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Come dancing. It’s only natural. Why Michelle wears Spanx, starves children, and flips the bird to the mid-term congressional elections. She needs a man.

This is from Instapunk.com in February 2008. It’s in the book.

Hillary’s stock has plunged like Victoria Falls since then, but note that nothing I cited ever became an issue in the campaign. There were plenty of murmurs, of course, but only in the righty blogs, who have always been part of the “vast right-wing conspiracy” the Clintons succeeded in pinning Bill’s, uh, troubles on in the past. None of it stopped the party establishment from regarding the controversial, carpetbagger wife of an impeached ex-president as the “inevitable” heir to the Democrat nomination for the presidency of the United States. Despite the continuous, unending reams of scandals, large and small, the political pundits saw Hillary as formidable and probably unstoppable. Certainly, they expressed no early interest in stopping her themselves.

Now, though, the Conventional Wisdom is that Hillary ran a bad campaign, that she was a bad candidate, that the fabled Clinton magic had, like the Fonz of Happy Days, somehow “jumped the shark” and lost its mystical feel for the heart of the American electorate. Poor Hillary is suddenly a sad female hammerhead whose latest jump was a bridge too far. Isn’t that the new narrative?

It’s bunk. All of it. Make no mistake. The Clintons, both of them, are master politicians, whatever the weaknesses of their ethics, ambitions, and policies. In a curiously American way, the nakedness of their Machiavellian maneuverings was always part of their allure. That’s why Bill was deemed the first black president. You could see the game he was playing every step of the way, but he was so damned good at it, and charming to boot, that you let him take you in. Because he also knew that you knew, and he counted on you understanding that he was half sincere and half self-serving rogue.Which is to say that he was a pure politician and purely American — in that he was never claiming to be better than you in absolute terms, but only at working the system on his AND your behalf. That’s how he skated through the Lewinsky scandal and kept his approval ratings higher than all those dully virtuous presidents who didn’t enter the Oval Office and see it as a stationary exoticar pussy-magnet.

The blanket, knowing forgiveness that gave Bill his two terms was also extended to his wife — whose personal travails we all understood without her ever coming clean about them. As a people, we accepted her marriage of convenience and saw it as the dues she had paid to become just as pure a politician as her rapscallion husband. Despite her seeming lack of humor, that was the joke the members of her party were willing to share with her without forcing the punchline to be uttered out loud.

So now it’s all over. A long, deeply committed relationship axed via text message, What can do that? Only an infatuation. All the durable lovers have deserted them — blacks, feminists, poor single mothers dying for another chance to be betrayed by yet another sweet-talking user, and even the unionists who have always known their cause depended absolutely on smiling corruption. Momentarily at least, they have all forgotten that American politics is about finding the best politicians who are willing to be on your side for a price you can both agree on without spoiling the pleasure between the sheets at least one of you is counting on. They’ve forgotten everything, including the basic nature of the transaction.

You see, Hillary was never a femme fatale. That’s the role Obama has stolen. He’s the mysterious, alluring, elusive siren, arousing, intoxicatingly seductive, remote but poetic, blade strong yet easily wounded and possessed of myriad vulnerablilities, all of which must be observed, placated, avoided, kow-towed to, and appeased. He is running for the position of national Greta Garbo.

A romance made in heaven, to be sure, the stuff of dreams. But what if, underneath it all, he too is a politician. What if he should turn out to be simply a different kind of manipulator than the Clintons — not the jolly whore of our egalitarian tradition but a greedy mistress with a grievance and a murderous grudge?

Down to earth. If the Clintons can’t make a dent in the campaign of a coolly ambitious, non-African-American, Ivy League Chicago machine politician, what will any of of us be able to do if he turns out to be inept, short-sighted, vengeful, corrupt, or actively seditious? If some clumsy American politician accidentally says something to offend his 300K-a-year Princetonian executive wife, for example, will we all have to apologize — or pay in some other coin? If he violates his vow to uphold the Constitution, will we have the recourse we would have with mere politicians? Or will every voice — in politics and the press — fall silent, because raising an objection of any kind is tantamount to a hate crime?

What stories will not be pursued by the already horrifyingly cowardly PC media? What legitimate policy objections will not be posed by senators and congressmen who are already living in daily fear that their most inadvertent verbal slip will bring down 400 years worth of resentment on their heads?

Think about it. If the “First Black President” has already been made to look a bigot for daring to promote his wife’s candidacy over Obama’s, what chance do the rest of us have in the next four or eight years if we start to see in Obama a Carter, a Ferrakhan, or Quisling? No matter what he does, he could never be impeached. It’s debatable whether he could ever be criticized. Let alone mauled and mocked and belittled day after day like a Bush or a, uh, Bush.

The first black President must be a politican, not a messiah. We’ve already seen what happens when teflon meets a halo. The halo wins. Without even being responsive. The truth is — and this is not racist, but statistically valid — that the first black president really can’t coast unexamined into office; he has an absolute moral obligation to demonstrate with full candor and understanding that he isn’t Marion Barry, Alcee Hastings, William Jefferson, Ray Nagin, or all the mayors of Newark, Detroit, and Philadelphia who have ridden the horse of jury nullification into sinecures of power only to abuse that power in systematic ways while branding all who objected to their corruption as bigots.

What we cannot afford at this time in our history is a sainted Jimmy Carter, a well educated Huey Long, or a closet Castro..

Inquire of yourselves — again and again — how did a neophyte take down the Clintons?

There was never a time when I didn’t know who O was. See the previous post for instructions.

Oh hell. Everybody needs a little fun. Fire up this youtube, then go watch O dance.

Better than watching him hack at a golf ball. Poor boy. No matter what he does, his wife thinks he’s acting white. Why there’s a Valerie Jarrett.

She luuuuuvs the way he dances, white or not.

And so, by God, do we.

Oops. Sorry Michelle. Maybe the progressive dream has soured.

Can’t wait for the BRAND NEW glistening progressive view of the future.

A brilliant future that’s older than dirt. And just as luminous.

On the other hand…

…All of you. And the plywood rocking horse you rode in on. Just please, please, try not to do any more stupid shit. You know, stick to your own brilliant foreign policy. Because when it comes to progressives, WE are the foreigners. The few and the proud who still love this country. Who, by now, are the wasted and wounded left by the roadside.

Now scroll up and see if the Fool-in-Chief can dance to it. Thinking not. He’s never spent a night on a grate (and yeah, I have) needing the warmth. He’s been more coddled than most all of us privileged folk he so wants to punish.

Why I can so, so triumphantly, offer this response…

See if he dances to that. You know, scroll. Doris Day was like my mother. Ohio girl who loved dogs and did what she thought was right. First female picture in this post in that category. You do the math.

And, of course, send the Book.