Bill Clinton, First Person. Google, limited information. And advice for Remaindeers on Not Winning.
I have to fess up and accept the fact that – looking at the number and distribution of College votes in the US – an appalling sitcom called The Hillarybillies is likely to win the final of the People’s White House Award against the popular cartoon series Trumpety-Trump the Elephant Man.
It is, I fear, a symptom of our times that somehow narcissistic pussy-groping is an infinitely more heinous crime than the obscene perversion of everything Kennedy Democrat America once stood for. But then, the development is entirely predictable: JFK had a reputation for shagging as many of the delectable women who threw themselves at him as he could, but I am seriously glad that it was him not Hillary given the task of resolving the Cuban Missiles crisis without blowing up the world.
What would Trump have done in 1962? I think he’d have flown to Moscow and drunk Kruschev under the table….but not before cooking up a deal via which his mates rubbed out Mr K’s enemies in return for the reinstitution of 24/7 casinos in Havana.
Would the world have been a better place? As long as Homo sapiens is in charge (allegedly) no – not a chance. But had Hillary Bilious been in the White House 54 years ago, planet Earth would still be a pulsating, lifeless cinder today.
Hang on, this post has got my grinning pic at the top…ergo, it’s supposed to be funny. So let’s move on while sticking with the subject of Clinton White House2: No Cuban Cigars this Time.
Assuming the first female President in US history takes office without either dying from ill health or declaring World War 3 before the inauguration, we will still have to face the tricky protocol of what to call her Significant Other piece of shit.
What should he be?
First Among Equals?
First Good Ol’ Boy?
Something in my irritable gut tells me Bill is going to become First Person.
But he can’t be First Person Singular: good God, no. That would be highly irregular. So he will have to be doffed First Person Plural.
This has a nice ring to it. It suggests pluralism and all the liberal inclusivity that implies. The only problem is that the First Person Plural is a we and not an I.
Some of you might be relieved to think of Bill keeping an I on Hillary. I wouldn’t: and even worse would be Slick Willy using the pronoun ‘We’ as if he might be some form of nouveau riche Royal.
It’s a knotty problem. In years gone by, we would’ve had Gore Vidal to guide us in this matter. But sadly, he is no longer extant.
I used to love listening to Vidal; he had that uncanny knack of making his forebears sound so incredibly eccentric, depraved and cosmopolitan.
“My great-grandmother’s half-brother,” he’d begin, “Was a Ruritanian Grand Duke who emigrated to America, and once picked a fight with Wild Bill Hickock on the issue of Henry Deringer’s skills as a gunmaker. As luck would have it, Hickock was in a playful mood that day”.
Where would we be without Google? Myself, I’d be down the memory clinic….or hiring a fulltime travelling companion, as was the custom in Victorian times. You know – where old nitwits would ask (as the coach rumbled uncomfortably through Umbria on the European Tour) “What was the name of that upstart Jew who became Prime Minister?” and the paid companion would say “Charles Dickens, your Grace”.
I don’t like Google. They lied for years about giving personal details to ghastly people who then plastered one’s facebook page, blogsite and email content with ads for penis extensions and garden sheds. You’d ask the Googlies, ‘How long is the African Rift Valley?’ and then be showered with emails from the Yangste Kiang Marital Satisfaction Company.
As a writer, I could not at the age of 68 function efficiently without the bastards. But occasionally, the anarchist in me wishes I could type in a query and get something more than 58 zillion results in 0.0059 seconds. I would be a far more satisfied Google customer, for example, if every once in a while I was faced with this as a response….
‘Search me squire, your guess is as good as mine’
‘What’s it got ter do wiv you, eh?’
….as opposed to that mealy-mouthed, Kafkaesque inscription at the bottom of the page than announces:
Ah yes, that’ll be the protection of privacy thing that acts as a check and balance against the Freedom of Information Act. Of course, how silly of me.
Finally, let me sign off tonight with this profound thought to EU Remaindeers everywhere:
‘The opposite of winning is not whining’