Bill Clinton: Threat or Menace Will Durst | Bio

It's desperation time in Hillaryville. They're putting 
out fires faster than a Rocky Mountain ranger station
 during a lightning storm in the middle of an August
 drought. Turns out a certain inevitability 
has proven to be highly evitable. And watching the
 nomination slip through their fingers has to be going 
down as easy as a deep fried fork. Causing several
 revisions to what was previously a dead-solid game 
plan. Corrections include, but are not limited to: the banishment of key staffers to "integral" precincts 
on the outskirts of West Texas, attempts to 
wring blood out of contributors who insist on 
impersonating dried turnips, and the most difficult 
fix: figuring out how to get the candidate's husband
 to shut the hell up. 



Yeah. Right. Good luck. You'd have a better shot at 
using a plastic butter knife to spay a pit pull on 
meth than try to muzzle this old dog. I suggest a wolf
 snare or tranquilizer gun as the best means to render 
the 42nd President of the United States docile enough 
to throw a choke chain around. Interesting
 how quickly the game changes. It wasn't that long ago, rival campaigns were complaining Hillary had an unfair
 advantage being married to a former President, "But he 
gets so much press." And now it's Hillary's staff 
doing the complaining, "But he gets so much press."



What was once a secret weapon is now an albatross tied by a frayed rope swinging wildly from the neck of the 
former First Lady. And because of his unique honor of 
biggest hound in the pound, Bubba isn't just a loose
 cannon, he's a loose aircraft carrier in high seas--rampaging down the campaign trail in the manner of a
 Japanese movie monster stomping through downtown
 Tokyo, using his heat vision to blast opponents and 
batting around members of the media like pastel 
bunnies off an Easter display shelf in a Hallmark Card shop. He must see himself as a guard dog protecting 
the hen house, no pun intended. Barack's camp accuses 
him of being the junkyard dog. 

And we can't have that. Because everybody knows that 
if Mr. Obama gets the nomination, the Republicans
 won't be mean. They'll roll over on their backs, 
begging to have their bellies scratched. Worst cast 
scenario, they try to bruise him by throwing rubber 
bones at his head. Hah. I laugh. Hah. I laugh again. 
 You want to see negative campaigning? You wait until
 the junior Senator from Illinois gets the nomination, because you're going to see negative campaigning that 
will make what they did to Michael Dukakis look like
 recess pranks at a Catholic girls' 
school. 



Bill Clinton nuzzles and he growls. He's a boon and a 
bane. A southern fried Jekyll and Hyde. Smoother than
 a puppy's fur, and more divisive than a flea ridden
 German shepherd at a Bat Mitzvah. One problem is 
everybody continues to introduce him as "Mr. 
President," like he's still in charge. That kind of 
thing can have an effect on a guy. If Hillary were
 smart, she'd sponsor a bill in Congress that would 
mandate all former Chief Executives be referred to as 
"Mr. Ex President." Kill two dogs with one stone. One
 dog being a certain George W. Bush, whom a lot of us
 can't wait to call "Mr. Ex- President."



Political comic, Will Durst, is convinced that Mr. C
 has a slight case of rabies. 
Look for "The All American Sport of Bipartisan 
Bashing" coming from Ulysses Press this April.