Why wasn't she taught how to hold a writing instrument? My teachers would have whopped me upside the head with this grip.
These people are slap-dab nutz.
"I wasn't born a First Lady or a senator," is the first sentence in Hillary Rodham Clinton's memoir, "Living History." The rest of the story is about how she became both.
In the book, which will be officially released tomorrow, Clinton writes of her suburban, middle-class Chicago upbringing. Her mother, Dorothy, was a saint; her father, Hugh, a fiscally tight-fisted taskmaster. [Read, "psycho"]
If Hillary or one of her brothers left the cap off the toothpaste, for instance, her father would throw the cap out the window and make the children search for it, "even in the snow." This was his way of "reminding us not to waste anything." She writes that "to this day, I put uneaten olives back in the jar, wrap up the tiniest pieces of cheese and feel guilty when I throw anything away."
The underlying presumption is that we care about every facet of Hillary Clinton: her childhood, education, romance, political life, family, future, delights, disappointments. ...
Near the end, she plots her run for the U.S. Senate. On February 12, 1999, Clinton meets with Harold Ickes, an old friend and political adviser, to ask his advice about the New York terrain. This was the same day that the Senate was voting on her husband's impeachment.
The book ends as the Clintons are leaving the White House. She is dancing with the White House butler. "My husband cuts in," she writes, "taking me in his arms as we waltzed together down the long hall.
"Then I said goodbye to the house where I had spent eight years living history." [Blecchh]
Why wasn't she taught how to hold a writing instrument? My teachers would have whopped me upside the head with this grip.
These people are slap-dab nutz.
Nuh uh - she has such a sense of entitlement that I find her attempt at showing how "fiscally conservative" she is pure blarney.