I have always been a big believer in a soldier’s right to gripe. But gripes go up, never down. This is why the generals don’t have that right. This is why if among equals, you’re considered to be first, there’s no one who should hear your gripes. Ever. This is why the fairy tale of the clinton tapes is so deeply disturbing.
According to this, the Secret Service tasked with protecting not only the president, but also visiting dignitaries, didn’t recognize Boris Yeltsin at a time when he was undressed, drunk and looking for a pizza. As a private citizen, if a guest of mine wanted a pizza, I’d have made the necessary phone call.
R. Emment Tyrrell has publicly complained about the former president’s portrayal of him. Tyrrell maintains that he was invited to the then president’s table, as were his young female dining companions. Whereas according to the clinton tapes, the trio crashed the party, and wouldn’t leave. Truth be told, Tyrrell’s complaints make him seem petty, and sad. Still, Tyrrell is the envy of most of the targets of The Clinton Machine.
The Clinton Machine, like any engine, requires fuel. Most of the fuel for The Clinton Machine comes in the form of vulnerable, unsuspecting women. Many of whom were targeted when they were much younger than Chelsea is now. They have been the victims of whisper campaigns. Terrible rumors have been spread about them, including smears about prostitution and substance abuse. There isn’t a one who wouldn’t rather see whose hand was holding the knife as it twisted.
He’s undermining the professionals tasked with protecting himself, his wife and their daughter. According to Clinton, the Secret Service is no protection at all. We all remember, they were unable to protect a sitting president in his own office, from a 22 year-old stalking intern.
We have to hear what a great dad he was, attending on time his daughter’s ballet recitals, and protecting her from the press coverage of his perpetual misbehavior. A good dad would not have made a point of getting himself impeached.
Taylor Branch has been a long time advocate of Bill Clinton. He made his money, and his name back in the day when the soul patrol doubled as a generous gravy train. Now he’s swapped his bone fides for a snake oil franchise. Branch wasn’t around during the impeachment, the only possibly interesting part of his whole book. Instead, we all get a wind up. We’re told that everybody was always wrong about the poor misunderstood lecher. Ron Popeil never pitched anything with an equal level of zeal. We’re supposed to believe that these clinton tapes exist. Also that no simple supeana can violate the sanctity of the presidential sock drawer. What an interesting little detail. Who’ll give me odds, that little detail was meant to dog whistle some sweet, young thing? Perhaps she lacked the necessary metabolism to crawl into a bottle, perhaps she was too arrogant to fall into the gutter. Whatever the reason, that dirty old man knows he’ll never taste her, so, as is the Clinton habit, he’s spiting her instead.
I understand why R. Emment Tyrrell is angry, but he should not have been surprised. Yes, he came out and publicly complained, and therefore looks a fool. But as flim flam men rely on their mark’s pride to not complain, I think it’s better to look a fool, than to be taken as one. I doubt R. Emment Tyrrell will sue. If he does, as this book insults everybody, it ought to be a class action suit. But even still, it would be hard to win. The way they set it up, the book is a recollection of a recollection. A built in defense of a faulty memory, either Branch’s or Clinton’s, or the excuse of perception, either Branch’s or Clinton’s. The Clinton Machine has so corrupted the concept of disclosure, it’s morphed into the perfect double bluff. The only real surprise here, is that it wasn’t published by the Brothers Grimm.
