The one this couple named Clinton finds itself in surely will prove as indelibe in American and world history books pages which speak of ignominious deeds, perhaps rivalled only by that Shakespearean duo of Macbeth & his 'lady'.
Let's have a comparative look at these dynamic male/female tag teams who contended in the English-speaking world's arena known as politics and assess their relative excess, that trait the Bard deemed 'overweaning amibiton', the Greeks more mellifluously as 'hubris'.
We all recall those memorable lines of the Scottish couple; who can forget the slaughtering King's 'sound & fury' speech: "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." And not simply for brevity, no, but sheer terror for those hearing his Lady's hygiene curse, also chiming with that brief verbalism for disappearance: "Out, out damned spot...out I say!" No matter, the harshest purgative ain't gonna erase the 'spot' in that brain, darlin, the one that got all sanguinary and all.
Let's just sum these two slashers (why hasn't Wes Craven or his ilk done a flick spinoff of these bad actors, and by that I mean featuring good actors; hmm, my next filmic endeavor) qualify for the opinion of that ghostly dad in not far away Denmark to his kid who does everything he can to avoid murder even when it's justifiable: "Murder most foul, as in the best it is. But this most foul, strange and unnatural." Of course, those three literally Weird sisters didn't do them any favors by messing with Mac's ego mixed together with toad's whatever and his consequent misunderstanding of the finer points of ancient necessary childbirth.
Those three words from a goodly King if those same history pages may be believed segue nicely to our next contestants here on 'Reign Spotting'.
While they certainly couldn't truthfully claim royal blood (even if Billy did attend that fancy English College named after one such) Bill & Hillary sure did rise from a proverbial trailer park spot called Arkansas (she by way of that other territorial delight, Illinois); funny, the mispronunciation of those states does seem to express this indelicate matter 'spot on', so to speak. 'Our Can's Ass', 'Illy noise'.....you get the picture.
How to compete with those overachieving Scottish Slayers, their here bestowed political wrestling tag team name.
Well, it's like this here (note the ease of transition into a Clemenseque diction, think Andy Griffith in his stand up days)--begin with 'most foul'. Bill, you're up, a term used advisedly, conjuring oval office (orifice, per the hillbilly pronunciation) knees and a certain blue dress mess. (Cue harmonica music). Now, throw in 'strange' as he is hitched to Hillary. As for unnatural, that might oughta describe the perjury ole Billy decided on what with all that wordplay about the meaning of that complicated term, 'is'. Context, believe was his angle there and, in his defense (wink, wink) the text here sure could be a con.
Things don't go so peachy, in fact, they lead to impeachment time, something even that (other, as it turns out) tricky Dick was sober enough to decline; second time in American history, and that other one was pure politics without even a hint of nudity, no sir. This, then, puts a real damper on that young feller Mr. Gore, who gets gored thanks to ole Mr. Clinton's shennanigans, giving us 'W.', with the help of that not so musical (to Gore's ears) Supremes cover group of nine in black.
Four trillion bucks later, plus or minus a billion or so, here comes Hillary; she done stood by her man (sleeping in any interesting way having been off the table--and the bed--for some time, and since, you can bet by mutual choice), served (just whom is the rub) as that nice African American feller's Secretary of State and, by golly, she had rediscovered (even with ole Bill, see: previous parenthetical) her womanhood and, like ole Helen Reddy, wanted us to hear her roar.
Now, about that 'rub' and that lioness deal--looky here, seems she got awful popular with some Sheiks and such who gave her family foundation lots of cash. Oh, yeah, and she wasn't no techno wizard, neither, kept getting her emails all mixed in with government business--something about 'confidential' (notice that there prefix 'con', hmm, have to check up on that Webster feller's context)--and something having to do with some Arab leader, the one whose wardrobe was mostly Ringling Bros. surplus, you ask me, but her 'we came, we saw, he died' comment wasn't about the wardrobe, though that might've been a good enough reason.
As for the lion's roar, well, now, what they call phonetics brings to mind 'lyin'--'bout that stuff in the emails should called 'don't recall'; well, lions have fangs and boy did she ever show 'em by putting the bite on that nice feller Bernie who, being another sort of lion, the kind they use the word 'pride' about, he goes and says he's sick of talkin 'bout her emails, all fair and square to a fault you might say. And you'd be right, yessir.
Sure enough, five hundred pant suits later, some faintin spells, and her full house of cards gets trumped flat out by folks she done took for granted.
Thanks, Mark/Andy; perhaps now you may agree that, to paraphrase Mr. Churchill, that great man of history with his 1/2 share of American blood: "Never before have so many been so screwed over for so much chicanery by so few as the Clinton Two."