As for the tired excuse of evil sexism in American presidential politics, it wasn’t sexism that stopped two far more qualified, accomplished, and skillful Democratic politicians, Senator Dianne Feinstein and former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, from running for president. No, it was the sheer, stupid, life-cannibalizing drudgery of our excruciatingly prolonged and geographically vast campaign process that daunted and discouraged them. Feinstein and Pelosi, to all reports, enjoy a rewarding private life that they do not want violated and blown to hell. But Hillary, consumed by her own restless bitterness, has no such tranquility. The wheels must grind! The future must be conquered! Past slights must be avenged! So it’s all planning and scheming and piling up loot, the material emblem of existential worth. It’s all talk and more talk about ideals and values without actually achieving anything concrete–except, of course, for Hillary’s one notable legacy, the destabilization of North Africa.
And is there anything creepier than that current Hillary meme, the campaign slogan “I’m with her”? The blurred borderlines of those pronouns (“I” numbly dissolving into “her”) and that ambiguous preposition (“with” her like a child, a lover, or a nurse’s aide with a geriatric patient?) are close to pathological. The Hillary acolytes are joined at the hip to “her”, the Great Leader Who Needs No Name, the Maternal Tit daubed in wormwood, the bitter toxin left by men–those spoilers of the universe who created the master structures of modern civilization that provide us put-upon gals with jobs, transportation, abundant food, clean water, housing, electricity, and a magical disease-spurning municipal sewage system that only men seem required to clean and repair.