Hillary in the pulpit

Hillary Clinton wants to become a Methodist preacher.

A Methodist preacher.

Online commentators are having a field day.

"Will she charge the church $250,000 to guest-preach?"

"The transcripts of her sermons will be hers and hers alone, and she requires a Gulfstream to fly her to each church."

"Does the church have to give Chelsea a job at $600K per annum?"

Given Hillary's history with, shall we say, indecorous language, one fancies a "tsk, tsk" jar outside the entrance to her Methodist church for verbal miscues.  One hundred dollars each.

Imagine Hillary's fiery first sermon.  "And if some fool tries to block your path, have your Secret Service guys drill him through the effin' heart!"

Progs in the audience leap to their feet applauding.  Some pass out in excitement.  Less convinced liberals watch in silent shock.  All others sneak to the exit, hoping to avoid Hillary's burning red eyes.  The TV cameras follow her every movement.

CNN's lede next morning: "Hillary's Rousing Sermon Draws Thousands."  Interviews fill the morning shows.  "I love Hillary!" intone excited teenage girls.  "She lays it the eff out there!"

The FCC unanimously votes to suspend any and all restrictions on language.  "Get over your inordinate fear of the F-bomb."  The Modern Language Association declares the F-bomb "word of the year."

George Will tut-tuts that this sort of thing coarsens the public discourse.  Charles Krauthammer discusses the place of profanity in the human psyche.  By acclamation, the Committee awards Hillary the Nobel Prize for Literature, remarking that her imaginative and powerful use of the English language in the pulpit inspires generations to speak from the effing heart.

Next Sunday, her second as a Methodist preacher, draws 100 people.  The following Sunday, 12.  Hillary says it's not her fault that remnants of Christianity are wrecking her chosen career and that she has every right to say what she effin' thinks and that she won't be bullied.

CNN's cameras have withdrawn to report on paint drying downtown somewhere.

Hillary Clinton wants to become a Methodist preacher.

A Methodist preacher.

Online commentators are having a field day.

"Will she charge the church $250,000 to guest-preach?"

"The transcripts of her sermons will be hers and hers alone, and she requires a Gulfstream to fly her to each church."

"Does the church have to give Chelsea a job at $600K per annum?"

Given Hillary's history with, shall we say, indecorous language, one fancies a "tsk, tsk" jar outside the entrance to her Methodist church for verbal miscues.  One hundred dollars each.

Imagine Hillary's fiery first sermon.  "And if some fool tries to block your path, have your Secret Service guys drill him through the effin' heart!"

Progs in the audience leap to their feet applauding.  Some pass out in excitement.  Less convinced liberals watch in silent shock.  All others sneak to the exit, hoping to avoid Hillary's burning red eyes.  The TV cameras follow her every movement.

CNN's lede next morning: "Hillary's Rousing Sermon Draws Thousands."  Interviews fill the morning shows.  "I love Hillary!" intone excited teenage girls.  "She lays it the eff out there!"

The FCC unanimously votes to suspend any and all restrictions on language.  "Get over your inordinate fear of the F-bomb."  The Modern Language Association declares the F-bomb "word of the year."

George Will tut-tuts that this sort of thing coarsens the public discourse.  Charles Krauthammer discusses the place of profanity in the human psyche.  By acclamation, the Committee awards Hillary the Nobel Prize for Literature, remarking that her imaginative and powerful use of the English language in the pulpit inspires generations to speak from the effing heart.

Next Sunday, her second as a Methodist preacher, draws 100 people.  The following Sunday, 12.  Hillary says it's not her fault that remnants of Christianity are wrecking her chosen career and that she has every right to say what she effin' thinks and that she won't be bullied.

CNN's cameras have withdrawn to report on paint drying downtown somewhere.

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