 by Dr. Jeffrey Lant. Author's program note. It's like this. Voluble motor mouth Senator Charles Schumer (D-New York) forced my hand. I mean, the next presidential election doesn't occur until 2016. Problem is, by campaign standards that is just the day after tomorrow and Schumer, third-ranking Democrat in the Senate, wants to be a player. Thus, when he was invited to address a crowd of 750 at an Iowa Democratic Party event Saturday, November 2, he made it clear who he wants in the Oval Office after the Right Honorable Barack vacates the premises, a legend in his own mind: Hilary Rodham Clinton. "Hillary's experience is unrivaled and her vision is unparalleled", proclaimed New York's senior senator, along with a whole lot of the particularly bombastic and flatulent language which the Great Republic treasures in every windy word, every tub-thumping syllable, not merely suitable for its presidential candidates, but expected and always scrutinized with baleful eyes. "It's time for a woman to be president", he said, and Iowans present who know they can make history, scrambled to their feet screaming for the lady who will in due course get her party's nomination, though she is coy and demur about the matter today. But to get a nomination isn't necessarily to be elected... as so many of those entered in the make-or-break caucuses of the Hawkeye state (just two years away now) have learned to their chagrin, yes even the winners in Iowa who failed to wow America. Thus did the next presidential campaign commence, necessitating my early endorsement and this astonishing article... God help us. Sagging, bloated, no longer a brand new face. There is to be sure a significant body of opinion even amongst Democrats that Hillary is like cod past its "sell-by" date, once fresh and enticing, now a nose holder. Yet her nomination will occur because the ex-First Lady, ex-U.S. Senator from New York, and ex-Secretary of State will do what she does best, work hard, work long, work with verve and unmatched determination to get what she wants, having absolutely no trouble at all persuading herself that she is the best possible thing for the nation she once adorned as a Goldwater Girl (1964), primly cavorting for Senator Barry Goldwater (1909-1998), father of the nation's modern (and increasingly irresponsible) conservative movement; thereby proving this baby has come a long way. (Author's honorable confession: I was a "Goldwater Boy" that year when Hillary and I (the same age) lived just a few miles apart, in suburban Chicagoland. Thus, I must tread gently around this matter). Things change, but what doesn't is each candidate's profound belief that they are the one -- the only one -- who knows best, even when they change their positions as often and completely as New England's fickle weather. "If you don't like the weather in New England now", Mark Twain wrote; "just wait a few minutes." He might have written as much about their "immutable" positions which never are. OMG. But though I write as if Hillary's nomination was certain, it most assuredly is not... especially if master spy and quirky cutie Edward J. Snowden runs. For he knows everything about everyone, knows where all the bodies are buried, and has already proven just how expert he is at publicizing the choicest (that is to say, the most scandalous), eye-popping items which can so easily disrupt any campaign. In Hillary's case these most probably revolve about the undeniable love of her life, William Jefferson Clinton, Randy Bill, sometime president of these United States. Consider this... Bill Clinton left office still young (just 54), full of beans and grandiose notions, damning the 22nd Amendment disbarring him from another term he might well have won (despite all the embarrassments, scandals and roller-coaster vicissitudes). His one ace in the hole for his oh-so-sweet, prompt return to the world stage was the wife he had so publicly humiliated. She must be having such fun knowing the power she has over him now. She'll run alright, but she'll do it her way cocking a snoot at hubby in ways of the utmost subtlety and artfulness, the way such old married couples may do. She'd be less than human if she didn't. However, whilst ex-president and possible future president play their conjugal games right out of "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?" (1962), Eddie Snowden, for all that he's making the scene in Moscow these days, is earnestly studying his portmanteau of jarring Clintonalia, savoring, sharing each scrap of toxic tittle- tattle with Vlad Putin, his BFF. For can anyone doubt that is what a spy named Snowden, Edward Snowden, would do? Now it is time to introduce him to you. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the next president of the United States, what he brings to the office and his unique way of dealing with opponents, electoral or otherwise, and making the world a safer place, at least for him. Let us salute this man! Let us hear his anthem... "007. The James Bond Theme". Go now to any search engine and find one of the most recognizable and apposite movie signature themes ever. Written by Monty Norman (though celebrated composer John Barry also claimed it in court actions which sustained Norman's credit), the theme was first recorded and used in 1962. It features five saxophones, nine brass, a rhythm section and solo guitar. That guitar delivered the defining riff and was played by Vic Flick on a 1939 English Clifford Essex Paragon Deluxe. For his work, Flick was paid the one- off fee of 6 pounds sterling.... about $30 at the time... a little over $2 today. The films, of course, graced by this theme made hundreds of millions. Listen carefully to the music... the folks who use it, profit apace. Soon you will hear it everywhere... everywhere Eddie Snowden needs to be to become president. Meet the most agile and successful spy in history: Edward Joseph Snowden, born June 21, 1983, in Elizabeth City, North Carolina. A brief look at his career. Snowden is an American computer specialist and former CIA employee and NSA contractor. He burst into worldwide prominence through a series of articles first published in The Guardian newspaper in May 2013. These articles, with their often hitherto unknown and spectacular revelations, disclosed top secret surveillance by the United States, Israel, and British governments. In an instant Snowden became a household name, variously called spy, whistle blower, dissident, traitor, patriot. He was charged by the government with espionage and theft of government property. However, by the time the charge was made, Snowden had flown the coop, criss-crossing the globe, making tracks whilst his flatfooted pursuers failed time after time to capture him, in a high tech revival of the Keystone Cops, until at last Snowden reached Moscow and his most influential friend, Russian president Vladimir Putin, a man who loves power and plays the game with deft skill, total cynicism and untrammeled imagination. Two of the most dangerous people on Earth had found each other and together dreamed the dreams of mass confusion, disruption... and triumph; effortless, complete, impending. A knock at the door. A handsome footman is retained and accoutered in high style, powdered hair, resplendant livery, brass shoe buckles gleaming. He carries a silver salver, solid, never plate. Mr. Snowden places his engraved card upon it. All it says is "Edward J. Snowden. Do visit my website now and call". That is all. And it is always more than enough since this site, quite unique, provides impeccable evidence, so lurid, so fascinating of the peccadilloes of the recipient, artfully arranged for greatest impact. The recipient looks, looks again, and again. Then calls the number given. There is a soft caressing voice, "Mrs. Clinton, we've been expecting you. Have you had the chance to consider the advantages of remaining a private citizen? Do please. Mr. Snowden is awaiting your response." Snowden smiles, his plan advancing. So does Putin, for his plan is advancing too. In the background, the 007 theme swells, confident, irresistible, smooth as silk. "Snowden, Edward Snowden." |
