Crossing The Clintocon

In how much trouble is The Chosen One after his summer of ego trips, personal seals, way-off-Broadway theater, underwhelming and instantly forgotten "historic speeches," and a mountain of gaffes bigger than Uncle Teddy's bar tab, and post-convention pussification at the hands of SuperMom? After doing the obligatory 9/11 Ground Zero memorial ceremony with Maverick, he crawled face-down through South Harlem for a penitant, and doubtless humiliating, audience with Don Clintone:

Clinton kept his answers short when he was asked about his involvement with Obama’s campaign this fall. The former president noted an already-announced trip September 29 to Florida.

Obama said, “We’re putting him to work.”

Asked if he would be doing more, Clinton said, “I’ve agreed to do a substantial number of things, whatever I’m asked to do.”

Before reporters were ushered out, Clinton was asked where he sees the race between Obama and Republican John McCain.

“I predict that Senator Obama will win and win pretty handily,” he said.

Sayeth BILL CLINTON, ladies and gentlemen. The man who only tells the truth when the lie is more dangerous - to him.

Ensign Ed notices the conspicuous absence of Mr. Bill's trademark gregarious verbosity and attributes it to an equally conspicuous lack of enthusiasm for the "work" Lucifer is giving him. Sounds to me like he's as lukewarm about impeding Barry's progressing crash & burn as his overbearing spouse.

I take away three somewhat different impressions from this gaping concession of messianic weakness:

1) It's coming right on the same schedule as John Kerry's did - you remember, the junior Massachusetts senator who served in Vietnam even more heroically than John McCain did and whose presidency has been even more memorable than BO's speechifying.

2) It looks and sounds like Barry compromised with himself: I'll go to Bill and beg for a dose of his Midas touch, but I won't grovel for that lamp-throwing dragon of his, not even for my throne itself.

3) He's completely forgotten that Bill Clinton does not have a Midas touch when campaigning for anybody but himself. Just the opposite, in fact, as NOBODY for whom Bill Clinton has EVER campaigned has EVER won their election. EVER - including the dragon. That could be because....well, they don't call him The Big Me for nothing:

Bill Clinton has always had a way of making himself the story, and he’s at it again.

When the Clintons made a campaign stop at an Iowa grocery store [last December], Hillary’s face said it all. She realized that Bill had departed from the script and wandered off to another part of the store, and cameras caught her scanning the aisles with a look of sheer terror. Bill was supposed to be at Hillary’s side; instead, he was way over yonder, giving an interview to "Entertainment Tonight.” What was supposed to be a controlled photo op had suddenly turned into a happening.

Spontaneity gives ulcers to campaign staffers, but the supermarket stop got much more coverage than it would have if Bill had followed the script. He ended up drawing more attention to himself than the candidate — which is in keeping with his formal campaign speeches. On the stump, he draws big crowds and comes off as charming, eloquent and persuasive. But reporters who have tallied his words say that he talks more about himself than about his wife — at a ratio of about 9 to 1.

In a way, Bill's part of this velvet sabotage op is easier than Hill's. Her only task is to politely do as little as possible for the man who robbed her of her throne; Sick Willie gets to do what comes naturally, further damage another pompous-ass Donk also-ran, and garner credit for being a loyal soldier and party elder statesman at the same time while avoiding blame for sinking another Dem presidential campaign.

Perhaps Barry does realize what's happening. He vanquished La Clinton Nostra in the Donk primaries, after all, by turning some of their own patented underhanded skullduggery (race card playing in particular) against them. He studied them and learned their techniques well. But that appears to have been his Peter Principle, and now he finds himself in the last postition he imagined and in the last place he wants to be: at the Clintons' mercy.

It's like Kane in Alien: the One sees the facehugger coming, knows it's going to stick an Alien embroyo in his candidacy's gut, and that embryo is going to burst out of his campaign abdomen, leaving his "hopeandchange" remains a bloody, smoking husk, but there's nothing he can do about it but hope that he'll be the exception to The Big Me's 0-fer bottom line.

I suppose it could help. But I wouldn't count on it.

Happily, the Chicago Cherubim no longer has that luxury.