So it's impossible to be shocked and difficult to actually be offended that they raked in $109 million, in a period of time where a gelatinous cube like Rush Limbaugh made twice as much to scarf down oxy and boner pills and head to the Dominican Republic for some young brown ass, or Alex Rodriguez making a quarter-billion to swat a ball and miss the playoffs every year.
And yet, in the midst of Hillary's hard-times pulpit-thumpers she belts to hapless crowds hither and yon, there are things like this:
It's not exactly Chinese bagmen bringing sacks of laundered money, but it's probably not much better than what it sounds like.
Even better is this:
Because The Human Fund would have been too obvious.
The other entertaining Clinton nugget during the past week was this gem, which should have been seen coming up the road:
Hammer of the Blogs is pleased to present an exclusive photo of Penn's negotiations with the angry Colombians:
Note the look of consternation in the Colombian's eyes, as well as the sweat pouring off his beak. I think we all learned what pissed-off Colombians are capable of from Scarface; if Penn actually possessed elbows and knees, and any of the Colombians happened to have a chainsaw handy, Penn would have been in really deep shit.
More seriously, I think this is an area where the Clintons (and let's not beat around the, erm, Bush here -- as with a decade and a half ago, we are again being offered two for the price of one, as if we were at the political Dollar Tree looking for a deal on toiletries) are vulnerable. Penn is an operative's operative, and one of his subordinates at Burston-Marsteller is John McCain's henchman, Charlie Black. So either way, B-M wins, which really means a lot to Mister and Missus Joe Six-Tooth.
Even diehard Clintonistas will have to acknowledge that Bill got a certain amount of mileage out of rhetorically feeling our pain, and it rang true, since he couldn't afford his own house either. He was one of us, skeevy big-hair glad-handing priapism and all.
But the schtick plays a bit more hollow nine figures later, well-entrenched in the same machine which spent eight years attacking both Clintons, hanging with the exact same people whose pastime was calumniating them, making money hand over fist, her supporters paying him six figures to "consult" and speak at their events. Lotta inbreeding going on there, which does not make them special, but rather mundane. It's a racket, and they've learned to play.
Maybe we can all play, and feel each other's pain, or something. But if we all could afford to live in the Hamptons, where would the swells go to feel superior, and whom would they have to look down upon?