Weekend at Hillary’s, a Tragicomedy About Lying Enablers and a White House Campaign
A Commentary By Charles Hurt
Sure, it looked like a scene out of Weekend at Bernie’s. At first glance, anyway.
Strange purplish sunglasses concealing dead, hooded eyes. Pantsuit as vibrant as a sack of spoiled potatoes tipped against a bollard. Helmet of hair toggling as aides hoist and jostle her feet-first — one shoe on, one shoe off into the security van with tinted windows.
The pre-Clinton era slapdash attempted-comedy is not nearly as funny as it was unforgettable for its utterly unbelievable and ridiculously goofball plot.
Basically, a couple of guys have to prop up their dead boss and make him look alive for an entire Labor Day weekend at a Hampton’s beach house. If they fail, the employees will lose their jobs and face criminal prosecution for the intricate financial swindle their boss has been playing.
You can see how Hillary Clinton, the Clinton Foundation and all the Clinton employees from Teneo Corporation to the State Department would all feel more than comfortable filling roles in a remake of Weekend at Bernie’s.
Perhaps the strongest comparison between Hillary Clinton’s 9/11 weekend and Weekend at Bernie’s is how unfunny they both are.
But there are real problems with the whole analogy.
Weekend at Bernie’s was, at least, trying to be funny. And it was pure fiction.
Hillary Clinton is trying to be serious. And she really is running to be president of the United States, the most unfunny, serious, real thing there is.
Perhaps the biggest difference between the two tragic comedy dramas is that before the Labor Day weekend, Bernie was an actual living human being.
Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, has not been a living human for a very long time. It is like she is some kind of droid, a political robot that needs to be rebooted from time to time. Alarmingly, with increasing frequency.
Certainly, the footage of Hillary Clinton being propped up on the street to await the arrival of her tinted mystery van was strange and captivating. It will loop a billion times between now and Election Day.
But far more strange was when she emerged a few hours later from her daughter’s apartment. It was like nothing had happened.
“I feel great,” she grinned. No different from any successful campaign appearance we have seen from her in years. Even better, really, since she didn’t devolve into a hysterical coughing fit.
Just a few hours before, she had been completely incapacitated, unable to stand or take a step. People on both sides of her had to lift her full weight to get her into the van. She was so incoherent that she lost a shoe. Video with sound showed a strange metal pin appearing to fall from her waist, pinging as it hit the sidewalk.
And let’s stop for a minute and ask a simple question: Why does Hillary Clinton ride around in a conversion van when everybody else protected by Secret Service travels by SUV or the presidential “Beast” vehicle?
Is it, in reality, an ambulance? Do the tinted windows conceal IV bags hanging from the ceiling and heart defibrillators and banks of medical equipment to keep the Trojan politician “alive?”
And what did they do to her when she got to her daughters apartment? What kind of drastic medical procedures and mystery injections got her back onto her feet and coherent again?
How was she suddenly able to keep both of her shoes on and walk across the sidewalk and greet a child without buckling, stumbling, freezing up or falling into another coughing seizure.
Even more concerning, who is in charge during these moments of mental and conscious detachment? Who is making decisions when she shuts down or skips into sleep mode?
We could ask her and her handlers, the technicians who keep her going, but we now know that they simply lie about absolutely everything.
? Charles Hurt can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org; follow him on Twitter via @charleshurt.
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