In his book The Choice: How Bill Clinton Won, Bob Woodward tells the backstory of the 1996 election contest between President Clinton and Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole. In one passage, Woodward reveals that First Lady Hillary Clinton had imaginary talks with Eleanor Roosevelt during multiple sessions conducted by a spiritual adviser, Jean Houston, co-director of the Foundation for Mind Research. And yet Hillary gets no credit for being way out in front of the mindfulness movement. 

In another bit of that hard-hitting, investigative journalism everyone says they miss, Woodward also claims that Hillary Clinton declined Houston’s invitation to talk with Jesus Christ because it would be too personal. Apparently, Hillary has always been skittish about transparency.  

Writing as I am in advance, with the assumption that Clinton will win the election, I just hope Eleanor and Hillary are still talking. They don’t need a spiritual adviser. Eleanor could channel advice through Hillary’s hair stylist or makeup person. It’s the one time during the day that Hillary gets to relax. With Eleanor it wouldn’t be,“Oh, hey girl, how you doin’?” More like, “Here’s some suggestions for the first hundred days.” Here’s what she might say:

“First of all, lose the caution. You won. You’ve got to hit the ground running. When Franklin became president during the worst days of the Great Depression, he acted fast to restructure the banks, get Americans back to work, and restore confidence in government. You think you’ve got haters? Puh-lease.

“Don’t even worry about getting re-elected. And don’t bring those old Friends of Clintons into your administration. Having too many of those FoCers sends the wrong message.  Actually send Bill to the Middle East and tell him he can come home when there’s peace there. He didn’t get it done when he was President and you know it still bugs him. 

“But you can move Huma into the White House with you. She’ll bring her son. He can work with Chelsea’s kids in Michelle’s gardens. Keep the gardens. After your inauguration, invite some Republicans over to watch the Super Bowl. Paul Ryan will say he needs to spend more time with the family. But you made the gesture. Don’t even bother with McConnell. 

“Listen, for the Great Depression we needed a New Deal. For the Great Recession, America needs a Renewed Deal. President Obama was all about renewal but those traitorous, racist, seditious Teabaggers blocked him until he finally got out his Executive Sharpie and started using it. I meant Tea Partiers.

“Go ahead with the blow-dry. I can wait.

“That large vulgar talking yam—was that my outside voice?—has unleashed our worst demons but people’s pain and fear are real. Renew. Again, lose the caution.

“Franklin tried to pack the Supreme Court. I dare you. DO IT BEFORE THE MID-TERMS. He controlled the media. When you’re getting your hair done in the morning, call up that Morning Joe and tell Mika what you did last night and what you’re going to do today. The people of Facebookistan love that. Cher could write your Tweets. Make Samantha Bee your press person. She’s a real crackerjack.

“Appoint Bernie Sanders to corral some of his smartypants millennials to come up with their algorithmic magic. Franklin brought electrification to poor regions. Have those techies get all  the people on the grid. Get the glitches out of the Affordable Care Act. And finally get your old pet healthcare project to work for the middle class.

“Appoint Elizabeth Warren and let her out-Benghazi those Republicans with banking, finance, pharmaceutical, and insurance investigations. By executive order, create a mandatory year of public service to pay for college. Retrain some of those undereducated white guys to replace the infrastructure. A living wage. I could go on and on.

“It won’t be hard to improve on FDR’s immigration policies. Japanese concentration camps? Turning back boatloads of Jewish refugees? A national shame. And race? Try as I might, he did not get it. Everything else mattered. And peace? Choose it. No one else has.” 

Kate "Can't wait to read How Hillary Won" Clinton is a humorist.

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By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.


Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).


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