Just Pretend for a Moment
Nobody likes confrontation and conflict, am I right? But who doesn’t mind being lost in pretend for a little? So let’s just pretend it’s September 20, one week before the Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump appear at a joint press conference. (It’s not a debate. Hillary’s health won’t be up to a debate that soon.)
Now, let’s pretend that Trump’s outreach to Hispanics and blacks worked because Trump’s ahead in the polls. Imagine looking at RealClearPolitics and seeing something like this:
<code>[table] Poll,Clinton,Trump RCP Average,39,48 Ohio,40,46 Pennsylvania,41,46 Florida,38,46 Michigan,42,44 North Carolina,41,49 Virginia,44,45 [/table]</code>
Remember that we’re just pretending it’s September 20 and Trump leads by 9 percentage points on the RCP Average.
Imagine what Hillary might do in the coming week? Remember that Hillary has been on vacation since her convention in July. She has no experience with press conferences, no visits to foreign heads of state, no trips to comfort disaster victims. Her very few appearances have been mean, nasty rants where she refused to answer questions from the press.
Imagine Hillary announces a whirlwind week of trips to visit all the people she’s neglected and ignored. Maybe a trip to Baton Rouge where most people have moved on without her. She’s ignored. A trip to Mexico to visit President Pena Nieto, but he’s too busy with other things since Clinton ignored his invitation for so long. A trip to Florida for photos with hurricane victims, but they, too, have more important things to do.
Maybe those polls that look good for Trump
Will motivate Clinton to get off her rump.
“Visit a neighbor,” advises Podesta,
But for her Peña Nieto won’t skip a siesta.
“I invited you down on Augúst twenty-nine.
That old invitation has died on the vine.
While you were too busy dodging questions and queries,
Your counterpart Trump debated his theories.
Go back to Chapaqua, you Janey come lately,
The Donald is tough, but he’s so much more stately.”
The victims of hurricanes, shootings, and floods
Ignore Mrs. Clinton, turning visits to duds.
“Without willing victims,” the crooked hag hisses,
“How’m I supposed to climb out of these ditches?”
Then the old lizard thinks up a scheme.
She thinks it up fast, and she thinks it up mean.
“I know just what to do,” rising up almost speedy—a
smile on her lips: “I’ll exploit the old media.”
“They love me,” she thinks. “So I’ll talk to the press.”
“I’ll answer their questions. I’ll wear a new dress!”
But the press isn’t flattered by the former first lady.
The press, it appears, now considers her shady.
Their questions are hostile, pointed, and mean.
And Hillary’s presser turns into a scene.
Politico asks her about emails deleted,
To Andrea Mitchell, she sounds almost defeated.
“You’re not being fair,” old Hillary sneers
As she waggles a finger and conjures fake tears.
“Has your strategy failed?” asks Major Garrett.
“Shush,” says old Clinton, “that’s without merit.”
Hillary shudders and stammers and begs
While media people toss verbal eggs.
“You’re sitting around and losing the race.”
“Trump’s gained 20 points and he’s picking up pace.”
Hillary’s flopping and flailing and waving her hands.
The media, meanwhile, smell blood on the sands.
“Have you thought,” Cooper asks, “about what you will do,
If November the ninth you’re a big number two?”
“I’m going to win,” she screeches and cries,
Adding this fib to her terrible long list of lies.
She turns in a tiff and walks out of the room,
Then everyone hears what sounds like a “boom.”
Reporters will learn, in the moments that follow,
Ms. Clinton collapsed, even too weak to swallow.
And all of the press in their stories composed,
Call Donald Trump, in effect, unopposed.
And jumping ahead as we just play pretend,
Trump wins in a landslide, as this is the end.
You might want to read my book. It doesn’t rhyme.
Image by Enough42 on Photobucket