Posted by
KsReaganite on Friday, May 16, 2008 8:13:28 PM
You have to feel sorry for Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. Especially today. For this must have been the deepest cut of them all.
Starting from her days as a radical law student at Yale, Hillary Rodham had dutifully carried the bucket for the abortion industry through good times and not so good times. She was writing memos and carrying the briefcase for the industry’s legal eagles way back when Barack Obama was playing hide and seek on the lush beaches of Hawaii. As a lawyer with the secretive Rose Law firm in Little Rock, she devoted hours to doing free defense work for abortion businesses who were caught carrying out the procedure on minors. As the first lady of Arkansas and later of the United States, Mrs. Clinton pushed hard to mandate abortion on demand coverage across every federal, military, and private insurance plan. Her magnum opus-the famed socialized healthcare monster affectionately called ‘Hillarycare’-went down in flames partly because it made abortion on demand an integral part of the proposed national healthcare system. In her years in the Senate, she has dutifully hounded all nominees from ambassador to general to judges as soon as she was notified that the said nominee was an observant Roman Catholic.
And today, in her hour of dire need, as she gasps for her political life-just like the 26 week old child gasping for life as the pincers of George Tiller puncture its tiny head-the abortion industry has pulled the plug on her. This morning the industry’s apex loudmouth NARAL endorsed Barack Obama without as much as a nod towards the lifelong obeisance that Mrs. Clinton had dutifully paid to the industry. Sisterhood be darned, there is a new hottie in town.
I am no supporter of Mrs. Clinton and have never found her anything but purely ambitious and driven by a lust for power. But even I have sympathy for her today. Forty years of dutifully selling her soul for blood money and to be treated like this in return. Must hurt. Wonder what she is gonna be drowning her sorrows in this weekend. Heck, I will drink a bourbon for her; after all, as her husband said so eloquently 'I feeel yaur paayne, girl'.
**I have been asked by a regular reader why a well mannered gentleman like I do not use the courtesy title of ‘Dr’ when I refer to my well known neighbor George Tiller in my blog. Please rest assured I mean no discourtesy; I am simply being accurate. As the scion of a family whose three generations have dedicated their lives to healthcare, I know well that a medical degree does not itself a doctor make. Rather, those medical graduates who do aspire to that worthy title of healer are held to the precepts of the Original Oath of Hippocrates which, in part, reads “will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art.” What George Tiller is in the eyes of the law (when the law is allowed to operate again someday in my dear Kansas) or of God, I don’t know. What I do know is that he is no doctor anymore than Jozef Mengele was a doctor.