Cry me a victory

There is nothing like a good cry. Especially, if you are Hillary Rodham Clinton. The ice queen wept herself a major win. When others would have choked, she choked up. Of course, some of us weren’t so sure those were really tears. (I simply thought the icy Senator from New York was melting.) But apparently it was the real deal. And frankly, I’m alright with that. I seem to remember the occasional male President getting all misty-eyed. “I did not have sex with that woman!” Spritz. Spritz. Tears can come in handy when you are trying to win over your audience. Benazir Bhutto might be with us today if she had only turned on the waterworks. Iron lady Margaret Thatcher might have increased her reign if her British upper lip hadn’t remained quite so stiff. The current President could very well seal these Mideast peace talks with just the quiver of his chin. In fact, teardrop diplomacy might just be the key to a lasting world peace. It could happen. But one thing at a time. Right now, we must take stock of the remaining White House hopefuls. We must examine their records, take note of their experience and determine which weepy-eyed candidate is worthy of the awesome responsibilities of Blubberer-In-Chief.

Party with the People’s Party

Bilawal Bhutto Zadari. He’s just your average freshman teenage boy. He has a Facebook page. He attends a prestigious rich kid university. And bottomline: he just wants to have fun. Oh…and did I mention…he’s the new joint leader of the Pakistan’s People’s Party. And, well, it’s putting a major cramp in his style. I mean, most teens come back from Christmas break with a new iPod… young Zadari comes back with a martyred mom and a new part time job making Pakistan safe for democracy. Major bummer. I mean, really! This kid should be throwing keggers, texting hot coeds and pledging a fraternity. But the media is all “Can I quote you?” and “Are you satisfied with the investigation of your mother’s death?” And Bilawai is all like “Whatever.” And it is just wrong. I mean, look at this kid. He’s wearing a fuzzy hoodie! Find Pakistan another savior. This kid needs to study for mid-terms.

When dreams die

Seems like no one is satisfied with the explanation of Benazir Bhutto’s death. Odd, when you think about it. I mean, there are so many explanations to chose from. Something for everyone, really. She was killed by an assassin’s bullet. She was killed by a bullet-proof limo. She cracked her noggin. She had cracked the code on underhanded political shenanigans Even Pakistan’s President Pervez Musharraf isn’t satisfied. And he’s the calculating S.O.B. who engineered the whole thing––at least that’s one of the explanations. Now, maybe I sound a little callous. My apologies. But I come from a city that rather famously gunned down a President. And we are still trying to sort that one out. There’s the lone gunman theory. The two gunmen theory. The Mafia hit theory. The CIA hit theory. I think that there are even one or two that implicate LBJ, the Klu Klux Klan, Jackie and the Freemasons. It seems nobody likes it when visionaries die. We are afraid that the dream will die with them. And we are just not satisfied with lone gunmen and exploding people. We certainly take umbrage at the thought that a nasty fall could be the lethal culprit. Something big had to be afoot. So we conduct extensive investigations, convene our commissions, file our reports, then write our conspiracy books. Visionaries deserve nothing less. And the personal vanity of our collective dreams can’t possibly be so fragile that they can be ended so easily, so randomly. Dreams and dreamers deserve better.