While FBI Director James Comey recommended no charges against Hillary Clinton regarding her emails, I still wanted to see how secure her server is. Using a friendly hacker, it wasn’t long before I was reading them all, and let me tell you, this is one frustrated woman!
Here’s one she sent to a friend during this week’s Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia:
“Aack! I can’t believe I’m behind in the latest polls to this . . . this con artist! Do people really dislike me that much? I’m a nice person, dammit!
“My pollsters say I’ve got to show more pizzazz, be more ‘hip’ to appeal to young voters. Maybe before I give my acceptance speech on Thursday, I’ll dye my hair fire-engine red. Hah! That’ll show them pizzazz!
“Or maybe I’ll get a tattoo. What should it say? My slogan, ‘I’m with her’? No, I am her. ‘They’re with stupid’? How about ‘Trump sucks’? Too much?
“I can’t believe the creator of ‘Trump University’ calls me Crooked Hillary. LOL! Maybe I should call him Don the Con. President Obama ‘faked’ his birth certificate? Ted Cruz’s father was in on the Kennedy assassination? If I said things like that, I’d be put in a straitjacket. But he gets away with it. Aagh!
“He’s lecturing me about honesty? It’s like Chris Christie saying, ‘Hillary, you’ve put on weight. Have a salad.’ The gall of these guys!
“Michelle Obama was terrific Monday night — she’s a natural. Like my charmer husband, Bill Clinton, who, of course, is Mr. Convention Speech. Great. Now I’m going to look like a stiff with mine. And if Obama calls me ‘likable enough’ again when he speaks Wednesday, I swear, I’ll rush the stage.
“What should I highlight in my acceptance speech? Should I make crystal clear how incredibly smart I am, how knowledgeable about world affairs? Men hate a woman who is smarter than them.
“Too bad! What if I put this in my speech: I am smarter than all of you — deal with it!
“Let me run these ideas by Bill. Where did he go? Bill?? Maybe I’ll shoot him an email. Oh wait . . .”
Playwright Mike Vogel blogs at newyorkgritty.net.
