If you want to see a political party cannibalize itself, if you want to hear how quickly hosannas become howls of outrage, look at—and listen to—Bill Clinton deliver his 2012 nomination speech at the Democratic National Convention.
Watch this saxophonist triangulate. Watch him improvise with the musicality of a master, whose riffs are more rhythmic than rococo, whose words are more conversational than conventional, whose wordsmithing is more explanatory than equivocal; though his legacy is a study in equivocation, to the delight of his fans and the dismay of his critics, as he concedes little or nothing—as he disputes the definition of sex and denies he is a sexual predator—while he and his wife have an answer for everything and accept responsibility for nothing.
How did Democrats not even blink a false eyelash when Hillary Clinton condemned Gennifer Flowers as a failed cabaret singer with a paltry resume, only to later convene a national knitting circle—to have women wear their pussy hats as helmets and hold their pins as pikes—in defense of a porn star with a very extensive résumé?
How did Bill Clinton go from the theatrics of 2012 to doing dinner theater in 2018, performing political karaoke with his wife in Las Vegas, Toronto, Montreal, and Texas?
The answer is simple: When you do away with due process, you cannot make do with someone who is an alleged rapist and a certified adulterer. You cannot convict someone for a crime, when no arrest was made, no indictment was issued, and no trial was held.
You can, however, simultaneously banish your benefactor without banning him altogether, as he does a duet with a partner who has more names than a fugitive has aliases, as ticket holders wait to see Hillary Rodham, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Hillary Clinton, or “Hillary!”
Let the Clintons complain for cash.
Let people pay to hear them complain, while Democrats fight among themselves.
Photo credit: Joshua Lott/Getty Images