Here's the deal Sweetheart.....
"You stay away from us,
we will stay away from you." "You stay away from us,
This is what we consider a reasonable proposition, offered up by Judah Friedman, writing at the American Spectator. Friedman continues,
"Imagine there’s no presidency, no deplorables too…
Over the past few days I have asked
a few friends what they think life is like for Hillary Clinton right
now. Of course this is a hypothetical question, since they don’t know,
but it is sort of an interesting idea to let your mind wander and wonder
what life is like inside Casa Clinton; not just inside the actual
house, but inside her actual head. Caution: we are entering an unsafe
and scary space.
Let’s start with the outside of the house. I’m sure it’s heavily
guarded with Secret Service and private security. I see her home being
heavily fenced in with a guard tower, with active patrols going on
hourly. There are cameras on every wall and tree. No one is allowed in,
including Bill, unless they have been pre-approved days in advance. This
means Bill is never allowed in. I’m not sure why I have imagined a
laundry truck on the premises, but I do. I see a cook smoking a
cigarette, while sitting on a concrete stoop. It’s all so quiet,
unbearably quiet; it’s isolation at its worst and we haven’t even gone
inside her house or her head.
Inside I see pictures turned over, and mirrors covered up. I hear no
sounds as the televisions have been unplugged. I see a picture of Bill
over the fire place with knives piercing through. I see a doctor and a
nurse looking over charts, and a chef and his cook preparing a meal for
one. The clock never moves because time stands still. Yes, maybe I’ve
watched too many Twilight Zone episodes but this is what I see. Of course, the furniture is stunning; although, I’m not sure why, I
imagine the couches all covered in that uncomfortable plastic. If one
didn’t know better, this house could be mistaken for a mortuary or a
high end prison.
Remainder of the story picks up here: Let’s start with the outside of the house. I’m sure it’s heavily
guarded with Secret Service and private security. I see her home being
heavily fenced in with a guard tower, with active patrols going on
hourly. There are cameras on every wall and tree. No one is allowed in,
including Bill, unless they have been pre-approved days in advance. This
means Bill is never allowed in. I’m not sure why I have imagined a
laundry truck on the premises, but I do. I see a cook smoking a
cigarette, while sitting on a concrete stoop. It’s all so quiet,
unbearably quiet; it’s isolation at its worst and we haven’t even gone
inside her house or her head. Inside I see pictures turned over, and mirrors covered up. I hear no
sounds as the televisions have been unplugged. I see a picture of Bill
over the fire place with knives piercing through. I see a doctor and a
nurse looking over charts, and a chef and his cook preparing a meal for
one. The clock never moves because time stands still. Yes, maybe I’ve
watched too many Twilight Zone episodes but this is what I see. Of course, the furniture is stunning; although, I’m not sure why, I
imagine the couches all covered in that uncomfortable plastic. If one
didn’t know better, this house could be mistaken for a mortuary or a
high end prison.https://spectator.org/hillary-at-thanksgiving/
Note: Images added by Obiter Dictum
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