Hillary Clinton Regrets "Cock-Smoking" Gandhi Joke

en. Hillary Rodham Clinton apologized this week for referring to Indian leader Mahatma Gandhi as a "cock-smoking son of a bitch" in a speech at a Democratic fund-raiser earlier in the month. Insisting the statement was taken out of context, the former first lady explained that she was merely attempting to liven up her speech by making humorous reference to the deceased leader's man-pleasing proclivities.

Clinton's bizarre comments came while speaking in support of Senate candidate Nancy Farmer. The former first lady introduced the aspiring senator to the fund-raiser crowd with a comparison to Gandhi, suggesting that both had blown more men than the A-bomb. The stunned silence of the room turned to nervous laughter when the former first lady followed her comment with an explanatory "blow job" facial expression using her tongue and cheek.

The resultant public outcry once newspapers picked up on the story led to a prompt public retraction from the New York senator.

"Mahatma Gandhi was a great man, and I sincerely apologize if I ever gave any indication to the contrary," Sen. Clinton stated in apology. "He was a true gift to humanity."

"You can ask anybody whose choad he smoked," added Clinton after a brief pause.

The outrage incensed by Clinton's previous statements flared up like a gas-soaked Buddhist monk when word of her apology hit the street.

"I'm visibly offended," blustered Tonight Show joke writer George Mattson. "Everybody knows Gandhi material is my thing. If she thinks she can horn in on my comedic territory, she's got another thing coming. I've got years worth of 'Damn, Chelsea Ugly' jokes saved up. Years. Also I've also been meaning to say that Hillary looks suspiciously like she should be Bill's mother. Now I'm going to say it."

"Hillary has been trying to inject humor into her public persona lately," explained publicist Aria Hershberg. "She's understandably tired of coming off as the prototypical lesbian stuffed shirt in mannish shoes, and who can blame her? Just play along, trust me. She's still new at this and it can take a while for an adult to develop a personality belatedly, just give her a little time. And actually I thought the thing she said about the giraffe's gynecologist was kind of funny. Maybe you had to be there."

Displaying a unique talent for shoveling shit straight into an oncoming hurricane, Sen. Clinton has dug herself deeper with each successive quote following the incident.

"Listen, listen, I have admired the work and life of Mahatma Gandhi and have spoken publicly about that many times," explained Clinton at a recent charity dinner. "What I said the other day was just a lame attempt at humor. I sincerely apologize for suggesting the honorable Mahatma Gandhi would tongue your balls for a dollar."

After a relieved sigh from diners, Clinton continued. "What I should have said was 'Mahatma Gandhi's mama so ugly she could knock the dot off a Hindu at twenty paces!'"

In spite of recent public relations setbacks, Clinton's attempts at developing a sense of humor show no signs of flagging. In the last week, Sen. Clinton has spoken out in support of legislation "to make math easier for retards" and has gone public with the incredibly dated quip that "the next time I see Michael Gorbachev, I'm gonna wipe that thing off his head. What's up with that thing, really?"

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There was a lot of talk this season about contraction in baseball. In other words, rounding up the teams that are too pathetic to wear the mantle of MLB and having them taken out back to be shot, much like my last three dogs who had the plague and my wife after she broke her leg power-walking. Some say this would be good for the sport: to thin out the ranks so that only the strong survive, and throwing the rest to the wolves of more popular sports, like football and croquet. Others argue that it's just a ploy by the owners, a bluff to get the players to agree to electroshock tracking collars at the next contract negotiation meetings. Everywhere, people are talking about it: from a WWII vet I met in a barbershop on Tuesday to a traveling salesman I met in another barbershop Saturday afternoon. The buzz in the air is palpable.

What do I think about the impeding contraction? Good riddance! The teams most often rumored to be under the axe are the Montreal Expos, the Florida Marlins, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and the Minnesota Twins—not a half-dozen men between them. I mean that: the Devil Rays are actually a little-league team from Georgia who won some kind of Cheerios Sweepstakes to play in the big leagues. The last time they played the Yankees half the team went home with wedgies and pink-bellies. So they're an easy call.

How about the Montreal Expos? Frankly, I'm surprised a team named after an off-brand of panty hose has lasted this long. No need to worry about protests if we put them out of their misery, a gay pride parade in Nebraska draws more folks than an Expos game. I went to an Expos game one time on fan appreciation day, thinking I'd get a bobble-headed doll or something, right? Wrong. I went home with Vladimir Guerrero, it turns out every ticket-buying fan got a player for the weekend. He sealed my driveway and helped me dredge out the basement: a very nice young man. It was probably our folly in thinking that Canadians would be interested in American baseball anyway, since what they call "baseball" is a far different sport that involves whiskey and chainsaws.

What about the Florida Marlins? Their problem is exactly the opposite of the Devil Rays: the youngest guy on the team is 76, and he's the bat boy. I guess that's what you get for putting a team in a place where the state bird is Betty White. I saw a Marlins game once where the third baseman was killed three times during the game: twice by line drives and the third time he had a stroke during the seventh-inning stretch. They have more EMTs in their stadium than the Cardinals have hot-dog vendors, and their games take six hours because they're constantly having to revive the players (and some fans) with the electroshock paddles. And did I mention that they're slower than David Wells in a Jacuzzi full of glue? The entire team had one stolen base last year, and that only happened because the catcher for the Brewers, Snapper McGee (who had been traded from the Marlins only weeks earlier), died on the play and hence couldn't throw to second.

So the Marlins are out. That leaves the Minnesota Twins. Here's my question to you: has anyone actually seen the Twins in the last few seasons? I don't recall that I have and I'm starting to get worried that they might be buried in the snow up there or may have been eaten by Sasquatches. I recommend we send some St Bernards northward to confirm that the team is even still there before we talk about folding their franchise.

The thing I want to know, though, is why only four teams? Surely these aren't the only miserable excuses for a baseball team that we could rightfully give the ol' Kervorkian treatment to. Are we sure anyone in Anaheim got those flyers under their windshield wipers letting them know they have a team? The last time I was at an Angels game, the team didn't even show up, and I spent the afternoon playing pickle with their coach and a janitor. I heard the Kansas City Royals had to bus in hobos for their games this season, since the only fans that showed up were the players' moms, and they were driving the coaches crazy, loudly second-guessing all of their decisions.

I'm sure we could cut a lot more teams if we were serious about ridding this sport of losers and has-beens. Who would cry a tear for the Verno Beach Needledicks or the Fresno Filibusters? What about the Woody Creek Dirty Liars or the Mason City Menopause? Now that I think of it, I'm kind of tired of the Chula Vista Screaming Dandies, the Eugene Scat-Flinging Apes and the Apple Valley Dipshits, too. I say off with their heads, every last one.

Look, I've got nothing against any of these towns or their fans and I love an underdog just as much as the next guy. I'm just tired of being called on to pinch-hit every time I've sat down and just gotten comfortable with my beer and sausage-dog, that's all.º more columns

To all those who have ever made fun of me, I have one thing to say: Eat a rotten cow out. For everyone who said or insinuated or made some kind of rude hand gesture suggesting my sister was more talented or smarter or cooler than I was in any case, I have one thing left to say: My sister is a gigantic sci-fi nerd.

That's right, my sister, Cassandra Coleman, the big-time successful lawyer and Harvard grad, the big-time book author, she's just a big old Trekkie underneath it all. Nobody was shocked more than me, I'll tell you that. The last thing you expect when you show up to a major metropolitan sci-fi convention is to find your sister at the head of the Terry Pratchett book-signing line dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess. In fact I'll make the bold declaration that any time you find your sister dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess, outside of a traditional costume party, is bad news.

She noticed me right away, and the mortification set in her face right away. She knew her cover was blown. Anyone who doesn't know, my sister sees herself as the downright respectable member of the Coleman family, although the rest of us like to put her in her place with a random insult or well-placed firecracker once in a while. But once word got back to our family, she knew all the jokes that had come before would pale in comparison.

Finally! That's all I have to say. Every time I show up to her office or palatial apartment she rolls her eyes like a bigshot or whatever and asks real condescending-like, "I suppose you need to borrow some money?" She's such a pretentious dildo all the time, thinking she's better than everybody and just chomping at the bit to put people in her place, and I would tell her so whenever I go there, but then she wouldn't lend me the money. One of these days I'm going to show up and pay her back, then really let her have it. And now I got all the material I need. It's my turn to roll my eyes and "tsk tsk" her, back to the stone age.

Since I was getting paid to show up to the convention, wearing my Queen Tongue outfit and signing autographs and such, I couldn't wait to blast her for it. That book-signing line was too long and ornery to wait around, but I knew I'd see her again since most of the convention spazzes show up for the filk prom. I was supposed to be on hand as a celebrity square dance conductor, so I would corner her there and give her the business.

To cut this story down to column length, let's just say the rest of the convention went splendidly and I was treated with supreme dignity and respect by all the pasty nimrods in attendance. A few of the guys asked me to dance, and some of them weren't all that bad looking, by sci-fi convention standards, and I would have danced with them, too, if I hadn't been wearing my Metallichick costume to the prom, since those bullet bra points can pierce the skin pretty easily with little force. I was the belle of the ball, like… well, like one of the handful of girls at a sci-fi convention. But my sister was off in the corner, sulking like the ugly duckling and staring at me guiltily.

When I caught up with her she was all but begging. "Please don't tell the folks, Clarissa," she asked me. "You know they get on me for every stupid little thing. You mention one thing about my Voyager fan fiction and the Spock jokes won't stop over the Thanksgiving dinner table."

Well, she was right about that. Give her credit for knowing the mom and pop, she's at least smart about one thing. And school subjects, so that's two things. So I told her I would keep her secret safe from the family, as long as I was allowed to tell anyone else I wanted to. She agreed, and then proceeded to tell me about the fantastic lesbian undertones of Xena and Gabrielle, and I pretended to care, a real sisterly moment.

It was a half decent time, for a sci-fi convention. And as soon as I figured out a way to tell everybody what a nerd she was, except my parents, I had some fun myself. I know they won't ever find out if I just put it in my column, reading something I wrote would be too much like showing support.

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