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Lionesses of the Left: Where Are They Today? (The Ballad of Blasey Ford)

In "It's witch in the afternoon" forum on March 19, 2020 at 5:27 pm

People (rude people, that is) occasionally ask us why so many of our seriated items seem to consist of first entries only, or a mere two or three out of a proposed quartet, and so on. Sloth, of  course, is the only valid explanation, but that is hardly to say we are unheedful of our critics.  In the spirit of reform, then, we hereby present a second entry in our Lionesses of the Left “series”–meaning, if prescriptive usage retains any significance in these desolate times, only one additional entry is required to fulfill the minimum criteria.  But one lioness at a time, we always say.

Truth to power!

See, they have these atom thingies, and if they smoosh them together the wrong way, well, it’s bad!

Our current Lioness, even before her name was revealed, gained the full-throated support of every televised commentator, major newspaper, and self-absorbed show-business numpty, insuring her recognition as one of the most widely exalted speakers of truth to power since Christie Brinkley testified before congress on the growing menace of nuclear power plants–Miss Brinkley’s expertness deriving on that occasion from the fact that she lived near one. But we digress. Our current Lioness is none other than Christine Blasey Ford, Ph.D. who spoke truth to power (italicized here only because the Depot Masthead format on WordPress does not offer an echo feature), during her appearance before the Senate in September of 2018.  Readers will recall Mrs. Blasey Ford’s bombshell assertion that on some unspecified date during some indeterminate year, she was sexually assaulted at some unrecallable location by a teenage Brett Kavanaugh and his two drunken henchmen, unless it was only one, or possibly zero drunken henchmen, whose identities in any case remained mutable. The establishment media erupted in vociferous rage at Kavanaugh’s animalistic depravity, even as they declaimed Christine’s stunning courage–a quality invariably ascribed by media to Lionesses speaking (and this is the last time, we swear) truth to power.  Some, however, wondered aloud why Ford waited nearly four decades to raise the issue. The answer, irrespective of whether one believes Ford’s story or not, is Donald Trump. Permit us to  explain…

“Somebody needs to fix this!”

Sources assure WOOF that Cher has not made good on her pledge to move to Jupiter–although the same sources tell us she may not be aware of the fact.

As of November, 2016, Donald Trump became for liberal America what Joe Biden might call an “exodential threat.” Trump’s electoral victory sent the entire progressive establishment into fits. Not only were actors and entertainers forced to walk back their pledges to flee the country (or, in Cher’s case, the planet), but media mavens, political analysts, pollsters, producers, and those bleached-or-blown-dry propagandists known as “anchors,” found themselves adrift without warning in an alien cosmos. Across the nation, college professors fought back their own anguish to provide solace, safe spaces, and anxiety counseling, to traumatized students. Indeed, on the morning of Trump’s victory, it was a frantic college student who gave the resistance its rallying cry, ending her widely-televised hysterics by shouting, “Somebody needs to fix this!”

2016’s election returns were not met with universal enthusiasm..

So incredibly significant…

“Bombshell” Brooke Baldwin– a new Trump diatribe with every newscast–and each one more “incredibly significant” than the last!

The initial assaults on Trump’s legitimacy are forgotten now, each “bombshell” having burst into headlines and vanished almost as quickly, making way for the next, equally ephemeral “bombshell,” finally  forming a chain of pseudo-journalistic embarrassments– but suffice it for our current purpose that not only Trump, but all things Trumpish, became targets of “the resistance.” Brooke Baldwin at CNN personified her network’s histrionicism, one day prefacing Trump’s outrage-du jour [we forget which one, exactly] by blurting, “This is so incredibly significant!” to which she afterwards appended “This is not okay!” in case anyone missed her point.  New unprecedented outrages were unearthed daily. Bombshell: Melania Trump’s Christmas decorations were too gaudy!  Bombshell: Trump ate two scoops of ice cream but guests only got one! Bombshell: Sarah Huckabee Sanders tried to pass off pie photos purloined from @PBS site as home-baked. All so incredibly significant..!

BOMBSHELL! But it was fake news. Sarah’s pie turned out to be her own. Otherwise, of course, the Constitution would have mandated her immediate removal from office.

Justice Kennedy–glancing leftward for a successor?

In an era of unprecedented media idiocy, Trump had no hope of naming  Supreme Court nominees without provoking establishment-wide frenzies. On July 9th, 2018, he announced his selection of Brett Kavanaugh to succeed Justice Anthony Kennedy. WOOF knows Kavenaugh’s selection was a compromise meant to mollify Kennedy, who made his retirement contingent on Trump picking an acceptably unthreatening replacement. But Kennedy’s acquiescence meant nothing to the radicalized leadership of the Democrat Party, nor, by extension, to that wholly owned subsidiary of the DNC commonly called “the news.”  Despite receiving only three votes from Democrats, Trump’s first nominee to the Supreme Court, Neil Gorsuch, gained confirmation in 2017, and liberal rage was unabated. With the Senate in Republican hands, Kavanaugh’s nomination would be impossible to block–unless, of course, some last-minute “bombshell” skewed the numbers!

The DNC playbook features a shocking paucity of maneuvers, which rarely matters in praxis because the complicit media beat their drums so incessantly for whichever leftist snow job currently requires huckstering, the same three or four tactics usually work–or at least they used to. It eludes WOOF how even the most ardently anti-Trump conservative can fail to relish the fact that–if nothing else–Trump’s appetence for counter punching and his solipsistic immunity to the vitriol of establishment opinionists have scuttled the old rules and left his adversaries–on so many delightful occasions–flailing dazedly.

The Kennedy/Biden play….

1987: Senator Biden and Judge Bork exchange insincerities.

The playbook’s method for dispensing with unwanted Supreme Court nominees was created long ago by Ted Kennedy and Joe Biden. So successfully did they vilify, slander, and otherwise tarnish the good name of the brilliantly qualified Robert Heron Bork, that Bork withdrew rather than continue mud-wrestling two morons. The tactic became a transitive verb–as in “to Bork.” But Borking wouldn’t stop Kavanaugh, whose record was unladen with instances of juristic audacity susceptible to misrepresentation, and who didn’t even have a beard they could make fun of, as Biden had Bork’s. Indeed, Trump’s stated reasons for picking Kavanaugh included his “impeccable credentials, unsurpassed qualifications, and a proven commitment to equal justice under the law,” all of which bore scrutiny.

Find me the next Anita Hill!

Anita Hill pioneered “speaking truth to power” back in the ’90s–but that’s a lioness for another day.

In such circumstances, there remained the Anita Hill maneuver–unsuccessfully attempted against Justice Clarence Thomas in the ’90s, but a sure winner at a moment when women were flooding Twitter with “me too!” testimonials, half the GOP privately loathed its own president, and the prospective target was White, heterosexual, and male.  Anita Hill was unavailable, having faded into obscurity after souring everyone’s appetite for Coke in cans.  But if the next Anita Hill hadn’t taken the stage, she was hovering timorously in the wings.

The reluctant Lioness….

TRUE FACT: The Hill named Congresswoman Eshoo one of “DC’s fifty most beautiful people,” praising her “Sophia Loren glamorous style.” Obviously, we need to re-watch El Cid.

Before achieving lionhood, this installment’s Lioness was merely an alarmed constituent—and we cannot lay it at our heroine’s feet that her constituency fell within the congressional district of Democrat Anna Eshoo, who is, by the way, the only Assyrian American in Congress–a detail we stress first because it seems to preoccupy her staff and her fan-base in the media, but mainly to remind readers who might otherwise shout “gesundheit!” on hearing the congresswoman’s name, that hate speech isn’t funny.

Anyway, eleven days after Trump nominated Kavanaugh, Christine Ford entered Eshoo’s office claiming to possess dirt on the nominee. It bears witness to the poignancy with which Ford must have related her account that Eshoo instantly pronounced her truthful and elevated her case to a loftier  sanctum, the office of Senator Dianne Feinstein.  At such rarefied levels, however, grievances are submitted in writing, thus the details of Christine’s youthful despoilment arrived on Feinstein’s desk in letter form, accompanied, less noticeably perhaps, by certain budding synchronicities. Consider: Eshoo found Ford’s story so compelling that she recommended the matter to the attention of a powerful senator who represented California, making her Christine Ford’s senator, and who was also the ranking Democrat on the Senate Judiciary Committee, scheduled to oversee Kavanaugh’s nomination.

The plaintiff and her besotted assailant, circa the late ’80s, or no, wait–okay, 1982.

WOOF KNOWS that the whistle blower was CIA analyst and Obama pajama boy, Eric Ciaramella. Amazingly, Adam Schiff swears he never knew who the whistle-blower was–even though Ciaramella was working for him the whole time!

Besides describing her victimization by Kavanaugh when he and she were high-school students in Bethesda, Maryland, Christine’s letter also emphasized her perfervid desire to remain anonymous. Feinstein later defended her failure to mention Ford’s accusations during the initial confirmation hearings as the only means of safeguarding her constituent’s identity–but that’s ludicrous. The notion that Feinstein sat on Ford’s charges as the sole alternative to naming her publicly ignores numerous less extreme options, and rings particularly hollow in view of the Democrats’ subsequent enthusiasm for cranking out daily headlines based on scandalous allegations ascribed to a secret “whistle blower,” whose anonymity was repeatedly–if arbitrarily–declared sacrosanct.

At least sideways…

Feinstein addresses congress–nobody moves, nobody gets hurt!

With respect to this apparent paradox, we offer two thoughts. First, we are discussing Dianne Feinstein, a woman whose enthusiasm for banning “assault weapons” led her to address the Senate with her finger on the trigger of an AK-47, and who more recently endorsed Joe Biden for president, citing “his legislative ability, his statesmanship, and most importantly his moral fortitude.” Senator Feinstein, in other words, is not a serious thinker. Some argue that Feinstein disbelieved Ford’s allegations and spiked them to avoid embarrassment to the committee. Whatever the case, Christine’s lionhood was suspended until, once again, a confluence of circumstances impelled her toward the limelight. By September, various left-wing web sites were atwitter (as was Twitter, for that matter) with rumors Feinstein was withholding a letter containing information that would destroy Kavanaugh. This sudden chorus of oddly simultaneous leaks soon nudged Feinstein forward, or at least sideways.

The Sudden Chorus of Oddly Simultaneous Leaks, (file photo)..

Feinstein executed a lateral pass, handing the letter off to the FBI, which redacted Ford’s name (presumably as a safeguard against Trump sending ninjas to assassinate her) and forwarded the letter to the White House, calling it an “update on Judge Kavanaugh’s background check,” which was silly, since the Bureau hadn’t checked a word of it. With a nonchalance that must have rankled the FBI leadership, Trump’s people submitted the letter to the Senate judiciary committee, whose ranking Democrat, Diane Feinstein, had received it to begin with, and done her best to hide it. The judiciary committee as a body, however, was by no means inclined to ignore Christine’s story, although even the most radical committee members realized that without a name attached, it amounted to little more than a spritzing of graffiti.  The media, after all, had been hammering Trump with anonymous sources for over two years with such disheartening results that a verifiable accuser seemed mandatory.

Back when the Post was liberal but responsible, even Woodward and Bernstein had to show 2 solid sources for every story. Which reminds us–we’re glad Linda Lovelace got out of porn and found Jesus, but what made her rat out Nixon?

A a flesh-and-blood victim willing to make her victimhood a matter of public record, and as melodramatically as possible, was desperately sought. When Christine seemed reluctant to embrace her destiny, the leakers began chorusing afresh–this time whispering her name into tactically-useful ears–some of which were attached to the editorial staff at the Washington Post, which lost no time entreating Ford to come forth and save the Republic. Haunted by visions of a renegade Supreme Court ruled by a fascist majority answerable solely to Donald Trump, Christine, who originally whispered her accusations anonymously over the newspaper’s tip line, steeled her nerve and consented to an interview. So favorably did the Post’s editors resonate to Christine’s story, they rushed it to print without a scintilla of corroborative evidence. The Rubicon was crossed.

Judge, tracked to his lair by the Post, denying everythingof course! Just look at those beady eyes!

Ironically, it was Christine’s move to retain legal representation that made her “outing” inevitable. Once her Democrat lawyers were immersed in negotiations with the Democrats on the committee, all of whom leaked constantly to the press, Ford’s hopes of retaining any semblance of privacy were dashed. The Washington Post simply formalized the event, after which the New York Times reported, “After days of intense and closely watched legal wrangling, lawyers for the woman, Christine Blasey Ford, reached final agreement with the committee…for Dr. Blasey [sic] to testify.”

What, me radical?

With Christine’s name in headlines, the priority shifted to obfuscating her political radicalism, lest it be seized upon by narrow minded conservatives as motivating her charges. To this end, nearly every information-and-news organization in America performed yeoman’s work keeping the public in the dark by omitting any discussion of Ford’s pro-impeachment activism, opposition to Trump’s climate and border policies, financial contributions to Bernie Sander’s presidential campaign, militant support for abortion on demand, or even the fact that she was a registered Democrat. When word leaked despite the mainstream’s best efforts (blame those pesky right-wing websites) the Washington Post had a disinformation campaign ready to go. Ford’s opposition to Trump, snarfed the Post, stemmed entirely from her dismay at discovering her rapist-manque listed among Trump’s Supreme Court choices, and who could blame her? By the time a few right-wing bloggers began wondering aloud how the legendarily scrupulous Post missed the fact that Kavanaugh’s name was not added to Trump’s list until November 2017–by which time Dr. Ford was a familiar figure at anti-Trump events–the media had moved on to “matters of greater importance.”

Christine’s chief attorney, contemplating the overthrow of Roe vs. Wade.

Ford’s principal attorney, Debra Katz, proved an unwitting hindrance to Christine’s sheep-dipping.  At the University of Baltimore’s Feminist Legal Theory Conference, Katz revealed that Christine came forward out of fear that Kavanaugh’s appointment threatened abortion rights, a fact first reported in Ryan Lovelace’s book Search and Destroy: Inside the Campaign Against Brett Kavanaugh, and later confirmed by video footage. “When [Kavanaugh] takes a scalpel to Roe v. Wade,” Katz warned, “we will know who he is… It is important that we know, and that is part of what motivated Christine.” Evidently, few journalists procure tickets to the University of Baltimore’s Feminist Legal Theory Conference, because Katz’s revelations went unreported, together with her quintessentially liberal inference that a man who dislikes killing babies will probably also rape coeds.

Christine Blasey Ford finally addressed the Senate Judiciary Committee on Thursday, September 27th, 2018. Her first utterance was undoubtedly true. “I am here today not because I want to be. I am terrified,” she told the committee, She then stressed a theme destined to mist the eyes of many an interviewer, politico, and audience member to come, insisting her “civic duty” impelled her testimony, adding, in her quavering soprano, “I felt like I couldn’t not do it.” In that moment, Ford could have aced any polygraph. First, she was most definitely someplace she didn’t want to be; her efforts to avoid public identification, let alone testifying, bespoke an authentic dread of exposure. Second, though insensible of the carefully orchestrated squeeze play executed by the deep state to place her on public display,  she certainly felt duty-bound. How better to rationalize mendacity? Striking a blow against Trump while defending Roe vs. Wade was her duty, and if that meant slandering a couple of male-chauvinists who opposed women’s reproductive rights and probably even voted for Donald Trump, then duty came first.

“Indelible in the hippocampus…”

Ford told the Senate she’d been swimming at a club in Chevy Chase after which she’d agreed to join a small gathering of college students at a nearby house. She arrived to discover people drinking beer in a small living room, and acknowledged drinking one herself. When she ascended a flight of stairs to the bathroom, she was pushed from behind into a bedroom. She realized her assailants were Kavanaugh and Mark Judge, who locked the door and turned the music (which was already playing in the unoccupied bedroom for some reason) “up louder.” “I was pushed onto the bed,” Ford recalled, “and Brett got on top of me. He began running his hands over my body and grinding his hips into me. I yelled, hoping someone downstairs might hear me, and tried to get away from him, but his weight was heavy. Brett groped me and tried to take off my clothes. He had a hard time because he was so drunk, and because I was wearing a one-piece bathing suit under my clothes. I believed he was going to rape me. I tried to yell for help. When I did, Brett put his hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming.” But Ford told the Senators the most traumatic aspect of the situation stemmed from her inability to catch her breath once Kavanaugh mounted her. In her baleful quaver, she made a point of emphasizing her fear that Kavanaugh would kill her “accidentally.” “This is what terrified me the most,” she sniffled, “and has the most lasting impact on my life.”

Having enunciated sufficient diagnostic criteria to suggest clinical trauma, Ford moved to highlight her relevant expertness. In a line that perfectly emphasized her training as a psychologist as well as a victim of toxic masculinity, she declared  “Indelible in the hippocampus is the laughter, the uproarious laughter between the two and having fun at my expense.” Newscasters took pains to instruct neuroscientifically untutored viewers on the hippocampus’s role in storing memories. Democrats fed Christine questions perfectly tailored to highlight her clinical training, allowing her to expatiate on “how memory of a traumatic experience works.”

Her own expert witness!

Jungian psychology manifested itself in a spectacular display of synchronicity as countless publications, broadcasts, and websites, described Ford’s testimony in identical terms. “Christine Blasey Ford is her own expert witness,” headlined the Atlantic. “Christine Blasey Ford appears before senators as her own expert witness,” reported CNN. “Christine Blasey Ford is serving as both witness and…her own expert witness,” marveled the New Yorker. “She became an expert witness,” gushed Slate. But no one had impugned Christine’s academic or professional bona fides. Her status as a  clinical psychologist was not at issue.  Only today’s media could twist Ford’s doctorate into a guarantor of probity–as if Ford’s degree validated her claims–a surreal argument to the effect that Dr. Ford’s experiences were obviously real, because she was a psychologist, and ought to know.

“Ja, here is my theory of synchronicity–it explains vy dey all say der same ting all der time!”

Rave reviews in the morning editions!

Dylan Scott of VOX— ignorable right, left, and center.

Most Americans, however, shrugged off Christine’s credentials, focusing instead on her demeanor and the evidence. And this despite media pundits ceaselessly thundering their unshakable faith in every syllable the Lioness uttered. The New York Times called Christine’s testimony “riveting.” The Washington Post upped the ante, declaring it “devastating.” The Associated Press adhered to higher journalistic standards, concurring only after consulting a Northwestern Pritzker School of Law professor, who pronounced Ford’s testimony “vivid and credible.” Dylan Scott, of Vox, attempted a big-tent approach, writing, “the overwhelming consensus, from right, left, and center alike, was that [Ford] was a credible and compelling witness.”  But in the real world, opinions differed. Questions of the sort America’s journalists once felt a professional obligation to ask, were surfacing despite the practiced indifference of America’s journalists.

Can I get a witness?

Kavanaugh takes the stand–just look at those beady eyes!

That Kavanaugh categorically denied Ford’s charges hardly amounted to evidence, since any slimy reprobate might be expected to do likewise. True, Kavanaugh went further by insisting he and Ford never even met, but again, one might expect as much from a cornered sex fiend angling for the Supreme Court. Hunting down witnesses to Kavanaugh not attacking Ford, was easy enough, but licitly futile.  Christine, on the other hand, had her own witnesses. Apart from Mark Judge (who denied any part in the affair, but of course, he was Kavanaugh’s accomplice) Christine was able to recall two others present during the assault. She identified a Georgetown Prep student, one P.J. Smyth, who, despite some equivocation in previous iterations, she now declared innocent of any part in the attack. Smyth, however, responded to his de facto acquittal ungraciously, telling the FBI he had “no knowledge of the small party or gathering described by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford.”  This made Christine’s lifelong besty, Democratic operative Leland Ingham Keyser, the last witness Team Ford could prevail upon. Alas, Keyser’s attorney told the press, “Ms. Keyser does not know Mr. Kavanaugh and she has no recollection of ever being at a party or gathering where he was present, with, or without, Dr. Ford.”

P. J. Smyth, voting “not present.”

Lelend Keyser, as she appeared in 1982 ,or possibly 1985, in the party house she wasn’t in, chatting with Brett Kavanaugh, whom she never met.

Not only did Keyser insist she was never there–none of Ford’s early accounts mention her.  She seems to have shown up first in Christine’s letter to Feinstein, and is described by Ford in some accounts casually conversing with P.J. Smyth, and the guy who just attacked her, as she fled the scene. Either Christine forgot about Keyser until 2017, or mixed Keyser into the narrative when the story began to circulate, hoping her friend and fellow Democrat would back her up if need be. When the need arose, Keyser chose principles over politics, leaving Christine to ponder the wisdom of assuming.

Father and Lioness–in happier days.

Christine’s witness pool was thus reduced to zero, or what prosecutors used to call a “he-said-she-said” stalemate, before “believe the woman” became forensically decisive. Some obviously misogynistic onlookers were even churlish enough to wonder aloud where Christine’s family was throughout her travails. Rumors spread that they didn’t support her appearance. This impression was temporarily blunted by the timely appearance of an affidavit fully endorsing Christine’s version of events, beginning,“As members of Christine Blasey Ford’s family . . .” bearing twelve notarized signatures. But the media had barely reached a crescendo ballyhooing the document when someone pointed out that no one signatory to the affidavit was a blood relative of Christine’s.  Ford’s parents remained silent on the matter, which spoke volumes, skeptics suggested. The media countered that Ford’s parents were obviously scarred by the event as well, and keeping a low profile to minimize their emotional pain. After events settled, however, Christine’s father was not keeping a low profile when he approached Kavanaugh’s father at the Burning Tree Golf Club, telling him in front of witnesses, “I’m glad Brett was confirmed.”

Cristina Miranda’s selfies are all extremely blurry, reflective, perhaps, of her cognitive processing,

You’ve been Miranda-ized!

Hope bloomed afresh for Team Ford when a former classmate of Christine’s went viral on Facebook posting first-hand confirmations of Christine’s story. Cristina Miranda, who attended school with Ford during the ’80s, triggered a media storm insisting, “This incident did happen!” Miranda  vividly recalled hanging out with Ford, Kavanaugh, and Mark Judge, and described the accused assailants as products of “a particularly toxic drinking environment.” Furthermore, Miranda recalled much of the Holton-Arms campus abuzz with news of Kavanaugh’s assault on Christine. The news elated Ford’s lawyers, who subpoenaed Miranda, believing they’d stumbled upon the evidentiary mother lode.  But alas, their star witness greeted the opportunity to testify by lapsing into an immobilizing bout of apoplexy, precipitated, it seemed, by the traumatic intrusion of reality upon her cyber-spacial realm. Confronted with the unanticipated circumstance of being taken seriously, Miranda underwent an epiphany. She realized she “had no first hand knowledge” of the events Ford described.  Suddenly awash in lucidity, Cristina told an audibly frustrated NPR interviewer,”That it happened or not, I have no idea. I can’t say that it did or didn’t. In my [Facebook] post, I was empowered, and I was sure it probably did. I had no idea that I would…have to go to the specifics and defend it…”  This was not the eye witness account Christine’s lawyers were hoping for. Miranda was quietly un-subpoenaed, and exited stage left.

The devil’s in the details….

At no point did Christine’s legal team consider arguing that their client was actually the new Dr. Who. They should have called us!

It didn’t help that despite imbibing, by her own account, a single beer, Christine could not recall a single detail specific enough for anyone to verify. Certainly, victims of violence can be forgiven memory gaps, lapses, and distortions, but there are limits. Writing in USA Today, Margot Cleveland perfectly summarized the distinguishing feature of Christine’s mnemonic dysfunction, noting “…the problem for Ford is not that she doesn’t remember everything: It is that everything she remembers changes at her convenience.” This was particularly the case where Ford’s timeline was concerned.  For starters. Christine’s Washington Post transcript described Kavanaugh assaulting her in the mid-1980s.  That time frame is corroborated by Christine’s therapist’s notes from 2012 and 2013, which record Christine’s assertion that she was in her late teens when she was assaulted by four boys, all of whom attempted to rape her, only to be thwarted by her magic bathing suit.  Throughout the session notes, Brett Kavanaugh is conspicuous by his absence.

By the time Christine addressed the Senate, the year had become 1982, placing her in her early teens, with her assailants reduced to only two: Kavanaugh and Judge. If true, this striking departure from her original account, as well as from her therapist’s notes, meant Christine originally misremembered her age, the number of boys who attacked her, and even in which year it happened, and continued to misremember these details for more than three decades, recovering an accurate memory of events only prior to her Senate testimony.  A cynic might infer that once targeting Brett Kavanaugh became essential, the switch was necessary to place him at the crime scene, since Kavanaugh was at Yale by the mid`’80s–an airtight alibi, until Christine re-remembered the year.

Somewhere between my house and your picture….

Christine’s alma mater where she was presumably taught to avoid anyone attending an “elite prep school.”

The location of the incident was equally nebulous. Ford was never able to recall the location of the party, but told the Washington Post the place was “near the country club”—a nice splash of White Privilege that Ford augmented by describing Kavanaugh and his friends as “boys from an elite prep school”– forgetting, apparently, that she herself was attending a posh private girls’ academy, the Holton Arms School in Bethesda Maryland.  On examination, the houses near the country club didn’t fit Ford’s scenario, first because no party house in the vicinity matched the one described by Ford, and second because none of the alleged miscreants lived in the area., When shown a map, Christine waxed briefly incoherent, finally sputtering, “I would describe [the house] as it’s somewhere between my house and the country club in that vicinity that’s shown in your picture.”

Found it!

Inside proved no less problematic. Ford had trouble settling on the layout, plus the details of her escape. Her description of the stairwell shifted with various tellings. The living room where the students were drinking beer became a small family room, suddenly distinct from the living room through which she made her escape. When this drew criticism as a facile means of explaining how she fled the dwelling without a single witness noting her departure–never mind her presence–the area morphed into a “small living room/family room-type area.” Too, Ford never explained how she escaped a gang of inebriated sex maniacs while at the same time pausing to secure transportation to her residence, and in the same moment witnessing Kavanaugh chatting with Keyser and Smyth in the aftermath of the attack, a room away.  And who drove her home? Despite every mainstream media reporter and DNC operative (forgive the redundancy) combing the landscape for Christine’s phantom driver(s), no one ever stepped forward to claim credit for rescuing her, or driving her there in the first place.

Fear of flying….

By any rational standard, Dr. Ford’s reality testing proved as dysfunctional as her storied hippocampus. Counsel Rachel Mitchell drew her into a discussion of her alleged aviophobia–a line of inquiry that should have aroused Ford’s suspicions immediately, unless her amygdala was also on the blink. A principal reason offered by Ford’s lawyers in defense of their client’s reluctance to testify, was Christine’s horror of air travel.  Friends dashed to assure any available reporter that Ford’s fear of flying was not only extreme, but (for reasons that remained psychologically opaque) a direct result of Kavanaugh’s assault on her person. Ford also testified that her phobia posed a significant obstacle to her Senate appearance.  “I was hoping … to avoid having to get on an airplane,” Ford told Mitchell, “but I eventually was able to get up the gumption with the help of some friends, and get on the plane.”

“Going that direction….”

Not particularly adept at reality testing…

A stirring account, but Mitchell was armed with Ford’s effusive Facebook posts, depicting her vacationing in Hawaii, Costa Rica, the South Pacific Islands, and French Polynesia.  Asked whether these excursions had not obliged her to book round-trip flights aboard airplanes, Ford readily confirmed the fact, then froze for an awkward moment and compressed her lips, as if grasping belatedly the paradoxical nature of her testimony.  In a twinkling, she composed herself and sprang back into the fray, but her improvisational skills proved unequal to the task. “Easier for me to travel going that direction,” she sputtered, “when it’s on vacation!”

Say what? Sex Crimes Prosecutor Rachel Mitchel experiences one of several surreal moments during Christine’s questioning.

No team of lexicographers, syntactitions, and semanticists, assigned the task of divining Ford’s meaning, could have arrived at a unanimous conclusion. The impression grew that Christine Ford was, by dint of some unknowable peculiarity of her psyche, prone to spasmodically exiting consensus reality for dimensions where no one could follow. This was not a woman who could be taken at her word—even by the most fraudulent hacks among the Democrat committee members, although they doggedly interrupted Mitchel’s questioning to blither social justice apothegms, punctuated by reminders to, “believe the women!”  (A courtesy not extended 65 women who attended high school with the accused and submitted affidavits vouching for his decency, nor to Ford’s key witness, Democrat operative Keyser, who swore the whole thing never happened.)

The FBI Story…

The only credible evidence remaining in support of Christine’s claims was her FBI polygraph, which supposedly supported her testimony.  But here too, irregularities abounded. After Leland Keyser testified under oath that “the party and the whole assault situation didn’t happen,” she told the Wall Street Journal that FBI agents visited her and urged her to alter her testimony to support Ford’s allegations. Meanwhile, Christine’s former-boyfriend, Brian Merrick, told the Senate Judiciary Committee that Ford once coached a woman named Monica McLean on beating an FBI polygraph in order to become an agent. By an amazing coincidence, Leland Keyser identified McClean as one of the FBI agents who suggested she lie on Christine’s behalf. Quizzed about this, Ford denied telling anybody how to pass a polygraph, and affected a girlish ignorance of such techy complexities—seemingly oblivious of co-authoring a 2008 article detailing how psychological factors affect polygraph results. Agent McClean also denied everything, lawyered up, and resigned from the Bureau.

The invention of the one-question polygraph…

Crib notes for a polygraph? It’s today’s FBI!

Ford’s polygraph was performed by FBI Agent Jeremiah Hanafin who, for whatever reason, abandoned protocol, first by allowing Ford to write a lengthy statement describing what happened at the party house, and then by asking her extensive questions about her statement.  Most polygraphers agree that the more questions a subject is asked, the harder it becomes to detect falsehoods, since lengthy dialogues desensitize the examinee, making lies harder to catch. For this reason, asking Ford numerous questions about her jotted scenario was both a terrible way to establish  a baseline, and an excellent means of abetting deception.  But Hanafin not only granted Ford an opportunity to acclimate her psyche–he eliminated any semblance of baseline readings by activating his polygraph only once Christine and he ended their colloquy.  Still more bizarrely, once up and running, Hanafin limited the actual examination to only two questions, “Is any part of your statement false?” and “Did you make up any part of your statement?” (Which, if you think about it, is the same question twice.)

Genius at work!

FBI Agent Jeremiah Hanafin, inventor of the one-question polygraphic exam (patent pending).

In stark contrast to Hanafin’s pioneering approach, the Justice Department mandates highly specific questions, testing “the possible direct  involvement of the examinee.” Hanafin, however, managed to conduct what amounted to the world’s first one-question polygraph exam during which he entirely avoided specifics, neglecting even to ask whether Ford had been sexually accosted at a house in Bethesda, or the year of the alleged incident, or whether Brett Kavanaugh was Ford’s attacker—in fact, Kavanaugh’s name didn’t come up.  Whether one deems Hanafin hopelessly inept, or sleazily duplicitous, is irrelevant to the fact that his results are useless.


Doreen St. Felix, avec un accent Français, n’est-ce pas?

The hearings closed without any Republican Senator, let alone any Democrat, giving Ford the grilling her story merited. The GOP’s spin on its observable pusillanimity portrayed Republicans as too chivalrous to engage in verbal fisticuffs with a lady. The even funnier liberal explanation was best encapsulated by Doreen St. Felix (accent grave over the “e” in Felix, if you please), who wrote in The New Yorker that “Republicans on the committee, likely coached by some consultant, did not overtly smear Ford. Some pretended, condescendingly, to extend her empathy.” The real motivation for Christine’s kid-glove treatment by Republicans, of course, was the GOP’s terror of the media. The media, for their part, played along by pretending they hadn’t realized as much decades ago. But there is courage in numbers, or at least grim conformity, and In the end the Anita Hill maneuver foundered, the GOP majority held, Kavanaugh was confirmed…and the Christine Ford Show was cancelled.

Not even this impromptu laying on of hands by her attorneys restored Christine’s mojo.

The inevitable book….

Once a Lioness’s utility erodes, a book is customary–a bestseller, fanning the embers before they fade. Usually such books are penned (or seemingly penned) by the Lionesses themselves, Perhaps Christine delayed her search for a compatible ghostwriter in the expectation that New York Times reporters Robin Pogebrin and Kate Kelly would make her case adequately in their hastily co-authored The Education of Brett Kavanaugh: An Investigation.  Pogebrin and Kelly are certified liberals, and afflicted with that amusing purblindness endemic to the insular Left. Less endemically, they are also ambient researchers, meaning they occasionally include facts damaging to their case in the apparent conviction that such details can be magically agendafied by splicing on whichever progressive sophistry seems germane. For example, they admit Christine is making bank and gaining celebrity as a result of her testimony, but dismiss any thought of venality, declaring, “the only reason to come forward with an uncorroborated 35-year-old account of sexual misconduct would be because she believed it to be true.” On what planet that sentence qualifies as logical, the authors neglect to say.
Two liberals, one gut.

Authors Pogebrin and Kelly, (left and lefter).

Pogebrin and Kelly shrug off other discoveries unflattering to Ford as mere curiosities. They admit searching exhaustively for a house matching Ford’s crime scene–without any luck. They chase down Ford’s old friend Leland Keyser, apparently in hopes of turning her toward the light. Given the level of naivete inherent in the authors’ contention that despite zero evidence, Christine’s story is credible because their “shared gut” tells them it is, Pogebrin and Kelly may well have supposed Keyser a victim of intimidation by Trump’s secret alt-right goon squads, and reckoned that an alliance with two crusading Times reporters would stiffen her backbone. Instead, they admit Keyser genuinely disbelieves Christine’s tale. “We spoke multiple times to Keyser,” they write. “She didn’t recall that get-together or any others like it. In fact, she challenged Ford’s accuracy, [saying] ‘I don’t have any confidence in the story.’” Pogebrin and Kelly conclude, therefore, that Keyser’s memory must be “poor.”

Leland Keyser–whose memory must be “poor!”

But indelible in Keyser’s hippocampus are memories of mutual friends begging her to change her testimony and support Ford’s claims, threats to publicize her substance abuse issues if she didn’t endorse Ford’s story (Keyser is in recovery from opioid addiction resulting from numerous back surgeries), and being “told behind the scenes that certain things could be spread about me if I didn’t comply.” Keyser stood her ground, telling the reporters, “It would be impossible for me to be the only girl at a get-together with three guys, have [Christine] leave, and then not figure out how she’s going to get home.”

The Lioness at large….

The ambivalence infecting Pogebrin’s and Kelly’s opus must have disappointed Christine. On a brighter note, beyond what she described as legal costs (although her lawyers worked pro bono) Christine quickly exceeded a million in profits from national crowdfunding campaigns, and is once again beset by major publishers vying for her autobiographic account of the scandal. Cannily, she continues to encourage donations, explaining “The costs for security, housing, transportation and other related expenses are much higher than we anticipated and they do not show signs of letting up.” Specifics aside, Christine’s GoFundMe spokeswoman assured concerned journalists that Ford and her husband “can withdraw as much as they want whenever they want for any purpose.” A separate fund managed by the eponymous yet otherwise anonymous “Team Christine Blasey Ford” raised an additional 700,000 dollars, while Heidi Li Feldman, a Washington law professor, told reporters she “sponsored a capped fundraiser to assist Dr. Blasey [sic] with her security expenses.” Feldman placed her take at $241,000, adding “I understand [Christine] will draw upon them [sic] when she has the opportunity.”

The disgusting slime menace…

Christine described a torrent of death threats, which she called “terrifying,” adding, “[they] rocked me to my core.” A spokesman for the Senate Judiciary Committee insisted the committee was “not provided with specifics of any threats against Dr. Ford,” but Christine told donors, “We have already had to move four times, our movements are limited even with security, and the threats are ongoing.” Actually, the main threat to the Blasey-Ford estate derived from members of the national media camping on the property, snapping photos through the windows, littering the grounds, crushing flowerbeds, and trampling lawns. Given such boorish encroachments, it is understandable that Christine fled her 3.3 million-dollar Palo Alto property, taking refuge at her 1.03 million-dollar beach house in Santa Cruz, but this was the sum of her evasive manoeuvres. To date, the only threat Christine disclosed publicly was an alleged social-media message reading, “From what I’ve heard, you have 6 months to live, you disgusting slime.” Ford weathered the threat unscathed, presumably thanks to the exertions of her outstanding security teams, which clearly comprise top-notch professionals given Christine’s assurance that hundreds of thousands of dollars accrued specifically for security went entirely to that purpose.


Andy Warhol rethinks the wisdom of allowing everyone 15 minutes of fame.

Ford’s capacity to monetize her Warholian 15 minutes, as well as her post-orbital telemetry, surpasses that of most Lionesses. Indeed, the aplomb with which Christine manipulates the ever-exploitable demographics of liberal, feminist, and Silicon Valley gudgeons is impressive, giving us hope she may prosper in her post-leonine years. Overtime, we fear, Christine’s sparkle as a progressive cause célèbre will prove unsustainable…a nightmarish condition our liberal readers will recognize as anathema to their beliefs, as well as those of Wiccans, environmental activists, chubby female baby boomers sporting Pussyhats at Whole Foods, network newscasters, and most especially to Gaia, primal earth goddess and ancestral mother of Greenpeace.

No wonder the climate is warming—Gaia ate the entire planet!

Christine’s odds of prolonging her luster brightened when oddsmakers named her a shoo-in as TIME magazine’s “person of the year.” The honor, reduced to a hollow japery over the decades, still excites liberals–probably because it always goes to liberals, and invariably to liberals whom no rational person would think of. Christine was the consummate candidate. But fate had not wearied of shortchanging our Lioness. TIME’s journalistic laurels fell unexpectedly upon the furrowless brow of Greta Thunberg, the insufferable teenage Pecksniff blown by ill winds to our shores (while her support team arrived by jet) in order to denounce America’s responsibility for Global Warming. Had Thunberg elected to visit her dudgeon upon the worst planetary polluters, Red China and Russia (where her jeremiads would have ensured her permanent disappearance, or earned her a heaping bowl of Polonium-210), Christine would have gotten her cover shot, but once the pompous homunculus glared at her audience in New York’s U.N. building and ululated “How dare you?TIME’s editors forgot all about Christine Ford–lured irresistibly by the Swedish wunderkind’s  harangues.

Greta Thunberg, the carbon-neutral nuisance from Sweden: “How dare you?!”

“Communism is the goal!”

Roger Baldwin, ACLU founder,  courageous communist.

But in the grand tradition of deus ex machina, hope descended in the form of the American Civil Liberties Union. California’s ACLU chapter dazzled guests at their annual “Bill of Rights Dinner,” by introducing Christine as the surprise speaker, and winner of the Rodger Baldwin Courage Award, named in honor of the ACLU’s founder, who in 1920 enunciated his organization’s credo by declaring: “I am for socialism, disarmament, and, ultimately, for abolishing the state itself… I seek the social ownership of property, the abolition of the propertied class, and the sole control of those who produce wealth.” Possibly concerned that future generations of Americans might mistake his manifesto for the Democratic Party platform, Baldwin took pains to add: “Communism is the goal!”

Sources assure WOOF that the real reason the NFL will not offer Kaepernick a job is because no one can squeeze a helmet over his Afro–making his safety a critical concern.

Ford wowed the diners, telling them: “When I came forward last September, I did not feel courageous, I was simply doing my duty as a citizen,” to which she somewhat unmindfully added, “I thought anyone in my position…would do the same thing.” She even quoted former quarterback Colin Kaepernick, (the previous winner of the Baldwin Courage Award–who knew?) to the effect that “we all have an obligation, no matter the risk and regardless of the reward, to stand up for fellow men and women,” which seems an odd sentiment coming from a man who insists the NFL won’t hire him on account of his repeated refusals to stand up.

Rare Lioness….

Entertainment sites like the Hollywood Reporter and Glamour provided the lion’s share (sorry) of Christine’s ACLU coverage. Detailed reviews were likewise limited to showbiz sites and periodicals, all of which gushed fulsomely, but in eerie isolation. It was as though the establishment’s gaze shifted overnight, consigning its most recent Lioness to the entertainment glossies. Mainstream newscasters noted Christine’s ACLU appearance, but in passing, and rather tersely, stressing that appearances by Ford were “rare.” On one hand, viewers were expected to understand Christine was not in the habit of capitalizing on her martyrdom–the ACLU business was a mere divertissement…an outlier. On the other hand, however, the subtext was intended for Ford, and those of her supporters too clueless to evaporate gracefully.

Hence the media-wide fixation on “rare.” Besides providing further evidence of the uncanny synchronicity haunting liberal news coverage, choruses of “rare” served as a sub-textual injunction. A fever had flourished briefly, the subtext seemed to say, and while lots of people caught it and went crazy for a while, the infection had now passed, and nobody saw the point of revisiting those days of mass delirium. Translated from liberalese, Christine was on notice. Her legacy would be upheld when necessary, or when briefly convenient to the cause, but her mission had failed, and her objective value lay in tatters among the fragments of her busted testament. Cooler heads now prevailed, the subtext implied, and wisdom decreed a return to sounder, less illusory stratagems–the Russians again, perhaps–or Stormy Daniels–or the President’s role in spreading the corona virus. But Christine? Maybe a guest shot on The View.

“What’s the rush to judgment?”

Matthew Dowd, ABC commentator and resident casuist, struggling to decide which women we should always believe by default, and which women we really shouldn’t ever believe, no matter whose fault.

In an objective world, Christine Blasey Ford’s story would be dismissed on the evidence, or rather its absence. But in today’s media-constructed matrix, we are incessantly prompted to stifle our critical faculties and embrace whichever PC dogma is currently masquerading as thought.  Shouts of “Believe the woman!” and the implicit inverse: “If you don’t believe the woman, you hate women!” supplant rational dialogue. This abandonment of criticality was epitomized by ABC news analyst, Mathew Dowd,  who tweeted: “The default position should be to believe the women,” a standard Dowd clearly considered too obvious to bother explaining, any more than he explained the Left’s absolute refusal to believe–or even tolerate–women who are not the women they enjoin us to believe, but rather women we must never believe, especially when they disagree with the women we must always believe, unless otherwise instructed. This abandonment of rationality was nicely encapsulated by Phil Murphy, the dunderheaded governor of New Jersey, who during the hearings rhetorized, “What’s the rush to judgement?” followed immediately by the afterthought, “Kavanaugh ought to just pack up and leave town.”

Governor Phil Murphy: Dunderhead.

Margot Cleveland, the lawyer and adjunct instructor quoted earlier, summarized the entire debacle, writing “Open-minded Americans of all stripes should see that–emotions aside–Ford’s testimony is completely devoid of credibility: so much so…that Ford’s allegations do not even meet the preponderance-of-evidence standard….Yes, victims must be believed. But Ford is not a victim—at least not of Kavanaugh.” 

Lionesses of the Left: Where are They Today? (The Cindy Sheehan Story)

In "It's witch in the afternoon" forum on June 22, 2019 at 3:54 pm

Who, today, remembers the apogee of Cindy Sheehan–or, for that matter, remembers her at all? No, gentle readers, we have not resorted to annoying you with pop quizzes. Herewith, our first in a series of tributes to legendary ladies of the political Left, presented this time around with the following mnemonic stimulus: Cindy Sheehan occupied the screens of cable newscasts earlier this century as omnipresently as does, say, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez today. After her son Casey was killed in action in Iraq, Sheehan determined to honor his memory by becoming an anti-war activist. She gained immediate fame, mainly for camping out in proximity to wherever George W. Bush happened to be at any given time while reciting increasingly shrill anti-war shibboleths to reporters who clustered about her like flies on a sugar cube. But Sheehan’s sugar cube may have been akin to the variety hippies once called “electric.” Evidence of her divorcement from reality grew in tandem with her media exposure. Her early protests, voiced as reasoned, rationally expressed arguments against the war, quickly deteriorated into radical diatribes, and the more attention these garnered, the more Sheehan’s bombast degenerated.

Despite a pleasant and mutually respectful meeting with President Bush, Sheehan soon began second-guessing the matter, envisioning a rematch in which she promised to overwhelm Bush, challenging him to “tell me, what the noble cause is that my son died for. And if he even starts to say freedom and democracy, I’m gonna say, bullsh*t. You tell me the truth. You tell me that my son died for oil. You tell me that my son died to make your friends rich…. You tell me that, you don’t tell me my son died for freedom and democracy.” Wisely, “W” resisted issuing Cindy a second invitation. Unruffled, she moved on to tax resistance, a form of virtue signaling so rare among liberals that a cynic might have inferred a hint of niggardliness. According to Sheehan, though, her mounting IRS debt symbolized her resolve to end the war. “I feel like I gave my son to this country in an illegal and immoral war,” she told reporters, “And, so, if they can give me my son back, then I’ll pay my taxes.” But the IRS (which remained unresponsive regarding Sheehan’s proposed swap) was not alone in demanding a cut of her stash. Her husband, Patrick, filed for divorce, citing “irreconcilable differences” including differences over Cindy’s decision to cut him out of the government payments disbursed to the family following their son’s death in battle.

The Peace Mom, ascending…

Dubbed “the Peace Mom” by applausive cable-news prattlers, and named “The Rosa Parks of the anti-war movement” by Lennox Yearwood, Jr. (about whom the less said the better), Sheehan founded Gold Star Families for Peace, which in turn funded TV commercials–which in turn featured Sheehan. On Hardball she exchanged flummeries with Chris Matthews. On NPR she was praised in hushed,  pseudo-Brythonic tones. John McCain, never one to give forethought precedence over impulse, invited her into his office for a heart-to-heart, after which “the Peace Mom” denounced McCain as “a warmonger.” Urged to expatiate, she added that President Bush was “the biggest terrorist in the world, worse than Osama Bin Laden,” and declared she would prefer living under Venezuela’s Hugo Chávez—but instead of renouncing her citizenship, she moved to Berkeley, California…we will forego the obvious remarks.

Okay, Bush already met with Cindy, but she wanted him to do it until she got it right.

Arrogance abroad….

Sheehan did, in fact, take her act abroad. In the grand tradition of useful idiot-ism, she visited Caracas and paid her respects to Hugo Chavez, thanking him for “supporting life and peace.” By way of underscoring this support, Chavez put his arm around Sheehan and exhorted activists worldwide to “help bring down the U.S. empire.” Following a private one-on-one with the chubby despot, Cindy revealed Chavez had advised her to run for president in the U.S. “I was impressed with his sincerity,”she added.

With Hugo in Caracas–all about love and peace!.

Nobel prize winning playwright Dario Fo; we have no idea either.

Next, Cindy showed up in London, where she was lauded (in authentically Brythonic tones) by BBC newsreaders, after which she addressed something called the International Peace Conference–a Labourite event that generated no appreciable effects on peace anywhere. From there she was whisked off by chauffeured limousine to attend a performance of “Peace Mom,” a hagiographic stage play about Sheehan, penned by Nobel Laureate Dario Fo (we never heard of him either). Cindy gave “Peace Mom” a rave review, and then hopped a flight across the Irish Sea, stopping at Shannon Airport long enough to harangue Foreign Affairs Minister Dermot Ahern (who was kind enough to greet her upon landing). “Your government,” she told Ahern, “even though they didn’t send troops to Iraq, are complicit in the crimes by allowing the planes to land and refuel.” Ahern’s response is lost to history, although Ireland’s criminal complicity continued unabated. Returning home, Sheehan produced not one, but two books (in what seemed preternaturally short order), reprised her D.C. arrest by tying herself to the White House fence, and proceeded, upon release, to the Capitol Building where she was arrested a third time (but for the first time by the Capital Police) for attempting to crash the state-of-the-union address.

Cindy endures martyrdom for the cause–did they take it this well in Selma?

So, what happened to Cindy Sheehan? How did her widely heralded crusade for world peace evanesce into a memory so dim, it requires WOOF to revivify it in this premier entry of our exiting new  Lionesses of the Left series? Explanations are not readily forthcoming, or rather, those available are mainly inadequate, inaccurate, or sophistic in the extreme.  For instance, displaying that magnitude of subliminally-driven avoidance that invariably afflicts the liberal press whenever accurately describing the facts would betray its own accountability, USA Today reported that Sheehan vanished from the scene because “Instead of focusing on issues where an increasing number of Americans agree with her, she disappeared into fringe politics.” But that, dear readers, is abject hooey–and an example of media twistedness we’ll revisit in the conclusion of this article. Suffice it for now that Sheehan immersed herself in fringe politics almost from the beginning and rose to media stardom by raging against the values and sensibilities of “an increasing number of Americans.” It was only once she radicalized her gabble that the media made her a star. Why these same forces ultimately cast her aside will never be detailed in the pages of USA Today, or by any other establishment rag. That, gentle readers, is why our rag is here.

A somewhat retiring figure….

While Sheehan played no conscious role in her downfall, she hastened it unwittingly through a series of markedly imprudent miscalculations. Prey to that form of  impulsivity that is particularly ill-suited to chess and politics, she repeatedly followed her instincts, which repeatedly betrayed her, and for reasons she grasped too late in the game. The first instance came as the dazzlingly acclamatory publicity surrounding her early efforts took a modest downturn–a clearly cyclical diminishment any media-savvy analyst might have predicted.  Sheehan, however, reacted to the dip in coverage like an addict in the throes of withdrawal. Persuaded that only drastic action could avert her movement’s demise, (and restore her flagging notoriety) she  cast about for an attention grabber–something different and newsworthy enough to generate fresh headlines. Drawing on a staple of the entertainment industry, she unleashed the manipulative power of feigned retirement.

Coming out….

To officialize the event in an authoritative venue, Cindy turned to no less a medium of record than the Daily Kos, informing its readers of her resignation as the “face of the American antiwar movement,” in order, she said, to resume domestic life and devote herself to mothering her “surviving children.” This created the desired shock wave, all right, but once that wave swept the establishment’s news crawls, attention once again withered.  After a news cycle spent spotlighting the “Peace Mom’s” ostentatious withdrawal from active activism, the ever-myopic media leviathan lumbered onward, quickly forgetful of the Cindy Sheehan story. So the retirement ploy was a bust, but reversing it presented a challenge. Sinatra, Streisand—even Eminem and Alec Baldwin, enjoyed the option of ascribing their returns to popular demand—but Sheehan wasn’t dealt that card; the masses seemed content to stumble along without her guidance. Absent anything resembling popular outcry, Sheehan intuited (and not un-incisively) that some irresistible provocation was needed to legitimate her reappearance. Some colossal affront—preferably emanating from the Bush administration–a perversion of justice or some militaristic aggression so vile–so fascistic–so arrogant–as to impel the Peace Mom’s return to public life. But if Cindy’s tactical calculations seemed uncharacteristically workable, her patience proved unequal to the task.

The Scooter Infamy

The detestable Libby–look at those beady eyes!

One cannot play the mythic hero absent an equivalently epic challenge. Every Beowulf needs a Grendel, every Cú Cuchulain a Lugaid. In this instance, however, Cindy Sheehan was in too great a hurry to wait around for the ideal nemesis to pop up–and the best she could produce on short notice was the hapless Scooter Libby. Libby, it may (or may not) be remembered, was an official in the Bush White House whose misfortune it was to be Vice President Cheney’s chief of staff during the media-confected Valerie Plame scandal. Special Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald (an earlier avatar of Robert Mueller) was charged with tracking down whichever un-American rapscallion leaked Valerie Plame’s CIA affiliation (an affiliation known even to her neighbors, and announced by her husband at every upscale Georgetown dinner event) to the press.

The “outed” Valerie Plame: “I’m the victim here!”

After spending part of 2004 and most of 2005 feeding “evidence” to his grand jury, throwing reporters in jail for refusing to testify, and pretending he didn’t know all along  that Richard L. Armitage was the inadvertent leaker, or that Plame’s CIA work was non-clandestine, Fitzgerald caught Libby in a perjury trap–albeit one so feeble it required sending Libby to prison for failing to remember details that Fitzgerald psychically divined Libby did, in fact, remember, and therefore must have lied about forgetting.  Ignoring the probation office’s recommendation that Libby receive home confinement, the prosecution insisted on prison where Libby languished until Bush finally got around to commuting his sentence. (Just recently, Donald Trump fully pardoned him.)

Treachery, left and right!

Et tu, Nancy?

But according to Cindy Sheehan, Bush’s pusillanimous commutation of Libby’s sentence was tantamount to treason, and treason so vile as to necessitate the Peace Mom’s return to the public arena, there to rejoin the battle against the resurgent forces of tyranny. Announcing her return to reporters already struggling to recall her previous exploits, Sheehan fiercely defended her decision, announcing “I believe that when George Bush commuted Scooter Libby’s sentence for a crime that he was complicit in, he committed treason.” Noting, perhaps, that even the most leftward among the assembled newshounds appeared baffled, Cindy drove her point home, explaining, “a president can commute sentences, a president can pardon people, but not when they are involved in the crime.” Feet shuffled–throats cleared–Cindy pressed on: “I believe that Nancy Pelosi committed treason when she took impeachment off the table! You cannot ignore our constitution. And not only that, they have also been going against the constitution by approving torture, which goes against the Eighth Amendment, by approving spying on us without warrants, which goes against the Fourth Amendment….” and so on.

Like in Venezuela!

Sheehan ally McKinney–helping the U.S. become Venezuela.

Support was meager from the outset. Political backing came chiefly from the infamously addlepated Cynthia McKinney who exited congress to seek the Green Party’s presidential nomination, and failing that, appeared with Sheehan at a San Francisco demonstration, bellowing, “We have an opportunity to learn from countries where people power has stepped up and through the power of the ballot they have changed things, like in Venezuela…”

Hugo goes soft on the Evil Empire….

“I don’t know what the book is yet, Valerie–the man won’t let go of my finger!” 

But even Venezuela was adjusting its rhetoric, sensitive to the imminent departure of “W” and the nearly inevitable ascension of Barack Hussein Obama. In the event, it bears noting, Chavez (who claimed to smell brimstone whenever Bush was in the vicinity) greeted the Bamster with a fraternal embrace and handed him a copy of “The Open Veins of Latin America” a gongoristic denunciation of U.S. imperialism by the Uruguayan communist Eduardo Galeano.  Obama, whose Marxist roots were primarily African, didn’t recognize it. “I thought it was one of Chavez’s books,” he told reporters, “I was going to give him one of mine.” Vintage Bamster, right? But The New Yorker called it “a quip,” and one of the many “good lines” Obama “got in” during his hug fest with the Venezuelan despot. Point being: nobody was saying anything critical of America’s first Marxist in those early days, except for a handful of contemptible fringe figures–Rush Limbaugh, and his Neanderthal ilk. Cindy Sheehan, however, didn’t get the memo. A flaw peculiar to clinical narcissists is a level of self-absorption that inures them at times to even those rudimentary tactical insights accessible to the average schoolyard bully (like Hugo Chavez, come to think of it). Hitler invaded Russia. Commodus thought he could outfight champion gladiators in the Colosseum.  And Cindy Sheehan decided to attack everyone at once.

Commodus enters the arena! (More gumption than common sense.)

(READ MORE!)  Read the rest of this entry »

Hillary’s Hit List–WOOF reviews the body count so far!

In "It's witch in the afternoon" forum on May 31, 2014 at 3:32 pm

Bill & Hill pulp fiction this one

Who’s afraid of Hillary Clinton? Well, WOOF isn’t, obviously, but this seems to make us almost unique. True, we are a self-confessed component of the “vast right-wing conspiracy” first mentioned by Mrs. Clinton during a 1998 interview on the reliably simpatico TODAY program during which she addressed Monica Lewinsky’s accusations regarding her husband, the president. Because her appearance pre-dated the manifestation of the infamous blue dress and the irrefutable DNA it bore, Mrs. Clinton was still in the mode of denouncing Miss Lewinsky as a psychotic stalker whose prominence on the national scene she sneeringly attributed to a shadowy consortium of archly mendacious conservatives. “I mean look at the very people who are involved in this,” she told a slack-jawed Matt Lauer, “They have popped up in other settings. This is — the great story here for anybody willing to find it and write about it and explain it–is this vast right-wing conspiracy that has been conspiring against my husband since the day he announced for president.”

The vastness of it all…

hill and mattSo many on the left seized upon and continue to seize upon Mrs. Clinton’s trope (meaning people like Paul Krugman, the liberal economist who espouses the idea of the trillion-dollar-coin solution to the national debt [click here for details], and David Brock, the conservative turned liberal who at one time or another confessed to every imaginable sort of right-wing skullduggery short of personally blowing up the U.S.S. Maine) that it is difficult now to recall –without substantial mnemonic exertion–that the entire idea of a conspiracy bent on framing Bill Clinton as a sexual predator became ipso facto absurd the moment it transpired that he was, in fact, a sexual predator and that Miss Lewinsky was neither psychotic nor a willful instrument of conspiratorial industrialists and oil moguls, but an intern who had sex with Bill Clinton.

In fact, the TODAY interview proceeded in a direction that is almost never recalled nowadays, with Lauer asking, “If an American president had an adulterous liaison in the White House and lied to cover it up, should the American people ask for his resignation?” CLINTON: Well, they should certainly be concerned about it. LAUER: Should they ask for his resignation?  CLINTON: Well, I think that—if all that were proven true, I think that would be a very serious offense. But that is not going to be proven true.  I think we’re going to find some other things. And I think that when all of this is put into context and we really look at the people involved here, look at their motivations, look at their backgrounds, look at their past behavior, some folks are going to have a lot to answer for.” Well, she got that part right.


The original right-wing conspirators?

As has been the case repeatedly throughout her public career, Hillary was spectacularly wrong. Indeed, if we were discussing anyone but a Clinton we would write ‘embarrassingly wrong,’ but neither Clinton seems to possess the requisite gene for embarrassment. Still, unless Daddy Warbucks had “Punjab” hypnotize Bill and place him helplessly beneath the zaftig intern’s lurid spell, no conspiracy was necessary in the creation of the Lewinsky scandal—just the president’s insensate sexual impulses and Lewinsky’s lubricious naivete. And yet the image Hillary conjured lives on. And while WOOF is proud to serve in the ranks of this now-legendary cabal, we cannot help thinking that if the right wing harbors vast armies of conspirators bent on national dominance, they must surely constitute the most ineffectual assemblage of bumblers since the heyday of F-Troop, given the unprecedented speed at which the country is careening leftward—which is as much as to say downward.

Of narcissistic looney tunes…

Monica Lewinsky, authoress

Monica Lewinsky, authoress

Some have argued that Mrs. Clinton’s remarks to Lauer were so mortifying in retrospect that she herself must have been deceived by her husband’s protestations of innocence  in the Lewinsky affair, but WOOF disagrees. With the press firmly in her pocket (and dutifully spiking the entire Lewinsky story until it was exposed by the Internet neophyte, Matt Drudge), and with no advanced warning about the blemished blue dress, Hillary had no reason to suppose that anything would ever be provable, leaving the Clintonistas free to malign Lewinsky, whom Hillary herself referred to as “a narcissistic looney tune”—reminding us yet again that Democrats have difficulty inventing insults that don’t smack of Freudian projection. And now we have Miss Lewinsky’s recently published memoir of the events that led to her national verbification; and we also have, new from Jonathon Allen and Amie Parnes, the book HRC—State Secrets and the Rebirth of Hillary Clinton, which bills itself as describing how “Hillary fundamentally transformed the State Department through the force of her celebrity and her unparalleled knowledge of how power works in Washington.” Wow—and created the most consistently disastrous run of American foreign policy in the sorry history of Foggy Bottom—but oh well.

nixon hippyHRC also makes the familiar allegation that there exists an “enemies list” that is attentively kept and nurtured by Bill and Hillary Clinton containing the name of every individual by whom the Clintons ever deemed themselves betrayed or insufficiently supported. Because, obviously, betrayal and its kindred malefactions are the sorts of things that most egotistical politicians have a difficult time dismissing good naturedly, it is not particularly surprising that such lists might be kept. The most famous “enemies list,” (famous mainly because it continues to amplify the narrative of the worldwide socialist totalitarian conspiracy that governs us—and yes, we love saying that) is surely that of the late Richard Nixon, who students of liberal historical texts already recognize as the second most evil human being who ever lived—Joe McCarthy continuing unthreatened in first place for the 57th straight year). That the American establishment was already firmly liberal by the early ‘70s may be perceived in the fact that being named in Nixon’s enemies list was enough to make one’s reputation socially and/or professionally, witness the fact that Dan Rather gained national prominence thereby.

Young Dan Rather--without Richard Nixon he'd have just been another Ron Burgundy!

Young Dan Rather–without Richard Nixon he’d have just been another Ron Burgundy!

As Rather’s inclusion suggests, a noteworthy point about the Nixon list is that without exception it docketed adversaries from the opposing pole of the political spectrum. (Alert readers may pause here to remark that spectrums do not effectively possess poles, but that’s not important now.) Few today would recognize most of the names Nixon and his amanuensis, Chuck Colson, compiled back in the days of the Watergate Scandal; but John Conyers still rings an irritating bell, we presume, as might Daniel Shore (who found a winter home for his mendacities at NPR until his recent death) and of course the actor Paul Newman, whose dedication to aiming vilification at Richard Nixon took a toll, evidently, on the target’s nerves.

Any analysis of Nixon’s list makes one point clear, and that is that Nixon’s perceived enemies were all denizens of the political left—in other words, people whom RMN perceived as his philosophical opposition. Not so with the Clintons’ so-called hit list, which is quite the opposite. If we are to accept the word of those who claim knowledge of the matter, the list comprises fellow travelers on the political left almost exclusively…Democrats by whom the Clintons feel betrayed, and especially those by whom they feel the most betrayed, namely those who abandoned Hillary in 2008 to climb aboard the Obama bandwagon. Moreover, according to witnesses, the people listed are assigned numbers in accordance with the degree of treachery they supposedly indulged in…a kind of treason index on which the number 1 indicates a baseline of political loyalty that degenerates by degree, tumbling all the way down to level 7, which is reserved for the irredeemably treasonable. The rankings are said to correlate, at least emblematically, with the 7 circles of Hell described in Dante’s Inferno.

In actual fact, no one on Hillary Clinton's enemies is mentioned in Dante Alighieri's account of the 7th circle of Hell.

In actual fact, no one on Hillary Clinton’s enemies  list is mentioned in Dante Alighieri’s account of visiting the 7th circle of Hell.

The “hit list” as Clinton staffers call it, began in the darkest days of Hillary’s failed bid to secure the Democratic nomination in 2008, following which she directed campaign workers at her main headquarters in Arlington, Virginia, to devote themselves full time to the arduous task of tabulating everyone whom the campaign hated, and specifying how much it hated them. If it seems wondrous that campaign workers would have no duties of a more pressing nature, consider that these workers (specifically long-time Clintonistas Kris Balderston and Adrienne Elrod) were formally assigned the project only after Mrs. Clinton had given up hope of gaining the nomination following her shock at being deprived of her rightful station by the upstart, the amateur, the political nobody, Obama.

Lip-syncing her way into your heart!

Lip-syncing her way into your heart!

Something obscene had plainly occurred in HillaryLand, beginning with the writhings and ululations of “the Obama girl,” Amber Lee Ettinger going viral on You Tube lip-syncing “I Got a Crush on Obama!” It must have been a dismal realization for the former first lady and erstwhile New York carpetbagger that nobody was out there whomping up an “I Got a Crush on Hillary” video, nor were armies of mush-brained school kids being taught to sing “Mmm, mmm, mmm, Hillary Rodham Clinton!” Nor were super market chains such as Giant rushing to stack their aisles with collectable plates and tee-shirts featuring her beaming face, nor was Pepsi changing its insignia to resemble her campaign insignia—in fact, she hadn’t even been hip enough to have a campaign insignia—not like Obama! There is a delicious irony inherent in the Clintons’ hubris leading them to discomfiture primarily because they underestimated how addlepatedly superficial are the loyalties of the emotive Left—an odd mistake for a pair whose firmest reliance for eight years was placed upon the pop-cultural sizzle of Bill the sax player, Bill the cool dude, Bill the “first Black president,” and yes, even Bill the hip philanderer. But along came the first real Black guy with a shot at the White House, and the whole parade marched off down the wrong street. Hillary was dumped faster than yesterday’s trendy computer app.

"How dare you, Mrs. Clinton!?" So why didn't Olbermann get a seven? Hillary must've been watching FOX.

“How dare you, Mrs. Clinton!?” So why didn’t Olbermann get a seven? Hillary must’ve been watching FOX.

The obscenity didn’t stop there. All the elements of the infallibly sycophantic news media that had slobbered devotedly over the Clintons for eight heady years were now transfixed by a new loadstone—and in their fervor to carry the dapper young Marxist across the political finish line, they began committing what might best be described as acts of retrospective journalism. In other words, they were discovering news stories about the suddenly annoying Clintons that had previously eluded them entirely or been deemed the insignificant blatherings of right-wing conspirators like Drudge and FOX News. Some media pundits went so far as to note that the former president was a sexual predator (who knew?) while others discovered he had lied under oath and was notoriously disreputable, while still others began to suspect that both Clintons had probably been racists all along! The final proof that progressive news propagandists had abandoned the Clintons with that splenetic virulence common to sundered love affairs came when Keith Olbermann launched into a ten-minute rampage [click here for video] on his now-blessedly-defunct MSNBC program aimed at delineating every one of Mrs. Clinton’s failings as a campaigner, a politician, and a human being, all liberally sprinkled with interjections of “How dare you, Mrs. Clinton?!” and other damnatory rhetorical excesses of the sort Olbermann customarily reserved for targets to the conspicuous right of say, Ho Chi Minh.


Uh-oh–there’s going to be Hell to pay!

When one expects to be guest of honor at one’s own coronation and winds up ditched on the roadside, one may understandably wax resentful—and Hillary did exactly that, in that massively irascible way that made her temper tantrums legendary amongst her camp followers (even if most of them were by then working for the Obama campaign). Beginning on a massive white board, scribbling away with erasable markers, loyalists Balderston and Elrod undertook the sisyphean task of cataloguing everyone who had crossed, double-crossed, abandoned, denied, or in some other manner offended “HRC” and determining to what extent the offenders had offended. Thus, from the ashes of Hillary’s presidential campaign grew the rudiments of the massive vengeance campaign to follow.

The unforgiven…

We know you’re probably eager to find out who got seven full points on the Clinton animosity scale, and even if you already know, you probably forgot all the names and need reminding, and besides, we’re more fun than whoever told you to begin with, so here are their names in approximate order of unforgivability, accompanied by  the reasons for each listee’s tumble from grace:

johnJohn Kerry (who served nearly 3 months in Vietnam before he was against it) was a Senator from Massachusetts and a failed presidential candidate in 2008 when he rumbled in his bizarre, pseudo-stentorian stage bellow that Obama was the guy America needed  to “turn a new page in American politics.” President Clinton had campaigned vigorously for Kerry in 2004 (despite recent heart surgery) and was not pleased to hear that a new page had to be turned—although why either Bill or Hillary expected loyalty from the hero of Ho Chi Minh city, and author of the “Winter Soldier,” remains a mystery.

Kerry’s buddy and political Godfather, Teddy “Splash” Kennedy, delivered the second cruelest cut to a bewildered and furious Hillary. images“I feel change in the air!” bawled the masher from Massachusetts, who was in the habit of drunkenly calling Obama “Osama”but who managed to pull himself together in late January, 2008, long enough to croak out an endorsement of the young Maoist and follow up with what the Associated Press called “remarks salted with scarcely veiled criticism of Obama’s chief rival for the nomination, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, as well as her husband, the former president.” Thus did “the liberal lion of the Senate” (as our absurdist media enjoyed calling the hero of Chappaquiddick) blot his copy book in the eyes of Bill and Hill. Indeed, with his customary flair for asserting the diametrically erroneous, the Lion boozily prophesied: “With Barack Obama we will close the book on the old politics of race against race, gender against gender, ethnic group against ethnic group, and straight against gay!”

edwards John Edwards, the Senator from North Carolina and preternaturally asinine narcissist who lost as Kerry’s running mate in 2004, represented Hillary’s main competition for the Democrat nomination until Obama caught fire in 2008. Edwards bowed out of the race in January of ’08, but took an agonizingly long 5 months to offer an endorsement. WOOF knows that in the spring of 2008, Edwards had lunch with Obama, offering him suggestions, advice, and good will. Obama, by contrast, was arrogant, aloof, and snotty (can you imagine?) leaving both Edwards and his wife Elizabeth turned off and angry. WOOF also knows that Hillary caught wind of this event and threw a lunch for the Edwardses, going out of her way to come across as sincere and solicitous. So successful was Hillary at this, that John Edwards confided his disenchantment with Obama and promised her his support. Only Elizabeth Edwards kept the promise, however. As soon as Obama’s triumph took on the trappings of inevitability, John Edwards switched his allegiances with speed he had formerly reserved for chasing ambulances and vociferously endorsed Obama, calling Hillary the embodiment of “old-school establishment politics,” thus ensuring himself a permanent spot on Hillary’s hit list, and a full score of seven!


Claire McCaskill–desperate to stay out of the elevator!

Next we have Claire McCaskill, whose Missouri Senate seat was won in 2006 with the help of both Clintons. According to The Hill, “hate is too weak a word to describe the feelings that Hillary’s core loyalists still have for McCaskill, who seemed to deliver a fresh endorsement of Obama—and a caustic jab at Hillary—every day during the primary.” Besides which, some of McCaskill’s run-ins with the Clintons predated the Obama era, including her remark that she wouldn’t want her daughter near Bill, which perfectly sensible observation struck the Clintons as unpardonable. McCaskill, even today, makes known the fact that she fears winding up alone in an elevator with Hillary. But lately, McCaskill has been striving mightily to remove the bull’s eye from her posterior, endorsing Hillary for the presidency with an almost unseemly alacrity, thus prompting the St. Louis Beacon to observe “the move startled some in Missouri, who recall the senator’s critical observations about the Clintons a few years ago that culminated in Hillary Clinton canceling a planned New York fundraiser for McCaskill’s Senate race.” But it needn’t startle you, gentle readers, for you now understand that McCaskill merely seeks to better provision herself for that dreaded and nearly ineluctable elevator ride. (Going down?) richardson

So, all right, you say, all the above-named pols are manifest reprobates and detestable by any rational standard, but how did a nice guy like Bill Richardson earn himself 7 points o the Clinton scale? Well, to begin with, he endorsed Obama instead of Hillary, as you might have guessed. Okay, not really ‘to begin with,’ because to begin with he was best pals with the Clintons and received all the perquisites of pal-hood. President Bill Clinton made Richardson his U.N. Ambassador, and when Richardson wore thin at the U.N., Clinton made him his energy secretary. Bill and Hillary were vital to Richardson winning the gubernatorial race in his home state of New Mexico in 2003. Richardson, in other words, was a political creature of Clintonism—but like a better known creature of Mary Shelley’s invention, Richardson turned on his creator. Like most of the political Left, he caught a full dose of Obama-mania in 2008 and resisted all efforts by the Clintons to get him in Hillary’s corner. These efforts reached a zenith right before the New Mexico primary on Super Tuesday, but to no avail. Richardson endorsed Obama and the Clintons haven’t returned a single phone call since. During a recent book tour, Richardson said of Bill Clinton, “The feud is ongoing and probably permanent. I tried to reach out to him, but he doesn’t care about guys like me. If he wants to continue isolating me, badmouthing me, that’s fine. I’m fine.” Well—we’ll see how “fine” in a moment!

doddChris Dodd may be the most reprehensible churl of the lot, and that’s saying something. The man who liked to make “waitress sandwiches” with his drinking buddy Teddy Kennedy, fought for a nuclear freeze while Reagan was busy winning the cold war and teamed up with Barney Frank to create the 2,000 page nightmare that is the Dodd/Frank Act—legislation so horrendously flawed that even most liberals now admit they hate it– stood in well, naturally enough, with Hillary; until he wandered off the reservation. Dodd’s sins, like everyone else’s on the hit list, occurred mainly during the 2008 presidential campaign. It is laughably forgettable that Dodd sought the Democrat nomination that year—nobody cared. During the race, Dodd went out of his way to paint Hillary as a joke, saying at one event in Iowa that  “It isn’t enough just to be sitting on the sidelines and watching your husband deal with problems over the years,” and at another, “the idea that, for the last 10 or 15 years, because you’ve been next to events as they’ve unfolded somehow qualifies you to do this job is an exaggeration. That’s not experience. That’s just witnessing experience.” Most of Iowa could have cared less—Dodd polled around 1 percent. But Hillary cared—she cared a lot. And when Dodd’s campaign inevitably collapsed, he committed the ultimate sin: On February 8, 2008, he endorsed Barack Obama for the nation’s highest office. The Clinton’s were, of course, irate. So they put the insipid wretch on their hit list and gave him a well-deserved ranking of 7. jay

Jay Rockefeller (Senator, W.VA) is the great-grandson of the oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller, and basically another noisome floret on the subversive Rockefeller family tree. Neither as smart nor (consequently) as subversively Machiavellian as David, nor as pugnaciously annoying as Nelson, Jay’s association with the subversive Council on Foreign Relations and his dedication to every aspect of the progressive agenda made him, nevertheless, a favorite of the Clintons until he began griping at Hillary about the details (though certainly not the aims) of her health plan back in the days of Hillary-care. This might have remained a minor irritant but Rockefeller took the fateful step of endorsing Obama in 2008—and crossed the Clintons one time too many.

Bob Casey-ready for hope and change!

Bob Casey-ready for hope and change!

And what of Bob Casey? Well, he’s really Bob Casey Jr., his daddy having been governor of Pennsylvania, like, forever. But daddy raised up little Bob, sent him to Scranton Prep School and then to College of Holy Cross and then to Columbus School of Law to become a lawyer, of course, and then in 2006 little Bob ran against Rick Santorum for the senate and beat him, proving that Pennsylvania has big cities in which lots of really dim-witted people congregate and, obviously, vote. And Casey beat Santorum with a considerable boost from Hillary Clinton who staged a mammoth fund raiser for him. Moreover, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer, Hillary donated more of her personal money to Casey’s ‘06 campaign than to any other Democrat’s, and for what?  We offer the rhetorical question here because in 2008, Bob Casey’s hair caught fire for the Obster—or it would have, if he had any. He was just as giddy as everyone else to the left of, well, Rick Santorum, (and with the obvious exception of the Clintons), about the dawning epoch of transformative “hope and change.” So carried way was Bob, that he endorsed Obama’s candidacy at a crucial moment approaching the Pennsylvania primary, gushing that Obama would show America “a path of a new kind of politics.” Evidently the people of Pennsylvania disagreed because Hillary actually won the primary, but the Clintons were no less livid, and Bob Casey was awarded a treachery rating of 7.


A decidedly unappealing concept!

Vermont Senator Patrick “Leaky” Leahy also offended during the nominative battle of 2008. At exactly the point that Hillary most desperately sought support from old allies, Leahy showed himself ever the dependable slime ball, announcing publicly that Clinton couldn’t win the nomination and should yield to Obama, adding“We need a president who can reintroduce America to the world — and actually reintroduce America to ourselves, and I believe Barack Obama is the best person to do that.” A furious Hillary declared him an instant 7 and instructed Balderston and Elrod to so list him on their white board. rob

Representative Rob Andrews of New Jersey got caught up in the media’s sudden discovery that the Clintons might really be racists. (Remember when the media discovered the Clintons were racist? It only lasted a few weeks and apparently the Clintons got better because it stopped when Obama got nominated and it never gets mentioned nowadays.) But for a while in 2008 the “gotcha game” was suspended for Republicans and played instead against Bill and Hillary who overnight became incapable of saying anything that wasn’t a coded or overt slur against Blacks. Forgetting that he was speaking about the man whom the press had formerly dubbed “the first Black president,”Andrews dealt himself  into the game and expressed pangs of “concern” over Bill’s ostensible race baiting, telling the Newark Star-Ledger that the Clinton campaign had “engaged in some very divisive tactics and rhetoric it should not have” during the Democratic primary. “There have been signals coming out of the Clinton campaign that have racial overtones that indeed disturb me,” Andrews fretted, adding, “Frankly, I had a private conversation with a high-ranking person in the campaign … that used a racial line of argument that I found very disconcerting. It was extremely disconcerting given the rank of this person. It was very disturbing.” Holy cow, the Clinton’s were practically in the Klan—maybe they were in the Klan! And his display of feigned umbrage regarding an issue the Clintons had previously supposed themselves utterly proofed against, assured Andrews pride of place among the top ten traitors on Balderston’s and Elrod’s evolving white-board list.

Rep. Chris Van HollenChris Van Hollen is a cookie-cutter liberal in the blue-Maryland mold who could pass for a clone of that imprisoned state’s governor, Martin O’Malley. His sin against the Clintons? Unlike others on the list, Van Hollen’s presence is a tad mysterious. “I’m trying to figure out…as I say, it’s an unsolved mystery and maybe someone will pick up the phone and tell me,” Van Hollen told his comrades at MSNBC. So apparently he knows he’s on the list, but can’t say why. WOOF suspects he knows good and well what he did—but we don’t!baron hill

And finally, there is Baron Hill. No, the famous ruined 17th century estate near Beaumaris in Wales is not on the Clintons’ hit list…nothing nearly so magnificent or classic! The Baron Hill of immediate concern was the representative from Indiana’s 9th congressional district. He was labeled a “Blue Dog,” which the reader will recall used to describe relatively conservative Democrats. There were, however, about as many Blue Dogs left after Reid and Pelosi rammed Obamacare through congress as there were Viet Cong after the Tet Offensive.  Hill’s problems with Hillary arose the moment he walked up to a microphone on April 30, 2008, and gave vent to the following idiotism:  “We have to move past the partisan gridlock. I believe both Senator Clinton and Senator Obama want to do that and I believe both are formidable candidates. But, I also believe that only one of them truly can. … I have decided to support Senator Obama.” (Oops!)

What’s the damage?

hill w gunFirst let’s simply look at the anecdotal evidence, most of which emanates from gushy Hillary staffers or their lesser numbers, eager to promote Hillary’s reputation as the wrong gal to mess with. In their current book, which we half-heartedly plugged earlier in this screed, Parnes and Allen write that Hillary’s aides like to exchange knowing stage whispers about the fates of folks who messed with their mistress, to wit:  “Bill Richardson: investigated; John Edwards: disgraced by scandal; Chris Dodd: stepped down,” and “‘Ted Kennedy,’ [an] aide continued, lowering his voice to a whisper for the punch line, ‘dead.’ ”  To review the evidence for the potency of Hillary Clinton’s disapproval as a destructive force, a dispassionate recounting is necessary. So here it is:herald

Of the twelve stalwarts of the Left to whom Mrs. Clinton assigned the damnatory ranking of 7, most may be said to have suffered a subsequent discomfiture. John Kerry, once installed in Hillary’s former position at State proceeded to make a fool of himself not only in that quotidian manner he does anyway, but also in one diplomatic debacle after another. After visiting Egypt and conversing with Mohammad Morsi, leader of the Islamic Brotherhood (which replaced the pro-American Mubarak presidency after Hillary and Obama torpedoed our longtime ally, see details here), Kerry boisterously declared Morsi’s hold on power to be iron-clad, posed for grinning photo ops with the smirking thug, and returned stateside to sun himself on his yacht while Morsi’s own army overthrew him and tossed im in prison.

karziWithin the year Kerry made a  further fool out of himself by threatening decisive military intervention in Syria and then flip-flopping, promising that any such intervention would be “unbelievably small” whereas in fact it was non-existent. He jetted to the middle east only to be largely ignored by the Palestinians, returned home to whine about Israel becoming “an apartheid state” (which asininity he failed to obfuscate with explosions of feigned indignation—apparently at having been quoted in the first place), hastened to fix matters in the Ukraine whereupon Vladimir Putin made a fool of him and pointed out, rather incontestably, that Kerry was a liar, and paused to exchange insincerities with Afghan leader Hamid Karzai who agreed to announce deadpan that he was no longer holding secret talks with the Taliban after which Kerry left beaming and Karzai went back to holding secret talks with the Taliban. Certainly at this point Kerry has made a sufficiently high-profile buffoon of himself that the damage to him politically is well nigh irreparable. This has also advantaged Hillary insofar as her own disastrous tenure at State looks merely mediocre by comparison. So is John Kerry a victim of Hillary’s hit list? Kerry’s classic inability to perceive himself as the lantern-jawed dunderpate he is, combined with his irrational delusions of personal brilliance, connived to produce every one of his public embarrassments. There is no discernible connection between his failures and the Clintons…but as we shall make clear below, this hardly detracts from a kind of subliminal impression, especially apparent among Leftists, that Hillary’s focused fury projects a certain assaultive energy of a nearly supernatural type.


The Liberal Lion bellows–so where the heck IS little Billy, anyhow?

By the same token, Teddy Kennedy died of a brain tumor, and logic dictates ruling out any connection to the Clintons. John Edwards is another story—it is a fact that Clintonistas played a large part in leaking the details of his affair with campaign worker Rielle Hunter, whose resultant pregnancy was ascribed to an Edwards’s aide, but who actually bore Edwards’s love child (while Edwards’s wife, Elizabeth, was coping with terminal cancer). The Liberal Establishment Media would not, of course, report these matters, leaving them to the National Enquirer…but WOOF knows that a few calculated nudges from Bill and Hillary (long after Edwards appeared a viable presidential nominee) persuaded elements of the liberal media to acknowledge the story’s reality and suddenly it was headline news everywhere. Edwards was next charged with the crime of using one million dollars in political donations to hide his affair, but skated in court. He is no longer a politician, having returned to the practice of law in his former capacity of ambulance chaser. This one is more than plausibly a Hillary coup, because even though the Enquirer had the story on its front page for months, the Liberal Establishment Media would never have touched it without marching orders from the former First Lady’s surrogates.


The regrettable Todd Akin, seen here handing the election to Claire McCaskill in one swell foop!

And Claire McCaskill? She may still be afraid to ride an elevator with Hillary aboard, but no immediately discernible harm has befallen her as a result of her affronts to the Clintons. Her re-election campaign in 2012 looked to be in trouble for a while, and even Mother Jones, whose suspicions regarding Hillary will be discussed below, worried that the Clintons might be conspiring with such satanic personages as Carl Rove to unseat her, and perhaps they were. But it may be recalled that her opponent, Todd Akin, decided to familiarize the media with his views on “legitimate rape” and effectively euthanized himself publicly. So far, McCaskill is a survivor, and her recent endorsement of Hillary’s presidential bid (before it is even announced) combined with her recently observable willingness to exalt Mrs. Clinton at every available opportunity, may conduce toward some degree of détente.

Who shot nice guy Billy? 

niceBill Richardson was clearly targeted for destruction by his former friends, and sources say that Bill Clinton was far angrier than Hillary in his case. Bill had the strongest relationship with the ex-governor, and handled the majority of outreach to him in ’08. Thus it was Bill who felt the sting of Richardson’s abandonment most profoundly. The result was that just as Richardson preened himself for a high-level cabinet position with his new love, Obama, the axe fell. As Politico concisely phrased it, “Over the span of just three months, Bill Richardson has gone from being on the shortlist for secretary of state to late-night punch line, a breathtaking descent that has tarnished his once-sparkling career.” (Guess who!)

Yes, Bill and Hill were in possession of all the manure on their former acolyte, and they weren’t afraid to spread it around, albeit surreptitiously via certain complicit channels in government and media. Naturally, the media showed no interest in Richardson’s misbehaviors until the Clintons pulled the trigger, but suddenly the news exploded with accounts of scandal, including two juicy “pay to play” schemes involving Richardson PACS in New Mexico. Quoth University of New Mexico professor Gabriel Sanchez, approximately on cue,“Every time you turn on the TV or open a newspaper, you see ‘Richardson’ and ‘scandal,’ The public now looks at him much differently. New Mexicans don’t like to constantly see their state being negatively identified in the media.” No kidding! Richardson’s sudden tumble shows you what America would be like if it had journalists!

Tourists in New Mexico express amusement upon learning of Richardson's capers.

Tourists in New Mexico express amusement upon learning of Richardson’s financial capers.

Richardson is currently scratched from the political arena, and this one is a scalp for the Clintons, who knew about Richardson’s crooked financial dealings because, back when things were going harmoniously and the press was playing loyally dumb, they helped set them up…thus it was a simple matter to make the details available, and encourage the press, like a crooked sheriff, to become suddenly vigilant. To the uninformed voter, the sudden explosion of arbitrary justice and journalistic indignation seemed bizarre—especially since New Mexico’s genial Governor had been previously established by the same media as approximately the world’s nicest guy and straightest shooter. Trying to figure out who blew him out of the water was as puzzling to the average citizen as trying to figure out who shot whom at the climax of Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs—but insiders knew—and they knew it could happen to them if they crossed Hillary Clinton!  

dodd and preezy betterAs for the contemptible Chris Dodd, the scurvy jackanapes probably never knew what hit him, he never having been the brightest beer in the toolshed. His illegal dealings with AIG and Countrywide’s infamous Angelo Mozilo were suddenly public  (Guess who!) Just as suddenly his schemes to wrangle presidential pardons for his crooked pals were exposed in the newspapers. Who knew? And when Dodd spewed the standard stream of lies to defuse the situation, the press exposed them as nonsense whereas previously they had repeated them dutifully. His devious sweetheart deals with banks and loan companies while he was a senior member of the Senate Banking Committee charged with regulating the very folks now revealed as his co-conspirators was front page news. Suddenly it transpired that AIG had contributed more money to Dodd than to any other politician, and amazingly enough, the press also discovered that Dodd’s wife had pulled an enormous salary for three years (which reporters had somehow failed to notice at the time) while serving on the AIG board of directors! Dodd, of course, tumbled in the polls, and withdrew himself from the political arena, prompting the ever-disingenuous Obama to commemorate him as having “worked tirelessly to improve the lives of our children and families, support good jobs for hard-working Americans, and keep our nation strong and prosperous, building a remarkable record of achievement for the people of Connecticut and our country.” Oh, Bamster!

Obviously, Hillary was instrumental in Dodd’s collapse, not because she provoked any of his wrongdoings, but rather because she (or, more precisely, her strategically placed envoys) gave the media orders to suddenly “discover” them. The reader may wonder why, in all of the scandal mongering so abruptly targeting Dodd, his sexual escapades with his mentor Ted Kennedy with whom he enjoyed making “waitress sandwiches”[see unseemly details here, or numerous other places] never found their way into the mainstream press. The answer is further evidence of Clintonian orchestration: We really don’t want to be reminding people of sex scandals, now, do we!


Meanwhile, Jay Rockefeller’s departure from politics remains a genuine mystery—he simply announced his retirement. It is a simple matter to imagine Hillary’s minions playing a role in so odd a countermarch, but WOOF has not turned up an informant, or a single shred of evidence implicating Hillary in the West Virginian’s decision to vacate his senate seat. Your guess, gentle readers, is as good as ours!


Leahy–waiting for the axe to fall?

Patrick Leahy, who is nowadays ensconced as President pro tempore of the senate, (a frightening third in succession to the presidency should calamity strike–provided one can imagine a greater calamity than the current office holder) appears to have escaped any reprisals whatsoever for his Obama endorsement in 2008. He must be ruled, as of this printing, a complete miss for Hillary’s hit list, but he looks justifiably worried, don’t you think?

Similarly, Senator Bob Casey continues to blather leftist shibboleths, although, to be fair, he prides himself on standing apart from his fellow Democrats as a pro-life Catholic, although, to be fair, he votes for abortion rights about two-thirds of the time,  but you’re not supposed to notice. Anyway, no harm appears to have come his way via the curse of Hillary—and there may be a reason for this. During the Benghazi hearings, Casey was so smarmily, scriptedly effusive in his kudos for Hillary Clinton’s many achievements (which he naturally declared too numerous to mention in the time allotted except for three instances so oddly obscure as to imply rehearsal) that one could not help suspecting collusion, and one might, if sufficiently suspicious, further suspect that Casey’s hit-listing was lifted in exchange for the six-and-a-half minute game of paddy-cake he played with the outgoing Secretary (judge for yourself, gentle readers, by clicking here).

Another evident escapee from Hillary’s vengeance seems to be Chris Van Hollen, who continues to serve Maryland’s 8th district in the House of Representatives where he is the proud recipient of ratings of zero from Citizens Against Government Waste (CAGW), and the National Taxpayers Union (NTU), and where he continues to fight for more government and higher taxes to the apparent delight of his constituents. So far, he has experienced no ill effects resulting from his rating a 7 on Hillary’s enemies list. No score for “Her Magnificence” on this one, but hope burns eternal.

60-minutes puffs S

“And now for something completely different!”

Rob Andrews, you’ll recall, was habitually “disturbed” back in 2008 by accusations that racism underlay the Clinton campaign. He spoke then with the firm confidence of a practiced traducer, having been elected by more votes than any previous congressman from New Jersey, but the people’s choice resigned last February in the face of an ethics committee investigation. We know what you’re thinking—Hillary’s leak machine took another scalp, right? But apparently not; or at least, not entirely. The original revelations implicating Andrews appeared in a book by Breitbart News’s Peter Schweizer entitled Extortion. [findable here] Still, there may be a trace of Hillary’s influence descryable in the fact that 60 Minutes pounced on the story, which is markedly uncharacteristic of that dedicatedly left-wing telecast, although WOOF has no evidence of collusion apart from the oddity of the event.

bookSchweizer’s revelations led to an ethics committee investigation that turned up so much dirt on Andrews he resigned his congressional seat in the middle of his 24th year in the House, leaving almost immediately in order to be gone by the time the full committee findings became public. On his way out the door Andrews paused to assure reporters that he was leaving because he and his wife wanted to pay for their children’s college educations. Nobody asked him why quitting his job would help accomplish this, and President Obama cranked up his teleprompter long enough to pronounce Andrews “an original author of the health law” who “served the people of Southern New Jersey with tenacity and skill.” So is this a kill for Hillary Clinton? Not identifiably. The credit seems to go to Schweizer, and thus by extension to the “vast right-wing conspiracy” (how ironic!) although the alacrity with which 60 Minutes publicized Schweizer’s findings remains highly suspicious.

Baron Hill fell when Blue Dog membership was nearly cut in half by the election of 2010. In fact membership in the laughable Blue Dog coalition has declined steadily since, besides which it became embarrassingly obvious that the formerly uppity Blue Dogs were nothing more than Obsequious Curs when the president’s socialist agenda was at stake—and who wants to belong to anything called that? Did clandestine meddling by the Clinton camp contribute to Hill’s political demise? It would be precipitate to dismiss the possibility.

None dare call it Maleficium… hillary-clinton-witch

Given all the above, what degree of seriousness should be accorded Hillary’s now nationally publicized hit list?  There are various ways to score this, but objectively it must be acknowledged that of the twelve politicians relegated to Hillary’s 7th circle, seven of them are goners for all intents and purposes–five reduced by scandals, one annihilated at the polls, and one dead. That’s a 67% (n=7) kill ratio, taken at face value. And the clock may still be running on the 33% (n=4) who seem thus far untouched. Reviewed skeptically, it would be reasonable to argue that the results to date are not compelling, especially given the apparent absence of Clintonian influence in certain of the results, notably Ted Kennedy’s death from a brain tumor. But Hillary’s wrath cannot, we think, be dismissed so casually. True, so far as anyone knows for sure, the only people Hillary Clinton ever actually succeeded in getting killed are Ambassador Stevens, his aide Sean Smith, Tyrone Woods and Glen Doherty, and, as Mrs. Clinton herself has remarked, “What difference at this point does it make?” Speculation about the mystical potency of Hillary’s hit list remains exactly that—speculation. But as longtime readers are well aware, WOOF excels at speculation, so let us posit an exploratory thought in closing. In a political party wherein appearances are everything, might it not follow that the same would hold true for Hillary’s reputed powers of hex casting?


Here’s an even stranger consideration: It is widely acknowledged that Hillary employed a psychic medium during her White House days to guide her through lengthy conversations with dead people, notably Gandhi and Eleanor Roosevelt. Yes, we know this is absurd, but it is also true, at least to the extent that Hillary genuinely considered herself in contact with Mrs. R., and according to her husband, is still in contact with her! [view here, for instance.]  If you have time to indulge such hobbies, you may also have noted the barrage of Internet palaver to the effect that “Hillary Clinton once participated in Satanic rituals at Bohemian Grove” (she supposedly danced naked, which image is too aesthetically distressing to pursue.) And then there are the standard reports that she is everything from an Illuminati witch to (what else?) a reptilian space alien from the planet Archon!  If you really want to, you can watch Hillary transforming into an interplanetary reptile [here]—but you should also watch Jenna Bush transforming here, first because it’s fair and balanced that way, and second because Jenna is so much easier to look at—gosh, she’s even a great looking reptile! It is rare that we at WOOF have the opportunity or inclination to cite Mother Jones as a source for anything worthy of consideration, but it was in fact they who broke the story that “For 15 years, Hillary Clinton has been part of a secretive religious group…” a fact that the authors found distressing only insofar as the group is purportedly Christian. Reporters Kathryn Joyce and Jeff Sharlet went on to reveal that the group, referred to in hushed tones as “The Fellowship,” included all sorts of high ranking military officers, religious personalities and (eek!) conservatives [click here for details].


Best Friends Forever!

The Daily Kos actually bothered to confirm this fact, in an apparent moment of dubiety as to just how far they could actually trust Mrs.Clinton. Okay, to paraphrase the immortal words of Thomas Magnum, we know what you’re thinking! You’re wondering if we in the WOOF cave are smoking crack all of a sudden, but no—we are not of the view that Hillary does any of the daft things  imputed to her by credulous Internet sources. But WOOF knows that Hillary does in fact suppose herself to receive other-worldly guidance from Eleanor Roosevelt and other historical personages (regrettably never Washington, Adams, or Milton Friedman) and WOOF knows that “The Fellowship” aka “The Family” actually exists, although if Hillary is, as Mother Jones suggests, a crypto-right-wing Christian zealot with mystical ties of comradeship to the likes of Senator Sam Brownback (R-Kan.) and former Senator Rick Santorum (R-Pa.), she has certainly done a world-class job of concealing their influence! No, Hillary is an unregenerate New-Left (meaning old-school) radical of the ‘60s collegial variety, a convinced socialist, a dyed in the wool secularist in deed and conviction, and a power-driving manipulator whose penchant for prevarication puts Obama to shame. But the imagery of witchcraft is an important aspect of her psychological game—the whispered suggestions of demonic affiliations and supernatural alliances are part and parcel of her intimidation of potential betrayers and challengers.

To date, Christine O'Donnell is the only political hopeful to declare that she is not a witch--what is Mrs. Clinton hiding?

To date, WOOF’s 2012 presidential nominee Christine O’Donnell is the only nationally known political hopeful to declare that she is not a witch–what is Mrs. Clinton hiding?

This may have little impact on the Right, except to stimulate our more excitable constituents to frantic web chatter, but the Left is suitably unnerved. Such intimations of paranormal power are simply added cause for concern among those already alert to the inadvisability of bestirring Hillary’s resentment. Laugh if you like, gentle readers, (in fact, we encourage it!) but we know whereof we speak! For the stable of prospective nominees coming into 2016, for the vast assortment of potential tell-all book authors, and for any surviving democrats who might prefer to emulate Zell Miller, or even Larry McDonald, the message is clear: Don’t mess with Mrs. Clinton! And the subliminal message is equally powerful: Don’t make yourself the target of some sort of medieval Maleficium—after all, who knows what the woman is capable of! Thus, as 2016 approaches, and especially if Hillary’s enemies list is perceived to have claimed another victim or two, the former Senator from New York will find herself in the catbird seat. She will be well positioned to stare down her would-be competitors and, as she gloats over the political carcasses stacked before her, repeat the line uttered by the Apache war chief Sierra Charriba at the beginning of Sam Peckinpah’s classic film, Major Dundee:  “Who will they send against me now?”WOOF PRINT



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