As I was watching Hillary Clinton's speech on Tuesday, the one where she showed us all that she's not the kind of gal to give up on a fight just because she has lost and the other guy is now giving his victory speech, something occurred to me. Hillary Clinton thinking she can still win the presidency is like me still thinking that I can someday get together with Jessica Alba.
"Get together" could mean a number of things. Everything from a one-time encounter in the toilet of an airplane to us picking out china patterns together would be acceptable. Still, I am not insane and realize that Jessica Alba and I will never so much as discuss the weather together (which is a shame as I have been told that I am enchanting when talking about the humidity). No, J-Bear* and I will never have anything other than the fantasies I have about her and the fantasies she has about me.
Or will we? If I adopt Hillary Clinton's view of the world and attitude toward lost causes, I could not only hold out hope of an eventual Clear-Alba romance but could even afford to form a dangerous obsession for her.
For example, Jessica Alba and I have never met and probably never will as we live 3000 miles apart and move in completely different social circles. Is this an impediment to someday having her jeans rolled up on my bedroom floor and her underwear rolled up in my mouth? HELLS NO! Really, this problem could be solved with money. If I was rich, I could move to Hollywood and start hanging out with the bigs of the movie business so all I need do is win the lottery or invent a car that runs on water. Hence, our meeting is virtually assured.
Another problem is our age gap. I'm about 15 years older than she is so if we did meet, wouldn't she spend our whole time together trying to politely or maybe not so politely get away from the creepy old guy who's clearly imagining her naked? WHY THE HELL WOULD SHE? Using the Hillary Clinton mindset, I can see that she would instead recognize that I clearly have the experience necessary to be her boyfriend. Plus, maybe she has some sort of daddy issue that she can work out by having several reckless sexual encounters with me.
Okay, now for the big problem. She's been in a committed relationship with another guy for several years now. In fact, he knocked her up and she has since married him. I can't remember his name so let's just call him Queerboy Von Douchebag**. How could I think that Jessica would leave her precious Queerboy, the love of her life and father of her child, for me? BIG FAT HAIRY DEAL! Remember that this is Hollywood, a place where neither earthquakes nor marriages are regarded with any particular seriousness. Here's my winning, Clintonesque scenario: J-Bear and I meet. Naturally, she is charmed by my wit and observations about the humidity. She quickly sends Q.V.D packing, moves in with me and we raise the baby together.
Can this work? OH YEAH! J-Bear and I can make it work. Yes, we can!
*The nickname I would have someday given her. Her name for me would have been Mac-Attack.
**That would explain why she kept her maiden name.
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