Monday, June 13, 2005

Ed Klein = Cunt

Just when you thought the Hillary-inspired mudslinging couldn't go any further into the gutter, pissant extraordinaire Ed Klein lowers the bar into one of the outer layers of Hell. Knowing the public's penchant for black musical idols that turn themselves into Caucasians on a whim aka mindnumbing stupidity, Klein makes the mouthdropping claim that Bill Clinton raped his wife in Bermuda and subsequently created the fetal wonder known as Chelsea Clinton.
From The Drudge Report:
"I'm going back to my cottage to rape my wife," Klein quotes Bill Clinton as saying during a Bermuda getaway in 1979.
In the morning, the Clintons' room "looked like World War III. There are pillows and busted-up furniture all over the place," an unnamed source tells Klein.
Klein source claims Bill later learned Hillary was pregnant reading about it in the ARKANSAS GAZETTE.
"The fact that his wife didn't tell him that she was pregnant before she told a reporter doesn't seem to phase him one bit, because he says, 'Do you know what night that happened?"
"'No,' I say. 'When?"
"'It was Bermuda,' he says, 'And you were there!'"

To call Bill Clinton a rapist is nothing new. (See Broderick, Juanita.) Hillary is also no stranger to the printed word attack, being called everything under the sun from a Communist to a man. But come on, Chelsea? What the hell is the point in even mentioning her in an attack on the Clintons? If anything, she's the most convincing argument they have for not being composed of pure evil. Here you have a grounded, intelligient woman who ended up studying at Stanford and Oxford, and appears on Page Six maybe once a year or so. Not to disparage the Bushes, but I don't believe Chels has ever been caught swilling JD at a seedy Texas bar. Cough, Jenna, cough.
You'd think the guy that used to be the editor-in-chief of Newsweek might display some hints of a human soul, but this is apparently not the book he showcases it in. The fact that the book is already sliding up the charts on Amazon doesn't speak well of the tabloid-hungry American public, of which I am a member, but dammit to hell, how can you actually shell out money for something that is completely unsubstantiated? It's an unnamed source, for crying out loud. You could take the $30 or so that the hardcover edition wil undoubtedly cost you and buy a puppet show where you can act out lurid Clinton sexual fantasies to your heart's desire. At least then you wouldn't be contributing to the "Ed Klein Fisting Machine Fund."


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