Tag: Hillary Clinton

A letter to Hillary Clinton

My darling Hillary,

Well done! I wanted to be at the very front of the queue to congratulate you on becoming the first president of the United States of America to have lady-bits. How refreshing! Your election to office, I mean, not your lady-bits. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m sure your lady-bits are delightfully refreshing. Oh, dear. This isn’t going well at all. Let me start again.

Well done! Yes, I’m aware that you haven’t won the election just yet but you are going to win and I will then be able to legitimately lay claim to being the first person in the world to congratulate you. I’m rather impressed with myself, actually. It’s not often a South African gets a world first in a category other than alcohol abuse, rape, murder and so on. We take what we can get. Quite often we also take what we can’t get. It’s the politics of liberation. You want it, you take it.

But that’s enough about me. How are you feeling? Exhausted, I bet. Power is a tremendous aphrodisiac and I’m sure Bill hasn’t been able to keep his hands to himself during this final sprint to victory. I only hope he hasn’t been bringing his tawdry harlots home this time around. It’s bad enough you having to listen to the grunting mental exertions of your political rival without also having to contend with the trumpeting of sundry strumpets spreadeagled in the sun room.

Oh, I almost forgot – happy birthday! A little belated, sorry. We’re all a bit belated in this part of the world. So you turned 69 on Wednesday. That’s quite an achievement. I do hope Bill didn’t ruin the occasion by making rude jokes about the number. You know what men are like. Of course you do. Obviously I’m not talking about Donald Trump. He’s not so much a man as he is a giant mango-faced cockwomble.

Isn’t it going to be weird moving back into the White House? And I don’t mean just because darkies have been living there for the last eight years. I mean because of all the history that 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue carries with it. The Oval Office alone has seen everything from Abraham Lincoln’s glass eye to Monica Lewinsky’s vajayjay. I hope your first act as president is to hire a strapping young intern and abuse him in the worst possible way. Treat him real bad. Know what I’m saying? No, Hillary. I don’t mean put him in the White House press office.

Are you disappointed to be rated the second-most-unpopular presidential nominee ever? After all, to a fighter like you, second place means nothing. If only Donald hadn’t set the bar so low that not even bacteria could slide beneath it, you would’ve been the most unpopular. He might have cheated you out of the title, but he damn well won’t cheat you out of the election. If there is any cheating to be done, you’ll be the one to do it.

You lie with such grace and charm that one finds oneself falling a little in love with you. Most of the women I’ve dated have been out-and-out compulsive fabulists with no appreciation for the timeless political arts of fabrication and mendacity.

As for all that nonsense about endangering American lives through a careless attitude towards confidential emails. I see it as a refreshing devil-may-care attitude. Truth be told, nothing turns me on more than a woman who has her own private email server. Hell, I get excited when I meet a woman who has her own car. Or even her own teeth.

Some of your staff recently called you “nuts” and “secretive”. So what? Show me a woman who isn’t nuts and secretive and I’ll show you a man.

I was pleased when you gave up that secretary of state job. I’ve gone out with a few secretaries in my time and it never ended well. Also, you really don’t want your resume to reflect that you were secretary to a Kenyan-born Muslim who might very well prove to have been the Antichrist all along.

People close to you say you’re a workaholic. Me too. No, wait. Alcoholic. Not much difference, though. It takes as much commitment and dedication to reach the very bottom as it does to reach the very top. In South Africa, nobody has ever reached the very bottom. Our leaders in particular sink to exciting new depths every day. This is a bit of a Wonderland country where it is often difficult to tell up from down, right from wrong and why the president isn’t in prison.

People have always said the world would be very different if it were run by women. By people I mean my first ex-wife. She knew everything there was to know about anything and I had no reason to doubt her. So my question is this. Do you think having boobies and a bobcat rather than moobs and man-giblets will make a difference to the way the most powerful country in the world is run? If so, what will you do differently? Once you’ve colour-coded the Situation Room and redecorated the Dog Box (Bill’s bedroom) and after replacing the kitchen utensils “borrowed” by Michelle, what then?

You will be striking a big blow for women and millions of eyes will be on you. Feminists have, however, set you up for failure with their demented cries of “Whatever men can do women can do better” and “Men should be castrated”. Do they expect you to chop the goolies off all your male staff? And how could you possibly bomb terrorists and anyone who might be inadvertently standing near terrorists any better than Barack Obama? Or, for that matter, George W Bush?

I suppose you could send flowers to those who qualify as collateral damage. That would be a nice, feminine touch. And maybe insist that warships are painted in cheery pastel colours in summer and warm earthy tones in winter. Or, and this is a big or, you could unleash your soft, gentle, sensitive, nurturing side that all women possess. Or so I’ve heard. Tap into that and stop the bombings. Ground the drones. Stop the slaughter of innocents. Stop invading countries on the flimsiest of pretexts. Instead, start talking. Hang on. I might need to rethink this. My second wife was a talker and it only seemed to make things worse.

You know what worries me? Virtually everything. But in the American context, I worry that almost as many people will be voting for Donald Trump on November 8 as they will be for you. What in the name of baby Jesus happened to your people? What terrible calamity struck your country to create such a powerful voting bloc of intellectually-challenged race-baiting morons who think the ginger pussy-grabbing cockwomble would make a good leader? Aren’t these people going to be ungovernable after their man loses? Or will they simply go back to stuffing cheeseburgers into their misshapen faces and breeding with their cousins? Why aren’t you answering me, Hillary? Why? Oh, right. I thought this was an email.

Another thing I don’t understand is how you actually conduct your elections. Where I come from, we wake up on polling day, get drunk and vote for the same bunch of corrupt, pot-bellied pigs over and over again. Then we go home, drink some more and spend the next five years complaining.

You people, on the other hand, have a system so complex and convoluted that I’m surprised voters with miniature Trump-like brains can even grasp it.

We don’t have the equivalent of Donald Trump in our country. The closest we might come is a fat kid called Oros, but he lacks Donald’s charisma and is not so bright. Your doppelgänger is probably Helen Zille, the former leader of our official opposition. Like you, she talks a good game but doesn’t have your superior dress sense and salacious spouse.

I read somewhere that you genuinely have America’s best interests at heart and aren’t in it for the money. Is this true or just another smear campaign to make you look bad? You see, our politicians are revered for their ability to steal as much money as they can while in office. It’s become something of a competition, actually, with the different provinces vying between themselves. We also have individual and team categories to see who can loot the most without being arrested. It’s great fun. The game never ends, either, because our prosecutors are kept busy charging the honest ones who try to spoil things for the rest of us.

Anyway. We can chat in person after the election. I expect to be at your inauguration as South Africa’s new ambassador to the US. First, though, I will have to commit fraud or perpetrate some or other crime in defence of our president. It’s the only way to get an ambassadorship these days.

pic2hillary

 

An open letter to Donald Trump

Hey Donald!

Or should I call you President Trump? It certainly has a magnificent ring to it. Magnificent, obviously, in the way that a tornado heading for a redneck trailer park in, say, Texas, is magnificent. On second thoughts, president is not a powerful enough designation for a man of your caliber. In the parlance you’re comfortable with, president is a pussy word. A lot of terrible people have been and still are presidents. Nixon, Mugabe, that North Korean lunatic, Caligula, Zuma. The list is endless.

When you win the elections, your first executive action must be to declare martial law. Impose curfews. Roll out the tanks. And forget about the White House. That’s for gay liberals like George W Bush. You need to move into the Pentagon and get fitted with a uniform made of Kevlar and lion skins. Maybe get a bandolier of solid gold bullets to string across your chest. Since you’ve never been to war, you’ll have to make some medals of your own. The centrepiece could be an Iron Cross studded with rubies. Your new title could be something like Field Marshal or, even better, Führer. You will also need to declare yourself President for Life. The sooner the proletariat know where they stand the better it will be for you. In fact, don’t let them stand at all. That just encourages the swine. Keep them on their knees.

Like you, I, too, am something of a racist, sexist, homophobic misogynist. You’re a professional, though. I simply dabble. This is why you’re going to be the most powerful man in the world while I remain the most powerful man in my house. I live alone. Hopefully that will change once you bring me on board as your chief advisor.

One of the reasons I want to work for you is because you’re not an intellectual. You tweet while others read. You talk first and think later, if at all. Thinking is heavily overrated. Winners like you act purely on animal instinct. The only point of having an opposable thumb is to help you sign cheques and death warrants. And pull triggers.

Speaking of which, how are the boys? The last time I saw a picture of Donald Jr and Eric, the naughty little scamps were holding up bits they’d hacked off wild animals while hunting in my country. Does Eric still have the elephant tail? I bet he uses it to whip his boyfriend’s ass when they’re home alone. Fair play to him.

I would vote for you in a heartbeat because you are so full of brilliant ideas, among other things. Your notion that America should ban all Muslims was a stroke of genius. Are you really a genius or did you just have a stroke? I apologise. This is not the time for jokes. Not that there ever really is a time for jokes. Jokes are for losers.

I also applaud your stance on climate change. If the climate has a problem, then the climate must change, not us. We were here first, right? That’s the problem with the environment. It’s always doing something dramatic to get our attention. Worse than a needy child. When you’re in charge, I hope you punish it with loads of pollution.

Well done on winning New Hampshire, by the way. What was second prize? Vermont? In South Africa, we can’t be trusted to nominate a presidential candidate of our choice. This is done for us by others. We’re not entirely sure who they are. Some say they are extraterrestrials similar to the giant prawns in the nature documentary District 9, only less articulate.

You have much in common with our president. Well, just the one thing, really. You both lack any sense of shame. I think that’s because you both have a background in reality television, except Jacob Zuma who has no grasp on reality and doesn’t watch television. Not the news, anyway.

Big Don, you have this one in the bag. Your nearest rival in the Democratic camp is Hillary Clinton. As you know, she has strong and weak points. Her strong point is that she’s a woman. This is also her weak point. You have nothing to worry about there. Nor do you have to worry about Rubio and Cruz. Goddamn immigrants. Them rummed-up Cubans are worse than them mommy-jabbing Mexicans, I tell ya. Once you’re done bombing the shit out of ISIS, bomb the shit out of Cuba. Then turn it into a giant theme park. Like Disneyland but without all those homo cartoon characters. And have guns. Lots of guns.

Also, you need to replace your Supreme Court judges with the people who run your casinos. Justice is a gamble and you’re a five-card stud. With the law in your pocket, nothing can stop you. Scrap the states and make it one big America. Rework the pledge of allegiance. Replace the word “God” with “Donald Trump The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived”. And take out that nonsense about liberty for all. It just confuses people.

How was your Valentine’s Day, by the way? Did you give your daughter something special? I bet you did, you old rogue, you. Well done. The family that sleeps together stays together.

Looking forward to seeing you set some serious snares on the ol’ campaign trail. That ancient commie bastard Bernie Sanders is bound to stumble into one sooner or later.

And good luck for South Carolina. My advice is not to bother going after the darkie vote. They probably haven’t forgotten that slavery business even though god knows they’ve had long enough to get over it. No matter. The Evangelical Protestants are gonna lap you up. Sorry. That sounds a bit faggoty. You know what I mean.

Anyway. I’m your biggest fan. Can I have a million dollars?

images