Willy and the Rich Boys

While visiting some relatives a week or so ago, the subject of Chelsea Clinton’s wedding came up.  One of my relatives expressed genuine disappointment, even disbelief, at the fact that the Clintons would throw such an extravagant bash for their daughter’s wedding.

Now, this person is pretty much your standard-issue liberal, and a bit of a bleeding heart type, and the idea, I suppose, is that, with all the poverty and suffering in the world, dropping a few million dollars on a wedding was in poor taste and that the Clintons, of all people, should know better.  I understand the part about the decadence, but what I don’t get is how anyone would expect anything less (or more) from the Clintons.  Bill, in particular, is a starfucker extraordinaire, a man for whom the presidency wasn’t much more than a springboard to wealth and celebrity, notwithstanding the empty “feel your pain” bullshit and the occasional photo-op for a disaster relief project with his fellow ex-imperial chieftains, Bush I and II.  When I think of Bill Clinton, I think of a man dry-humping Bono in front of a camera or hanging out with Mick Jagger at the World Cup, not someone out trying to save the world (like, say, another former president, the peanut farmer guy who was disinvited to the 2008 Donkey Convention for having the gall to criticize the U.S. policy of neverending war).  At any rate, at the very least you shouldn’t be surprised when somebody who actively and publicly cultivates relationships with celebrities, and who is himself a celebrity, actually behaves like a celebrity.

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