Their Poor Broken Hearts

Watching the pilloring of Hillary Clinton by her former worshipers is a little disconcerting. But I finally figured out what's going on. The Liberals don't support candidates, they fall in love.

And they are so passionate, aren't they? But they are also fickle. Yesterday Hillary was their adored and treasured lover. But they have been tempted by a new, exciting fling: Obama the Perfect. Now Hillary, so long the apple of their eyes, the heart of their hearts, has been cast aside in their pursuit of their newest conquest.

So today they adore Obama, so Hillary is a viper. She must be, or they are heartless, cruel seducers...and that role they refuse to accept. It was never their fault...it was her all the time. She was the evil one. She was the evil temptress and seductress. They were deceived, innocent in their pure true love.

And what selective memories they have. Suddenly Hillary is all the things the Right has been accusing her of since the 90's. But hearing the current howling from the Left, you'd think these traits were just recently revealed.

Every word spewed, all the ink wasted and the trees sacrificed in the passionate defense of Hillary has been deeply and completely and conveniently forgotten.

Never happened. ("We didn't know. Couldn't have known. We were under her evil spell.")

And all the warnings and all the accusations, and all the opinions presented by the Right about the duplicity, betrayal, cold-hearted ambition, "winning is everything" modus operandi of the Clintons will not be acknowledged.

Never happened. ("No one said a word. Why didn't someone tell us? We were innocent dupes!")

And yet, now, how they howl in public. And we, amused and bemused and disgusted at once, are forced to listen to their fake outrage, their artificial broken heartedness...because they are so passionately hurt by the betrayal of their former inamorata.

Whatever was said in the throes of their lovemaking with Hillary they will not allow to be held against them. And like infatuated lovers, they would hear no word against the beloved while they bedded her. But now that the affair is over, now that they have cast her aside for a younger, prettier valentine, they are decidedly NOT gentlemen, but drag their former paramour's name through the mud, defaming her as they move on to their next conquest.

It's all very unseemly. I think that's what's bothering me.

Democratic politics is a Romance Novel, a bodice-ripper, with flailing and fainting, obsession and frenzy, ardor, lust and passion.

If it wasn't the fate of my country at stake, it'd be wildly entertaining.

The Gunslinger