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Jewish World Review June 16, 2003 / 16 Sivan, 5763
James Lileks
The real story behind Hillary's book
Nothing sums up the curdled frivolity of that bygone reign of abasement
like the tale of the thong-snapper and the priapic narcissist she loved.
Move on! we were told. Move on! they cried. Well, we have. But look
who's still trotting alongside singing me me me me me.
One can't blame Hillary for wanting to tell her story -- and to get it out of
the way now. This brief blurt of publicity might signal the official end of
the Clinton Wars, as least as far as she's concerned.
But who expects to hear the entire story? Of course Hillary Clinton isn't
going to tell us everything about her relationship with President Bill;
you'd be appalled if she did.
Nevertheless you cannot help wondering if her descriptions leave
something out -- when she says that his late-night admission of the
affair left her gasping for breath, you think: Well, yes, if you're out of
shape, thrashing someone within an inch of his life is going to leave you
a little winded. It makes you wonder whether Bill installed an automatic
pitching machine in the White House basement, rigged it to fling glass
ashtrays, and spent an hour practicing his dodging maneuvers before
breaking the news.
So no matter what she admits, questions remain. If you're inclined to
care. The real issue her book raises is the extent to which the Clintons
still polarize the nation. To some they're Mother Teresa and Harrison
Ford; to others they're Ethel Rosenberg and Carrot Top.
The reason is simple: They are the ultimate boomers. They're embraced
by those who regard the '60s generation as the finest manifestation of
humanity. And they're cursed by those who read the demographer's
description of the "pig in a python" and rooted for the python.
To the former group, hearing Hillary and Katie Couric giggle about the
sensuous nature of Bill Clinton's hands is proof of their generational
bona fides. You wouldn't hear Mamie Eisenhower talking about Ike's
cute butt, after all. To the boomer-haters, hearing the senator from New
York simper about Bill Clinton's elegant digits is slightly preferable to
having cottage cheese dumped down your trousers.
It is difficult to reconcile these two reactions. And that's why Hillary
Clinton probably won't be president. It's not that she's not smart enough,
or tough enough. But too many people just plain hate her guts. To
many, her smiley, kindly book-tour persona is a Botox mask, a meek and
mild cookie-baking Hillary who says "my goodness" and "gosh."
Plus she has baggage. Six-plus feet of steel-haired, sax-playing,
intern-grabbing baggage. As she once remarked, buy one, get two --
but now the equation works in the other direction. Does America want
Bill Clinton back in the White House?
For that matter, does Bill Clinton want Bill Clinton back in the White
House? He wouldn't get to sit in the big chair. He'd be down the hall with
nothing to do, drumming his fingers on the desk. Paparazzi would freeze
every moment he looked wide-eyed at a sweet young thing. Those
high-buck speaking fees? Forget about it. One can easily imagine him
putting the kibosh on Hillary's presidential bid: Honey, it would just plain
cramp mah style.
Her reaction to that remark will be in her second autobiography, "On My
Own," by Hillary Rodham, published in 2029. If the interviewers ask why
she no longer appends "Clinton" to her name, the longtime, much-loved
senator from New York will issue a steely smile -- and kindly suggest that
we all just move on. After all, she did, when she legally shed his name in
2014.
She can still see his hands signing the divorce arrangement. Those
long, lovely hands.
06/09/03:America's new mission was and remains: Extirpating the flaming nutballs and the societies that nurture them
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