The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse Insult My Intelligence

War.

Famine.

Pestilence.

Death.

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

What’s wrong with this picture? (Image is in the public domain.)

And they’re all men.

Does this strike anyone else as inherently sexist?  Women can destroy the world as effectively as men can.  They just need a chance to let their evil ways shine.

I would take a moment to ask my thoughtful readers which of the horsemen would most appropriately be depicted as a horsewoman.  Instead, long live free advertising.  I may ask the question one day as a writing prompt on my other blog.  For now, you’ll just have to marvel at my wisdom and perhaps click the cheerful happy link.

Clicky clicky…

Media Blackouts Insult My Intelligence

The time has come for me to admit a severe diversion from the moral path my life has taken thus far.  You might want to sit down for this.

I volunteered for Hillary Clinton during her 2008 presidential campaign and we had an extended sexual relationship.  She’s not as cold as everyone says and I can’t imagine why Bill constantly felt the need for gratification from other women.

Hillary has been around the bed a few times and she knows stuff.  Lots of stuff.  And I doubt she learned it all from Bill.  Let’s face the facts:  Bill has had heart problems for a while now and there’s no way he could have handled the kind of maneuvers Hillary was putting forth.  Maybe Newt taught her a thing or two.

This enthusiastic, nearly glowing, lady is the one I remember.

This enthusiastic, radiant lady is the one I remember.  (Public domain image)

You can probably imagine that the long hours she worked would inevitably result in some poor personal decisions.  That’s not to say I consider myself a poor decision, but she’s a married woman by law if not by affection and she ought to abide by her commitments… just as I ought to have respected those commitments.

Now that she’s considering another presidential run, I think the country needs to know the real Hillary and not the ice queen she’s always depicted as.  Since so many Americans have extramarital affairs, her dalliances ought not disqualify her from higher office.  She represents the nation.  She should be permitted to use her animalistic sexual instincts to show voters how much she resembles them, how easily she can connect with any common man she desires, how there’s more to her underneath those pantsuits.

Okay, I’m done now.  For the idiots among you: no, that relationship never happened.  And as I sit here writing the follow up, I remain dissatisfied with both the feminist and pro-male directions I could take with this discussion.    Sure, it’s probably true that Hillary would be skewered worse than Bill if news of an affair were to emerge.  By the same token, Bill could be asked “boxers or briefs?” while any journalist asking Hillary “thong or granny panties?” would be unemployed by the next morning.

The discussion of how the media treats men and women differently has been done, overdone, and otherwise been so pounded into people’s heads that they no longer want to hear about it any more.  This, in turn, creates a silence in which no one can hear anything that’s said on the topic… even when there’s something legitimate that needs to be heard.

And that carries my thoughts to George Tabori, a playwright and Holocaust survivor who wrote humorous works about Nazi atrocities.  (He reasoned that people had become so immune to the traditional violent descriptions that one needed to joke about something so unfunny to make its atrocity audible.)  I remember walking through the streets of Freiburg, Germany years ago as a huge banner was advertising one of his plays.  The banner read:

MEIN KAMPF

BY GEORGE TABORI

I suppose few people ingest Anne Frank or any of the other traditional representations anymore because they’ve become ubiquitous and, therefore, silent to all who see them.  Unfortunately, it takes a startling “Mein Kampf” in big bold letters on the main square to grab people’s attention and remind them about something that ought not become historical silence.

This, I presume, was the logic behind awarding Elfriede Jelinek a Nobel Prize for literature in 2004.  She usually writes about how Austria has (or has not) dealt with its role during Nazi times and her work is loaded with sex, violence, and the occasional zombie.  Her selection received numerous complaints from people who saw little more than smut in her work.

But Jelinek gets heard.  Mission accomplished.

And so I say, bring out the nude photographs of Hillary Clinton, the ones depicting her with her many lovers (other than me because I’m a private person).  Let them radiate in the sun, let the photographs end the silence of how much love she has to give.  Let Bill be put into the unheard-of humiliating position of having to publicly stand by his unfaithful wife, a woman whose libido has gotten the best of her, a woman who is indeed human… or beyond human in my experience.  (Damn, she was good.)

Unfortunately, Hillary probably has never had an affair for the media to exploit.  Too bad.  I bet she is warmer than people give her credit for.