The other night, I dreamed I was Hillary Clinton's second husband (?!?) I was kidnapped at gunpoint by a comedy troupe on the order of the Capitol Steps or SNL's crew, to provide statements that would be quoted out of context about Hillary in order to be funny. The kidnappers were dressed like stereotypical Secret Service agents -- black sunglasses, trench coats, very real guns. I was taken to a room with a lot of other folks, including Madeleine Albright, and eventually, Bill Clinton. Later, I found myself unharmed, back out on the streets of whatever unknown city I was in.
Since the Cafe is a strictly nonpartisan place, we'll skip any kind of political analysis. And since it raises some really scary possibilities, we'll definitely skip any kind of Freudian analysis too. Geez, I've gotta stop flipping between CNN and "24" reruns right before I go to bed ...
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