History of Clinton:
He was born a poor black child. Then he dodged the draft. He went to England.
He got married to a lawyer who was smarter than him and knew about real
estate speculation. He had a good time. He had a secret meeting with Oliver
North in an Arkansas cave. Then he blew a joint in a van parked outside
a Tex-Mex restaurant while the C.I.A. turned Arkansas' banking system
and industrial base into a banana republic. Then he became president.
You see, he was the lollipop man: Mr. Popsickle sir.  They
were swept away by his visage, and passing sports cars winked slender
in the District of Columbia sunshine.
He appointed an entire cabinet of dope-smoking long-haired barefoot
miscreants (and a black guy) who never obtained the proper security
clearance to even be in the White House, much less work there. He appointed
the Bride of Frankenstein. First he cut job security. Then he burned
down a man's house with him and his family in it. He bombed Iraq because
of an alleged failed assassination attempt on former president Bush,
perfecting the precedent established by Bush for using military force
against an entire country (Panama, Iraq, Sudan, Afghanistan) because
of a single individual residing therein. The thing is the thing, he
thought, swinging a pocketwatch. He smiled and waved and was viciously
satirized in every corner of the media. He accrued the moniker "Slick
Willie" before it was a sex joke. With that he promenaded up and down
the boulevard with his cashmere slacks rustling like a bigshot. He had
the CIA assassinate Bukowski, Leary, Ginsberg, Burroughs, William Gaddis,
and Hunter S. Thompson, though this last poisoning attempt failed due
to the target's habit of vomiting. He took an educated stand against
drugs, because he liked cops and knew from experience that legalization
would damage the profits to be made from importing cocaine. He played
saxophone on TV wearing wayfarer shades and a pinstripe suit, lit from
below. He was photographed with foreign leaders and, in war-torn parts
of the globe, masterminded seventeen failed peace settlements. Then
he drafted a crime bill to send more people to prison. Then he ensured
that healthcare would remain boring and unattainable. He then satisfied
his wife sexually on national television. Then he hired a fleet of limousines
and ordered air strikes against a small Arab country. Then he committed
consensual adultery. Then he gave a deadly army a budget increase. Then
he drafted another crime bill and put more men in uniforms with weapons
in the street. Then he committed adultery. Then a book came out detailing
his involvement in cocaine smuggling, which was ignored. Then he eluded
his bodyguards and, lying hidden in a limousine, went to secret destinations.
Then one of his cabinet members mysteriously died of a bullet-wound
in the head. Then his private jet was stuck in the mud. Then he ordered
more airstrikes against Arabic and African nations, and dispatched peacekeeping
forces to Eastern Europe. Then he gave a speech. Then he expressed his
willingness to use nuclear weapons in a first strike. Then he expressed
his willingness to bomb government buildings in countries where suspected
criminals reside. Then he flew to Africa and Asia. Then he was photographed.
Suspending benefits for retired workers, he walked into the museum like
the pope walking into church. Then he paid to develop new weapons of
mass destruction. Then DNA tests proved he was not the father of the
child of an Arkansas prostitute.
 Then he
was acquitted and stood on the edge on the New World Order a new man,
just standing there like Washington crossing the Delaware just thinking
about how sweet the next air strike would be.
The kid is still the kid, you'll see.
Old Bill is back.
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