Goddamn, Democracy at Last?:
Last night, Hillary Clinton earned the right to touch herself. She had been like a pugilist, denying herself any pleasures of the pussy until after the primary. Of course, it would have to be masturbation; she can't be near Bill without whiffing the stench of skank on him. She had been prepared for a vicious, punishing session with a particularly long, ridged vibrator, the better to exhaust the failure out of her. But, no, after her victory speech, she decided to go for the gentle, but vigorous, application of finger to clit. Clinton's fantasy was simple: standing in the Oval Office, telling Vice President Obama to get over to her desk, get on his knees, and eat her out, and he better be good. As for Attorney General Edwards? Well, maybe if he begged, she'd let him give her a rim job. And U.N. Ambassador Bill was, as ever, sucking a stogie, weeping, and jacking off for his sins. It's what he deserves, even if he was the only one who got it right about New Hampshire. Oh, shit, what bliss.
There's very few rational conclusions to make about last night's results in the first primary, except, perhaps, and it can't be said enough, "Fuck Iowa." Reaching conclusions about candidacies based on the Iowa caucuses is about as intelligent as dangling your balls over a bear trap. As rude reader Lynn just pointed out, we could say that Obama's win in Iowa had as much to do with his state (Illinois) and its proximity to Iowa as with his superstar status. As for the strangely temperate night in New Hampshire, sure, we can be cynical and say, "Shit, if all one has to do to win a primary is get a little dewy-eyed, then expect Mitt Romney to weep like a little girl who fell off her My Little Pony bike come Michigan." And we can add that the womens don't like it when the menfolk pile on another woman.
Sure, we can say that polling independents is not unlike asking a desperate alcoholic with the shakes if he'd rather Johnny Walker Black or Red. We can also say that, while the lovely weather in the Northeast contributed to the overall turn-out, that for the youth voters so crucial to Barack Obama, a sunny day in January in a New Hampshire college town means there's less time to vote and more time to sack some hackey. And, if we wanna get all divisive, we can say that New Hampshire voters took a step backwards in embracing the politics of the past, but that sounds like a goddamn focus group-tested line, and, you know, agree or disagree with Clinton's politics, electing a woman would still be one giant friggin' frog leap forward in this America.
Instead, why don't we go with this: last night was a continuation of what happened in 2006, where voters got sick and fucking tired of being told what they're supposed to do and supposed to believe. Inasmuch as we can read tea leaves from two tiny states, it looks like it'll be a mighty amazing time, if all of a sudden the citizens of the nation decide, "Hey, you know what? This is a democracy, and, goddamn, if it ain't time we started acting like it is."
Because one thing we can say for sure after last night is this: this fucker's wide open. And even as it gets nasty, if Clinton continues her Sherman's march to the nomination, if the religious right gets its crazy going over the idea of a McCain win, people may actually have to pay attention. And, what's better, they may even want to. There is no inevitability at the moment. And, holy Christ, that's exhilarating. It's like a toke on a pipe filled with really good opium: you don't know where it's gonna take you, but, oh, yeah, it promises to be a helluva trip.
Meanwhile, over in Nashua, John McCain went back to his hotel room after his victory speech and asked to be alone. He wanted to celebrate in the way that made him get off best: he took out his homemade bamboo dildo, the one with a handle crafted from the femur of one of his captors at the Hanoi Hilton. He smiled as he looked at the Straight Cock Express, remembering the good times the two of them had had, especially back in 2000 in this very state. Awkwardly dropping his pants, for the old aches are always there, McCain broke out the vaseline and lubed up the dildo, his prostate aching in anticipation, ready to ram that big boy home for America, for the people of Iraq, for Republicans everywhere, thinking about making Mike Huckabee fuck Mitt Romney in the ass, Thompson doing Giuliani, fucking for his pleasure at watching their debasement before his rise in the polls.
Correction: An earlier version of this mentioned smoking peyote. Opium was the intended drug. One eats peyote, of course. Ignorance? Brain fart? Secret desire to find some peyote? You decide.