What can I say? Pictures tell a story. So does a video tape of Bill Clinton telling voters to go for hope and not fear.
You gotta love YouTube.
What can I say? Pictures tell a story. So does a video tape of Bill Clinton telling voters to go for hope and not fear.
You gotta love YouTube.
I think that’s the last debate I’ll do until after the convention. I’ll debate John McCain once or twice, but no more Hillary. It isn’t that Hillary isn’t a good debater. She is. She’s a wordsmith. After all, she lied to the press for a year before anyone found out. She’s good.
The problem with debates is the questions, the inane, juvenile, questions.
We were 45 minutes into the debate before anyone got around to asking about gasoline prices or health care. George Stephanopolis said the number one issue with voters is the economy, but he didn’t ask a question about the economy until the second hour, 63-minutes after the debate started.
Debate moderators and questioners spend all their time focusing on titillating questions that have nothing to with anything about policy, or experience, or what candidates will do once elected.
If there’s to be another debate then I plan to set the format and I’ll ask the questions.
That didn’t take long. Uproars burn from little sparks. Yes, many small-town, white Americans are bitter, xenophobic, and cling to their religion and guns. That’s the word I should have used. Xenophobic.
Most middle-class voters have no idea what it means. Now I’m being called ‘pugnacious’ for defending what I said. It’s a good thing that most people don’t know what that means, either.
People understand ‘irresponsible and naive‘. That’s what Hillary calls me. So, I called her ‘irresponsible and naive‘ for voting for the war in Iraq. Did anyone notice that she never apologized for her vote? Why? That’s not what politicians do.
Somehow, in the twisted world of what makes up politics in Washington, D.C., pugnacious is acceptable as a good trait, but showing weakness and apologizing in public for a huge mistake of epic proportions is considered a mistake.
‘Howard Dean is a moron.’ There. I’ve said it. It’s not public, but it’s what I think, and it’s what most of my staff thinks I think.
Singlehandedly, Dean has done more damage to the Democratic Party than Monica Lewinsky, and she didn’t even use her hands. It’s the SuperDelegate mess. It’s the Florida and Michigan primary mess. And whose bright idea was it to schedule the Democratic Party Convention in August? Howard Dean.
Howard called me last week to float yet another solution to the Michigan and Florida problem. He said he’s made progress. The latest idea is to agree to seat the delegates at the convention, but not count their votes. Or, maybe count their votes, but allocate them to me and Senator Clinton based on how many votes we each have at the time.
That works for me, but not for Senator Clinton, which, again, works for me. Howard will call the Clinton campaign and tell them that I agree to his latest plan, to which they’ll refuse to agree just based on my agreement.
This happens every week. Howard is like the little choo-choo train that absolutely positively couldn’t get anything right, ever. I know I’ve asked this a dozen times, but someone really needs to explain to me how this man became head of the Democratic Party.
Of course I’m a regular guy, despite some media critics who call me professional and aloof. I’m a lawyer, for crying out loud. So is my wife. We just don’t like to mix it up with common people. They get the wrong idea.
Pennsylvania is full of common people. They’re everywhere. Pennsylvania and Ohio are two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth, molded in the same image. Both states have tattered economies and can’t figure out what happened, and don’t believe it when I told them that Bill Clinton sold them out with NAFTA.
To get votes in Pennsylvania I have to act like a regular guy. That means drinking beer, bowling, kissing babies, and getting personal. Yesterday I had to wear a flannel shirt at one rally. At another I had to throw a bowling ball. I’ve never done that in my life. Black folks don’t bowl. We just don’t.
One thing I have in common with Pennsylvania voters is beer. I like a good, cold glass of beer and french fries. Yesterday I stopped at a roadside joint in Latrobe, the home town of Arnold Palmer. He’s the old white guy who sells golf balls or something on television. They love him in Pennsylvania.
Anyway, I rolled up my sleeves and talked with local folks, drank a beer, paid for it myself, and even left a tip. The tip was scrawled on a napkin. ‘Get a life, folks.’
I love polls. There’s something about numbers all strung together, some with obvious meaning, others with hidden meaning. The latest Gallup Poll, due to be released tomorrow, has some interesting numbers.
Based on the poll results, I don’t have to select Hillary Clinton as my Vice-Presidential running mate. Only 29-percent of my supporters favor Hillary as VP. Over 70-percent want me to choose someone else.
That does that say about the American people. I’m convinced this is a generation of destiny.
On the other hand, almost 60-percent of Democrats in the survey say Hillary should pick me for Vice President if she wins the nomination.
Some call Obama-Clinton a dream ticket. Others say Clinton-Obama is a dream ticket. I say any ticket with Obama is a dream ticket. Any ticket with Clinton on it is a nightmare.
I’m at my wits end. Why don’t reporters actually write down what I say instead of changing everything around?
Yesterday I was asked about the grueling length of the campaign and I said it has become like “a good movie that lasts too long. You’re full of popcorn, you need to go to the bathroom, the sound is too loud, something is stuck to the bottom of your shoe, the people behind you are talking too loud, and you can’t even remember the plot.”
So, what do they report? The campaign is like “a good movie that lasts a half hour too long.”
That’s not what I said. A half hour? For crying out loud, with all of Hillary’s bitching, moaning, and back biting, this campaign as been more like a John Carpenter weekend movie marathon with previews of every Wes Craven film.
Half an hour? Not.
Newspaper reporters should be required to carry a video camera instead of a notepad.
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