BTW, HILLARY DOES NOT WANT YOU

I sent my fund raising letter to the Hillary Clinton Campaign.

I got a response that was heartfelt (I thought) and told I was in the running to speak for Hillary in Denver.

I was vetted.

I meet Mignon Moore, an incredible lady who was Bill Clintons communications/political director. She asked me a bunch of questions to see if I could stay "on point" (Stop laughing! Ok, that shit is funny. I mean, ME stay on point! Someone else's point. Now you know what LAUGH OUT LOUD LOL means.).

Well, to be honest, I was a sweaty mess. I had run directly there from the airport and I looked like shit (see pic in article in Review Journal in the blog links).

Well, the Clintonistas kept constant contact with me up until Molly Balls article came out in the view.

At that point I began to see the Hypocrisy of the Democratic party and Hillary Clinton campaign. I had broken the golden rule. I TOLD THE TRUTH.

You see, the Clinton campaign is SO not about the truth. It's about the lie that Hillary Clinton is thrilled that Barack Obama is the nominee.

BULLSHIT!

She and Bill are pissed. They have every right to be. They were painted as racists and horrible invectives were thrown at them by cripto-fascist idiots like Keith Olberman (at some point he's going to explode and and the demon worm smegma of Dick Morris is going to be revealed to live within him.).

Her speech at the convention proved she IS the right choice for POTUS.

But, in this new Democratic party where the annointed one rules from on high she ,and we, are not allowed to be feel differently. After all, if we don't get in line and take the mark of the beast we'll be in big trouble soon. Personally, while my feelings on this race have changed drastically from when I left Vegas, I'll still take my chances and wait for the Rapture markless. Ha! Won't the Christians love that! "Do we take the Homo, after all he did refuse the mark?" "Yeah, but, there's that whole "he's way too stylish thing, he won't wear dockers in Heaven and that's standard uniform." Hmm, I got problems either way.

After the Review Journal article came out I became persona non grata to the Clintonistas. What a bunch of wussed out little weenie bobs. Not only did they not choose me to meet the Hillary, they, too this moment, haven't returned a call or txt. I also never heard another word about being a whip.

THEY DON"T WANT YOU!

All the Clinton campaign wants you for is to send cash. They were fine with me as long as they could present to the world the "AIDS VICTIM DIE HARD HILLARY SUPPORTER". Die hard this.

All those PUMAS (who, btw, are really nice people, more on them to come) are wasting they're time. On several occasions I was told to stay away from them. They offered me money, transportation, a place to stay and food to eat. The Clinton staff couldn't even be bothered to let me put my laptop in their office while I went to find a coke. They are embarrassed by the PUMAS and look down on them.

I guess my point is this. If you support Hillary Clinton because of her experience and her contribution to our country, you, and I are one day going to be shown to have the right judgement regarding her. If you support because you think she's different than all the men who have run things all these years. I am so sorry to say she, or, more importantly her campaign staff is not.

I am so sorry.

CODE PINK CUNTS

SOMETIMES YOU FEEL LIKE A CUNT, SOMETIMES YOU ARE

My entire stay in Denver I have been amazed by the absolute niceness of the people here. Last night at dinner I had so many people come to my table to welcome me to Denver and ask if I was having a good time and how did I like Denver that I had to ask for a doggie bag so that I could finish my dinner in peace.

One guy almost ran me over on a dark street, it was totally my fault (I was texting. Imagine.). He stopped his truck and leaned out of the window to say he was sorry! Sorry! If you're reading this from Vegas you know what a bizarre concept this is. I have been clipped so many times in Vegas by car mirrors and then the drivers gave ME dirty looks!

One guy hollered at me downtown when I almost ran him down on my free GREEN DENVER bike. Even he was nicer than he had to be.

I mention all this not just to say it's crazy nice here, but, also to say that when everyone is SO nice it really makes the meanies, bitches, assholes and CUNTS stand out.

(For my older readers I REALLY APOLOGIZE FOR THAT WORD. But, sometimes, it's the only word that applies.)

CODE PINK ARE A BUNCH OF CUNTS WHO TAKE THEMSELVES FAR TOO SERIOUSLY!

Ok, let me take a breath.

I was exhausted after the roll call vote (not to mention WAY upset at how that was such a travesty of Democracy.). I had locked my GREEN DENVER bike under a perfect lovely tree. Little did I know that tree had a CUNT infestation. I saw a group of gaily dressed women ( and not in the Sapphic way, then they would not have been CUNTS.) and asked if I could ask them some questions about what they were doing.

WELL! I was informed that, "WE ARE IN A MEETING!" Now, I understood that and said, "may I ask you some questions after you're done?" "Where are your credentials? Who are you with!?", screamed one short haired CUNT who looked like a refugee from that awful "Return of The Secaucus Seven" movie.

Ok, let me 'splain sumting to you Loo-Cee. In this day and age at this convention everyone is a journalist. I have never seen so many people interviewing others with all manner of devices. No asks for your credentials! No one asks anything other than "will I be able to see this on the web?"

BUT I DIGRESS FROM DEREKS BIG FAT ADVENTURE IN CUNTOPIA.

Get this! One of the CUNTS says all sotto voce, "should we ask him to leave?"

STOP. If you have met me you have to know the look that Derek got on his face at that point.

Obviously, that idea didn't get past the focus group stage.

Btw, one really disconterting thing about this convention is the fact that everyone is very non-yielding on other viewpoints, but, we'll get to that in a bit.

Where was I? Oh yeah CUNTAPALOOZA.

So Adolf CUNTLER begins her "meeting" and all hell breaks loose. It was like a crunchfuck of "well, do we know exactly who is supposed to be arrested and is there a philosophical reason for getting arrested at 15th and Court as opposed to 16th and California?" Does anyone know where the parade is, I mean yesterday we were walking around forever and never did find the media."

Ok. Stop. Just for a minute.

These CUNTS were talking about getting arrested. When and where to get arrested. What effect each arrest would have philosophically. Does anybody see where I'm going with this? Even the most police hating person on earth has to understand that the police have far better things to do than arrest these Erma Bombeckian Joan Baez wannabes. There are donuts to eat and tourists to pose with but, NOOOO, these CUNTS want to get some media attention so that they can go back to Evanston and Menlo Park and tell their teenagers (who hate them for never have been allowed to to eat at Mcdonalds and now are totally over them) and their really boring husbands (who dingle their flaccid now balless members at adult bookstores) that they got arrested in '08 at the Democratic convention.

OOOHHH GRANNY WAS A SUFFRAGETTE!

CUNTS. Boring. Self Righteous. CUNTS.

So, it got really funny. Ok, all of a sudden it got like "The View". All of them were extrapolating on their "concerns" and talking at the same time. It was SO not Sarah Lawrence (Bunny, yuuuu muhst give Saffy her mow-muhnt on the flooruh. Just clinch your jaw when you say that. You'll get it.), not a manner or bit of politeness in CUNTLAND. So, their guy.

OH WAIT! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU! THEY BROUGHT A "MAN"!

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Ok, I'm laughing so hard at the terrible memories I have to compose myself.

If you don't laugh the ugly CUNT filled memories will keep you from moving forward. Or being able to take a decent shit.

Where was I? Oh yeah, their "man", who I guess is brought along to hold the bail money and occasionally be sent to rite-aid for K-Y (hey, personal satisfaction enhancers get dry.), says, "we are all talking all over each other(NOT THAT HE GOT A CHANCE TO GET A WORD IN EDGEWISE!). We should speak one at a time." Finally! A voice of reason! I can't possibly listen in on their "MEETING" if they all talk at once. I was waiting for someone to pass the "speech stick with the Navajo beading I got at a reservation outside of Santa Fe when I took the kids for their annual spiritual colon cleansing" (oh yeah, Johhny HATES mommy.).So, they talked about, honestly, I don't even give a fuck at this point. It was all so jejuene.

So, CUNTFEST '08 breaks up and I ask if I can ask a few questions. I explain that I'm really interested in why the do what they do. Of course at this point I SO know what they are all about.

To whit. Some priviledged white women are so bored with themselves and what their lives turned out to be (two twits and a hubby who won't be bothered to get up the passion to divorce them. They had their day in college because, well, looks didn't really matter at Barnard, brains and "passion" did. A Suburu Forrester or that awful Honda Element in the driveway when they really wanted a Mustang, but, oh those damn green footprint carbon things. They are really tired of making granola that no one in the house will eat (btw Mother Earth, they wanted Dennys Big and Frooty Rooty Patooty!) and honestly,they just don't understand why Carly Simon and James Taylor broke up.

Well, CUNTLER says to me in the most condescending voice, "we've had hundreds of media interviews." As if to say "YOU SIR, ARE A NOBODY AND WE, NAY, I, ARE FAR TOO IMPORTANT TO SPEAKETH WITH YOUR KIND".

And she was right.

Too bad for her I am just as self important as her and have a wicked tongue and now will send the story of the CODE PINK CUNTS all over the cyber world.

TO IFINITY AND BEYOOOOOONNNNNNNDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!