VEN (NEW YORK) — As members of her own party grow increasingly intolerant of her ongoing public appearances, and seeing her once astronomical speaking fees decline by over 85% with the dissolution of the Clinton Foundation, a beleaguered Hillary Clinton waited 45 minutes at the PBS studios in New York for an interview that was not to be.
“Is there a Hillary Clinton here? Hillary Clinton?” a smiling intern asked, as she surveyed the room with a quizzical expression on her face.
“I’m Hillary Clinton,” the former Secretary of State replied, as aides helped her to her feet.
“Oh, OK. I’m very sorry, Mrs . . . . Clinton? But Mr Rose no longer works for PBS. Someone should have called you and canceled. We’re so sorry for the inconvenience!”
“Same shit, different day,” a weary Mrs Clinton told VEN‘s Senior Norma Desmond Award Winning Political Correspondent Joe Gillis, as she waited for the elevator surrounded by doting aides and her security detail, while senior aide Huma Abedin handed her a sterling sliver flask, a gift from Muammar Qaddafi before Mrs Clinton had him killed for getting in the way of her guns for money deal with ISIS.
“Drink deep or taste not the Arab Spring!” a wistful Mrs Clinton softly cackled, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before carelessly tossing the now-empty flask back to Ms Abedin.
“You know, they all hate me now. All those motherfu^^ers I made rich! They want me to just f^^^ing die or disappear.
“Last week, I was working so goddamn fu**ing hard on my next book From Yale To Jail — My F^^king and Punching Political Journey that my carpal tunnel syndrome came back and I needed another one of those soft casts on my right arm.
“So what do those alt-right c*ck suckers do? They start Tweeting that I lost a fisting contest to Janet Napolitano.
“Like I’d ever lose a fisting contest to ANYONE (Ms Abedine nods in agreement), especially that fat lumberjack dyke!
“You know, you selflessly devote your entire goddamn life to serving your country and you lose the Presidency because of Russia and a lot of stupid white people and Negroes, and then they turn on you like a pack of dogs.
“Believe me, if anyone got fisted here it was me! And fisted HARD! Every. Goddamn. Day!”
Developing . . . .