It was probably somewhere around the fifth hour of watching the Senate hearing on Hillary Clinton’s role in the Benghazi attacks when a series of revelations began to sweep through my mind like a brushfire caused by an aerosol can of Resveratrol exploding inside the bidet of a marble bathroom that is Coto de Caza-adjacent:
1. There’s the ability some of us have to keep calm under pressure – and then there’s the way Hillary Clinton reacts under pressure. That woman did not so much as lightly perspire the entire time she was being grilled under hot television lights by political foes who would probably rejoice in literally roasting her over a bonfire like she was a rotisserie chicken. No matter what she was asked, her composure was nothing short of masterful.
2. And speaking of masterful, I want the name of Clinton’s makeup artist toot sweet and I’d like to buy stock in whatever company produces her matte face powder and blotting papers because – holy sh*t – those are clearly some excellent products and perhaps our greatest hope in the fight to make unintentionally shiny skin a thing of the past.
3. Anyone who can walk away from watching the coverage of these hearings without fully understanding the term “bipartisan” at this point is either an idiot or was too busy checking the US Weekly website so as not to miss the latest pearl of wisdom that has fallen from the inflated pout of young Kylie Jenner, a girl who now more closely resembles a blow-up sex doll than a human.
4. And speaking of the Jenner girls, it was just yesterday when I helped a student come up with an idea for her college essay. She wants to study fashion merchandising so I inquired about her inspirations. “Are there any designers whose work you really respect?” I asked. She stared at me blankly so I rephrased the question in the way they never taught us how to do in graduate school but should have, as it’s quite an essential skill for uncovering information from teenagers who fear deep thinking might cause breakouts. “For example, when Fashion Week comes around in New York, is there someone whose work you like to see?” Silence. “Which designers have you heard of?” Silence. “Not one? Um, okay. Well, is there a particular celebrity who has a style you find bold or interesting?” “I like Kylie Jenner,” she responded – and she didn’t pause and then start to laugh and that was right about the time when I almost started weeping. My tears formed for humanity in general and for the understanding that, with all this information available at her disposal, my student still sees Kylie Jenner as a role model. I cried for a celebrity’s lost childhood and for the fact that I know who Kylie Jenner is in the first place. But salty water streaming down my face could not stop me from offering this student some constructive criticism, and that criticism was delivered thusly: “Yeah, I’m not letting you write an admissions essay to F.I.T. about the ways in which Kylie Jenner is a style icon because I actually want you to get in.” And then I told her to pick up a copy of Vogue and to page through an issue of W and to go into a nail salon and not leave until she looked at all the advertisements in a September issue of Marie Claire and that advice is also something I never learned in graduate school, but it’s yet another thing I should have taken an entire course in.
5. I think it might be very nice if all of my conversations ended with the participants saying, “I yield back to Nell” like they did in the hearing so the people who never shut the f*ck up are given a time limit. I’m not sure how I can enforce such a thing, but I will quit my job so I can devote the proper time and attention to figuring out how to put this idea into practice.
6. Speaking of people in my life, it’s probably a very strong sign that a guy is not my true soul mate when he texts to see how my day is going and I write back, “My day’s been tough – but at least I’m not being grilled in a congressional hearing like Clinton right now,” and he responds, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He does have really nice eyes and arms though.
7. Focusing back on Clinton, I couldn’t help but notice – since it was glaringly obvious – how the Democrats on the committee all but sat on her lap and braided her hair while the Republicans sharpened hatchets and prepared to scalp the woman. I think we can all agree that a bald female Presidential candidate would snare all kinds of press attention, so perhaps the Republicans should give their plan a little more thought because the last thing a party that supports Donald Trump needs is more press coverage of his main opponent who can form full sentences made out of words that aren’t insults.
8. And while we’re on the subject of party lines, I spoke to my very Republican stepfather while the light outside disappeared beneath the trees and Clinton continued to answer the same questions and offer the same responses she’d been giving all day, the ones that many clearly believed to be either lies or very detailed excuses, and I told him that I thought she might have just gotten my vote due to her never-ending decorum under pressure. “Keep listening,” he instructed me – and that advice was something I took to heart, unlike the advice given later that night by my mother who said, “Stop being naïve and vote your pocketbook!” My response to her was that I only use the term “purse” and besides, I can’t only vote based on economics and part of the reason for that is because I was raised by her and did she remember that she used to be a hippie with long braids who did sh*t like march for minor things like a woman’s reproductive freedom? And so we agreed that we were at a stalemate and we both sighed and then finally resolved the issue when she promised to make me a batch of the whole wheat muffins I like that don’t leave me feeling guilty after I shove four into my mouth at the same time.
9. But the biggest revelation I had during the hearings was one that probably wasn’t a real revelation at all. Watching Hillary Clinton testify before Congress is tantamount to taking a Rorschach test. All that’s measured is what it is you already believe. There’s not really a chance that too much of what she says in that room will change your mind about how you feel about her. If you think she’s the closest thing we as a nation can get to political perfection and you fantasize daily about receiving emails from her illegal server, you will not be dissuaded from feeling that way. And if you believe she is a lying and wretched human being who has been cankle-deep in illegal activities and a willing participant in all kinds of indiscretions for decades, not a single thing she uttered during that interminable hearing will alter your thought process. And it is with that understanding – that some opinions cannot be changed – that I began to think about The Real Housewives of Orange County.
On the surface, there aren’t too many similarities between the congressional hearings about an attack that killed four innocent Americans and a Reunion show on Bravo, but look a little deeper. Both events seem absolutely interminable and both center around a divisive blonde woman half the population would probably line up to pummel. Hillary Clinton has been suspected of fraud, security breeches, and an involvement in some deaths – and that’s all terrible stuff to be tied to, but I’m still going to hedge a bet that she’s never chosen a man over her own child or fled a friend’s baptism while bellowing that she’s off to attend a different party where the guests love Jesus.
I’d call it a draw.
Wickedly smart blog of the reunion. Still laughing!