Clouted clotted blotted and besotted

There’s just no stopping some fools.

The Clinton clot plot thickens… or thins… with anti-coagulants.
Ann Althouse | January 1, 2013

So we were just talking about the oddities of the Clinton clot story. We noted that no sooner was it said that Hillary Clinton would testify, as Secretary of State, on the Benghazi attack, than there came an announcement that Hillary Clinton had entered the hospital with a blood clot. The coincidence raised suspicions of an effort to engineer an evasion of this testimony.

Oh please.

Later, Clinton’s doctors released a statement saying that the clot was in a vein inside her skull, and that she’s “making excellent progress” and likely to “make a full recovery” . . You may remember that the analysis I discussed at that first link contained the assertion that “anticoagulation is never given to persons with clots around the brain.”

The Secretary of State assembled her staff. “I’m going to New York Presbyterian Columbia Hospital to fake a blood clot underneath my skull. Tell the university physicians I want a trumped-up MRI within an hour. Let Public Relations know I’ll need a rough draft of their release before dinner. I expect everybody to jeopardize their licenses and careers so I can dodge a 2012 scandal that the public slept through. Now where did the digito-cerebral black satellite interface and controller go?”

That is what Ann Althouse suspects Hillary Clinton of doing.

And, by the way, I’ve gotten some pushback in email and on the web, saying that it was “shameful” and “appalling” for me to tie Clinton’s health problems to a possible intent to avoid testifying about Benghazi. Let me tell you that a core motivation to my blogging — and I’ve been going at this for 9 years now — is to stand tough against people who try to cut off debate with this kind of shaming.

Althouse is just dumb. Trifling details are her professional obsession, and they never fail to transform into devastating attacks upon public figures. As if her disastrous bleating could have any consequences in real life. As if there’s any karmic balance between some impotent imbecile and the Secretary of State.

When people say “Shame on you,” it’s as much for disgracing her adulthood as anything else. But this is not right, why no, how dare you! The liberals are bullying her from Secret Truth. Ann knows it, she knew it. She’ll not be turned away!

I’m glad that this performance of outrage was directed at me. I know it when I see it, and it fires me up. You want silence? You want backing down? You want me not to dare say a thing like that? That’s how you want to control political debate in the United States? Thanks for reminding me once again how deeply I hate that and for giving me an (easy) opportunity to model courage for the more timid people out there who are cowed by the fear of shaming.

As if demonstrations of stupidity were powerful orgasms. I’m in love with BLOG, Daddy! You can’t stand between us!

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2 thoughts Clouted clotted blotted and besotted

  1. avatar Rev. Howard Furst says:

    As I revealed previously, the key to attaining one-ness with Jehovah as an esoteric spiritual practice is Biblical Literalism, in which the aspirant must whole-heartedly believe assertions that he or she knows to be completely untrue, as a means of transcending the time-bound, body-bound mind and its illusions of separation from infinite, eternal consciousness. Ms. Althouse is evidently practicing a secular form of this spiritual discipline, and in all likelihood with the same result as doing so with the Bible as the source of falsehoods, as spiritual realization has nothing whatsoever to do with beliefs, whether true or false or indeterminate. I for one applaud Ms. Althouse’s steadfast commitment to her spiritual practice even when it results in public embarassment due to the absurdity of her chosen false beliefs, as in the case of Secretary Rodham Clinton’s thrombus.

  2. avatar toma says:

    That reminds me of what I used to read of Watts, Suzuki, and a little of Jan van Weterling. The koan is a riddle in which neither sense nor nonsense is useful. It is a jimmy you use to pry open a third way, the route to this transcendent consciousness of what you speak. It’s funny to think that the madness of the likes of Althouse is a form of Nirvana, and I suspect I’ll remain a benighted fool.

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