An open letter to Hillary Clinton

Friday of last week introduced the kind of unsettling news that has good people like Tatum O'Neal turning to cocaine. Hillary Clinton's cold turkey withdrawal from the race for the Democratic Nomination for the Presidency of the United States has pundits scratching their heads and us here at FCN asking that deceptively simple three letter word: Why? After much soul searching and a trip to the FCN lab, we were still unable to come up with any believable reason for her early exit. But, like the academics we are, we can trump up a simple "I don't know" to make it sound sophisticated. We put our ideas down in an open letter, a draft of which is reproduced below.

Mrs. William Jefferson Clinton
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500

Ooops, how embarrassing. That's the old address. Here's the correct one:

Ms. Billary Clinton
780 Third Ave, Suite 2601
New York, NY 10017

Mrs. Clinton,

My name is C. I am a writer with Funny Class Notes ("FCN"), the slowest growing humor and satire blog on Al Gore's internet. FCN has a dozen very loyal readers who join me in mourning the loss of your candidacy. I write this note on behalf of our readership, N, Chip and the prodigal contributor, F, who gets listed last because he has the staying power of kindergarten adhesive. Please let these words warm your cold heart. Frame this letter, if that will improve its radiance. Just let my thoughts shine into the darker recesses of your life. I'm not talking about the Vince Foster, Paula Jones, Susan McDougal, Waco Texas or Kenneth Star corners; let's go ahead and leave those dark. Rather, let my words shine into the dim recesses of your life. Let them alleviate the gloom and bring a grin to your eyes, which is the one place I've never seen you smile.

You will be sorely missed. The regular contribution of your pant-suited figure to the headlines of reputable newspapers across the fruited plain was an integral part of my daily routine. You were my motivation to get up every morning and run out to the sidewalk to grab the morning Herald. In my excitement to read the Associated Press' take on your latest verbal gaff or sleep-deprived quotation, I would sometimes scamper outdoors without a bathrobe à la Matthew McConaughey in, well, in any of his movies. Some things were more important than basic decency, like getting a refreshing glimpse of your visage.

Don't misunderstand. You are no messianic figure. People don't worship you or faint at your rallies. The Obamination has a corner on that quality. I am not denying that you do have a certain shrewd mien, but your essence seems more at home in Salem than New York. You were never going to win the Teenybopperette vote. You were never going to win the straight guy vote. You were never going to win the black vote. In fact, your entire constituency is made up of those who have seen Sex and the City which, while substantial, is but a dent in the voting population. Give yourself some credit: with no marketable attributes and a collection of negatives so large, you could give one to each illegal immigrant in the United States and still have some left over for the AIDS victims, you managed to be a burr under the Obamination's saddle for several months. For that we applaud you with a lusty golf clap.

Your performance was nothing short of miraculous. Only you wouldn't use the word "miracle," because your sustained period of non-defeat can be explained by naturally occurring circumstances. Circumstances like Jeremiah Wright, Michelle Obama and Michael Pfleger. You never had to throw your grandmother under the racism bus or distance yourself from your spouse after he embarrassed you publicly. And if you did do that second thing, it was so long ago that everyone has forgotten about it by now, I'm sure. Monika who? Gennifer who? And Gina Gershon?

Billary, you are an inspiration. Like the rodeo cowboy who rides the bull and doesn't let go of his wrist strap even after it gets stuck in the pommel and he's been thrown out of the saddle and his arm is dislocated and he breaks both legs against the side rails. Like the skydiver who, out of principle, refuses to pull the ripcord. Like the coal miner who doesn't cease his labor and continues digging faithfully despite the tunnel's collapse. You found encouragement in small victories and never gave up on the goal. Until now, of course, but you deployed at a low altitude.

You didn't cry, lie or make a fool of yourself. At least you didn't do much of any of those things. Or when you did do them, you apologized for them in a way in which we can all be proud. Or at least, FCN can be proud of you. I'm proud of you, Billary.

Don't be discouraged by this setback. With new technology and aesthetic innovations, doctors should be able to keep your smile looking genuine for another twenty to thirty years. Certainly 2012 is still open for you, if not for Chelsea. And your chances this year aren't over yet. You may be able to pull a fast one on the Obamination and get back to the Vice Presidency. And, who knows, the top spot may open up again. Like you, I'm still pulling for some drama or at least a Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan-type "accident."

I don't want to end a letter on such a dark note, but I haven't had a lot of sleep lately so I can't necessarily be held accountable for my words. Regardless, my affectionate sentiment is hopefully not vitiated by references to Robert Kennedy, may he rest in peace.

You have stolen my awe, amazement and imagination. I only hope you will once again challenge the minds and morals of America at some future date. Whatever obstacles are subsequent, I am sure you will meet them with all the poise behooving your name.

Sincerely,

Funny Class Notes