Whether out of sheer exhaustion or a last-minute Hail Mary to prevent the Obama Juggernaut from flattening the Hillary Jugger-not, Senator Clinton yesterday in one fell swoop destroyed an image, carefully cultivated over decades, that she’s a cyborg who bleeds gear oil. The cynics were quick to pounce on her primary-eve meltdown–where she shed apparently-real tears and alluded to a heretofore-elusive organic humanity that she claims bubbles and roils and percolates inside her carefully-programmed circuitry and beneath her lifelike-latex faceplate–as a desperate appeal to voters turned off by her relentless fembot mien. To any objective observer, though, Hillary’s display of emotion appeared genuine, and certainly understandable as she confronts the possibility of having to slink back to the Senate with fresh whip-marks all over her once thought to be titanium skin, and the thought of having to spend another few dozen years in Chappequa with Bill, finding lipstick stains on his underwear.
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