Monday, May 05, 2008

Soylent Green Sounds Like a Good Idea Sometimes

If you paid any attention to the sporting news this weekend you'll know that on Saturday, Hillary Clinton bet by proxy on Eight Belles, the first filly to attempt the nation's most recognizable race in nine years. The Democratic hopeful did not attend the race, but she did send daughter Chelsea to place the bet and be seen watching the race.

Ms. Clinton made a very poor decision. It would have been inauspicious enough had the filly come in second. The connection to a filly being one of the favorites in a historically colt-dominated race is obvious enough (at least if you're up to date on your gender-specific young-horse terminology), but when a candidate vying to become the first ever female president actually bets on that horse, the history of a nation can be decided by two minutes of thundering hooves. With that bet, Clinton tied her political destiny to that of the horse. And the horse, well, came in second.

It also died.

That could be important.

What does this mean for Clinton? Well, she'll obviously come in second in her current race. Of course coming in second in what has become a two-person race means you come in last. She won't even get to take home a big second-place purse. She just loses. Honestly, this isn't that big of a surprise. After all, in her desperate efforts to be seen relating to the common man, Clinton has descended into a world of vice. She's been seen on TV drinking beer (a nasty habit, that), slamming shots, and now it's become public knowledge that she's placing bets on the ponies. Do we really need another drunken president? Wasn't Nixon's time in office enough with all of the stumbling and the passing out each night? And what about that gambling thing? Sure it may have been a political PR move now, but do you want to risk the thrill it brought her to stir up an addiction? Sure, she'll be the one there when danger calls at 3 a.m., but only because she's still up that late betting away the Navy's ships in a game of two-card stud with Kim Jong Il. Do you really want to risk that?

No. Of course you don't. That's why Clinton will lose. No one wants a drunken, gambling-addled president answering their bright red emergency phone at three in the morning.

Of course the troubles for Clinton don't stop there. Eight Belles didn't just lose, she broke her ankles and died. Clinton seems to be carrying a little more weight than she did back during her husband's time in office and, being the age she is, probably isn't in the same physical condition she was back then, either. Perhaps osteoporosis has begun to set in. By betting on Eight Belles, Clinton has doomed herself to a humiliating end. I predict that she will keep the race close until right there at the end, just like the filly did, until she loses (and not even closely) during the superdelegate vote at the convention. When the announcement of Barack Obama's receiving the official nomination is made, Clinton, blinded by tears of frustration, will trip over a chair that has been bumped out of place during the excitement of the announcement. Clinton will fall, breaking both ankles, and in the heat of the moment, one of the delegates from Texas will pull out his handgun and put her out of her misery, temporarily forgetting that he's surrounded by people in a political convention and not out on his ranch surrounded by horses and cattle. He'll still be too confused by his state's duelling primary and caucuses to make a snap decision like that and get it right.

I'm sorry, Hillary. Perhaps you should have followed the lead of The Shrub and pretended to be full of Protestant Morality regardless of your actual vices. It would have kept you from linking your fate to that of Eight Belles, at least.


Julie said...

You just had to go the extra mile... you made the impossible bet. Sure... we all know that you'll be proved wrong but if circumstances align and Senator Clinton does break both ankles and have to be euthanized after losing the Democratic nomination, you'll be lauded as a hero. Or psychic. Or the CIA will take you to Guantanamo.

JustinS said...

That's just brilliant.

I can just see Bill readying himself to take Hillary out behind the farm to do the deed when Chelsea walks up, grabs the shotgun, and says, Old Yeller-style, "No, Pa. Hillary's my ma. I'll do it."

Mickey said...

Did you start with the Kim Jong Il image and write around it? Good post.

Jacob said...

Mickey: The Kim Jong Il thing came out stream of consciousness. I started out writing something more serious about the death of the horse, but during my research noticed the tidbit about Clinton. After that, I scratched the serious piece. I didn't know I was going to write that sentence until I got there.

Chris said...

Good stuff. I'm glad I backed up and read this one.

As Julie said -- it's a long-shot prediction, but you should be rewarded handsomely if you get it right. Plus it would make a great moment in TV history. Absurd or not, this might be motive enough for me to actually watch some of the Democratic convention on TV.