Even if your ears have been plugged with those little orange sound blockers that one wears to the firing range, you probably still haven’t been able to drown out the sound of Donald Trump railing about draining the swamp of corruption, graft, and cronyism that characterizes our current political system.  But lurking just below the surface of those waters – that swamp filled with the filth and sewage that is synonymous with American politics – has been a monster, silently devouring everything in its path.

Until now.

In this soon to be released film noir, the she-monster has run up against an unlikely foil in the person of FBI director James Comey.  So what’s a monster to do?  Gather up her minions of mini-monsters and prepare for battle?  Divide and conquer?  Slither beneath the waters and lie low?  No, no.  Her plan of attack is to convince the audience that there really is no monster, that it’s a Loch Ness-style figment of our imaginations.  If we could only see more clearly through those murky waters, we would simply see a sweet little old lady paddling along.  She is not a monster – she is a victim.  Hillary Clinton has begun to float her boat down the estuaries and tributaries that feed into the swamp with a sad-sack story that a big, bad FBI man has come to slay her.

Consider her opening salvo to the news that a formerly closed investigation into her private email server has been reopened.  A full six hours after the story broke, she went before the public to say that Director Comey sent a letter to “Republican members of the House.”  Of course, it’s demonstrably clear to anyone who can read page two of a document that the letter also went to Democratic members of the House.  But that would spoil the “poor me” narrative that illustrates that this is nothing but another “vast right wing conspiracy.” 

Before we’re swept up into these dark and turbulent waters, perhaps it’s time to step back from the shores of the swamp, pull back the camera lens for an aerial view, and inject a bit of common sense into all of this.  Simple common sense.  You know, the kind your mother used to give you.  Things like:

• Beware of the company you keep.  Bill Clinton officiated at the wedding of Huma Abedin and Anthony Weiner.  On that happy day, Hillary Clinton said: “I have one daughter. But if I had a second daughter, it would [be] Huma.”  Who your friends are really does say a lot about you.
• Birds of a feather flock together.  Anthony Weiner and Bill Clinton?  Enough said.  Though we should mention in the credits that this movie has been written by a scriptwriter using the nom de plume Carlos Danger.
• Clean up after yourself.  This is not shorthand for “the mess is all my brother’s fault.”  It means if your room is a jumble of clutter and chaos, get to work.  Don’t expect others to clean it up for you.  And it certainly does not mean you send a smug, smirking metrosexual like Robbie Mook onto national television to bring order to the disaster you have created on your own.

Here’s the narrative skimming the surface of the swamp, folks: above all, Mrs. Clinton is simply prey, a dupe, a target, a casualty, and a sufferer of epic proportions.  She is not a perpetrator; she is a victim.  It is a heart-rending movie in the making, don’t you think?  As we approach the dénouement of this brilliant piece of cinematography, could it be that the monster will be slain by the evil FBI director, or will it simply expire from its own oozing, slimy, self-inflicted wounds?

The title of the film often tells the storyline in a few words, and in the case of this post, that is certainly true.  “Two tears in a bucket,” indeed.  Any cinephile could probably tell you that those memorable words came from the mouth of The Lady Chablis herself, the famous transgender whose coda to that line we will not speak of, because as my momma used to say “Ladies, don’t talk like that.” 

But in case you haven’t guessed already, the movie from which this famous line emanates is none other than Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

And the clock is about to strike twelve.