suit. Rather than a fashion statement the pants are a camouflage. It is estimated it would take twenty thousand laps around the roller derby track to produce bowling pin shaped calves like hers. She has been described as a study in frigid poise. Ten minutes after she enters a room you can hang meat in it. She might more aptly be named Chillary. She could not only drink your blood but freeze it and lick it like a Popsicle.


Unlike vampires Hillary cannot be killed by driving a stake through her heart. We would have to summon Dr. Van Helsing to metaphorically drive a ballot box through her heart. Even if her bite doesn’t kill you it will make you wish you were dead. Hillary’s bite renders victims dependant. Draining their blood does little to change her victims. Her prey is already in a state somewhere between being corpses and underachievers. They lapse into a trance and remain that way while they wait for their welfare checks to arrive from Transylvania. They come out at night to find simpleminded people whom they can bite on the neck and turn them into forever welfare recipients.


Hillary Clinton aspires to be America’s First Gorgon-in-Chief. She sees the White House as her permanent place in the pantheon of bitch goddesses. The advent of Clintonism might have been for Nostradamus less a prediction than a foreboding of evil. Under a Hillary Presidency, rather than spending a night in the Lincoln Bedroom, invited guests would prefer to flop at the Bates Motel. Hillary’s first move as President would be to convert the Secret Service men to porters – except those that are black. During Bill’s Administration, Hillary was unfavorably compared with Leona Helmsley, who was not exactly a social worker. The Secret Service’s principal function in a Hillary Administration would be to keep people from stepping on her tail – although it is believed she can always grow a new one.


Hillary’s current lunacy is to restore the right to incarcerated felons to vote. Closing the gap between the prisons and the polls is her idea of connecting the dots. Presumably that means, inChicago, dead felons get to vote twice. Arrangements are being made to bus them back to the cemetery where they will be lowered into the ground in the booths they voted in. Their burglar tools will give them access to the American dream.


Hillary, who has all the business acumen of a paperweight, still considers her Presidency inevitable. Already she has aides out window shopping at San Quentin for incarcerated embezzlers with experience in bankrupting large institutions. Her cabinet meetings will be distinguished by the sound of the rattling of leg irons.


To paraphrase Harry Truman, Hillary knows as much about government as a pig knows about Sunday. One recalls Hillary’s last attempt at social engineering was her infamous Health Care Plan. It failed because of her delusion that hypocrisy in large doses cures cancer. Putting Hillary in charge of health care is like putting a safety cap on a bottle of strychnine. Her next plan is to meet the epidemic of obesity by the distribution in the inner city of low calorie cocaine.




Since leaving the White House, Hillary has taken on an aura of faded stardom. She is in the process of trying to grow young gracefully. A habitual liar, to ascertain Hillary’s real age she’d have to submit to a Carbon 14 test. Hillary Clinton’s best chance to look youthful is by standing next to an Egyptian pyramid. She is the Norma Desmond of the Senate. One wonders how she can wring so much high drama out of counterfeit emotion. Her approach to the Senate Chamber is announced by the scent of sulfuric acid which she dabs behind each ear. As she enters, male members can feel their testosterone curdling. Hillary was induced to run for the Senate when she realized it is a shorter commute to the Capitol than it is to the Kremlin. It’s rumored that her passport still carries a KGB stamp.


Hillary’s membership in the Senate is as welcome as a crack in a glass eyeball. Two minutes after Hillary entered the Senate chamber, the distaff members succumbed to a wall-to-wall yeast infection. With Hillary’s election, the bitch membership of the Senate surpassed the bitch population of Hollywood. Hillary has a large constituency of feminists who are like wildebeests that have learned to harass the lions.


The Clinton dacha in Chappaqua is characterized by its obscene opulence.

The light-fingered Hillary furnished it with items she looted from the White House. It has been furnished in a motif called “Early Evidence”. If she had not removed the tags on the furniture, their home would look like a police property room. Bill Clinton may not have to wait to be awarded the Nobel Prize. Hillary will steal one for him.


People who have been entertained at their Chappaqua abode describe Hillary’s cooking as culinary terrorism. Her spécialité de la maison is dining on the carcass of a political opponent. Invariably, Bill and Hillary invite their guests to raise their champagne glasses to the poverty-stricken to whom they owe so much. As it served theClintons’ purposes, not only did they encourage poverty but found ways to discourage prosperity. (To consolidate Hillary’s influence among minorities she has switched her perfume from Evening in Paris to Midnight in Detroit.) Under their aegis, poverty was not cured. The Clintons just made it chic. In the meanwhile, they reign in gaudy splendor like Nicholas and Alexandra expecting to collect reparations from the defunct Soviet Union.


Hillary’s support of the educational monopoly by the NEA can only be described as pro-ignorance. There is talk she will next propose a bill guaranteeing children the right to wet their beds. (The second year, it becomes mandatory.) How likely is it that anything that is good for children could be hatched by Hillary Clinton whose mind resembles a Dickensian orphanage?


Her hostility toward religion suggests a more appropriate name for her than Hillary would be Blasphemy. As The Deity remarked to Saint Peter, “I step away from My Throne of Judgment for a few minutes and look who thinks she should be President”. Hillary has her own version of religion. She doesn’t pray to God – she just nags Him. If God meant women to have testicles He still would not have given them to Hillary Clinton.




As in the Dracula ménage, Bill and Hillary Clinton seemed to love each other so much they could hardly keep from telling each other about it. Soon, Bill realized he had married the poster girl for domestic strife, and that his major mistake was saying “I do” without first planning an exit strategy. (Bill still harbors the notion that fidelity in marriage is optional, but they are held together by a need to infect each other with malfeasance – although their divorce would be ”a dissolution made in Heaven”.) Hillary finds Bill’s most egregious shortcoming is that he is not Vladimir Lenin. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. Hillary hopes to do the same for Lenin. Should Hillary ever have access to Air Force One, Bill would have to get out and push.


Bill is still in a struggle against the confinements of domesticity. It is his well-known mission to forget his way home. To placate her, Bill recently gifted Hillary with a three karat diamond ring.  She is weighing whether in return to give him a gift certificate to get neutered. Hillary cannot only detect the sound of Bubba’s zipper in motion but she can tell from a mile away whether it is traveling up or down. In order to pursue his trysting, Bubba has had his tailor replace all his zippers with Velcro. In due course, Hillary may resort to fastening his trousers up by using a staple gun.


One imagines the Clintons mate as tentatively as scorpions. Hillary, like the female mantis, after copulating, devours the head of her mate. It is not known whether this is in gratitude for tossing her a hump, or merely the way in which mantises cure each other’s migraines.


The custodial crew who worked in the Clinton White House find the prospect of another go ‘round with the Clintons unwholesome. They remember Bill as being indistinguishable from his excretions. For them a Hillary victory at the polls will mean the reptiles have come home to roost.


Bill Clinton has built a library in tribute to himself. Hillary will build a cathedral, which people of real faith will label Our Lady of Spite. Meticulously coiffed and manicured, she has the demeanor of a well-kept grave. It you think previous presidencies were imperial, wait until Hillary is taken to the powder room by a motorcade. When she enters any room marked “Ladies”, she presumes.


Bill Clinton’s major accomplishments in office were tilting the truth, jimmying open the Treasury, emasculating the military, and transferring purchasing power to the ignorant. Hillary will finish the job. She would encourage the pink peril – and accelerate the stampede of homosexual hordes that currently contaminate the Silver Screen.


Like the Tower of London, the White House should have a Traitor’s Gate reserved especially for the Clintons. Bill and Hillary have made treason epidemic. (Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were more discreet.) It is to be hoped for posterity that treason cannot be passed genetically.




Hillary’s word of honor is as reliable as the guy who talked Geronimo into signing on the dotted line. At her inauguration, a hook and ladder company would have to be standing by – in case the Bible she swears on bursts into flames. There is no Gospel according to Saint Hillary.


Ms. Clinton was born to be a female Machiavelli, conspiring, scheming and machinating. Bubba was born to be an anvil but never lived up to that early promise. They are known in some circles as the Borgias of Little Rock. The Clintons moved to Washington after there was nothing in Arkansas left to corrupt. Hillary wants to be President because she is convinced the White House is badly in need of another coat of slime.


Hillary might well be named Chillery. After she walks through a room you can hang meat in it. It’s speculated that her DNA has the same properties as smog. The narrowing of her eyes can cause rust to form and her smile can tear holes in the ozone layer. Her sidelong glance can shatter porcelain fixtures into shrapnel. Grass dies as she passes by and her scowl can strip the treads off an Abrams tank. Hillary is a huntress who can envenom a spear with her saliva, and poison a wishing well by drooling into it. As a vampire she is the darling of the Death Culture. When Hillary strolled through the White House Garden the roses went into menopause. (A single exhalation from her could turn a botanical garden into a tundra.) Quentin Tarantino, who deals in cinematic she-devils, would find her villainies over the top. There is talk of establishing a Hillary Clinton Chair at The Wellesley School of Menace.


There is nothing benign in this lady. A rabid feminist, she treats all men like redneck state troopers who have just pulled her over. Listening to her speak makes passing a kidney stone feel like a summer in the country. When you hit your thumb with a hammer chances are the words you utter will be a direct quote from Hillary Clinton. The invectives that pour from her mouth suggest she gargles with napalm. Hillary will best be remembered for her update of Marie Antoinette’s contemptuous declaration to “Let them eat welfare”.


Hillary advertises herself as sensitive when in fact she is merely “touchy”. She has the disposition of an Africanized bee that woke up on the wrong side of the hive. The White House staff became aware of her toughness when they encountered her in the White House Mail Room breast feeding a paper shredder. They still speculate that she can use her clitoris as a sardine key.


It is unambiguous how the Rule of Law came into such ignominy when one considers that conscienceless profession. Hillary’s appearance in a courtroom in any capacity would be in itself cruel and unusual punishment. Yet, she has been designated one of “the top” 100 lawyers in the country. The names of the other 99 “on top” can probably be supplied by Heidi Fleiss.


In a Hillary White House, abortion and castration would be household words. It is likely she would make abortions more accessible by having expectant ladies lie on the ground and have someone pass among them with a lawn edger. (Either that or Hillary would be giving constituents gift certificates for trimester abortions.) ‘Kike’ is another word that would be bandied about in the Oval Office. Hillary’s anti-Semitism is all the mainstream media needs to justify its anti-Israel editorial position. Listening to Hillary’s views about Israel is like reading Hitler’s email. Consequently she has made herself as welcome in Tel Aviv as a Scud missile. Any Jew that supports her for President is road testing the next generation of gas ovens.


The inestimable W. Somerset Maugham said, “Hypocrisy is the most difficult and nerve-racking vice that any man can pursue; it needs an unceasing vigilance and a rare detachment of spirit. It cannot, like adultery or gluttony, be practiced at spare moments; it is a full-time job”. Remarkably, Maugham diagrammed that judgment without ever having met Hillary Clinton, in whom hypocrisy is more profound than just characteristic. It is her signature. She ricochets from one false   image to another – wife, mother, do-gooder. Doting liberals are always enraptured when they receive a syrupy Christmas card with a picture of the Clintons gathered at the hearth with Hillary reading excerpts to Chelsea from A Girl’s Life of Ilse Koch. None of this masks the essential Hillary. As a colleague observed of her – if it walks like a bitch and talks like a bitch, it’s not a duck.


It is time to confront the rampant corruption and criminality of the Clintons. They are an insult and an affliction to our times and circumstances. They consider themselves a dynasty, when in fact they are an epidemic. They are hemorrhoids on the body politic. The Bill Clinton Administration of eight years of cultural diarrhea could be followed by the Hillary Clinton Administration, which would be eight years of menstrual cramps. It is urgent not only to stop Hillary from being President, it is urgent to stop Hillary from being Hillary.




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