I tried to write a piece about Meryl Streep’s screed and the ongoing war against a legitimately elected President but I couldn’t make it work, my heart wasn’t in it. Then it hit me, what the hell am I doing? Why am I still revisiting all the horrors of a failed Hillary Clinton campaign? Why even acknowledge her whining supporters, her DOA Democrat party?
For God’s sake, it's a new day, we won, ding dong the witch is dead, David kicked Goliath’s butt, its time to pop the champagne cork, not rehash the past.
But why was I going to such a dark place to begin with? The answer lies with the hysterical, suicidal reaction from the left that their woman lost. This loss pierced their hearts, drained their energy, blackened their future. Hillary Clinton was the left’s hero destined to save the day. She had a lock on the Presidency thanks to her overflowing war chest, political connections, loyal media and the mantle of the first woman President. They were—or should have been--insurmountable advantages.
Yet she lost. The left blames the FBI, Russia and voter suppression. But in the end, it was Hillary Clinton, their hero, who let them down.
Then I thought of Casey at the Bat, the story of another legend, a hero trusted to bring it home. I reread the poem and was immediately struck by the parallels between Mudville’s savior, Casey, and the Democrat’s savior, Hillary Clinton.
The poem Casey at the Bat, tells of a baseball team, the Mudville Nine, and their dwindling chances in an ongoing game. The score was four to two in the eighth inning with two outs. It looked hopeless and the fans were frantic that their idol, the mighty Casey, would be denied his...
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