Boy, the news out of the folds of the liberal press has been pretty net neutral for Hillary Clinton and good for Cindy Sheehan lately.
Poor Hillary has been sandwiched between the desultory red tides and Barack Obama's threatened parting of the Republican Red Seas in CNN, while Cindy Sheehan is off on a prolonged hunger strike on any number of fawning left-wing sites, blogs and newspapers of note.
and Hillary's and Cindy's Pilgrim's-like progress is discussed ad nauseam by those ready jug-headed wits like Chris Matthews and the vaunted David Gregory, at least when the latter can adequately contain himself and cease gnawing at the edges of the table and calling from pay telephones in fake foreign dialects.
about the only clouds on their untrammeled horizons in the public relations end of things concern Mr. Mike Skakel's latest attempt to smash the chains of oppression emanating from Mark Fuhrman's dogged account of his high jinks.
Maybe he can pin his whole sorry state of judicial affairs on a shirt tail relative of Kobe Bryant's, who overheard a guy tell another guy at a bus depot that they did what had to be done about the same time that Mr. Skakel forgot about whatever he did, but knew that it didn't happen high in the tree outside Martha's window. and, of course the other guy disavows all knowledge of the Bryant relative's skein of cheap yarn — a typical problem with fourth hand information, poor or fading memories, and great gobs of hearsay.
But Mr. Skakel is as hopeful for a new trial as Ms. Sheehan will be of effecting Mr. Bush's outlook on caving in to international terror and inviting Mr. bin Laden over for a quick go at a peace pipe by foregoing her usual cob salads and pita bread.
and Mr. Skakel is certainly just as pumped up as Ms. Clinton is after carrying on about her latest lost and found reminiscence concerning her reading to the children of migrant workers during Sunday school while their older siblings picked peaches or tobacco, anyway, before commercial fruit salad, stored at room temperature, and unfiltered cigarettes, with a picture of a dromedary camel on the package, were outlawed and health care was mandatory under her aegis and during her husband's many winks at indiscretion. Or at least they all should have been.
So, Cindy's on a hunger strike.
and I remember when Dick Gregory used to go on hunger strikes all the time it seemed. and he survived, but he used to say that it wasn't easy. No sirree, Mr. ahmadinejad, not easy at all, that is, if actually you go on one and don't pretend to and sneak food in and eat crackers, pumpkin pie, drink the occasional Insure and say to yourself, "Just this once."
Nope, Dick Gregory was serious about hunger strikes and his weight dropped to 135 pounds back in 1968 while he was in the can in Olympia, Washington, and he had to go to the hospital.
But I just don't think, and I may be wrong on this weak prognostication, that Cindy "Patty Cakes" Sheehan is going to the emergency room on multiple IV drips and lidocaine pushes because her weight drops below 99 pounds, her fluids levels bottom out, her blood pressure falls off, and her heart goes into defib. It's not in the cards, however marked the deck is, with apologies to her from MSNBC.
But Cindy has been seen down by the river, looking for Susan Sarandon.
Then we learn that Hillary's back hustling, tub-thumping with the dreaded Christian Right, and reaching out to "values" voters, the ones so easily duped by a slick talking left-wing wool gathering female New York lawyer with a socialist agenda.
CNN says, "She understands where Democrats need to go in talking about values…" all right. and telling a good story in front of the Sojourner's "Covenant for a New america" conference is the just place for that non-stop go-go girl Hillary to find her latest voice and repressed memories, while getting down, telling it like it is, and letting it all hang out.
Despite calls for it all, Hillary, realizing the difficulties involved in the old Gospel tricks of the trade, steadfastly refused to go into "tongues" for the throng, and also refused to roll around in the sawdust with constrictors and Komodo dragons, believing that a good camp ground speech was all for the best.
Sadly, where Democrats, Hillary, and all the other hosers need to go is someplace like church or the Sojourners on a regular basis. But that idea clashes with godless secular liberalism.
I mean, just ask ann Coulter and see what she's gone through just for chatting it up around town and for discussing liberalism and religion at the same time.
So here we are.
Mr. Obama is becoming the Red Dragon and is routinely parting the rivers of revulsion. Mr. Mike Skakel is in the jug for the long haul and can't quite get used to standing in the shadows of love. Cindy Sheehan's on a crash diet, though I betcha she downs a Snickers bar off and on, while trying to quash the throes of wretchedness. and Hillary Clinton's yawping it up from the pulpit, and remembering a childhood spent in the cool shade of the trees, dressed in white, reading books to the progeny of the poor, studying about that good old way.
They're all as transparent as an old Coke bottle.
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