Probably she wouldn't wear the orange jumpsuit if she was afraid of being locked up I decided to do some investigative reporting last week, so I stopped by the Hillary Clinton campaign headquarters in my hometown of San Diego.
It was located in a cavernous warehouse in an industrial park and it was just as I expected—rows of desks manned by political geeks staring at computers and wearing headphones. When I asked who was in charge of the Clinton campaign, though, they just looked puzzled. Finally, they pointed me to a desk in the corner, where a man with the pallor and gut of a perpetual indoor worker was fast asleep.
‘Hrumph,” he said when I woke him. “Is it five o’clock already?”
Not yet. Is that when you go knocking on doors for Hillary?
“Hell, no. Nobody needs to do that. You rescuing a winning lottery ticket from brush fire is likelier to happen that Hillary losing California.”
What are all these people working on, then?
“Making pot legal. That vote’s going to be closer. I need a coffee. Come on, I’m buying.”
We went to a coffee shop and he paid with a credit card. “It’s from the Clinton Foundation. My boss said I could put anything on it,’ he explained.
Wait—isn’t that a campaign law violation?
“Who cares? We’re so over worrying about little details like that here in Hillaryland. Just the other day we got a memo saying we could cc all our emails directly to WikiLeaks. Save them the trouble of hacking us. You want to see the beta version of Hillary’s latest campaign commercial?”
Absolutely. That would be a huge scoop for me.
He played the video on his phone for me. When it was over, he asked “What do you think?”
I think you played me the wrong video. This one had Hillary sitting in bass boat in the Ozarks in cargo shorts and a sports bra. She had a fishing rod on her lap while she beer-bonged a sixteen ounce PBR.
“No, that’s it. We decided that we didn’t need to make any more TV commercials, so we put the crew we already hired to work filming her vacation.”
Hillary’s on vacation?
“Yeah, the election’s so in the bag she decided to take a little break.”
But she’s still under attack. Just last week Rudy Giulani agreed with Donald Trump that she was one of the co-founders of ISIS.
“Rudy! What a great mayor! Let me show you this pic of him. He and the Clintons were at a summer party in the Hamptons a month ago. Long story short, there was a lot of drinking involved, and instead of listening to chamber music, the guests all decided to have cage-wrestling matches instead. Here’s a shot of Hillary holding Giulani in a scissors grip. If you look closely, you’ll see he’s wet himself.”
And you’re keeping this under wraps?
“Not really. We’re just waiting for Huma Abedin to come back from delivering weapons to the Nusra Front to post it to her Tumblr account.”
So you’re waiting until September to mount an all-out campaign for the White House?
“Naw, that sounds like a lot of work. September’s made for slackin’ is what upstairs is telling us. Hillary herself plans to spend the whole month sexting with George Clooney. It was his idea, and what red-blooded woman wouldn’t jump at that chance?”
Maybe not if I was running for President.
“Relax. It’s so a done deal. They can release all the emails they want, link Hillary to everything from the Taliban to putting LSD in GMOs and by the end of the day, Trump will have said something so boneheaded that she won’t lose a single vote. Bet the trend, as the gambling guys say. Didn’t you notice that after they started all those ‘Lock her up!’ chants she let herself be photographed wearing an orange jumpsuit? Talk about an F-you.”
Of course, she actually can’t say “F-you.”
“You don’t think so? Wait until the debates is my advice. Orange is the new White. House, that is.”
It was located in a cavernous warehouse in an industrial park and it was just as I expected—rows of desks manned by political geeks staring at computers and wearing headphones. When I asked who was in charge of the Clinton campaign, though, they just looked puzzled. Finally, they pointed me to a desk in the corner, where a man with the pallor and gut of a perpetual indoor worker was fast asleep.
‘Hrumph,” he said when I woke him. “Is it five o’clock already?”
Not yet. Is that when you go knocking on doors for Hillary?
“Hell, no. Nobody needs to do that. You rescuing a winning lottery ticket from brush fire is likelier to happen that Hillary losing California.”
What are all these people working on, then?
“Making pot legal. That vote’s going to be closer. I need a coffee. Come on, I’m buying.”
We went to a coffee shop and he paid with a credit card. “It’s from the Clinton Foundation. My boss said I could put anything on it,’ he explained.
Wait—isn’t that a campaign law violation?
“Who cares? We’re so over worrying about little details like that here in Hillaryland. Just the other day we got a memo saying we could cc all our emails directly to WikiLeaks. Save them the trouble of hacking us. You want to see the beta version of Hillary’s latest campaign commercial?”
Absolutely. That would be a huge scoop for me.
He played the video on his phone for me. When it was over, he asked “What do you think?”
I think you played me the wrong video. This one had Hillary sitting in bass boat in the Ozarks in cargo shorts and a sports bra. She had a fishing rod on her lap while she beer-bonged a sixteen ounce PBR.
“No, that’s it. We decided that we didn’t need to make any more TV commercials, so we put the crew we already hired to work filming her vacation.”
Hillary’s on vacation?
“Yeah, the election’s so in the bag she decided to take a little break.”
But she’s still under attack. Just last week Rudy Giulani agreed with Donald Trump that she was one of the co-founders of ISIS.
“Rudy! What a great mayor! Let me show you this pic of him. He and the Clintons were at a summer party in the Hamptons a month ago. Long story short, there was a lot of drinking involved, and instead of listening to chamber music, the guests all decided to have cage-wrestling matches instead. Here’s a shot of Hillary holding Giulani in a scissors grip. If you look closely, you’ll see he’s wet himself.”
And you’re keeping this under wraps?
“Not really. We’re just waiting for Huma Abedin to come back from delivering weapons to the Nusra Front to post it to her Tumblr account.”
So you’re waiting until September to mount an all-out campaign for the White House?
“Naw, that sounds like a lot of work. September’s made for slackin’ is what upstairs is telling us. Hillary herself plans to spend the whole month sexting with George Clooney. It was his idea, and what red-blooded woman wouldn’t jump at that chance?”
Maybe not if I was running for President.
“Relax. It’s so a done deal. They can release all the emails they want, link Hillary to everything from the Taliban to putting LSD in GMOs and by the end of the day, Trump will have said something so boneheaded that she won’t lose a single vote. Bet the trend, as the gambling guys say. Didn’t you notice that after they started all those ‘Lock her up!’ chants she let herself be photographed wearing an orange jumpsuit? Talk about an F-you.”
Of course, she actually can’t say “F-you.”
“You don’t think so? Wait until the debates is my advice. Orange is the new White. House, that is.”
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