A Hat for Hillary

A Parable:


A new day had dawned in Montana. Hillary Clinton awoke and started about her day. It was to be a day of campaigning and hard fighting. She was ready to campaign until the dark semi-circles of sweat appeared beneath her arms once again.

Later that day, at one of the whistle-stops, a small girl approached Hillary. In her hands she clutched a golden hat with a wide, floppy brim. The texture of the hat was strange – it had an oddly meaty aspect. Hillary looked down at the little girl. “Why, what a perfectly lovely hat,” she told the girl. “Why don’t you put it on, honey?”

The little girl held out the hat. “It’s for you, Mrs. Clinton,” she said.

Hillary, by now a veteran campaigner, knew an opportunity when she saw one. She smiled broadly and took the hat from the little girl. “Why, thank you, honey!” she cried. But the hat was strange. It was cold to the touch and very heavy, and flopped about in Hillary’s hands in such a way that it was difficult to hold on to. It seemed to pulsate slightly, almost like a living thing.

“Put it on,” the little girl invited.

Hillary hesitated for only a moment, then put the weird golden hat on her head. Instantly the hat gripped onto the crown of Hillary’s head like a suction cup. Frowning, the candidate pulled at it, but the hat refused to budge. “It won’t come off!” she cried. “The hat won’t come off!”

“And it never will,” the little girl said, walking away.

The little girl was right. No science or medicine could remove the golden hat, and it remained on Hillary’s head for all the rest of her days.