I’m reading a book by Edward Klein called Blood Feud, about the rumored war between the Obamas and Clintons. Asking myself, as I inhale each page, do I truly want to know this much? Mr. Klein, a credible writer and journalist, goes for their jugulars without passing go.
Michelle Obama, for instance, I’ve always viewed as the Black Jackie, comes across like a cobra with political aspirations, despising Hillary Clinton more as an opponent, than a threat to her husband’s legacy that’s murky at best.
I voted for Barack Obama thinking he’d be the change we were all so looking for. Sadly, it was like opening a bottle of Cristal gone flat.
Let me defend Mr. Klein, whose vast collection of non-fiction I’ve read. He’s after truth, even if it does arrive rather raw and stunning. His book, The Truth About Hillary, is what made me question voting for her.
Now of course, we have a Republican nominee who makes her look chaste, in comparison. For all you Trump supporters, aren’t you just a tad worried he’ll blow us all up?
Hillary, for better or worse, comes with Bill, who, despite his flagrant indiscretions, still has an intelligent sense of reason. If this was France, Monica Lewinsky would be canonized rather than stoned.
But it’s the U.S of A. and we’re nowhere relaxed in the area of infidelity, politically or otherwise.
It bothers me, the old-fashioned gal I am, to learn the Obamas have separate bedrooms.
Now the Clintons, who according to Klein haven’t shared one in years, comes as no shock, but the President and First Lady who to me, always appears quaint and cozy, surprised me.
He snores, according to Michelle, and is a little stinky (he smokes), as she so, OOPS…told the press. The Kennedys also had their own rooms in the White House, but Jackie visited Jack often, never complaining, as far as we know, about his scent.
Lucy and Ricky had twin beds because the censors of the 1950s, insisted upon it. But did you ever think The Ricardos didn’t rock the house on a Saturday night?
I just can’t imagine not wanting to be close to the person you profess to love. To spoon with one’s beloved is the grandest grace on earth, and I’d debate that with anyone, even Michelle.
Integrity, across the board, seems to be what’s missing here. When I read Obama was advised, after asking Bill Clinton to campaign for him running for a second term, that he didn’t have to come through on his promise to support Hillary in 2016, left a bad taste in my mouth. Welsh, was the term his Senior Advisor, Valerie Jarrett, used when she said, “You’re the President, you can welsh on whatever you told Clinton you would do.”
He allegedly loathes Bill Clinton, but agreeing to this, if true, dropped his stock, already pretty low, to below sea level.
Even Thomas Jefferson kept his word to Alexander Hamilton, whom he despised, over their deal, chartering the National Bank in exchange for moving the U.S. Capitol from New York, to what was then, the Washington City.
A deal’s a deal, at least where Tom and I come from.
The trouble with reading an expose such as Blood Feud is how it stops you in your tracks. We’re only human, after all, and there’s an election around the corner, so as vigilant Americans, we take rightful pause.
But now what, when both candidates scare the living shit out of us.
A big dilemma, for the voter, if there ever was one.
Given a choice, I’ll opt for Hillary, even though, it’s kind of like holding your nose to down a spoonful of castor oil.
God bless America…the Home of the Free.