Hillary is Lady Macbeth



At the Democratic debate Hillary Clinton  gets her dander up because she is angry that Republicans want to take away women’s access to abortions through Planned Parenthood.  I mean, what is women’s reproductive health without a good, old fashioned, scarring abortion?


A aborted, dead baby is more free time for its parents to party.


During her Democratic debate, Hillary forgets that Planned Parenthood is partially funded by big government and she accuses the Republicans,  “They don’t mind having big government to interfere with a woman’s right to choose and to try to take down Planned Parenthood.”


But Planned Parenthood is part of big government too and the attempt to take it down is individual moral revulsion.  It is not Republican hypocrisy  but Republicans standing up for individual rights against  monolithic, progressive, death-oriented, big  government.


Hillary says that she knows that we can afford Planned Parenthood because “we’re going to make the wealthy pay for it.”  She talks like she isn’t one of the wealthy, like she hasn’t lived in the White House, been chauffeured by limousines and private planes.


Hillary hasn’t looked in the mirror much.  She would see millions of dollars tucked in her pants suit.


Hillary hasn’t looked into her soul and seen that even though she herself is a mother that she is backing Planned Parenthood’s selling fetal tissue from altered abortions.


Hillary reminds me of Lady Macbeth saying heartlessly to Macbeth, “How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me./ I would, while it was smiling in my face,/ Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums

And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you/ Have done to this.”


I am no Right-to-Lifer or pro-abortionist but the thought of a President who would pull her breasts back from the lips of her country is just too disgusting for me to bear.


Hillary is a freak of ambition and cruelty.  She belongs in Birnam Forest. Perhaps she would run across Bill and Monica having oral sex behind a tree. Perhaps she would look the other way. 


Perhaps she wouldn’t answer the three o’clock call.  Perhaps another baby would die before reaching its crib.

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