Sunday, June 21, 2015

Ode to Hillary Clinton


Hillary Rodham Clinton’s Rhapsody for Self

(Cheers, applause) It’s wonderful for you all
to be here today with me. Together
we can make America
a house with absolutely no ceilings.
Such a vision kept my granddaddy
going to work
in the same Scranton lace mill
every day for eighty years,
even when it was shut
for the holidays. If we can bottle
just a little of that spirit of acquiescence
and allow people purchase it in gas stations,
at reasonable  interest rates, or give it away
free with the National Enquirer, I know
together we can make America
a house with no ceilings,
and perhaps no windows
or doors either. It was faith
such as this made my father believe
his small business printing drapery fabric
in the wrong part of Chicago
could, if he scrimped and saved
with sufficient fanaticism,
enable a daughter of his to one day
become a former Secretary of State.
It brings a tear to my eye, even now,
and I know, to many of yours too;
those of you who still have them,
because, as we know, America
has been buffeted by big winds.
This time eight years ago she was flat out
on the washroom floor.          
But we’ve dusted ourselves up;
and are standing again. Though not as tall
as we’d like to be. America
is still working its way back to you.
She just hasn’t made it
all the way across the dancefloor yet.
The challenges we face are new
and old. We can’t go on forever
re-enacting the War  of 1812.  
It’s no longer 1791.  Or even
1513 when Spanish explorers first spied
through the clearing mist
what we now know was
the electorally vital
state of Florida.
Since then many of you
have taken extra shifts, given
hand jobs, postponed
home repairs, and I’m running
for President to make sure
all of this continues.
            It takes a former
Secretary of State to properly
            burn a village.
Who do you want there,
            when the call comes,
at three in the afternoon,
            Eastern Standard Time,
and something’s going on in the world,
            while you’re all
safely tucked up in bed
with my husband?
Together we can build
            a shaky but serviceable footbridge
to the third decade of the twenty first century.
            To this end, I will personally exhume
and fasten to a table
kindly donated by Walmart
the skeleton of Ricky Ray Rector, before
            a specially invited audience
of major corporate donors. We can do this
if together we have the courage to be
the as-we-more-or-less-already-were
we want to see in the world.
Talk to your friends,
your enemies, and even
your family. Text “JOIN” to 4-7-2-4-6.
Sign up to make calls
and kick down doors. 
(Cheers, applause.)
God bless you and, more importantly,
me.

KEVIN HIGGINS

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