by Molly Ivors
Not that this is news, particularly. No, the Queen of the Heathers is simply desperate to impose a narrative on the convention that fits with her read of the primaries, notes for which she still has scribbled on a few scraps of toilet paper in the bottom of her purse and is determined to use, damn it, whether they apply or not. Screw You, Voter!
Maureen simply cannot let go of her hatred for all things Clinton. I mean, I know those were your golden years, Mo, when the Pulitzer people inexplicably came calling, but still, you have to release them sometime. Change, develop. Be a new you. Shit, my golden years involved mini-skirts and punk-rock t-shirts, but I don't, you know, wear them to work anymore.
Hillary, for Maureen, is part Gorgon, part Sea Hag, part Circe. She drips blood from her gaping maw as she leads the hapless American voter into a psychodrama of her own making. She's Kali dancing with her necklace of severed heads. But damn, MoDo reluctantly admits, she's got some style.
She added insult to injury by coming out Tuesday night looking great in a blazing orange pantsuit and teaching the precocious pup Obama something about intensity and message. She thanked her “sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits,” and slyly noted that Obama would enact her health care plan rather than his.
She offered the electrifying fight that the limpid Obama has not — setting off paranoia among some Democrats that they had chosen the wrong nominee or that Obama had chosen the wrong running mate.
Because, of course, she can grant HRC all these things now that she's safely locked out of power. The business of the day is repeating these canards (spoon-fed to her, she admits, by a Republican strategist) and embossing upon the situation the meme which will carry her through November: "limpid" Barack, leading The Dems in Disarray. If Hillary is Kali, Obama is Shiva, laying down under her feet. (Come to think of it, Shiva represents change and transformation. Coincidence? Probably.) So the praise of Hillary is as fake as everything else MoDo does: she wouldn't be doing it if she couldn't use it to attack a Democratic male or two.
I personally don't think there are more than a couple of dozen PUMAs in the country, but they get a lot of press because they fit the narrative the press, and particularly Hedda Hopped-Up herself, want to dominate this election season: he won, but they're bitter and will never come around. But I don't think that's true of most people.
Policy-wise, there's no question that Obama will hew much closer to an imaginary HRC administration than McCain ever could. Both Obama and Clinton have always been centrists, both were doomed to please and disappoint progressive voters in roughly equal measure. And Biden is cut from the same cloth. If you were in it for the personalities, you need to find a new hobby, because this is too goddamned serious to blow on a popularity contest. We've had eight years of Dowd-imposed and supported tyranny: give me a president who thinks before he acts, please.
I must say: I am not looking forward to next week's Ariel-like poutings for Daddy's approval. I'd better stock up on the Jameson's now, I think.