In a weird campaign video, Hillary Clinton asked rhetorically “why aren’t I 50 points ahead?” of Trump.
Simple…. because the polls aren’t asking who should be in prison.
In a weird campaign video, Hillary Clinton asked rhetorically “why aren’t I 50 points ahead?” of Trump.
Simple…. because the polls aren’t asking who should be in prison.
There Must Be 50 Ways To Lose Your Lever
Just slip off your feet, Cheat
Make a new scam, Ma’am
Pay off the law, Ma
And get off scot-free.
So she expects to be leading 75% to 25%?
“Why aren’t I 50 points ahead?” asked Hillary Clinton wretchtorically. (And un-gramma-matically, by the way.)
Hillary asks, “Why aren’t I 50 points ahead?” I ask “Why aren’t you 50 points behind?” I guess neither one of us will ever get an answer to our questions.
Meanwhile, normal people are wondering why she isn’t in prison.
Shakespeare had her pegged:
RICH WHORE DETERRED: “Now is the winter of our discontent
Made inglorious somehow by this son of New York;
And all the cloud emails that once litter’d our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
…
“This grim-visaged whore hath smooth’d her wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting a campaign of misdeeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
HE capers nimbly in the latest polls
To the lascivious pleasing of the vote
.
But I, that am but shaped for supporters’ tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely f****** stamp’d, and want to be called Majesty
To strut before a wanton and compliant press;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of this future by my dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, and well past my time
In this fact-check world, legacy half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark like me, as (like Holt) I buy them;
Why, I, in this weak-recovery time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy and shadow-ban in the sun
And decant mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my adversaries and my voters
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if the enemy be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should they closely be screwed up…”