It is obvious to myself, Pepe Warezabar, your roving reporter for The Guard Dog, that Hillary Clinton is alive to every nuance, every whisper of significance occurring in the known cosmos.
So it was not surprising to me when we met for our one year re-union at her husband's favorite night club, The Lewinksy, that she would enquire about my health.
The club was very noisy at this point with its pole dancers and wide-screen advertisements for drinks at half-price.
"Well, Pepe," she said. "You had some back problems in Moscow? Lower spine area, I hear? But the GGSR program relieved you?"
Wow, I mean she even knows about the Glenn Greenwald Spine-Building Program for Reporters (GGSR program). She is totally on the ball.
At this point with a great roar from patrons the screen lit up with "Try a shot of our Four Elephants in the Room bourbon!"
"Hill, let's get right with it. Yes, yes, I've been into therapy and now I'm back."
She gave me a long look from behind her wraparounds and inside the burqa she was wearing, same outfit as our last meeting. When I asked why this style she gave me a vigorous rejoinder.
"I'm wearing it because I hate this club, and I come here expressly to hate it, from within any number of disguises. Sometimes I even do my Henry Kissinger impersonation here, if you can believe that."
Coincidentally right then on the screen came "Give her The Kissinger for total bliss with her!"
"But Hillary, what about this incredible take-down of another country's President? I mean, all the difficulties with his flight and then searching his plane?"
"Pepe, we've been over this last year with Assange. It's the same thing all over again with Snowden. It doesn't matter how wrong, illegal, arrogant, or abusive the United States seems to be."
"Really, Hillary, I do appreciate your straight talk."
She had taken off her right shoe and was rapping the high heel on the bar top.
Her voice did have a certain attention-getting quality to it.
"Did you think we females are invisible, or can I get some service over here? Maaaaybe?"
"Could be the burqa, Hill. And those wraparounds. As with last year. I mean you know in much of the world this black dress and head covering you're wearing suggests female invisibility and non-importance, subject to male whim and all that?"
"Well, then, they don't know Hillary Clinton very well, do they? Against all odds has been one of my mottoes for a loooong time."
"I've never seen a spine problem with you, Hillary."
"Getting back to your question, Pepe. It's power. Pure and simple. I mean who controls the world, I ask you?"
"Well, there could be some dispute on that-"
"Come on. Which country is most important? Look at them all scrambling and ducking and bowing. Even the Putin has ordered Snowden to stop bothering the US because we're a partner to Russia. Is that rich or what?"
On screen: "Try our new vodka tonic: The Molly Coddler!"
"You mean it's admiration? The US wags a finger and--"
"Don't quote me."
"Yes, but is it good to keep grinding people's noses into the pavement with all this demonstration of who's in charge?"
"As I told you last year, Pepe, you just can'r f--k with the United States. It isn't done. If you do there will be consequences. It has nothing to do with right and wrong, or polite behavior. And it doesn't matter who you are. I mean take the Romans. Did anybody f--k with Caligula? Pardon my French."
"But, Hillary, as I understand it-- You're a candidate for 2016?"
"It's long overdue we had a female in charge of things, isn't it, Pepe? Running The Empire?"
"And Bill, what about him?"
"Past it. His brain has gone soft and I could speak further on elsewhere. But never in my case, Pepe. Show your impertinence and twinkling eye to the United States as Evo Morales did, and you'll see a Hillary all right!"
Club Lewinsky was roaring at that point and I needed time to think. "You mean . . . "
The roaring increased as the screen showed Richard Cheney and George Bush with thumbs up and bashing glasses together for a black bass draught called "Total Seizure."
"Meaning what, Hillary?"
"Trust me. When I'm President dogs on the sidewalk will lie down and roll over, tongues hanging out of their mouths."
"Wow, Hillary. Maybe I could apply to be your Press Secretary."
On screen: "Try our new whiskey sour The Hillaree! It has balls!"