Singin’ the Blues - The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Singin’ the Blues

Ah, nostalgia! Merriam-Webster online defines it as “pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again.” And so it was that I experienced an acute pang of pleasant wistfulness as I watched Hillary Clinton’s hair-tossing attempts at school-girlery when trying to explain her way out of her claim that she and her husband were “dead broke” when they left the White House. Oh the memories conjured up watching a fawning press, with their puerile devotion to Barack Obama fading fast, returning to their first love; the smartest woman in the world.

How I’ve missed the former First Lady, Hillary Rodham Clinton. Sure, we’ve seen her as a senator and as Secretary of State, but in these roles she has been a mere shadow of her former glorious self. Occasionally the rigid feminist, but mostly the southern coquette, yet who can forget her eight years as devoted wife and mother? Those were the days. I even miss the cookies she never baked for Bill. Yes, it’s been a long while since we’ve had the Clintons on our plate. I almost empathize with C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape—a demonic feaster on the souls of sinners—lamenting the modern lack of tasty fare: 

Oh, to get one’s teeth again into a Farinata, a Henry VIII, or even a Hitler! There was real crackling there; something to crunch; a rage, an egotism, a cruelty only just less robust than our own. It put up a delicious resistance to being devoured. It warmed your inwards when you’d got it down. 

With Barack Obama and his team of teenaged apologists dishing out the dreck, one almost feels a sense of loss for accomplished professionals like the Clintons. But not to worry; with her new book auguring her resurgence, you can be sure that when she slips into her Mrs. Clinton role, she has her sights set on returning to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And, speaking as a connoisseur of political intrigue, I welcome the coming banquet.

And so with a touch of nostalgia tinged with a bit of shadenfreude, I offer the former First Lady’s musical explanation of her latest remarks; courtesy of Elvis. (You younger folks may have to Google some of the references.) 

As the snow flew,
On a cold and gray November night
When the voters doomed us to our plight
In the White House.

And my Bubba cried;
‘Cause if there’s one thing he didn’t need
It was a hungry brood of one to feed
In the White House.

People need to understand;
A woman’s gotta stand by her man,
Or they just might wind up being dead broke some day.
Need a Madison Guaranty,
And some cattle commodities,
To supplement the quarter mil
Of presidential pay.

Then the worm turned;
And a hungry boy and girl from Little Rock
Had to do all we could to stay our of hock
In the White House.

And this girl learned;
How to make ends meet when cash was tight
And to sell those priceless overnights
At the White House.

And then one day in Escalante
We saw our chance to score.
With Leader Dole out of the loop,
We iced that coal for the Lippo group.
Then our pockets bulged,
As the vast right-wing conspiracy
Did its best to evict my Bill and me
From the White House.

But our spin was gold;
So we gave Marc Rich and friends a shout
And sold some pardons on our way out
Of the White House.

And as my fortunes rise;
If Benghazi didn’t make the folks too sore
We’ll be back to grab just a little more
From the White House. 

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