Former Clinton-Hater-Hater Now Merely Clinton-Hater

by doglord

Like a deluded moron who gets married and hyphenates his last name only to wind up scribbling the foul moniker on alimony checks, I find myself desperate to lose a hyphenation in my life.

See, I’m a long suffering Clinton-hater-hater. Ken Starr? Hate him. Newt Gingrich? Him, too. Bill Bennett. Who doesn’t?

Nonetheless, I now find myself—due to the unconscionable conduct of the Clintons and their surrogates in the current primary race—one “-hater” lighter. And you know what? It feels, well, not great. More like I’ve scrubbed with a wire brush, which I’m trusting I’ll feel better about once I’ve healed. But it’s kind of gnarley right about now.

This is not to say that I don’t derive great shadenfreude at Richard Mellon Scaife’s public flogging for having pulled a Slick Willy and got caught in a cheap hotel with an escort. But at least the guy who underwrote the vast right wing conspiracy has the decency to admit he’s gonna keep banging strippers.

Which reminds me, now that I’m a Clinton-hater, you might expect me to eighty-six my upcoming series on how Sting is helping the Clintons rekindle their cravings for each other with private tantric sex coaching. Not a frikkin’ chance.

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