THERE'S A SUCKER BORN EVERY MINUTE
and I'm one of millions.

I was really prepared to believe that Mrs. Clinton had a spasm of genuine emotion when she had her little "moment" (sniff, sniff) before New Hampshire primary day. And if it worked to put her over the top, well, good for her -- she knows her [pathetic, bathetic] constituency.

Then she turned up for the victory speech. In a grey flowered dress (I'm given to understand it was a dress -- I couldn't see behind the podium) worthy of a World War I sheet music mother, and she came to us "with a full heart" about how "she found her voice".

THOUGHT I WOULD PUKE.

I had actually found myself believing it all: a four-act drama that began with the chirpy "It hurts my feelings" at the debate. Then the tears (total self-pity, but real, I thought), and the "Iron my shirt" protestors. Then the pink-scarf walk-about. Then the "full heart" -- ridiculously reminiscent of Lyndon Johnson's heavy one. (Or the drunken mother in The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-moon Marigolds -- how's that for esoteric?!)

And the grey dress -- not new -- seen previously (1) at the time she complained of the "boys club" piling on, and, oh yes, (2) in an appearance with a tall transgendered person named Donna at a Human Rights event, where the dark pant-suit would have been uncomfortably ambiguous.

And I thought, "My God -- I have SO been HAD!!!"

The Anchoress, on the other hand, NAILED IT back on JANUARY 2 !!!!

What I dread most in this political season is the “genuine” moment - and it is coming, soon, sometime between today and tomorrow, or tomorrow and New Hampshire - when Mrs. Clinton, in her ongoing effort to turn herself into whatever the polls says she must be, cries in public. It’s going to be genuinely ghastly.

And it was.

PUKE.