As a conservative, the Democratic debate which just took place in South Carolina was a beautiful thing . . . in a Jerry Springer sort of way. The only thing that cage fight between Barack and Hillary lacked was Springer coming on afterward to attempt to make sense of what we just watched.
In last week’s match we witnessed the beginning of Hillary the Assassin’s decimation of B-HO. Observing cagey Clinton watch and work Barack just before she handed him his backside was like viewing an old female lion toying with a young and tender wildebeest.
During the debate and his subsequent TV appearances, Obama’s sharp and svelte persona has been looking a bit more frayed around the edges. I’ve seen that look before. Where have I seen that? I remember: It’s the same expression my friend had after he’d had his butt kick by a small girl in front of everybody in my high school’s cafeteria.
Look, I’m not a prophet, but I think it’s going to get really rough for B-HO to be the Charismatic Kid since Hillary and Bill have now begun to gnaw on his scrawny frame in earnest. Yep, Barack my friend, you have been formally crammed into the Clinton-O-Matic meat grinder, and they’re ready to make some Barackwurst.
B-HO, forget fending off the “Vast Right Wing Conspiracy”. Your scrap is with your supposed ideological, five-foot three-inch, carnivorous female political sister who’s got an ego bigger than Rosie’s drawers. Hillary is going to make certain that you are plagued with Electile Dysfunction.
I believe there is no way Barack is going to survive this fray, as Bill and Hillary have been dreaming about this two-fer opportunity for nearly half a century. Yes, way before Obama rolled his first doobie in a van down by the river the Clintons were already mentally re-decorating the Whitehouse to suit their tastes for their imagined four terms.
My advice, B-HO: Call Paula Jones, Kathleen Willey and Ken Starr for counsel and comfort because I’d hate to see you become so disillusioned that you end up becoming a security guard with Gary Coleman.
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