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Cartoon Violence vs. the 22nd Amendment

Each week, the Comics Curmudgeon helps explain Today's Cartoons.

Hey, weren't the '90s great? With your stock bubbles and your grunge rock and your Lou Dobbs not ranting about Mexicans and your long-winded outraged public discussion of fellatio and ... such! It was a golden era for our political cartoonists, too, because they got to draw Bill Clinton for eight years. Can the good times ever return?


A lot of pundits have accused other pundits of launching their own '90s nostalgia craze to get Hillary and Bill back in the White House. We're not really smart enough to have an opinion about that, but we can tell you who does want Bill Clinton back: political cartoonists! Mostly because he's fun to draw, which, let's face it, is probably as good a reason to pick a first spouse as any other. This week: our ink-stained wretches blow the dust off their old drawings and go to town.

Bill is: Some kind of half-naked pixie-thing. With tiny wings and a freakishly large head. I don't know why turning Bill into a tiny half-naked pixie-thing doesn't bother me as much as the fact that he's now aerodynamically impossible, but it does, it does.

What does the future hold? Bill could become the "fairy Godmother" of the Hillary administration, occasionally flying into cabinet meetings on his gossamer wings to wave his magic wand and untangle particularly gnarly political problems, then returning to his usual First Gentleman pastimes (drinking beer and hooting at the TV).

Inevitable sexualization: Well, he is half naked. I think those are supposed to be hearts on his boxer shorts, but their location and the fact that there are only two of them really make them look like red arrows pointing right at his pasty white thighs, as if to say, "Hey, baby, how'd ya like these wrapped around ya?" The woman in the middle of the cartoon is right to clutch her hands in involuntary terror.

Bill is: Wearing some kind of disturbing fetish gear, with a prominent zipper on the crotch of his skin-tight leather pants and another one sewn onto his mouth by some very kinky and extremely disreputable plastic surgeon.

What does the future hold? Freed from such mundane tasks as "representing America" and "running the country," Bill is finally free to dedicate himself to being an S&M gimp full-time. He'll be kept in the dungeon-like basement of the White House until governors, world leaders, and high-rolling Democratic contributors who really appreciate his talents come to visit.

Inevitable sexualization: Pretty much all of it, obviously, though it's mitigated somewhat by his weirdly bulbous crotchal region, which the human brain will fight against considering in any sexual way whatsoever.

Bill is: Just a-gonna run into that big ol' pile of mud! Yee-haw! You high-minded Obamatards with your "hope" and whatnot just don't know how much fun it is to get down and roll around in it. It's pretty great! Whee!

What does the future hold? Cleaning bills. Lots and lots of very expensive taxpayer-funded cleaning bills. Do you know how hard it is to get mud out of a 16th century Central Asian carpet given to Gerald Ford by the Shah of Iran?

Inevitable sexualization: WHY IS HILLARY DRESSED IN A CLASSY PANTSUIT FOR HER ROMP IN THE MUD BUT BILL IS JUST WEARING '70S-STYLE GYM SHORTS AND YOU CAN SEE HIS FLOPPY MAN-BOOBS WHY WHY WHY

Bill is: Everybody's least favorite cracker uncle or in-law or something! Oh, that crazy Uncle Billy! He's like modern-day Harlem's Tom Willis!

What does the future hold? Well, if this scene is the opening of a serious racially-themed "issue play" first performed off-Broadway sometime in the 1950s or early 1960s -- and, based on everyone's clothes, I can tell you that it almost certainly is -- we're going to have three acts of simmering resentment, some powerful monologues, occasional wince-inducing dialect, and some things being said that will change all the characters' views of themselves ... forever.

Inevitable sexualization: The first thing Bill does when he walks into the diner is let everyone get a good look at his crotch. "I'd like to go black -- I'm curious to see whether I'll go back," he seems to be saying. The other patrons lean as far away as they possibly can.

Bill is: Some sort of disturbing legless armless James Bond weapon thing. Did I mention disturbing? So very disturbing.

What does the future hold? Whenever there's a tough moment in Hillary's presidency -- whether she's negotiating with stubborn foreign leaders or recalcitrant Congressional Republicans -- all she needs to do is say "Maybe we should discuss this with ... the legless armless Bill Clinton thing!" And then that problem will be solved real quick. By the screaming heebie-jeebies.

Inevitable sexualization: Hey, look, it's Bill's dream -- he's a self-lubricating dildo!

...

OK, that was traumatizing even for me.

...

Legless armless Bill Clinton ... so disturbing ...

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