"Sustained by my favorite cheap bourbon and leftover
chocolate Easter eggs, I watched coverage of the New York primaries for hours
and hours. I learned what I thought I’d
learn: that Hillary Clinton won handily,
but not by enough to nudge Grandpa One-Note Crankypants out of the race; that
Donald Trump won handily, but let a few renegade delegates escape, probably
enough to keep him, for now, from the magic screw-the-convention-I’ve-got-the-votes goal
he’s pursuing; that the televised punditocracy (oooooh, evil media, it’s mostly
their fault, thanks Obama) has been so flummoxed by this supremely weird
campaign season that they’re no longer capable of intelligent analysis. I mean, Chris Matthews is wearing a vanity
baseball cap reading ‘Hardball’ (yes, MSNBC remains my cable news channel of
choice -- by default, although I occasionally flip to CNN). Let’s make my show great again!
"The predictably inconsequential chatter occurring between my second
bourbon and NY poll-closing turned into white noise (well, mostly white, as
Matthews reeled in Montel Williams for some inscrutable reason and at the end
of his early segment belatedly let the smart but demoted Joy Reid back on
the air), which gave me time to reflect on my relationship with Hillary
Clinton.
Hillary during her Wellesley years.
It’s
not much of a relationship. We were
classmates at Wellesley; I knew who she was (it was a small class), but we
lived in different dorms and pursued different majors. My few memories of Hillary Rodham were seeing
her tromp across the lawn with a lacrosse stick over her shoulder (maybe it was
a tennis racket or an archery bow) and hearing that she was running for
Freshman class president. I regarded
both efforts as somewhat pitiful, as I was much more concerned with securing an
Ivy League husband (which I did! First
woman in my class to become engaged! Yea
me!).
Hillary
went on to a legal career, and eventually to Bill Clinton. I was occupied by my
family, and eventually by an academic career. I didn’t think much (actually, at all) about
Hillary Rodham Clinton until her husband ran for president. I was embarrassed by her Tammy Wynette
impersonation and sad for her during the ‘Hillarycare’ fiasco. I voted for Bill Clinton twice – not because
of Hillary, but because his political vision was close to mine.
It
was the Monica Lewinsky crapstorm that brought out genuine alumna empathy. Back in our Wellesley days, we all were torn
between marriage and career aspirations.
I chose early (marriage) and later (career), and Hillary chose early
(career) and relatively late (marriage).
But both of us tried to have both.
In doing so, we encountered all sorts of personal and professional
obstacles. To see Hillary Clinton
impaled on the horns of that cultural/generational/personal dilemma was
heartbreaking.
Hillary standing by her man during the Lewinski brouhaha. Ouch.
"These ruminations occupied about an hour, and another
cocktail. Chris Matthews and his
ridiculous cap retired, replaced by Brian Williams, Rachel Maddow, and a
phalanx of very young ‘embedded’ reporters.
Single digits, double digits, it depends on what a ‘good night’ is. Nobody is saying anything new, except Steve
Kornacki explaining how a handful of Republicans can ‘win’ all available
delegates in a heavily Democratic district.
"Admittedly, I enjoy the how-Ted-Cruz-blew-it conjectures
(‘New York Values’: the newest oily sheen on a despicable Evangelical shill.) But even so, nothing much new here. So time for a refill and more ruminations.
I
didn’t vote for Hillary Clinton in 2008.
Barack Obama was exciting in a way that she was not:
first black President was cooler than first woman President, particularly a
woman who’d been my college classmate.
"Nine o’clock, and time to call the game. Which is what MSNBC immediately does, at
least for the Republicans. Donald Trump
in a landslide! A little later, Hillary
Clinton in a lesser but still significant landslide! Time to doze off to the comforting drone of
unedifying political commentary (despite Rachel Maddow’s half-hearted efforts).
Chris Matthews and his I-can-be-Trumpishly-cool-too baseball cap,
blessedly absent from further telecasts.
"Thus I missed live broadcasts of victory speeches and concession
speeches (or in Bernie Sanders’ case, an odd and ill-attended tarmac press
scrum). Not to worry: highlights were replayed during the wee hours
(when, obviously, I was awake again and watching, as more than three hours of
continuous sleep seems unobtainable). Trump’s
attempt to be presidential was underwhelming: he still talked about nothing except himself, notwithstanding his shift
from “Lyin’ Ted” to “Senator Cruz” and his tepid call-out to his yuugely
improved campaign staff. I don’t
remember much about Clinton’s speech, except that she seemed really happy and
she looked great. (Even
Bill-in-the-background looked pretty good, considering his recent shambolic
stump performances that have made one conclude that the pod people have
replaced our favorite libidinous energizer bunny with a cadaverous hologram)."
So that’s what I wrote a week ago and didn’t post because
meh. Now it’s the Acela corridor
primary, and again I’m watching (my life is now much less exciting, but
probably more tranquil, than Hillary’s).
At this moment, waiting for the polls to close, MSNBC is showing a Ted
Cruz rally where he mounts a ladder to pretend-cut down a basketball net (WTF?) while rocking the full Joe McCarthy with that homicide-inducing evangelical
tremolo that really will make me move to Canada if Cruz is somehow
elected. (Turn-about is fair play, eh?)
Like, not. Or not with any God I'm familiar with.
OK: April 26 primary
results coming in. Trumpification
abounds. So far, Hillary wins Maryland
handily. Others too early to call. But hey, it’s only one minute after 8:00p.m.
EDT.
Whatever. Trump wins
big, Hillary will win big, the primary race is pretty much over – despite the
dopey ‘alliance’ between Cruz and Kasich, despite the petulance of the Feel-the
Bern firebrands. I have no connection
with Trump . . . watched about two
episodes of ‘Celebrity Apprentice,’ first season, and stopped because it was boring
and dumb. But I do I own ‘Trump: The Game’
(more on that in future blogs, maybe).
Last
Hillary-related memories. After her
ascension to the First Ladyship, I sent her a Christmas card, mentioning our
co-alumna connection. She sent one back. A year or so later, a 60 Minutes producer
contacted me to appear on a segment about ‘what are Hillary Clinton’s
classmates doing.’ Reluctantly, I
agreed, and a small phalanx of photographers and interviewers invaded our
living room. The only thing I remember
from this odd occurrence was being filmed playing a piano duet with my
daughter. Despite our musical efforts,
the Deb segment hit the cutting-room floor.
(Oh God, Bernie is now making a ‘we really won’ speech. And 'we’re all about truth.' Make him stop.)
Tonight pretty much concretizes the 2016 Presidential contest,
no matter how desperately Bernie, Ted, John, and newspeople try to suggest that
it’s still a race. So now it’s Hillary and Donald and me, the troika that will
inhabit my own voting booth in November.
I didn’t vote for you last time, Hillary, but you sure have my vote now.
“I hate Ted Cruz, and I’ll take cyanide if he ever got the
nomination,” said Congressman Peter King (R-NY), in serious contention for the
best quote of the day.
