Because she doesn't seem quite desperate enough continually harping on the fact that Barack Obama won't agree to appear in debate #3,945,209 prior to the Indiana and North Carolina primaries, Hillary Clinton has now decided to shed her last remaining vestiges of dignity and beg Obama to please, please debate her on the back of a flatbed truck. And I'm wondering to myself, how far are we away from the threshold beyond which Hillary begins screaming, crying, jumping up and down, and holding her breath like a spoiled three-year-old in a Wal-mart, throwing a temper tantrum because mommy won't buy her a new Bratz doll? And when this happens, will mommy (in this case, the Democratic party and its superdelegates) take off that belt, grab Princess by the arm, and give her the thorough ass-whipping she so richly deserves? Or will we, the rest of the Wal-mart shoppers, be forced to listed to an endless drone of wailing until Princess finally tires herself out some time in August?
Note to superdelegates: spare the rod, spoil the child.
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