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HILLARY FACELIFT?

I’m seeing my shrink this afternoon. I was putting it off till the fall; but I know now that I can’t last that long. Angst up to the nostrils. Vivid messages are coming through to the psyche front lobe. Must get to the couch afore I fall off altogether. Ever been there? Well, if you have, you know that breakdown waits for no one; put-off equals little men in white coats at the door.

So off to see Dr. Put It Together.

The reason? Well, you’d never guess it. I know I’ve been in the pastorate for a good long time, more years than many of you readers have been breathing. And that job in itself can surely crack a brain or two. (Don’t tell me it’s not a “job” but a “calling.” I already know that. But at the moment, I can call it a job if I want to. Have checked in with the Higher-ups on terminology and got the thumbs up).

No. It’s not the pastorate — phones ringing night and day, gossipy board members plotting mutiny, ushers late for ushering, war in the music department, Sunday school teachers failing to show up and not phoning ahead of no-shows, complaints from laity who just don’t understand that there really are not 40 hours in a day, and so forth and so forth. But that calls for a Book Magnus; no clock for that at this juncture.

So it’s not the job. It’s not the long winter. It’s not a blood shot eye that stared me in the face this morning when shaving. Nope. Not even a neighbor who complains that I play Sinatra too loud.

It’s Hillary. I really am distressed about Hillary. Can’t take it any more. With the thong and everything, I don’t think that one more weight upon a shoulder can keep from becoming a chip. I’ve tried, but to no avail. Hillary once more has got to my nerve hot bars and they are steaming aplenty.

Now that’s why I’m going to Dr. Put It Together. I don’t know if the steam is from anger or pity. And being a clergyman with ethics and morality at the top of my extremely sensitive persona, I have to sort this out or all soul caves in. Further, being near retirement, I can’t have a cave-in afore rockin’ chair comes a-knockin’. Know what I mean? Psycho-stuff big time here.

Anyhow, Hillary is at it again. I mean Bill’s lied to her more times than eggs don’t turn over shiny in the skillet. Recall when she went on TV to defend hubby, saying that it was the political right that was messing things up in the Oval Office? I saw it. I burnt it into my CD memory. There she was on the visitor’s chair, facing Rosie. Rosie was all compassion, ears and leaning over. “It’s the political right,” Hillary said with strained countenance.

I had a strong hunch that she was "off". After all, she was pointing her accusing figure at me and company. I did not like that one twit. Nevertheless, she had to have her time in the Rosie glow. So she went for it.

But you know what happened after that. The thong. Yep. It was the thong. So much for the political right doing in her husband. It was something else, for sure. And naturally a minister doesn’t want to get gross and all that, so has to leave it to parishioners to fill in the well-media informed blanks on that faux pas.

Anyhow, Hillary surely has had it. Not to mention all those tabloid pix showing Chelsea drunk and sliding off a barstool and in love and out of love and escapading around India with mommy on a mother-daughter get-closer thingy.

God knows how much we parents have to bear when it comes to our kids acting like hellcats. So I felt sorry for Hillary in all that child-upbringing stuff for, let’s face it, when it came down to it, there wasn’t much support at home base — even the White House — when hubby was with The Thong and all that kind of exposure.

Well, now it comes out that Hillary is late. She’s late. And you know that Hillary is Ms. Perfect. She knows everything — from health care for the nation to feminism advancements to pro-choice double-talk to old time Methodist upbringing with Bible at the center of life to hobnobbing with the Hollywoodites to freezing out the enemy with one glare that could frost the sun.

But she’s late. Major late.

If there’s anything that gets to my nerves, it’s watching someone else late. I can be late, and I have a history of being late. But, knowing the pain it can bring to those on time, I double-feel when someone else falls into the same major iniquity. So Hillary being late really makes me quiver.

Her book is to come out in August. Not ready. Not even a manuscript showing at the publishers. Not even a title for pre-marketing stuff. Promises promises promises. But no promises upped to book size yet. And this is almost middle April. Rough draft? None, as far as the big boys in the office can spy. Final copy? Give me a break.

Now we all can speculate as to what Hillary has done with the $2.85 million advanced her by a trusting publisher, Simon and Schuster. Further, as the whole world was told some months ago, the total deal will cough up more than $8 million greenbacks. What we could do with those papers to build a village, eh?

Anyhow, it’s not come to hauling Hillary off to court — not yet. But. . .one never knows in this culture of litigation happy face.

In other words, Hillary has failed. She has failed. Not that this is the first time, but, of course Ms. Hillary protesting that she’s never done anything amiss, we all know that humans being mortals, Ms. H has surely lapsed on an occasion or several. But now — before a respected publisher handing over mega bucks! Well, this is just too much.

"We must be off to the printer next month, but the manuscript isn't in yet!" said one Simon and Schuster source last week. "Advance sales are lagging. And there is no title. Without a title it's been difficult to market."

But what is giving me the shakes more than anything is this: One of Hillary’s associates told media the following secret. Well, it’s not a secret any longer for since I read it you could have read it, too. Anyhow, it’s this: “In all fairness, she has been preoccupied with serving New York during these challenging times.” Okay. I can get that. It doesn’t hang together all that tightly, but I at least can try to tolerate that.

Yet it’s what follows that sends me to the couch. The intimate explains: “The writing is wonderful, touching, and will lift Hillary to a new level of respect.”

Now, I don’t know if you can understand this or not, but here goes: That last statement really makes me wanna pop the whole bottle. Know what I mean?”