. . . Tuesday June 22, 2004

A Right Wing Review of the Clinton Book

Here is a pretty good idea of how the far right will review the Clinton memoir. I have limited this sample piece to a review of only the first line of the book. But it pretty much says it all anyway.

The Book

“Early on the morning of August 19, 1946, I was born under a clear sky after a violent summer storm to a widowed mother in the Julia Chester Hospital in Hope, a town of about six thousand in southwest Arkansas, thirty-three miles east of the Texas border at Texarkana.”

The Review

- While in the past, Clinton has spoken of his birthdate and hinted to FOB’s that he was born before midday, he had (before the release of this book) never suggested that he was born early. In fact, there have been those who suggest that while the initial labor contractions started just after midnight, the birth was not actually recorded until well into the lunch hour. Clinton, notorious for being late for everything (including the first stop on his book tour) is making an obvious attempt to rewrite his crib years. Even if it was “early on the morning” he was still undoubtedly late.

- The word morning (appearing only 5 syllables into the tome) is the author’s transparent attempt to associate himself with the popularity and adulation welcomed by the Gipper. And even though Clinton’s approval ratings were higher than Reagan’s at the time he left office, he was nowhere near as popular.

- 1946. It’s just tossed into this sentence like it’s an ordinary year. Yet those not blinded by pro-Clinton partisanship will immediately recognize that August 19, 1946 was (nearly to the day) a mere eleven years before Osama bin Laden became one of 50 children born to Mohammad bin Laden in Riyadh. And therein lies the one major factor that Clinton doesn’t want you to think about. The former President had 44 years (not to mention an 11 year head start) to do something about bin Laden. Perhaps the 11 year old William was just a little too preoccupied with his hobby of turning wholesome tobacco products into the obscene manifestations of an unbridled libido to perform the duties of a would-be Commander in Chief.

- He makes it less than a phrase and a half into the book and then, with the word born, Clinton makes his first not so subtle reference to vaginas.

- He says he was born under a clear sky, but that prior to his birth the skies were filled with a violent summer storm. This is just too Clintonian. A violent summer storm? To paraphrase the great Kenneth Starr, Mr. President, tell us this. If it was so stormy on the way to the hospital that night, then where was the fuckin’ umbrella?

- If you take the first letter of each word in the phrase town of about six thousand, it spells the word toast. And if you squint at the phrase: six thousand in southwest Arkansas, thirty-three, a close reader will see the word snort. Clinton is trying to distort his own past by subliminally introducing W’s career before he found Jesus.

- Not obvious enough for you? Then try this one out. Count the number of X’s in this first sentence. Then spell it out. XXX.

- Notice the fact that the President (in a stark departure from most non-fiction writing) avoids the use of the word is in the first sentence, and in fact it’s nowhere in the first paragraph. This is apparently one last attempt to convince Americans that there is not a clear and accepted agreement regarding what the definition of is is.

- The Julia Chester Hospital has been demolished. Isn’t that just a little too convenient? God only knows how many innocent stem cells were demolished along with it.

- If you’d call a town of no more than 5,993 the same thing as “a town of about six thousand” then you are nothing more than a Clinton apologist.

- Hope. For anyone with even the loosest knowledge of the South (and this Harlem Huckster is counting on the fact that none of them will read this book, leaving the gargantuan deposition to be absorbed instead by Hollywood perverts and New York, well, Jews), the slight possibility of credibility still remaining at this point in the book’s first line is totally erased by this geographical slight of hand. First, there is the desperate attempt to co-opt the Texas roots of the current president. Second, Hope is not east of Texarkana. It is northeast of Texarkana (making Clinton an outright Yankee). And finally, Hope (and here’s where the placement of the supposed hospital would be so helpful) is not thirty-three miles from Texarkana. It’s actually 35.4 miles away. Don’t take my word for it. Check the map. And again, let’s note what Clinton doesn’t tell us about Hope, namely that it’s only about 1,692.5 miles from Streisand’s House.


Concentration is important!