I’m With Me

Hillary Clinton here. The servant I pay to read me news stories that mention me in a strong Australian accent — or is she just Australian? I can never remember — anyway, this morning she regaled Bill and I with the most delightful tale I think I’ve heard in a long time.

Donald Trump really wants me to run for president in the 2020 election.

For the record, I’m not interested in re-entering a contest I already won. I’m here to talk about the issues that really matter. The Democratic Party is in dire need of unity in the age of Trump… which I’ll get to in a minute. But first, did you know What Happened has been on The New York Times’ non-fiction best sellers list for four weeks running? Ditto with Amazon. It’s heartening that my version of events has found a wide audience. Campaign debts don’t pay themselves.

I know some of you were angry at my absence in the weeks and months following Donald’s shocking election, as white supremacists and serial abusers expressed their newfound legitimization in often terrifying ways. What you need to understand is I don’t show up when you need me, but when I need you. Self-interest is a rich Clintonian tradition, the roots of which can be traced to when Bill and I first catapulted to the national stage. We will do anything we need to win, abandon any Souljah, crassly yank any emotional lever, even blow a few dog whistles to racists (I still don’t understand how Obama survived the 2008 primaries). We succesfully took over the Democratic political machine (twice!) and you allowed us to happen.

We thank you for your loyal service, and for purchasing the hardcover copy of New York Times best seller What Happened. I promise you I’ll help lead the Democratic Party forward in these interesting times, but I need to air a few mild grievances before proceeding.

America:

You really fucked things up for me, you know that? I haven’t forgotten how you deprived me of my destiny, nor do I think I ever will.

Let me count the ways I’ve been betrayed, and the reasons none of this is my fault.

1) Bernie Sanders, for daring to suppose he could give primary voters a choice.

2) Bernie Bros. It was a deft move to harness the legitimate experiences of women who have dealt with a lifetime of the patriarchy dehumanizing, berating, dismissing and abusing them and turn it against Bernie Sanders supporters. It was the worst, most cynical type of identity politics this side of Richard Spencer and I couldn’t be prouder. Liking socialism is so bro-y, you know? I mean “bro-cialism”. See? It writes itself, and plenty of Democrats are willing to uncritically accept and parrot it.

3) Me, I guess. You do have to appear humble for the small folks, yes?

4) Bernie Sanders again. This monster continues to serve in the Senate to this day, unpunished by Democrats for his treasonous role in getting Donald Trump elected.

5) You. Even if you voted for me, you didn’t vote hard enough.

6) Bernie Sanders.

7) Jill Stein voters. They aren’t technically sexist pigs, but clearly misguided because they took their democratic right to vote how their consciences dictated and wasted it on that hippie.

8) Black Lives Matter. These ungrateful little babies, apparently unaware I was the first historically important woman in the history of the world to be on the cusp of power, made me uncomfortable. I was able to regain the upper hand with a stern lecture, but it was a close call.

9) Bernie Sanders, for engaging with and giving a platform to Black Lives Matter, the aforementioned ungrateful little babies.

10) Donald Trump.

11) Bernie Sanders.

12) Barney Sandler.

13) Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders.

14) Sanders, Bernie.

What a relief. I should have shared how I really felt on election night! I may have to look into this whole honesty thing. With my soul unburdened, I’m ready to help guide the Democratic Party to a glorious new tomorrow… just as soon as the paperback edition of What Happened comes out.