Month: August 2016

I really thought I would use this Diary more; I have so many thoughts I want to get down on paper. More than just rants about how much I hate people or whatever is bothering me that day. I have truly good thoughts for my book, for my Presidency. Stuff that just pops in my head and I want to have later.

I have to admit, I am just exhausted. It’s hard to pick up a keyboard or laptop and type. I need to nap after personal appearances. Just really not cut out for this pace. So, I haven’t gotten to write as much as I wanted to.

Trump gave his speech yesterday. I heard it wasn’t bad. And the media didn’t even really talk about it. More about the protesters at his speech – not much about the speech itself. Brilliant. Actually, he probably knows much of what the country needs, I guess. I’ve been pushed so far left by Bernie I don’t know. Truthfully it will take more than a good plan to fix the economy after all the horrible stuff from the past 8 years under he that should not be named. Stifling debt, bad deals. I heard there is a bumper sticker out there that says “we are all screwed 2016” which is probably correct.

I meant to sit down and write a few notes for my own speech, or positive thoughts about it. However, as I sit here ready to do just that — the one thought I find most dominant in my mind is: why do I have to give all these speeches for FREE?

I mean $200,000 should be the minimum for me to open my mouth. I got $675,000 from Goldman Sachs. And now? I am reduced to traveling around talking to ordinary people …. Just regular people … For FREE?

I mean, I’m not stupid. I know I have to. It just kills me that I have been reduced to this. Me. Pretending to care about the little people, the middle class.

I wonder if there is a way, once I’m in the White House, to get states to pay for me to show up. Like, you have a flood? You need federal help? How about a donation to the Foundation? Then, we’ll see what you get.

It works with foreign governments. Need help with an oil deal? Slide some cash my way…. Anyway – definitely food for thought.

For the economic speech? They keep rejecting some of my favorite lines. Like how the government should make all their decisions – they aren’t sophisticated enough to know what’s good for them. Or, how the problem is that most people just don’t try very hard, which is ok because my plan will help them try less. I think we should tell people that I know they need help. I’m smart. I am different than them so I will fix their problems. But they want to talk more in generalities and about how we should take from the rich. But, I’m rich. I don’t like that. And also — aren’t the people who back me from the big banks part of the rich? Sounds like biting the hand that feeds me. Of course it’s all just talk, I know. And the “steal from rich, give to the poor” — the “Robin Hood fantasy” plays better to the masses. So, whatever.

But, I’m too tired to argue at this point. I’ll just read what they give me.

But note to self: you have a microphone… Don’t yell. It just makes you sound like somebody’s cranky mother-in-law or ex-wife. The press and public will love you no matter what you do. Oh yeah other note to self: get some teeth whitening strips.

 

 

Debbie Wasserman Schultz – wow. My kind of gal. This morning she told reporters that the people in the room at the convention were cheering her. Everyone only heard boos. Loud resounding boos. It’s amazing she can reinvent that moment. A woman after my own heart. Taking a page out of my book. A real scrapper. If you aren’t cheating, you aren’t trying is what I like to say.

I will probably find a spot for her in my cabinet. A woman willing to lie, cheat and steal? Perfect.

Problems with Delta computer system? Can’t remember the last time I flew commercial. That’s for the other people. Just another perk of being me. I have a womanizer, sex addict for a husband that was more excited about the balloons at the convention than his wife’s speech, but I get to fly in private planes… So…

And, they are tiptoeing around me about my email server “outing” a spy. Jesus. Who cares? He’s dead. What difference — at this point, what difference does it make?

There is a dead spy. My server? My emails? Maybe it was a protest or because of guys out for a walk one night that decided they’d go kill. Another person is dead. Doesn’t matter what caused it. Move on. The media doesn’t care about my emails. The FBI didn’t care either. So, someone died. He could have just as easily been hit by lightening.

More later.

 

They have got to be kidding me. No more press conferences? The media is in the bag for me. I called the woman of a fallen serviceman in Benghazi a liar when I said she “may not recall in the moment everything that was said or wasn’t said” or “she was wrong, dead wrong.” The press could care less. They were busy burying Trump.

I can lie and they believe. They so desperately want to believe.

Why don’t we just get them to ask the questions I want? I could have it all fixed and prepare answers to questions. Only allow questions I know are coming.

But, no more Press Conferences? Don’t they think the public might think “if she can’t even handle a press conference, how can she handle the presidency?”

Wait. Maybe they are right. The public probably won’t think of that. Idiots… Of course. I’ll avoid the press…

Spending some time watching a rerun of my speech at the convention. So great. Damn, my hair looked good. Why didn’t someone tell me my teeth were yellow. Yikes. Oh well.

I love that line “A man you can bait with a tweet is not a man we can trust with nuclear weapons.” Just a great line.

Note to self: Ask one of the interns what a Tweet is

Need to rest, just exhausted – physically and mentally.

Yesterday was the best day on the trail yet. I took a day off, stayed in my pajamas all day. Ate Ben & Jerry’s in bed. Beautiful. Had to talk to a few of the idiots working for me, but I shut them down fast. I think I scare them.

Anyway, one idiot did help me set up this Private Digital Diary that I can use to help blow off steam and jot down thoughts for my future memoirs. I’m thinking a cathartic type of Diary to help me stay sane. A punching bag would be better, but this writing avenue might help.

Next memoir working title? Maybe “Mrs. Clinton goes to Washington” or “Liar Liar Pantsuit on Fire” ha ha. That would get the idiots going.

I’m going to try and use this diary a few times a day. Not sure if it’s going to help much, but I don’t see how it can hurt. More later.

 

 

DISCLAIMER: None of what is written in any of these entries has been written by a real public figure. Please Enjoy.