HER ROYAL C; 1993
I wrote the following in 1993:
Back in the days when young men burned their draft cards as symbols of protest against the war, young women publicly burned their brassieres as symbols of their emancipation from an all-male-dominated society. Personally, I thought burning one's brassiere was a bit much. But symbolism was very important back then, and flaming brassieres definitely drew attention. So young men gawked as females ignited their frilly effigies of male oppression.
But that was then and this is now. That same pyrotechnically-obsessed generation who bucked the establishment twenty-some-odd years ago is now the same generation who is the establishment, and they're firmly established in Washington, D.C.
No longer is it necessary to burn your draft cards, especially since the draft ended in '73. And now that we're a little older and gravity is a lot stronger, torching our Victoria Secrets is not even an option.
Those pioneering feminists blazed trails through all-male bars, onto construction sites, into pro football locker rooms, and all the way to the House and the Senate and the Supreme Court. These aren't just your average token tootsies, these are 90s women; hear them roar! They've come a long ways, baby!
And then came Hillary.
William Jefferson Blythe Clinton may have won the election, but it was Hillary Rodham Clinton who conquered the final frontier by storming the White House last November. The woman who stated "You vote for him, you get me" wasn't kidding.
While Commander Bill was playing the military hokey pokey with Bosnia and eenie-meenie-minie-mo with his attorney general nominees, HRC was stacking up impressive ratings with her public and his, too. True to his Donahue-sensitive nature, though, Bill doesn't seem to mind; he seems content to bask in his wife's limelight. But he may want to rethink that considering the power monster he has wrought.
Just how powerful is Hillary Rodham Clinton?
Forget that she's totally reforming health care or that Congress is positively tripping over its bipartisan tongue so as not to offend the little lady. That's chump change in power currency.
If I were Bill, I would have worried when she sidled her impressive desk right up next to mine. (Symbolism is still very important today.) Then there is her no smoking rule and her no junk food rule.
Still, that pales in comparison to what she recently stated to the media: "I haven't told my husband this ... but we're going to have a living will, which instructs doctors when to withhold treatment aimed solely at delaying an inevitable death." In the immortal words of our president: "Whoa, mamma!"
No wonder Dan "The Postman" Rostenkowski recently gushed to Her Royal C that before long "the president will be known as ... Hillary's husband."
My advice to Hillary's husband is to quit playing games, pitch those Cuban stogies, and bypass those Big Macs. After all, bud, the Almighty Hillary now wields the ultimate power, and she just may get antsy being so close and yet so far from the numero uno desk.
While you may define "inevitable death" in terms of all medical miracles exhausted, she may define it as low poll ratings and yank your political plug.
So the next time you hear Al Gore chant, "It's time for him to go," remember that George Bush doesn't live there anymore.
UPDATE 9 November 2004: George H. W. Bush may no longer live there, but George W. Bush does :)
Check out "IT'S MY PARTY"
Back in the days when young men burned their draft cards as symbols of protest against the war, young women publicly burned their brassieres as symbols of their emancipation from an all-male-dominated society. Personally, I thought burning one's brassiere was a bit much. But symbolism was very important back then, and flaming brassieres definitely drew attention. So young men gawked as females ignited their frilly effigies of male oppression.
But that was then and this is now. That same pyrotechnically-obsessed generation who bucked the establishment twenty-some-odd years ago is now the same generation who is the establishment, and they're firmly established in Washington, D.C.
No longer is it necessary to burn your draft cards, especially since the draft ended in '73. And now that we're a little older and gravity is a lot stronger, torching our Victoria Secrets is not even an option.
Those pioneering feminists blazed trails through all-male bars, onto construction sites, into pro football locker rooms, and all the way to the House and the Senate and the Supreme Court. These aren't just your average token tootsies, these are 90s women; hear them roar! They've come a long ways, baby!
And then came Hillary.
William Jefferson Blythe Clinton may have won the election, but it was Hillary Rodham Clinton who conquered the final frontier by storming the White House last November. The woman who stated "You vote for him, you get me" wasn't kidding.
While Commander Bill was playing the military hokey pokey with Bosnia and eenie-meenie-minie-mo with his attorney general nominees, HRC was stacking up impressive ratings with her public and his, too. True to his Donahue-sensitive nature, though, Bill doesn't seem to mind; he seems content to bask in his wife's limelight. But he may want to rethink that considering the power monster he has wrought.
Just how powerful is Hillary Rodham Clinton?
Forget that she's totally reforming health care or that Congress is positively tripping over its bipartisan tongue so as not to offend the little lady. That's chump change in power currency.
If I were Bill, I would have worried when she sidled her impressive desk right up next to mine. (Symbolism is still very important today.) Then there is her no smoking rule and her no junk food rule.
Still, that pales in comparison to what she recently stated to the media: "I haven't told my husband this ... but we're going to have a living will, which instructs doctors when to withhold treatment aimed solely at delaying an inevitable death." In the immortal words of our president: "Whoa, mamma!"
No wonder Dan "The Postman" Rostenkowski recently gushed to Her Royal C that before long "the president will be known as ... Hillary's husband."
My advice to Hillary's husband is to quit playing games, pitch those Cuban stogies, and bypass those Big Macs. After all, bud, the Almighty Hillary now wields the ultimate power, and she just may get antsy being so close and yet so far from the numero uno desk.
While you may define "inevitable death" in terms of all medical miracles exhausted, she may define it as low poll ratings and yank your political plug.
So the next time you hear Al Gore chant, "It's time for him to go," remember that George Bush doesn't live there anymore.
(C) 2004, Kitty Myers
All Rights Reserved
UPDATE 9 November 2004: George H. W. Bush may no longer live there, but George W. Bush does :)
Check out "IT'S MY PARTY"
posted by Kitty at 11/09/2004 10:15:00 AM
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