Dear Hillary: An Open Letter

Dear Hillary Clinton,

I’ll get right down to it, I want to like you.

The idea of a woman holding such power is exciting and while the desire is present, I can’t like you even a little bit. It’s not because you stayed with your cheating husband or because you fairly received the nomination against my preferred candidate, Bernie Sanders; I simply don’t like you because you’re sketchy as f***.

It’s too bad there is not a more eloquent way of wording that, but nothing sums it up better.

I would love the opportunity to be petty and ask about the odd Kim Jong-un inspired wardrobe you rock or about the snaky relationship you have with Debbie Wasserman Schultz, but there are other things that have been weighing on me that seem to be more pressing.

Your Media depicts you as the safer of the two candidates but I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve been wavering for some time now, trying to like you, and occassionally these ideas creep in to deliver frightening thoughts, like:

Maybe Donald Trump is less risky.

howmyfriendslookatme
[How my friends look at me when I say that.]
You, Hillary, scare the flip outta me and to be honest I don’t even think it’s personal, in general, sketchy people make me uncomfortable.

The video that everyone is talking about makes me especially uncomfortable.

I wasn’t expecting to watch you stammer and ultimately get drug, calves-on-pavement, into a vehicle while secret service calmly swarm to protect your privacy. Their somber faces seemed to give it away  – that was protocol. In the event that you start acting wonky, they know exactly how to proceed and that’s sketchy.

I have to assume that while you’re resting up that there’s plenty of time for you to check out the latest rumor that started circling around regarding your possible body double?

To that, Secretary Clinton, I ask you to prove that it’s not.

That is how much I don’t trust you. I’ve started to actually believe conspiracy theories; you’re making me feel crazy! These people pointing out the differences in your attire, wrinkles, nose, ears and fingers make more sense to me than pneumonia.

When all is said and done, know that I tried.

I did my best to look past the primaries, those damn e-mails and the Blackberry’s that were smashed with hammers…

…But, I can’t.

I don’t even know what’s real, what’s staged or where this country is headed. If you’re elected into office, or not, please don’t hold this against me.

Jen

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