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The Horrific Hillary Clinton Presidency, As Imagined by Conservative Author Bryce Slattery

By Brian Byrd | Politics | September 7, 2016 | Comments ()

By Brian Byrd | Politics | September 7, 2016 |


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The following passage is excerpted from Bryce Slattery’s upcoming book “This Woman Adores Treason: An Unfiltered Look at the Hillary Clinton Presidency” published by Cuckfest Press. Slattery is the author of several No. 1 bestsellers, including “These Coloreds are Literally Subhuman Trash: How Obama Has Ruined Race Relations in America.” Reprinted with permission.

[INT: White House Situation Room] — President Hillary Clinton is surrounded by her cabinet of Clinton Foundation donors, a mix of middle-eastern dictators and grossly unqualified women who, like most women, only got the job because they have a vagina.The room’s numerous video screens show troops movements in North Korea and the South China Sea. An exhausted Clinton sits at the head of the table awaiting a briefing from the Joint Chiefs.]

Hillary: “The top-secret classified email you sent to my Hotmail account indicated this was important, General. You pulled me out of a strategy session with ISIS leadership for this. We were about to close a deal to sell them nuclear weapons at below market value, and now I have to trust that Huma’s husband won’t burst in at the last minute and stick his dick in Ahmed’s ear. This better be important.”

General McBuzzcut: “It is, ma’am. The—”

Hillary: “Ma’am? Fucking ma’am?! My gender isn’t relevant here. I’ve already put hundreds of thousands of white men in camps. Don’t think I won’t send you to Dudechau just because you work here.”

General McBuzzcut: “My apologies. President Clinton, as you can see on the screens, the North Koreans have mobilized troops all along the DMZ. We’re talking serious quantities. At least 100,000. Also, the Chinese just launched two CV-17 aircraft carriers into the Yellow Sea, each outfitted with a full squadron of Shenyang J-15 fighters. To further complicate matters, two Russian Akula-class nuclear subs in the South China Sea recently changed course. They’re headed to Busan, President Clinton. Our experts don’t believe they’re posturing this time. Pyongyang is going into South Korea, and they have China and Russia in their corner.”

Hillary: “Understood, General. Let’s run this through in order of importance. Chelsea: do any of the players here donate to the Clinton Foundation?”

Chelsea: “They do. Kim-Jong Un gave us half a million in 2015, and we have strong relationships with several Chinese business interests, including the ones we leak classified information to.”

Hillary: “Good girl. OK, so we’re gonna have to give China and the Koreans a pass here. What about Russia?”

Chelsea: “Nothing on the books. It’ll take me months to sift through the unreported cash payments but I think we’re clear.”

Navy Secretary Allison Hazlet: “Ma’am…uh, I mean President Clinton.”

Hillary: “No, it’s OK, Allison. You can call me ‘ma’am.’ You’re a woman, and women get special treatment in my administration.”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “Of course, ma’am. I was just going to ask if you really think this is the best course of action? China and the North Koreans have more than enough firepower to take out Seoul even with Russia off the board. The South Koreans are a critical, long-standing ally in Asia. Allowing them to be destroyed would be catastrophic.”

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Hillary: “Let me make something crystal clear to everyone in this room: I gave the South Koreans ample opportunity to demonstrate their loyalty in the form of seven-figure donations to my foundation. And they didn’t give a dime. Their tight-fisted decision forced me to use taxpayer dollars and tap my personal accounts — money I earned by secretly telling Goldman Sachs how to bring down the U.S. economy — to fund the Firearm Confiscation and Redistribution Squads. Yes, prying guns from the hands of old white men and giving them to Chicago gangbangers has proved remarkably successful. But it has not been cheap.”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I meant no disrespect.”

Hillary: “Intentions are moot, Allison. I didn’t intend to kill dozens of people to advance my career. But I did. You questioned me. And questioning is disrespectful. Because if you question me, you’re sexist. Fellow woman or not, Allison, I will toss you in front of a train like I did to Vince Foster if you ever disrespect me like this again. Do I make myself clear?”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “Absolutely.”

Hillary: “So, what are your thoughts on my plan?”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “In my expert opinion, ma’am, we should concentrate our military efforts on the two Russian submarines.”

Hillary: “I agree. What are our options?”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “The USS Retribution is in the South China Sea armed with a 24 torpedoes.”

Air Force Commander Anderson T. Chestful: “We can also scramble the F-17s from the USS George H.W. Bush, which is closer. Much higher chance for success.”

Hillary: “I’m not using planes from a Republican aircraft carrier, you jackass. I hate the military and don’t care who gets killed as a result of my reckless decisions just as long as a woman gets to make those decisions. Allison, we’re going with Retribution.”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “Very good, ma’am. I’ll need you to read your authorization code aloud before proceeding.”

Hillary: “Bravo, Wilco, Charlie, One, Niner, Echo, Delta, Seven, Ro—”

[Clinton coughs]

Hillary: “Roger, Alph—”

[Clinton coughs again. The room freezes.]

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “Ma’am, are you OK?”

Hillary: “I’m fine. Just have a frog in my thro—”

[Clinton collapses into her chair, wheezing and hacking. Her body shakes violently to the rhythms of her spasming diaphragm.]

General McBuzzcut: “Sweet Lord. Someone get the Surgeon General, NOW!”

Aide: “We can’t! He’s in California organizing the mandatory third-trimester abortion camps.”

General McBuzzcut
: “THE PRESIDENT IS ON HER DEATHBED! BRING HIM HOME, NOW!!”

Clinton [weakly]: “No! His work is too important. He needs to stay and finish the job. This is my legacy. He must prevail.”

Navy Secretary Hazlet: “Is there anyone else on staff we can call?!”

Aide: “Dr. Ricola is on standby, ma’am.”

General McBuzzcut: “GET HIM IN HERE, NOW!”

[The aide rushes over to the wall and moves a picture to the side to reveal a hidden safe. He frantically punches in a code and the safe door releases with an audible click. The aide reaches in and retrieves a 15-foot horn. He places the horn to his lips and blows.]


RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICOLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICOLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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[The Situation Room doors fly open. Dr. Ricola, winded, addresses the group.]

Dr. Ricola: “What’s happening here?”

General McBuzzcut: “The president is dying. You’re her only hope.”

Dr. Ricola: “What are the symptoms?”

General McBuzzcut: “She coughed.”

[Dr. Ricola turns pale and slumps against the wall, defeated.]

Dr. Ricola: “Jesus Christ. You’re all in danger. How could you call me in here without warning me first? Everyone in here should be wearing a class 4 hazmat suit. We’ve signed our own death warrants.”

General McBuzzcut: “There’s no hope?”

Dr. Ricola: “Perhaps. I need to ask her a very important question.”

[Dr. Ricola carefully approaches the frail figure seated at the head of the table. Clinton has lost 15 pounds in mere minutes, although she is still frumpy and overweight].

Dr. Ricola: “President Clinton, can you hear me? It’s Dr. Ricola. I need you to answer a question for me. Think carefully, because all our lives may depend on it. Ready.”

Hillary: “Get on with it, you quack.”

Dr. Ricola: “Did you by chance go to sleep at any time in the last 24 hours?”

[Clinton says nothing for a long time, thinking deeply]

Hillary: “Yes. Yes I did. Last night. I slept last night.”

[Dr. Ricola crumples to the floor, weeping.]

Dr. Ricola: “She’s doomed. It’s worse than I thought. She has maybe 12 hours. The rest of us, 24. Tops. Tell my family I love them, and that my sacrifice will allow AbortionLand to open on schedule and fully funded by taxpayers.”

[The doctor reaches into his satchel.]

Dr. Ricola: “Ma’am, it’s been an honor.”

[The gunshot echoes through the situation room. Dr. Ricola lies dead on the floor, blood leaking from the back of his skull.]


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