Mad Atoms

I’d never been to a dog show before. So I wasn’t sure flashy broads with a penchant for the drink are the target audience for such events, but my lack of belonging has never kept me away from anything. Recently, while on drinking hiatus, I had to look for ways to entertain myself that had nothing to do with destroying my liver or social life, and a friend hinted that I should accompany him to a stupid dog show. (Actually, I’m fairly sure he didn’t call it stupid, but I certainly did. It’s not like I can even tell the difference between a prize winning Beagle and Barney the fucking dinosaur.)

Before we arrived, he said his friend, “A wonderful lady,” was entered in the contest. He was there to support her quest for the Best-In-Show, but I had a sneaking suspicion there was more to it than daunting Dobermans and sassy Shitzus. Because I don’t give a fuck about anything I ignored everything else that came out of his mouth until I was introduced to this friend of his, a woman widely considered the premier bitch in contemporary politics.

Out from the sidelines pranced Hillary Rodham Clinton, former First Lady, former candidate for President of the United States, and still seeking all the attention she could get.

She was prancing around on all fours with a legion of aides following her around buffing and fluffing every part of her.

Initially, I was flabbergasted, but then I finally realized that Senator Clinton entered herself in a contest she actually had a chance of winning. She was a shining star among her true constituents, the real bitches, and she was going to give this contest everything she had. Let’s face it, a blue ribbon might not be the same thing as controlling the fate of the free world, but sometimes you humble yourself to prove you truly are the best bitch out there.