I endorse Hillary Clinton for president. She is the second-worst thing that could happen to America.
I endorse her. And all her pomps. And all her empty promises.
Better the devil you know than the Lord of the Flies on his own 757. Flying to and fro in the earth, with gold-plated seatbelt buckles, talking nativist, isolationist, mercantilist, bigoted, rude, and vulgar crap.
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The electorate is possessed by a demon. (Two, if you count Bernie Sanders, the Donald Trump for people still living in their parents’ basements.)
America is experiencing the most severe outbreak of mass psychosis since the Salem witch trials of 1692. No, it’s worse than that. What kind of witch hunt leaves goodwife Hillary not dunked in a pond?
Wicked and all wet though she is, I pledge my all to aid Hillary in confining Donald Trump to the stocks on the It-Takes-A-Village green. (Bernie’s already been pressed under heavy stones—a real pair of stones—Hillary’s.)
Dorothy and Toto’s house fell on Hillary. I endorse her.
Munchkins endorse her.
Donald Trump is a flying monkey.
Except what the flying monkeys have to say, “oreoreoreo,” makes more sense than Trump’s policy statements.
Not that Hillary makes much sense either.
Hillary is wrong about everything. She is to politics and statecraft what Pope Urban VIII and the Inquisition were to Galileo. She thinks the sun revolves around herself.
But Trump Earth™ is flat. We’ll sail over the edge. Here be monsters.
Hillary is a terrible bien pensant, taking her opinions from the top of the star-studded social ladder. In another day and place she’d be campaigning from Tara with the slogan “Fiddle-Dee-Dee.” Frankly, Hillary, I don’t give a damn. I endorse you anyway.
Better bien pensant than pas de pensees.
Better a nit of wit than a louse.
Better a mangy cat than a rabid dog.
Better the scurrying of mousey progressivism gnawing at the fabric of society in the White House than a rat sitting on the Oval Office desk.
Better to root up the garden of free enterprise with the Democratic pigs than run off a protectionist cliff with the Gadarene swine Republicans.
Ever since Athens in the 5th century B.C. the great enemy of democracy has been the demagogue. But—O tempora! O mores!—now we’ve got a firebrand soap box orator who cannot so much as put a coherent sentence together. He likes to “talk bigly.”
Here’s to you, Hillary, for saving your best bloviation for your highly paid speeches to shady bankers. I would, if I could, pay Trump more to shut up.
Hillary, you are the crone in crony capitalism. I endorse you.
I choose Goldman Sachs’s milch cow over the cretin bull siring his herds of mini-Minotaurs—half-men, half-bullshit—laying waste to the country.
Better a Marie Antoinette of the left saying, “Let them eat fruit and fiber,” than a Know Nothing who would be Robespierre if he could spell it.
Let me tell you why Hillary is a great presidential candidate—by comparison.
Don’t rush me here...
Did I mention that she’s the second-worst thing that could happen to America?
She’s a better real-estate developer than Donald Trump.
Trump Taj Mahal Casino, Trump Plaza Hotel, and Trump Entertainment Resorts went bankrupt. Trump restructured $3.5 billion in business debt and $900 million in personal debt. “Restructured” being the Trump way of saying he didn’t pay it. The $39.2 million that it cost taxpayers to investigate Hillary’s Whitewater scam is nothing by comparison.
She doesn’t cheat at golf.
True, Hillary screwed up during the attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi. As opposed to Donald Trump, who would have sent his supporters to boo and hiss the Islamic extremist attackers and then ask the police to take the extremists away.
Yes, Hillary sent twenty-some top-secret State Department documents to her personal email server. But this shows that she can keep a secret, even if she doesn’t know where to put it and it ends up decorating her Pinterest site. Trump would have sold the top-secret documents on eBay. Also, at least the CIA and NSA and so forth tell Hillary secrets. Would you tell a secret to Donald Trump?
Speaking of which… Like a toddler in a home with a loaded handgun, sooner or later Donald will find the briefcase with the nuclear launch codes. Better set the combination lock code to “411” before he does—he’ll never think of that. Donald hates information.
And the Clinton Foundation is an ugly mess of American foreign policy influence peddling and conflict of interest. Donald Trump will fix it. He has no interest in foreign policy so where’s the conflict? Give him a few months in office and America won’t have any influence left to peddle.
Hillary, I endorse you although you don’t belong in power—you picture of self-satisfaction out of doors. Count me the Iago of your supporters, you ding-dong bell in your West Wing, wild-cat in your can’t-stand-the-heat-get-out-of-the-kitchen, plaster saint in your injuries, player in your housewifery, and housewife in your bed. (Sorry, my mistake, that’s somebody else’s wife in bed with your husband.)
You’re a smug one, Hillary, You really are a snoot, You’re as cuddly as a cactus, you’re as charming as a newt, Hillary, You’re a bad banana in an garish and expensive power suit! You’re a limousine liberal, Hillary, Your heart’s an empty hole, Your brain is full of Sidney Blumenthal, you have boiled kale in your soul, Hillary, I endorse you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!
In sure and certain hope of resurrection I endorse Hillary.
She’ll work a miracle for the Republican Party. I’ve seen the GOP die and be buried before—with Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, and Watergate. In four short years there was a Second Coming.
I endorse Hillary. Ecce feminae. Behold Jimmy Carter in a pantsuit.
