The ice cream man has been circling my neighborhood for the last hour. If I hear the medley cranked out by the speakers on his van one more time I will have a conniption. I’m not sure if he’s hoping all the families in the neighborhood will finish dinner and buy his wares for dessert. Or he could be one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse waiting for War, Famine, and Death to drive over in their ice cream trucks. Hey, harbingers of doom have to make a living somehow, right?
“What the heck are you talking about, Sal?” You say out loud to no one in particular.
I was just reading some articles and news stories on the net and I got increasingly agitated, partly from the subject matter and partly from something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Finally it crossed the threshold of my awareness – it sounded like a bell choir playing Marty Haugen from a great distance. I listened more closely. “Three blind mice.” Then “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Then “It’s Raining Men.” Haha – that’s just a joke. It wasn’t “It’s Raining Men” it was the happy sound of Hillary Clinton laughing all the way to the bank with her “memoir” unfittingly named “Living History.”
“Bending History” is more like it. Two hundred thousand copies of the book have been sold since its release last week. Bling-bling. The publisher has ordered more copies. Hillary goes on the campaign trail book tour because a bunch of us just can’t wait to see what she has to say about her husband’s philandering. The everyman goes on a daytime talk show to proudly air his dirty laundry. Hillary, the liberal ubergal, gets eight million bones to tell a story most of us are so sick of we’d rather wax Saddam Hussein’s mustache than hear it again. Some of us wouldn’t stop with the mustache if it would make Hillary put a cork in it. I think Fr. Rob Johansen could be one of those people.
I’d be delighted if someone wrote a book about the Clinton Years focusing on the downright dastardly things Bubba and his cronies did called “Enemy of the People.” The public has no appetite for that kind of historical work, however. The Oprah Nation wants to read the book cooked by Hillary’s ghostwriters about how she got the proverbial short end of the stick.
Fr. Rob is dead on about the democrats. The big tent has become a big brothel; a party that has sold its soul and sold out on its core constituents. The party platform boils down to this – leave no child behind except the unwanted unborn child. So, between elections Hillary is hawking her book. Harbingers of doom have to make a living somehow, you know.
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At least you Americans have one major party in your country which has at least a nominal pro-life policy. Here in New Zealand the pro-life movement is certainly on the political outer edge. Both our main parties have no official policy on the matter, leaving it to individual MPs to make up their own minds. As a result the few pro-life MPs from both sides of the political divide are marginalised. The only fervent pro-life political voice comes from a very small party. Abortion is so accepted by most people in my country that it isn’t even an issue at election. The only time it is mentioned is in relation to the small Christian parties which generally don’t poll more than 5% of the vote.
The Dems absolutely blew it when they tried to gouge out the voice box of Robert Casey.
“a story most of us are so sick of we?d rather wax Saddam Hussein?s mustache than hear it again.”
Patently, you are wrong.
As many people seem to be fooled by her and her bubba, as are being happily lied to by the current Bubba-in-chief.