“We all remember Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June in California,” she said.

        For the carefully-scripted, parse-every-word candidate, this was a florid Tourette’s moment that gave us a chilling glimpse into the macabre thoughts that were occupying Hillary’s head, heart, and--who knows--plans.

        She might as well have said: “If Obama dies, I win!”

        It’s never over for the Clintons--never, as Bubba would say, “’til the last dog dies.”  That expression takes on new meaning now that Sen. Barack Obama has wrested the Democrat nomination for President of the United States from “the smartest woman in the world.”

        Having written about the Clintons for years--mostly Hillary but also Bill, her now-fossilized barnacle--I disagreed with the apologias emanating from her campaign and the media: “She’s tired” and “What she really meant to say” just didn’t cut it.

        To me, her statement was as illuminating as a PET scan or contrast-dye MRI, visualizing with exquisite accuracy Hillary’s psyche, which lit up like a neon sign in the areas of lust-for-power and malevolent machinations.

        Indeed, the meaning of Hillary’s ghoulish “reminder” of RFK’s death deepens when one considers that to maintain their vise-like grip on power, both Hillary and Bill have been suspected of being implicated in dozens of deaths by the most unlikely of “accidents” or “suicides.”

        In a number of recent articles on my website, I have spelled out why Bill Clinton’s extensive relationships over the past seven years with foreign governments and operatives--many of them enemies of America--and the promises and ”favors” he pledged to them on the presumption that Hillary would become president have made Hillary’s presidency literally a matter of life and death for the Clintons.

        The hardball players they’ve made deals with don’t take nicely to being “disappointed.”

A “Willing Suspension of Disbelief”

        After the June primaries, when the Democrat super-delegates started flocking to Sen. Obama, Hillary maintained her own “willing suspension of disbelief”--exhibiting her weirdly manic smile, thumbs-upping her staged crowds, and repeating the canards of her "35-years of experience" and readiness to be president "on day one."

        When she was questioned about the long odds against her, she resorted to citing her lead in the popular vote, as if in the history of our country that has ever been the decisive criterion by which presidents are elected.

        And then--to Hillary--the unthinkable happened.  Obama chalked up enough electoral and super-delegate votes to win the nomination.  And how did Hillary react?  In yet another display of extreme ungraciousness, she took the stage to say, in essence, “it ain’t over ‘til it’s over!”

        Finally, a few days later and at the urging of one of her most ardent supporters, Congressman Charles Rangel of New York, Hillary “suspended” her campaign.  Not ended--suspended!

        But guess what she didn’t do?  She didn’t concede the nomination and she didn’t cede her delegates to Obama!  Why?  Because in Clinton world, the word concede or cede are never options.  And they don’t “end” campaigns.  Rather, they leave them hanging, dangling, up in the air, unconsummated, suspended.

        So who, it’s legitimate to ask, is the “last dog” to stop Hillary from achieving her lifelong ambition to become president and, simultaneously, to redeem her husband’s tarnished legacy?

        None other than the Obamessiah!

The McCain Factor

        But Obama is only one obstacle to Hillary and her barnacle’s over-weaning ambitions.

        There is still that flinty old American wartime hero and longtime senator, John McCain, who many conservatives resent for his alliances with the left, but who they nevertheless believe will:

• Maintain the Bush tax cuts.
• Nominate conservative judges to the Supreme Court.
• Keep his promise to secure our southern border against the tsunami of illegal aliens who threaten to bankrupt our country.
• Adhere to his recent promise to drill for oil in our hemisphere and construct 45 nuclear facilities over the next 20 years.

         That’s good enough to stanch the threat of Obama’s oft-stated Marxist agenda, which is to:

• Have “big government” run our lives.
• Appease our most virulent enemies in the name of the far-left’s gods of political correctness and multiculturalism.
• Nationalize (i.e., socialize) our healthcare system.
• Inflict windfall-profit taxes on our oil producers (and probably nationalize them too).

  In a chilling article not long ago, former Republican Congressman John LeBoutillier wrote in Newsmax.com that McCain might not, in the end, be the Republican nominee.

    What did LeBoutillier mean? Does he know something the rest of us don’t know?

I’m Nor a Crime-Writer…But

        In my over-30-years as a journalist and author, my “turf” has been articles on health-and-science and political issues, as well as books on a variety of subjects.  But here, I am venturing into the crime-writer/children’s-book genre.  Here is the allegorical plot.

        A Big Dog meets a lesser mastiff and sees in her qualities that are potentially beneficial to him. He paws her, bites her, even mauls her, but she stays true, proving to him that he can depend on her to help him ignore or destroy the yapping dogs in the smaller kennels and maintain control of the big kennel on Pennsylvania Avenue.

        And they succeed--to the degree that they think they’re invincible!  The next step is for lesser mastiff to run for Big Dog’s former office--the presidency of the United States of America!  They both know--and are relieved--that they’re “almost there” and that the promises they’ve made to other big-dog kennel owners--and their aggressive killer dogs--are about to be fulfilled.

        Besides, Big Dog is counting on lesser mastiff to redeem the bad name he’s gotten for all the times he has been impounded and cited for behavior unbecoming his species.

The Plot Thickens

        But what is this?  Along comes a stray, with an esoteric pedigree, no training, no credentials, and no proof that he’s even a bona fide citizen of Big Kennel country!  But yet a stray with an attractive yap, a sonorous bark, and a “message” that only the exquisite ears of other dogs of his ilk can hear.

        Big Dog and lesser mastiff don’t understand why those they consider the ignorant masses seem to be opting for a scruffy mutt that those dumb masses seem all-too-thrilled to pet.

        Slowly but surely, the stray outwits the mastiff, garnering more bones and flea collars than Big Dog’s better half ever dreamed of.  So many, in fact, that he relegates her to the world of small-kenneldom, while he races toward the Big House in Washington, D.C.

        Lesser mastiff is forced to step to the side of the stage . She yips a little about supporting the stray, but keeps her feet planted firmly on the stage, reminding the entire world that she only lost the race because she’s a bitch!  “It was bitchism!” she growls.  “All the other bitches supported me and I had more people scratching my belly than the stray did!”

        She refuses to cede to the stray the bones and flea collars she accrued, telling everyone that she wants to go to the convention in August so her name can be introduced in nomination, the better to demonstrate how popular she is to her pup, who is also a bitch.

Desperate Measures

        Lesser mastiff remains burning hot under her red-is-for-power flea collar.  It is not only the Democrat stray that enrages her, but also that Republican pit bull/golden retriever mix.

        What to do?

        Lesser mastiff knows that if she and Big Dog do to the stray--the main obstacle to her lust for power---what they’ve been accused of doing to other of their enemies, they will be accused of being the perpetrators, and thus vilified, reviled, excoriated, damned.  And, that is not to omit roundly and soundly defeated in November.

        But there is still that pit bull/golden to deal with.  What if he, too, meets an untimely end at the same time, ala Michael Corleone’s baptism scene?

        Who is left?

 ******

  
         I leave the ending of this allegory up to the reader.  Please don’t tell me it isn’t plausible!