Coronation?

Brief note to Bill: Shut the fuck up and let your wife fight her own battles with the Senator from Vermont. You do not have the privilege of a third leg to stand on with your historical philandering from the governorship of Arkansas to the presidency, not when it comes to throwing charges of "sexism" around. Your daughter, too, Mr. President, had to live with the after effects of the public embarrassment you caused the country: your 'friendship" with Flowers, the Paula Jones case. I studied the judge's ruling there as it pertained to the toxic environment I sustained locally at Philadelphia's independent living center, and realized how despairingly high the bar has to be to receive compensation for toxic humiliation inflicted on a female psyche. You displayed an erection to Ms. Jones to be serviced.

Not something easily forgotten but not legally actionable. You want to know what was happening to me while you were dealing with Bush'es transition team? The day after my former co-worker Debra Russell gave the housing counselor position to the Secretary of the Board's lover, in direct violation of the Commonwealth's guidelines, Louis, my former neighbor from Folsom, overheard my former supervisor lash out at me over the phone: I'm sorry sweetheart! She accused me of wanting to sleep with her because she emailed me graphic responses about her orgasms and I had a breakdown over it. Anyway, Louis picked up the ball, as if we were still doing obscene phone calls from school. Everyone who knew me started calling me sweetheart, sniggering, and I blamed myself and tried to cut my throat, but I didn't. And this is the same center my building manager tried to force me to go back to when she was hired in 2007, Mr. President, despite the fact that the same corporation which employs her was negligent in my aggravated assault in 1993.

I believed in you then, did the things people are supposed to do to recover, tried to be a principled advocate, and served on your SSA committee, though I didn't have time to schedule a White House tour. You do not know the first thing about sexism Bill. You're a callow hillbilly who believes your privileges entitle you to super status, while my family begs me to stay where I am with Riverside Presby because it is "safe". It is killing me to do so. My heart is going into congestive failure, and I have such animosity toward your legacy I'm almost willing to fight for Bernie to give the GOP nominee a better chance. This is why I queried Politico about doing an article on your problematic tenure as First Husband: You'd really return to running the country through the back door, while bookies make odds if you're healthy enough for another two or three ejaculations in the wrong direction. I'm not going to make it through your third term while I argue with Philadelphia's Human Relations Commission on extraordinary circumstances and statue limits: I remember your elated hand slapping after the Jones verdict. I remember Lorena Bobbitt, and my line of vision is waist level. Convenient, wouldn't you say?