In another fine example of journalistic excellence, MoDo spends the first five paragraphs of today's column describing the Clintons campaigning as if writing a script for hentai anime, then wastes some time boringly trashing Bill—without, much like everyone else raising similar complaints, any hint of irony that none of them expressed any outrage when former president George H.W. Bush campaigned for his son, defends his son, or meddles in his son's presidency—and finally gets to her real point, which is, as always, being the World's Most Obnoxious Feminist Concern TrollTM.
Bill has merged with his wife totally now, talking about "we" and "us." "I never did anything major without discussing it with her," he told a crowd here. "We've been having this conversation since we first met in 1971, and I don't think we'll stop now."If talking about making major decisions together, and referring to yourself and your spouse as "we" and "us," are indicative of having "merged totally" with one's spouse, then I guess I'll just start collectively referring to Mr. Shakes and me as the McBorg, since "we" even discuss "our" collective strategy to make grocery shopping more efficient; I can't imagine "we" would stop making strategic decisions together if one of "us" were running for president. It's completely pathetic—and indicative, quite frankly, of crap thinking and crap writing—that MoDo can't find a way to make a legitimate criticism of Bill's involvement in Hillary's campaign without resorting to insipid attempts to impugn their marriage.
The hilarious thing, of course, is that when the Clintons aren't joined at the hip, it's evidence that their marriage is a sham. And when they are, it's evidence that their marriage is some sort of dysfunctional fucktastrophe of codependence. I love it.
Of course, the World's Most Obnoxious Feminist Concern TrollTM can't finish without one final dig at Hils:
It's odd that the first woman with a shot at becoming president is so openly dependent on her husband to drag her over the finish line.Hey, Maureen—I've got something for you. It's a big bag of SHUT UP.