| Author: | Darwin Porter, Danforth Prince | ISBN: | 9781936003488 |
| Publisher: | Blood Moon Productions | Publication: | December 21, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Blood Moon Productions | Language: | English |
| Author: | Darwin Porter, Danforth Prince |
| ISBN: | 9781936003488 |
| Publisher: | Blood Moon Productions |
| Publication: | December 21, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Blood Moon Productions |
| Language: | English |
On the campus of Yale University, in 1970, an “odd couple,” Hillary Rodham and Bill (“Bubba”) Clinton, came together at a Mark Rothko exhibit at the Yale Art Museum. Before the end of that rainy afternoon, they had formed an unbreakable bond forged while they rested on the seat of a Henry Moore sculpture. They were from completely different worlds—he, a populist from a poverty-stricken background in Arkansas; she, a former “Goldwater Girl” and conservative Republican gradually moving into the liberal camp. As he sat beside her, holding her hand, she gazed into the eyes of this 210-pound, orange-bearded “Viking,” tall and scruffy looking, with an Elvis drawl. He’d later jokingly claim, “I identified with Elvis since both of us had hillbilly peckers.”
Freshly emerged from Wellesley College, with its “coven of lesbians,” she was a budding feminist—pimply faced, wearing no makeup but with Mr. Magoo eyeglasses, and walking around on chubby legs. He had all the pretty women he wanted. What he was looking for was a woman with a “sense of strength and self-possession—all in all, that afternoon, I knew I’d found my Evita.” He confided to her that since the age of seven, he had only one abiding ambition—and that was to be the President of the United States. He promised her, “If elected, I will pave the way for you to become the first woman president. You can follow after my administration.” He held out the prospect of making her the most powerful woman on the planet. As she recalled, “I was giddy with emotion.”
Their trail to the White House began in Arkansas, with Hillary helping direct her sex-crazed Bubba into the governor’s seat. “With my backup, he pursued his dream while I was also chasing a dream of my own. Women can dream harder than any man—in fact, being what they are, I don’t understand why women don’t turn lesbian.” Through the tides of the wars to come, both Hillary and Bill learned that love was a creature of many faces, with ever-changing rules and compromises on the road to their horizon. Often threatening divorce, she remained at his side, interpreting his affairs as minor annoyances.
On their stormy seas, they sailed through triumph and tragedy, setbacks and comebacks, the good years and the bad ones, bimbo eruptions, serial infidelities, near bankruptcy with crippling legal bills, impeachment, the stockpiling of post-Presidential millions, and surviving vitriolic scorn that rivaled that of Dr. Goebbels against the Jews. They faced maddening failures and stunning achievements, their love and loyalty enduring through hurricane winds. She was at his side as the sex-crazed Arkansas Bubba became the notorious “Slick Willie,” eventually morphing into one of the world’s most admired senior statesmen.
On the campus of Yale University, in 1970, an “odd couple,” Hillary Rodham and Bill (“Bubba”) Clinton, came together at a Mark Rothko exhibit at the Yale Art Museum. Before the end of that rainy afternoon, they had formed an unbreakable bond forged while they rested on the seat of a Henry Moore sculpture. They were from completely different worlds—he, a populist from a poverty-stricken background in Arkansas; she, a former “Goldwater Girl” and conservative Republican gradually moving into the liberal camp. As he sat beside her, holding her hand, she gazed into the eyes of this 210-pound, orange-bearded “Viking,” tall and scruffy looking, with an Elvis drawl. He’d later jokingly claim, “I identified with Elvis since both of us had hillbilly peckers.”
Freshly emerged from Wellesley College, with its “coven of lesbians,” she was a budding feminist—pimply faced, wearing no makeup but with Mr. Magoo eyeglasses, and walking around on chubby legs. He had all the pretty women he wanted. What he was looking for was a woman with a “sense of strength and self-possession—all in all, that afternoon, I knew I’d found my Evita.” He confided to her that since the age of seven, he had only one abiding ambition—and that was to be the President of the United States. He promised her, “If elected, I will pave the way for you to become the first woman president. You can follow after my administration.” He held out the prospect of making her the most powerful woman on the planet. As she recalled, “I was giddy with emotion.”
Their trail to the White House began in Arkansas, with Hillary helping direct her sex-crazed Bubba into the governor’s seat. “With my backup, he pursued his dream while I was also chasing a dream of my own. Women can dream harder than any man—in fact, being what they are, I don’t understand why women don’t turn lesbian.” Through the tides of the wars to come, both Hillary and Bill learned that love was a creature of many faces, with ever-changing rules and compromises on the road to their horizon. Often threatening divorce, she remained at his side, interpreting his affairs as minor annoyances.
On their stormy seas, they sailed through triumph and tragedy, setbacks and comebacks, the good years and the bad ones, bimbo eruptions, serial infidelities, near bankruptcy with crippling legal bills, impeachment, the stockpiling of post-Presidential millions, and surviving vitriolic scorn that rivaled that of Dr. Goebbels against the Jews. They faced maddening failures and stunning achievements, their love and loyalty enduring through hurricane winds. She was at his side as the sex-crazed Arkansas Bubba became the notorious “Slick Willie,” eventually morphing into one of the world’s most admired senior statesmen.
