Bubba: He's Still Out There

There's something about Clinton that fascinates me, wears me out, disgusts me, makes me want to vomit and infuriates no end. How he and Hillary could make it to the White House was a political bombshell of the worst degree. After 8 years of the Clinton's weren't you worn out from the constant soap opera scripts on a daily basis? Thanks a lot, H. Ross Perot. Now that Bill is out of the W.H. he gallivants around the world giving speeches at $100,000 plus. Seriously, how much would you spend to listen to a dissertation on bulls**t given by the former president? Yesterday, on lucianne.com , there was an article about Bill giving a speech in the UK. His picture was fully displayed and I was shocked. With Gwyneth Paltrow standing next to him the photo gave him the l look of a bad reaction to chemo. Bill is not aging well. I didn't want to bore you with the subject of Clinton so I let the article and photo slide by. Then, this morning, I was peering at lucianne again and along came another photo of Bill with buxom booby twins sidled up next to him. They happened to be at a gala festival in Monaco. I didn't include their names in this post because they might not be real;  one of them went by Kandy Kane. Both of them are movie stars but I won't be taking Lizzie to see them perform their skills at the local cinema. Two of their most famous major motion pictures are: Farm Girls Gone Bad and Baby Got Boobs 8.
At any rate, I started to think about Lizzie and what she might say if I was traipsing around the world being constantly photographed with females standing four abreast. This will be easy for me since we've been married for forty-three years and I've put her to the test many, many times. Lizzie has a heart rate of five. Nothing phases her in her outward appearance or actions. Inside she can seethe. It was December of 1980 and we were in a bar in Clinton, Iowa with some friends. We'd been there for an hour so I was slightly lubricated; not overly but slightly. I reached for an object and knocked over a 16 oz. glass of brew onto her lap. She didn't blink, move, cry, grimace or say a word. She looked straight ahead while maintaining that 'faux smile' only she can do. I'd been down this lonesome road before so I knew what to do. Most guys would clean up their act and have a coffee. Not me. I'd already run the Jericho Mile and knew what to expect so I ordered another beer. It's like a guy on Death Row ordering his last meal. In other cases Lizzie, depending on the circumstances, would refer to me as 'old man' or 'grandpa' or "If you think you can handle them then go for it". This would be an appropriate response, "I think you'd better get to confession". And finally, "I hope you had a good time. When your grandson sees this you'll never seem him again".
These super elites must have a differing moral code than the rest of us. From what I read Hillary and Bill have an understanding. He can go out with as many babes as he wants as long as Hillary can go out with as many babes as she wants. Such is the life of the rich and powerful. They can have all of it they want. I'm happy here in Dublin, Ohio; watering Lizzie's flowers while she's at the lake, eating more baked potatoes and looking forward to the my favorite part of the day---sleeping..