Hillary Clinton: Maniacal Maggie Thatcher retread

I was thinking of calling this post "Billary is a bitch", but that somehow legitimizes Hillary Clinton's martyrdom as put-upon female politico. You know, all that "breaking the glass ceiling" horseshit Hillary's run to the roses supposedly symbolizes, as if she was Joan of Arc or something.

Well, Hillary ain't no Joan; she's just another political whore, seemingly cut from the same cloth as Bob Dole, a tired old fart who "deserved" to be president because he'd hung around long enough, paid his dues, served his time, etc. She has nothing to offer anyone (least of all the people of the US) other than her own conviction that she should be the first woman president. You can see it in every speech she manages to focus group into the Echo Chamber: "I'm important. I'm breaking down barriers. Look at me!" That pitiful, ugly high school Republican zealot is all grown up into a Democratic sellout. At least being ugly doesn't hurt anymore: the DNC pays too well for even a corporate lawyer like Hillary to dwell her lack of natural beauty.

Imagine: Hillary's greatest claim to fame was working for Nixon. She has been an uninformed (if we take her word about Iraq) failure at everything else, including health care, which apparently is really Slick Willie's fault if believing so will garner her any more votes. Like Dubya, she has managed to fail upward since her Prez waved goodbye 34 years ago. Yes, she is smarter than the Idiot Boy King, but how much an achievement is that? Most kids shoveling bags of burgers and fries out drive-through windows can make that claim.

From a historical perspective, Hillary is--and could be more so--like Maggie Thatcher. She'll likely serve the same function here that Maggie served in the UK: grind down the natives, weed out the immigrants, and generally make things crappier and meaner than they were before her (which, given Dubya's legacy, will be quite an achievement in itself.) Only with more nukes. LOTS more nukes. (I can almost hear the little devil on Hillary's shoulder now: "The most powerful woman in the world! You HAVE to nuke Iran. You can't be seen to be a pussy like Maggie. No one remembers the Falklands, but they'll sure as hell remember Iran!")

Kudos to Hillary, though: a vile person, who happens to be a woman, just might get the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. Only in America could such a gothic horror tale come to life....

After years as me, I'm reduced to phosphate marketspeak as means of identification

First post, long time blogger (I used Wordpress years ago on my own site, which is still online sometimes, depending on my personal whim), just not here.

The irony is, I had to name this site (which I thought I'd build up to use up resources "freely" available) original-deskpoet.blogspot.com because the name deskpoet.blogspot.com had already been taken. There is no trademark on the deskpoet name, of course--even if it were possible, I really don't believe in such things--so it's not like I have any anger over that; I am surprised, though: when I "created" the "genre" in high school as an author of highly temporary poetry and aphorisms scribbled on desks (now more than 25 years ago), the resulting truncation of the name "desk poetry" into "deskpoet" (to meet the standard eight character requirement for a login while working at a local ISP in Portland, OR in the late nineties) seemed to create an unusual and distinctive handle that would have meaning only to me and thus be mine forever more. Well, it just ain't so, apparently, so here I am claiming to be the "original" like some cheap cleaning product placement on TV. Kind of embaressing, really, but this is a blog, so I think that comes with the territory. (Yes, more oblique meta-commentary on blogging will be seen here.)

Which, as it happens, is already a case for a lack of truth in advertising, because as "original" as my particular take on how things are might be, the anger that will drive the postings here, and the information I intend to (parrot) dispense here, is hardly that. I am not a unique snowflake, and I live in the same world of merde that you do, so I imagine (hope) that much of what I'll be talking about will be old hat to you. If not, great, but the underlying drive behind these posts will be to get in touch with my anger and those who might share it, and somehow come to terms with it (hell, maybe even come up with ways to do something about it.)

Incidentally, doubters can look up my domain name for historical claims of originality of the name. At the very least, the dawning of the deskpoet.com domain predates the blogging phenomenon by a few months--but who's counting?