Tuesday, June 13, 2017

June 13, 2017

Dear Diary,

I have to admit that with so many senate hearings going on, I'm having a little trouble deciding who's being set up for doing what.  My head is spinning from watching Tillerson, Comey, Mueller, Sessions and the rest of those non-women as they answer questions under oath. It's either that or the Librium, because the side effects are supposed to be dizziness and/or constipation and I've got plenty of both.

In any case, my political sense is that these are historic times and that I should be spending my time in confinement out of public view designing my legacy, so that future generations can understand how I was able to achieve so much incompetence and failure in my storied career. I know that most non-women who were prevented from becoming queen even though they had more popular vote Commanders in Chief establish libraries, but since I'm technically not on the throne in office, my legacy will have to take a different form:

I'm thinking of writing "Hillary: The Musical."

It will be just like "Hamilton," only more pointless and self-serving contemporary, telling my story from my point of view.  And just like "Hamilton," I'm making sure the cast bears no resemblance at all to real historical characters!

I'm thinking of casting Tim Cook to play me. With make up, a wig and some dancing lessons, he could be a big draw. Also, I want George Clooney to play Huma.  That will make the romance scenes really authentic. I'm thinking Ellen DeGeneres to play Podesta, because I've met her. She might be homo, but she's almost as annoying as that little gnome he is.

I like this idea because it gives me complete freedom to rewrite history shed light on my own sociopathy perspectives, set to a few toe-tapping songs. For example, the opening scene has a fun little number called, "How Do We Kill Bernie?" It's kind of a ragtime song, where the campaign staff sings about "even Tommy, a Commie, who likes to eat salami" won't vote for him as they tap dance on the conference table. It's fabulous.

To make it relevant to the under 30 crowd, I'm working on a hip-hop dance called "Who's Groping Who?" It doesn't really have a melody, but it's about sex and darker people don't seem to care about anything but a beat, so I'm good there.

But nothing can match the heart-wrenching election night scene, where the main character belts out a pithy solo, "Who Can I Blame Now?" That's a real show stopper. The stage gets really dark and Tim, playing me, clutches a bottle of scotch his handkerchief in the spotlight. I cried while I was writing it!

Finally, the stage lights up in a rousing chorus of "Resist and Persist!" It's an upbeat military march, where everyone on the stage holds hands and smiles as a big backdrop of the Titanic slowly sinks behind them.  It's breathtaking, signifying my complete denial of reality eternal optimism.

We could sell tickets and soundtracks and t-shirts, too.  I'm liking this. I wonder if Marvin Hamlisch is still alive?

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