By now, some of us have it all figured out.

We know from news reports that right after she knew she'd lost, Hillary had Podesta and the boys in her private suite at that luxury hotel to plot her revenge.  The plan was to blame Russian collusion for the Trump win, and they were just sure that John Boy would be able to get the Russkis to play along.

But they didn't count on Putin not liking Hillary any better than Bill does.  Or Putin not liking Obama any better than he liked Hillary.  Or Putin actually sort of admiring Trump and for sure respecting him.  See, unlike the American left, Putin likes manly, masculine men like Trump and dislikes screeching harpy women like Hillary.  There's just no explaining some people, especially those inscrutable Russians.

It took a month or so to realize ol' Vlad wasn't gonna play along, and they still hadn't come up with a new script when the Harvey Wallbanger sexual harassment thing blew, and that screwed the Clintons to the floor.  After decades of truly sickening hero-worship by Eleanor Clift, suddenly they're radioactive because of a boy named Bill.  Or Harvey – take your pick.

Sorta sad when you think about it.  All those years, all those Monicas, the money, the lies, the bodies, the betrayals, the world at your feet – all down the drain.  They really don't love you any more than you ever loved them.  It's just not right.  Billy got what he wanted – attorney general, governor, president, Monicas, etc. – but Hillary didn't get what she was after.  Her meal ticket turned out to be her nemesis.

The part of the human psyche that responds to Shakespearean tragedy kinda wants to sympathize with Hillary.  All the planning, the cleverness, the buy-offs, the payouts, the brazenness.  On the other hand, the part that responds to naïve notions such as justice, fair play, rule of law, integrity, character, that kind of thing – that part laughs until gasping for air.