Hillary Clinton would love nothing more than becoming Barack Obama’s clone. How easy he had it on his way to the Oval Office, casting a few “present” votes, surviving a short and anonymous Washington stint as senator, scribbling a mediocre but unstudied autobiography. No one even knew there was such a career as “community organizer” until he oozed onto the national scene.
He proved himself the perfect Progressive, a candidate with an ephemeral background, a man unburdened by any sort of work record, a slick talker with a quick excuse for everything and an innate ability to read flowery and vague speeches from a teleprompter.
Hillary, on the other hand, struggles under the weight of her sordid past: Whitewater and cattle futures, baking cookies in the kitchen and Vince Foster’s corpse, billing records beamed into her closet and carpetbagging all the way to a New York senate seat. Sure, aside from voting to wage war on Iraq, she managed to remain successfully silent as senator before getting hoodwinked into her post as head of State where she orchestrated the laughable ” Russian reset” and gave us the death and lies of Benghazi; her Arab Spring turned frigid; a daft spokeswoman was unable to cite even a single Hillary success.
Now it turns out that while at Foggy Bottom Hillary sought to be so invisible that she eschewed government e-mail in favor of a private account devoid of any sort of accountability. Barack must have given her high marks for that devious bit of ingenuity. But however hard she’s tried, Hillary can’t ever be the man-who-never-was Obama managed, a wheedling huckster from nowhere with a knack for stealing votes from the naïve.
No, Hillary comes to America with a past. That’s as certain as the stain on Monica’s dress.