The Clinton Monster That Won’t Die
By JASON HIRTHLER
As the primaries shuffle their way across the republic toward the D-Day of Super Tuesday, it may be worth recalling the political soil from which Democratic contestant Hillary Clinton emerged. Not when she was a Goldwater conservative. Not when she was a governor’s wife in Little Rock. Not when she arrived in the Senate or in Barack Obama’s Cabinet. But rather when she rode her husband’s quisling charm into the Oval Office. She frequently seconded Bill’s opinions and—like any good spouse in a political marriage—campaigned on his behalf. That was the key moment when the Democratic Party finally secured its special place in hell, nestled inside the devil’s pantheon of world-historical sellouts.
But before it can climb atop its fiery plinth, it must die. Now, as a party of the people, the Democratic Party is already interred. But it has found new life as a party of the one percent. And looking at it now, one has to wonder—has it ever been healthier? That depends on whether Hillary can connive her way into office and secure the black flag of neoliberalism for the party. You know, that banner her husband hoisted over the Democratic National Committee (DNC) in the misty dawn of our demise?