Hillary Clinton Groped Me
…My Nightmare in the Sky

By Jim Berlin

Nothing is more painful for a man than to admit he was the victim of female sexual assault, but I can remain silent no longer: In 1980 on an airliner somewhere over Arkansas, I was forcibly groped by the current Democratic nominee for president.

Traveling in my police uniform on official business, I’d been bumped to first class in Atlanta by a kindly desk agent who said her son was also a cop. An hour later we briefly stopped in Little Rock, Arkansas, and a woman in her early 30s took the empty seat next to mine.

I quickly introduced myself, but she hesitated before replying: “I’m, ahh, Pillory,” she said. “Pillory Minton.” The nightmare had begun…

I fell asleep immediately after takeoff – only to be jolted awake sometime later by a violent tugging on my…well, that private and sacred organ beneath my belt buckle. I think you know what I mean.

Pillory, wild-eyed and sweating, had covered us with a blanket and was muttering “Hot-diggety-dog, hot-diggety-dog!” as she went vigorously about her sordid business.

“What the hell are you doing?” I managed. “Shut up, big boy!” she hissed. “I love a man in uniform and I just can’t help myself!”

Bewildered, confused, I refastened my zipper, flung the blanket aside and stumbled from first class in search of a flight attendant.

“You don’t look well, sir. Are you all right?”


“That woman next to me, Pillory Minton, she just…”

“Oh, you mean Hillary Clinton, the First Lady of Arkansas. She’s the governor’s wife.”

Oh, what to do, what to do? Who were they going to believe – an ordinary cop or the First Lady of Arkansas? Trembling, traumatized, I took a seat in coach for the rest of the flight.

When we deplaned in Miami, Hillary Clinton caught my eye, put a finger to her lips, then passed the finger over her throat in a cutting motion.

Believe me: I got the message.

George Bush the Oil Painter:
More Fun Than Being President

 By Jim Berlin 

George Bush The Younger revealed his newfound passion for oil painting when he presented Jay Leno with a portrait of the comic in November, and next up is an exhibition of his latest works at the presidential library.

Bush started with dogs and cats and has progressed to more sophisticated subjects, but some art critics have predictably called his efforts simplistic and awkward. (Art critics are people who cry “Masterpiece!” over a canvas with nothing more than a single line down the middle. You can take their opinions with a grain of elephant.)

The former president is handling retirement in the manner we all dream about but rarely realize. He left D.C., pulled his Texas ranch over his head and walked into the solitude of an art studio. He is having fun.

Contrast that quiet path with the frantic super-highway driven by Bill Clinton, a man who needs the spotlight like California needs rain. Bill dives into the news daily, weighing in on the world, giving his Secret Service agents fits and fattening the wallets of paparazzi everywhere.

Whether Bush is a good painter or not is purely subjective and of little consequence,

but as a painter myself I can attest to his talent. I have only produced one work over my lifetime, “Boy on a Hay Wagon,” but a neighbor who has COPD said it took his breath away. Others said it took their stomach contents away, but that’s art for you.

Painting is the perfect pursuit for a president or a pauper in retirement. It’s relaxing, inherently colorful, satisfyingly messy – and the quality of the product is right where it belongs: in the eye of the beholder.

Bill Clinton — and maybe even Hillary — should check it out.

Would Hillary Clinton Rather Be
The President or a Grandmother?

By Jim Berlin

When Charlie Rose asked a coffee-sipping Bill Clinton on “CBS This Morning” whether Hillary would rather be a grandmother or president of the United States, a startled Bill did a spit-take in his cup.

Poor, sweet Charlie. What a pretty little world must live inside his head.

While good grandmothers have a value well into six figures, the position is widely and easily attainable. To become one, a woman must simply bear a child and then wait until that child also becomes a parent.

In fact, the longing to be a grandmother isn’t even a choice. It is an involuntary extension of the maternal instinct, a hard-wired element in human DNA designed to keep our species up and running.

So…while grand-parenting can be joyous and gratifying, there is neither a shortage in the position or any special status attached to it.

The presidency of the United States, however, is a universe all its own. Hillary hungers for the job as a starving coyote hungers for a chubby rabbit.

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Charlie Rose is a nice guy, but he is another of those smiling, talking heads who – rather than speaking truth to power – is happy just sitting next to it. Tossing out softball questions, looking for answers to reinforce his naïve belief that politicians are just regular folks like you and me.

Would Hillary rather be a grandmother or president?

Even Bill choked on that one.