Hillary Clinton’s new book. What Happened? An in-depth catharsis about why she stunningly lost the election to that “reality star clown” Donald Trump. It clearly wasn’t her fault.
On her blame list: James Comey. Vlad Putin. Julian Assange. Bernie Sanders. Joe Biden. Matt Lauer. Mark Zuckerberg. Baskets of deplorable men. Well. All white men. Plus Barack Obama. So. What happened? Men happened. Of course.
Can’t the election just be over? It has happened. The coarse discourse of this campaign season has gotten worse. It has devolved into a tit for tat of Donald and Bill doing bad things to women. Pussy bows and pussy footing around. The larger problem of men with fame and power taking advantage of women over the decades. From LBJ to JFK. Congressmen. Newsmen. Creepy bosses. Casting couches. Complicit spouses.
It’s a dynamic that seems to be never ending. Too bad the first woman to become President is the wrong person to shine the light on this ongoing epidemic.
Seems like everything is moving backwards in slow-motion.
Tiger decided not to make his latest comeback at the Safeway tournament this week. He hasn’t hit a golf ball in public for over a year. Will he ever again?
In Miami, it’s the Clinton-Gore retro show. Trying to appeal to millennials with a droning speech on climate change and revisiting hanging chads. Yawn. Meanwhile, Trump has declared war on the Republican party. Solidifying an eponymous third party for the future. Reminding us of his true end-game. This is TNN.
Flashback to M.A.S.H. Ran into Alan & Arlene Alda strolling through Central Park on our daily constitutional by the Lake. Looked like a happy couple of 58 years.
Hillary finally took my advice. Unanimous consensus. Her outfit an A+. She looked good. And did no harm. To herself. Too bad she didn’t send in Kate McKinnon, though. Donald went all Alec on steroids with nothing to lose. Pow. Bam. Yikes. And Bill had a really bad night. The biggest loser. Journalism. Lost its objectivity and cool. Beyond the pale.
Will it move the needle? Nope. But. It will be fun watching all the Repubs squirm this week.
Steak dinner was great. Then. The debate. Neither took my advice. Hillary wore a red Bozo the Clown outfit. Donald showed up. Clinton seemed rested. Trump tired. Nobody landed a knockout punch. Pundits loved HRC. Middle America stayed with DJT. Call it a draw.
Meanwhile. DeutscheBank looks like it’s going the way of Lehman. Highest stakes in Euroland. If Merkel doesn’t bail it out, will the continent’s economy collapse. Could be.
A little steak, shallot mushroom reduction, pinot noir. She Wolf Bakery bâtard from Brooklyn via Columbus Avenue Sunday Market. Recipe for debate prep.
After dinner. Sip a cocktail each time Hillary says stronger together, lifetime of fighting for children and families, experience, work hard for you. Each time Donald says IRS audit, make America something again, believe me, stamina. Either says Putin, Israel, Iraq, Iran, ISIS, Syria, red line, refugees, immigrants. Hoping for a freak-out. Expecting discipline. Here we go!
For Hillary: Wear a sedate suit with a collar. Black. Navy. No Dr. Evil clown jackets. Kill the cackle and scolding cadence. Use calm humor. More Val the Bartender. Less Crazy Eyes.
For Donald: Go golfing at Mar-a-Lago. Empty podium a safer bet.