Hill of Beans

That’s it ?*

Twenty-nine seconds of head-tilting and button-poking and this is a thing, now? If you don’t know already, BEHOLD:

This may be the only kind word for Hillary Clinton you will ever get out of me, so listen close: everyday machines are oftentimes crude contraptions, particularly machines suited for public use. No, not everything can be a New York subway ticket dispenser; at any rate it’s even a miracle when I emerge from the at-home morning coffee-making process without spilling grounds, spilling water, and I’m trying think up blog material, not run for President. Our elites — even (sigh) Clintons — should hardly be expected to know how to use whatever that mutant soda-fountain instant-coffee apparatus turns out to be. If I were Hillary, that thing’d have a fist-sized hole in it and purple smoke drifting out by 0:15 tops.

Let the woman do her job. Destroying the Democratic Party and discrediting dynastic American politics for the rest of all time is far nobler work than successfully interfacing with the common man’s drug servo.

* Apologies to Gatorade.