Hillary and Me and Donald Make Three

 Written but not posted last week:

"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.