Jesus Christ, what the hell is the Democratic party doing to its women? If Michelle Obama’s face looked vaguely disturbing in it’s manufactured TV perfection, Hillary Clinton’s looked almost fucking monstrous. It hurt my mind. It was like she had her makeup done by H. P. Lovecraft.
Clinton’s face was so Goddamned smooth and pale it looked like she was carved out of cheap styrofoam. She clearly had more pancake on her than a fucking busboy at IHOP. And her cheekbones will haunt my predawn nightmares; when she smiled, I couldn’t tell if those were horrible cheek implants or just her terrible, bottled rage looking for a way to escape.
And it was like the guy directing the broadcast of her speech knew how awful it was; they kept cutting away from Hillary to focus on her daughter Chelsea, but there was no relief to be found there. Seeing Chelsea only brought back depressing memories of years of furtive masturbation to hidden porn during my 1980’s adolescense, what with her Traci Lords hair and Ron Jeremy face.
In a nutshell, Hillary Clinton’s speech at Obamacon was a thirty minute practical makeup horror show that would have made Rick Baker weep with jealosy. She also said some stuff.
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After half an hour of Clinton’s impassioned plea that the Democratic party unite behind Barack Obama, I found that she made a persuasive and convincing argument in favor of the concept that she is, in fact, the last of the Final Five missing Cylons.
It’s the best possible explanation on how she can appear in many places at once with the same face but different personalities and convictions. “Cylon” is the best explanation of how Clinton could be a weepy mother for peace at one campaign stop and a whiskey-swilling shotgun aficionado at the next… because the only other logical explanations are that she’s a “dangerous schizoid” or a “bald-faced liar”. And I don’t agree with those explanations, because I don’t agree with my dad about almost anything, no matter how many times he emails me the Goddamned Clinton Death List.
Last night, the most current Clinton Cylon model took the stage, presumably while the the “Obama’s Inexperienced” model and the “I Admire McCain” models were backstage making out with Baltar and Six… and clearly having more fun than the new model. Maybe it was me, but it seemed that Hillary’s cheer on the podium was forced at best. There were a couple of times during her speech I expected her to shriek, “JUMP!” and disappear in a flash of bass and light.
Instead, she grit her teeth, threw her support behind Obama, and urged her supporters to do the same. Which was important, because of the PUMAs, which are kind of like High School Lipstick Parties: the media says that they’re everywhere, but no one’s ever found one in the wild (And God knows I’ve tried to find one. Unfortunately, the police also know).
The media says that the PUMAs are dangerous to the Democrats because they’re so angry about Clinton’s loss that, rather than vote for Obama, they’ll throw their support behind McCain. Which is at least a legitimate enough sounding threat that the Democrats have spent the summer warning these mythical beasts that a vote for McCain is a vote against their reproductive rights… which is an empty threat because, based on the cryptozoological photos I’ve seen of alleged PUMAs, nobody would fuck them.
So Hillary did what she needed to do to help get Obama in the White House, and when it’s all said and done, I feel lind of bad for her. For all her ranting and raving during the primaries about Obama’s inexperience, last night she had to face the ugly truth that, when the phone rings at 3 a.m., ninety-nine times out of a hundred? It’s just a booty call.
And booty calls to Cylons rarely end well. Ask Gaius Baltar.
[tags]Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, Democratic National Convention, political humor, dark humor, satire[/tags]
