Singin' the Blues By Lisa Fabrizio Ah, nostalgia! Merriam-Webster online defines it as, "pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again." And so it was that I experienced an acute pang of pleasant wistfulness as I watched Hillary Clinton's hair-tossing attempts at school-girlery when trying to explain her way out of her claim that she and her husband were "dead broke" when they left the White House. Oh the memories conjured up watching a fawning press, with their puerile devotion to Barack Obama fading fast, returning to their first love; the smartest woman in the world. How I've missed the former First Lady, Hillary Rodham Clinton. Sure, we've seen her as a senator and as Secretary of State, but in these roles she has been a mere shadow of her former glorious self. Occasionally the rigid feminist, but mostly the southern coquette, who can forget her eight years as devoted wife and mother? Those were the days. I even miss the cookies she never baked for Bill. Yes, it's been a long while since we've had the Clintons on our plate. I almost empathize with C.S. Lewis' Screwtape—a demonic feaster on the souls of sinners—lamenting the modern lack of tasty fare:
With Barack Obama and his team of teenaged apologists dishing out the dreck, one almost feels a sense of loss for accomplished professionals like the Clintons. But not to worry; with her new book auguring her resurgence, you can be sure that when she slips into her Mrs. Clinton role, she has her sights set on returning to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And, speaking as a connoisseur of political intrigue, I welcome the coming banquet. And so with a touch of nostalgia tinged with a bit of shadenfreude, I offer the former First Lady's musical explanation of her latest remarks; courtesy of Elvis. (You younger folks may have to Google some of the references.) As the snow flew, And my Bubba cried; People need to understand; Then the worm turned; And this girl learned; And then one day in Escalante But our spin was gold; And as my fortunes rise; Lisa Fabrizio is a columnist who hails from Connecticut. You may write her at mailbox@lisafab.com.
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