Open Letter to the Clintons About the Kinky Stuff

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again here: What goes on between two consenting adults in the privacy of their own home is their own business. I don’t need to know about it.

In fact, I usually don’t want to know about it. (And I certainly don’t want to pay for a Congressional hearing about it.) I thought that Bill’s messages about dropping in for a date that’s just Bill, me, a TV, and a bowl of chips were a bit forward, but I just didn’t reply.

Not that your man isn’t all that and a bag of chips, Hillary. In fact, he looks like he’s all that, a pork chop, and a coupla’ bags of chips. But, in case you’re new to the tubes we call the innernets, my two non-replies is the brush off.

There’s no need for you to escalate to the kinky stuff:

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