ABB’s Dream About Karl’s Obsession with Hills (we're tight like that) Clinton…
A certain Karl Rove sat in his favorite leather chair toasting his feet in front of the fireplace. It was a rare evening home for Karl and he struggled to relax…bourbon in hand and jazz on the radio.
Closing his eyes he couldn’t help thinking about her…the woman who haunted his every waking moment and tormented his dreams.
Hillary…oh, glorious Hillary! Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the unattainable?
Slowly Karl opened his eyes and gazed about the dimly lit room. As the music of Kenny G. floated about him, he took in his shrine to Hillary. The walls were covered in framed pictures of her…at college, at law school, in Arkansas, as First Lady and as Senator.
Karl sighed and sank back into his chair.
Lawd, if she only knew how he adored her! If she only knew that he would leap gleefully to the left if only to get one harsh word from her!
But Hillary was not for Karl…and Karl was left with his shrine-like room.
The knock at the door caused Karl to start and spill a wee bit of bourbon.
“What? Damnit all to hell, didn’t I tell you not to disturb me?”...he shouted.
Behind the door came a soft response.
“Sir, there’s something I think you should see.” His assistant/cook/attendant/serf replied.
“Oh very well. Come in.” Karl sighed.
The door opened and Karl’s serf like assistant entered the room. His eyes darted to the multitude of pictures on the wall. Lawd, he thought, this man is such a freak! Carefully masking his expression, the serf-like servant approached Karl.
“Sir, take a look at the paper!” he gasped.
Karl took the newspaper and quickly scanned the front page. His mouth dropped open in shock.
“She knows! How could she possibly know?” he whispered and tore his eyes from the paper to pin his serf-like servant with a cold stare.
“Sir! I have no idea! I’ve said nothing about…”
His frantic statement was cut off sharply by a vicious slap across the face.
“You did this! I should have never trusted you!” Karl raged.
Carefully wiping tears of pain from his face, the serf-like servant composed himself.
“Sir, this is not such a bad thing. You’ve waited all these years to gain Mrs. Clinton’s notice. Now you have it!” he managed, moving a careful distance away.
“Perhaps you are right! Maybe now we can be joined together in eternal...”
The door flew open and there stood Harriet Miers, her face contorted in rage.
“You asshole! You tow timing asshole! Hillary fucking Clinton? Gawd, you are such a perverse asshole!” she screamed.
Suddenly her wild eyes took in the shrine to Hillary on the walls.
“Oh my Gawd, Karl. Oh my goodness. You’re ill…you need help! I adore you and…”
“Shut the fuck up, Harriet. We only had that one night and I was very drunk. Hillary is the one for me!” he paused to regain his composure.
“I see such bitterness in her…a perfect bitter anger that I am unable to resist!”
Harriet threw her head back and laughed.
“Bitter! Bitter? You stupid, stupid man. No one does bitter like a republican! Just look at Bay Buchanan! And I can out bitter that woman any day!” she turned, and then shot his a withering glance over her shoulder.
“One day you’ll realize that all the truly bitter women are within your own party, Karl. One day. Trust me on that!” and Harriet exited to room slamming the door sharply behind her.
But Karl wasn’t paying attention. He returned to his seat and his bourbon with thoughts of Hillary 2008 swimming through his crazed and demented mind…
Mercy.
Who needs soap operas when you’ve got politics? These people are a fucking festival of drama!
3 comments:
I was thinking the SAME THING, except my thoughts weren't nearly as funny as yours. :) Poor Hills, being the object of such...obsession. Maybe the stank that fell out of your Vanity Fair was "Obsession", by Karl Rove? Hmmm....
Of course, she was pretty much right about the "Vast right wing conspiracy", so maybe he IS obsessed.
PRICELESS! I luv his shiny haid.
I TOTALLY enjoyed that! That would make a great SNL skit, now tha tyou think about it.
Post a Comment