Will Hillary’s body double be the next President? (fiction)
By Jon Rappoport
I’m trying to be exactly like Hillary. I really am. That’s my job.
I hope this message gets through. The people around me are supposed to be “tight security,” but they aren’t all that attentive.
Some of them don’t like Hillary and Bill.
Anyway, can you believe I might become the next President of the United States?
When I was trying to win those little beauty contests back in Kansas, the most I was hoping for was a good-looking boyfriend. But you told me I was smart and I could shoot for something higher. It wasn’t until college that I realized I had a mind. And remember, I was always good at imitations. Well, mom, I’ve got an imitation going now!
In the house where I’m staying, Bill came to visit. I think he wanted to grope me, but I told him I wanted to stick to the script, meaning since he and Hillary have no sex life, then he and I shouldn’t have one, either. Besides, he looks very unhealthy, and I was afraid he might collapse if we…you get the picture.
I told my handlers I wanted to read all of Hillary’s speeches, but they told me it wasn’t necessary. They aren’t interested in my brain, only my ability to sound and look like Hillary. They say they’ll “take it from there.” I’m not sure what that means. Time will tell.
It’s not me at the debates. From what I hear, they have a whole team of doctors who give Hillary a protocol of drugs, supplements, and electronic zappers so she can go on stage. I saw her the other day for a minute. She looked exhausted. She doesn’t talk to me or look at me. She pretends I’m not there. I guess I would, too, if I were in her shoes. After the 9/11 memorial, outside Chelsea’s apartment, that was me. Hillary had collapsed getting into the van, and they kept her in the medical suite next to Chelsea’s. I went outside on the sidewalk with no security around me, to show I was fine and didn’t need help standing and walking. They told me to say, “It’s a beautiful day in New York,” and I did. It came out well, I thought.
So far, I’m being used in transition moments. Getting in and out of vehicles, appearing for moments in hallways and on planes. That sort of thing. I rarely speak. But I think my role is going to expand after the election. We’ll see. I’m ready. I want to be President of the United States. Even if I don’t fully understand policy, I know enough to make a plausible impression. Bill says I’m terrific.
I’ve rehearsed sentences like, “Sometimes, war is inevitable in order to win the peace,” “We must welcome all those who need a safe place to live within our borders,” “The national debt is not a pressing concern,” “This great nation must unite as one,” “I stand with working people,” “I reject the values of Wall Street,” “The whole world needs one political and economic system,” “America is kind and good.” I have to deliver these lines with a big smile.
I don’t know whether you can come to the White House after I become President, but I’m going to give it my best shot. I’d love it if you stayed in the Lincoln bedroom with Jimmy, or whoever your boyfriend is these days. I’ll make sure you get some nice clothes. I think you should put your hair back to brown. The white-blonde doesn’t look good.
Yesterday, I was arguing with the make-up and designer people about the truss and the harness around my middle and behind. They’re supposed to make me look more like Hillary. They’re heavy. I don’t like to walk with them. As usual, I lost the argument. I said, “Make them lighter.” They said they’d try. Remember when I was broke and I brought in some contraband across the border? That truss worked better. You know what, mom? I think video of me at the border that time was what alerted some of the Clinton people. They saw how much I looked like Hillary.
The other day, I had a little problem. They brought in George Soros. I was supposed to meet him and see if I could fool him. But after we started talking, I sort of lost it. There was just something about him. He was dark. Our old pastor in Wichita used to talk about that quality. Remember? Anyway, I just blurted out that he looked like a frog in a swamp. He got very angry. People came into the room and led me out. They told me if I ever did anything like that again, they’d hurt me. I was scared. But they need me. That’s my ace in the hole.
Last night, I overheard a few of the people around here talking. I don’t know who they were. Folks come and go. This group was talking about Haiti and the Clinton Foundation. They said they were trying to cover up where all the aid money really went. I was standing in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I was trying to figure out whether my nose really matched Hillary’s. There’s a little difference under my nose where it meets my upper lip. I pretended I didn’t hear them. They seemed nervous. See, I want to know about all these things, so if I have to respond in public, I’ll say the right thing. But my role is very defined at the moment. I’m trying to convince my bosses I can take on the serious stuff. I’m smart enough.
After the election, I think they’re going to need me more often. I really do. If they alternate Hillary and me enough times, people will get used to the fact that we don’t look exactly the same. People are easy to fool. A reporter will think I don’t look the same as Hillary did yesterday, but he’ll think I do look just like Hillary two days ago, because two days ago it was me. Do you get it, mom? I can do it. I’m chomping at the bit.
I’ve got some ideas of my own, too. For instance, why can’t I decide that Americans should get the first pick of good jobs, instead of immigrants? That’s pretty simple. And if I come out and say it in public, how can Hillary take it back? I know it could be dangerous, but I want to have an influence. I’m not just a dumb woman who happens to look a whole lot like Hillary. You kept telling me I was smart. I want to live up to your faith in me. I really do.
In a little while, they’re going to fit me for new shoes. My feet are too small, so they’ll insert pads in bigger shoes. I like that. I have a corn on my left pinky toe, and the pad gives me a soft place to rub against.
I’ve been thinking about terrorism lately. If we can’t screen people coming into the country from Syria, because we don’t know who they are, why should we just let them in? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand why Hillary and Trump are arguing about that. The answer seems so obvious. After the election, if the moment comes up, I might mention it to a reporter. I don’t want to feel like a doll. The other night, I got hold of a Bernie Sanders speech where he said 60,000 factories have closed down in America. The factories went overseas. That’s another one. All those lost jobs. Why can’t we tax the companies that left America, when they send their products back here for sale? That would help convince them to bring their factories back here where they belong. Wouldn’t it? Then the companies could hire back all the American workers they fired.
I’m seeing things more clearly now. It helps to be near the top, where the decisions are made. That’s when it gets serious. Remember when you were telling me about my nephew, Jeff, who can’t understand all the new education in his class? The Common Core? It sounded horrible, like they were trying to confuse him. Well, why can’t we get rid of that Common Core? It would be easy. I’d love to tell reporters a thing or two about it.
I wouldn’t scream and swear at people close to me, like Hillary does. I’d be nice to them. If they really want to help America, like they say they do, then maybe they have a few good ideas. I’d listen to them. I like working with other people. When I had the secretary job at WKZV, I would suggest stories to my boss. He liked a few, and he put them on the air. I felt like I was making a contribution.
Look at me now, mom. I’m right there next to Hillary. I’m in with big people. I could help.
Have you heard of a group called Public Citizen? I’ve been reading some of their reports when I’m alone in my room. I’m supposed to be listening to Hillary tapes all day, but I’m getting them played to me when I’m asleep at night, so I decided to ease off. Anyway, one of the Public Citizen reports says that a trade deal called NAFTA allowed the US to ship cheap corn to Mexico. It put 1.5 million Mexican corn farmers out of business. I suddenly thought that could explain why some of those Mexicans come up here through the border. Why can’t we get out of NAFTA or change it? Hillary would never do that. But maybe I could say something about it, in public.
See, I think I may have to take over from Hillary. She’s not in good shape. If she’s too sick to stay on as President, I’ll be next in line. I need to be prepared to say the right thing. At first, it would be a shock. I’d be saying things that are out of character for Hillary, but then people would get used to it, especially since it’s helping the country. For instance, there is already a term limit for Presidents. Why can’t we do the same for people in Congress? Obamacare isn’t working. The premiums keep getting higher, and Americans can’t choose their own doctors. We need a better plan. I think I should bring up these subjects in my press conferences. Another thing—this business about a “global economic system.” I don’t understand all the details, but why should we try to solve everyone else’s problems when we have so many of our own? Doesn’t it make more sense to focus on America? And if our democracy is so great, why do we have to use force to convince other countries to adopt it?
I’d better go now, mom, before they find out I’m in touch with you. Keep an eye on Hillary, because sometimes it’ll be me. Fix yourself up, cut back on the wine, and take your vitamins. Behave yourself. I really want you to see the White House and stay here, at least one night. If we’re lucky, I’ll be sitting in the Oval Office. Then we really won’t be in Kansas anymore.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Jon Rappoport has worked as a free-lance investigative reporter for over 30 years. http://nomorefakenews.com/