As everyone knows by now, the Hillarians (or the Hillary Rodhammers, as some prefer) have not only vowed not to vote for Barack Obama no way no how, but also have taken a pledge to speak only three words (or a contraction thereof) for the remainder of their natural born lives. No matter what the occasion, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what question they are asked, every Hillarian will respond, in a determined and defiant tone, “I am Hillary.”
The words themselves, depending on the stress and intonation, are capable of imparting several shades of meaning. For example, “I am Hillary,” (you’re not); I am Hillary (we are one and the same); and “I am Hillary (and don’t you forget it, buster).
The similarity of the Hillarians to the Ellen Jamesians is obvious to any fair-minded observer. But for those of a more historical bent, a more precise parallel is the case of the Roman slave Spartacus. Hopelessly pinned down by the Roman legion, the rebellious slaves were promised amnes- ty if Spartacus alone surrendered himself. As movie buffs will surely recall from the classic movie starring Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis and Sir Laurence Olivier (later Lord Olivier), just as Mr. Douglas was on the brink of proclaiming himself to be Spartacus, the leader of the slave rebellion, the handsome young Tony Curtis leaped to his feet and shouted (it was a thrilling moment), “I’m Spartacus!” As if on cue, slave after slave rose to proclaim himself Spartacus. “I’m Spartacus … I’m Spartacus … No, I’m Spartacus!” Across this great nation, in every movie house in every metropolis and in every one-horse town, movie-goers joined the chorus. From the first row came the cry, “I’m Spartacus.” From the far corner came the impassioned claim, “I’m Spartacus.” From the balcony came the defiant shout, “No, I’m Spartacus.”
If Spartacus had been running for president that year, he would have won going away. A top official with the suspended Hillary campaign confirmed in a phone conversation with City Weekly that Spartacus was, in fact, the inspiration for the Hillarian battle cry.
“A lot of these gals, you know, are of a certain age, and they like to see themselves as oppressed, like the slaves in the Roman Empire,” said Millicent Grundlach, who, like thousands of Hillarians, has taken a sacred vow to wear pantsuits and nothing but pantsuits until Barack Obama sees the error of his ways and abdicates his position as presumptive nominee of the Democratic party.
“Oops, I forgot,” said Ms. Grundlach. “Pretend you didn’t hear that. What I meant to say was, ‘I am Hillary.’” Although the Hillarians portray themselves as the last feminists on earth, groundbreaking feminists contacted by City Weekly pretty much agree that Hillary and the Hillarians are phony feminists. The consensus is that Hillary has set back the feminist cause at least a hundred years. When we caught up with the late Simone de Beauvoir, author of the Second Sex, she shook her head and said (in a charming French accent),“Independence is what we want, and Hillary is not a good example of an independent woman. She never would have gotten where she was had she not clutched the trousers of that hustling hounddog from Arkansas, Monsieur Bill.”
Ms. Beauvoir went on to point out that Barack Obama is the son of a fiercely independent mother and the husband of a strong and independent wife. “So I say to you, this Hillary is hardly a feminist. Her ethos, as we say in Paris, is one of entitlement. Her husband has done her wrong, and now it’s, how shall I say, payback time.
The Hillarians, in my opinion, identify with her because they, too, feel they have been done wrong, probably by some cad like the hound-dog man Monsieur Bill. They are not representative of all Hillary supporters, who, being reasonable persons, will support Monsieur Obama.”
In the meantime, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton, who call each other Juan and Evita in intimate moments, are said to be exploring the option of moving to South America and taking over Argentina.