Thursday, January 19, 2017

For Democrats, There Is No Joy - Mighty Hillary Has Struck Out



By Peggy Ryan                                                                                                                                                                          



I tried to write a piece about Meryl Streep’s screed and the ongoing war against a legitimately elected President but I couldn’t make it work, my heart wasn’t in it.  Then it hit me, what the hell am I doing?  Why am I still revisiting all the horrors of a failed Hillary Clinton campaign?  Why even acknowledge her whining supporters, her DOA Democrat party? 

For God’s sake, it's a new day, we won, ding dong the witch is dead, David kicked Goliath’s butt, its time to pop the champagne cork, not rehash the past.

But why was I going to such a dark place to begin with?  The answer lies with the hysterical, suicidal reaction from the left that their woman lost.  This loss pierced their hearts, drained their energy, blackened their future.  Hillary Clinton was the left’s hero destined to save the day.  She had a lock on the Presidency thanks to her overflowing war chest, political connections, loyal media and the mantle of the first woman President. They were—or should have been--insurmountable advantages. 

Yet she lost.  The left blames the FBI, Russia and voter suppression. But in the end, it was Hillary Clinton, their hero, who let them down. 

Then I thought of Casey at the Bat, the story of another legend, a hero trusted to bring it home.  I reread the poem and was immediately struck by the parallels between Mudville’s savior, Casey, and the Democrat’s savior, Hillary Clinton.

The poem Casey at the Bat, tells of a baseball team, the Mudville Nine, and their dwindling chances in an ongoing game. The score was four to two in the ninth inning with two outs.  It looked hopeless and the fans were frantic that their idol, the mighty Casey, would be denied his turn at bat. Only Casey could single-handedly save the game.

But Casey wasn't up next, Flynn and Blake were and the fans had little hope those two losers would survive to give Casey his chance. 

* * * * *

For the 2016 primaries, imagine it was Bernie Sanders who stood in “Casey’s” way.  It was Sanders blocking Hillary’s path to the nomination, denying her the chance to save the team.  The difference was, Bernie was the guy up right before Hillary, the team’s last shot.  He could either hit it out of the park or strike out and keep Hillary from her turn at bat.  Hillary and the Democrat National Committee (DNC) had no faith in Bernie so they fixed the game.  They took Bernie out of the lineup to clear the way for their hero.

* * * * *

Now In the poem, the next batters, Flynn and Blake, both got hits.

 And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, 
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. 

Mudville fans were amazed, considered it sheer luck those two buffoons got on base.  For that meant mighty Casey had a shot.  The crowd went nuts.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

Mudville’s hero had arrived to rescue them.  There were no doubters in the stands, no worries about the outcome once Casey was up to bat.  

So Casey stepped up, his time to shine. 

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his
hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Then it was crunch time:

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

The crowd erupted in protest, “Kill the umpire” they shouted and chaos threatened.  But Casey silenced them and the game went on. 

* * * * *

Casey’s first pitch is a spot-on analogy for Hillary’s inexplicable behavior early in the general campaign.  Like Casey’s refusal to swing because the pitch wasn’t his style, Hillary also took a pass on traditional campaigning for the first half of the Presidential campaign.  She didn’t hold rallies, went without a press conference for nearly six months, laughed off questions about the FBI investigation and stayed in hiding.  Nothing to see, no need to overreact, no need even to participate. No need at all to swing.

* * * * *

Back in Mudville, Casey watched the second pitch go by:

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

Now the crowd was furious, yelled “fraud” and screamed for the umpire’s head.  But Casey, still sure of himself, calmed the crowd and got in position for the next pitch.  

* * * * *

Now that second pitch takes us to Hillary mid-election.  She still wasn’t into the campaigning thingy.  She put in a couple of short appearances and called them rallies; had a couple of intimate chats with her favorite reporters and dubbed them press conferences.  But the fact was, Hillary Clinton was still MIA on the campaign trail and even the worshipping press started to notice.  Articles popped up asking Where’s Hillary?  

Unfortunately for Hillary, she believed her own press that she couldn’t lose and continued to blow off campaigning, focused on fund-raising instead.  She showed up in New York, the Hamptons, and LA to dance and party at star-studded fund raisers in lieu of the boring campaign stuff. 

And like Casey, Hillary still didn’t worry about missed opportunities.  After all, she’s Hillary Clinton, Democrat’s political star, the first woman President by God.  No, Hillary didn’t worry.  That trip to the White House was her right, her due. Eight long years she had waited. And at last, Kismet. She calmly waited for that next pitch, the one she was going to knock out of the park.

* * * * *

For Casey, that last pitch flew across the plate at blinding speed:

And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air was shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

* * * * *

Hillary also finally swings.  She actively campaigns, holds rallies, calls in President Obama, Michelle Obama, Joe Biden, Beyonce, Jay-Z, everyone but God to put power in her swing.  She travels to Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania to shore up her support, puts everything she has into that last time at bat.

The rest is history.  Mighty Casey let his fans down and ditto for Hillary Clinton.  So no, it wasn’t the Russians who stole the election from Hillary, not James Comey’s letter to Congress that brought about her defeat.  Hillary lost because she’s an arrogant, narcissistic woman who convinced her followers she couldn’t miss; a scheming egotistical politician who believed it unnecessary to swing at the first pitch, or the second. It was mundane effort and beneath her station.  

As for me, I’m not going to Mudville, post-election.  I’ll be celebrating President Trump’s inauguration with the rest of our team, the winning team.  We didn’t trust an egomaniac to bring it home; we didn’t turn corrupt politicians into idols.  Rather, we went with that focused pitcher who kept firing blazing fastballs across the plate.  The guy who never took his eye off the target, who delivered three perfect pitches to win the game. 

As for Casey’s and Hillary’s postmortem:

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun was shining bright;
The band was playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts were light,
And somewhere men were laughing, and somewhere children shout;

But for Democrats, there is no joy - mighty Hillary has struck out.

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