Here's a question: Where were Hillary Clinton's stars-and-stripes MC Hammer parachute pants?
What about her novelty Uncle Sam hat?
The woman who wants to be our next president couldn't even be bothered to cosplay as a bald eagle.
Can you believe that Hillary walked onto the stage, instead of getting fired out of a cannon while wearing a patriotic Evil Knievel leisure suit?
Would it have killed Hillary Clinton to shove eight billiard balls in her mouth, like that Ripley's Believe It or Not guy, to prove that she represents this nation's freaks and carnies?
What is wrong with her?
Why didn't Hillary smile?
She should have been grinning ear-to-ear, maniacal, her neck muscles straining like a Tetanus patient.
Why wasn't she smiling? Did she not see me, a man in the audience, smiling at her?
Modulate voice. Tell stories. Laugh for eight minutes straight for no reason. Hurl a cinderblock into the audience. Smile.
I want to see her smile. I want to see her gums. Each of her teeth must be seen and examined.
I can't believe Hillary Clinton—former First Lady, Secretary of State, and civil rights lawyer—isn't smiling, as she enters a deadlocked election race against a sexist, raving demagogue whose prominent business ideas include "sell beef at the Sharper Image."
This is fun. All of us shouting at you about your many shortcomings is fun. Why aren't you smiling?
Modulate voice. Twirl around for us. Sing us a pretty song. Show us your Chinese tattoos. Fire a gun into the air. Smile.
Hillary's voice is annoying.
Why can't she sound more like a bird, or an Enya album?
Her voice is grating. Not like her primary opponent, who speaks in the mellifluous tones of an old Brooklyn man demanding a refund at the theater because he couldn't hear any of the damn actors.
Not like her howling election opponent, who sounds like the belligerent "before" patient in an ad for NyQuil.
Why can't her voice be more pleasant? Why isn't Sonic the Hedgehog real, and my best friend?
I hate her voice. I hate rap music. I don't understand "modern art." Anyone could have painted that crap.
I just wish Hillary's voice was more—I can't think of an adjective here, so I'll just say–"a man."
Why wasn't Hillary calm?
Why won't Hillary soothe me—a whining, crapping baby who wants his blankie?
I'm a jittery couch potato who consumes nothing but Hot Pockets and InfoWars podcasts. I spend every night arguing about politics on the Judge Judy Facebook page. Rock me to sleep. Be gentle.
Why wasn't Hillary's speech relaxing, like the one last week about how foreigners with scimitars were hiding in our bathrooms?
Look, Hillary: You're the first woman in American history to win a major party presidential nomination. You've wanted this so bad for decades. You've overcome setbacks, scandals, crushing public defeats, centuries of ingrained sexism—but you did it.
Now show some modesty. Dial it back. And smile.