Hillary Clinton will most likely not share her opinions, be they pro or con, on tittyfucking during her convention speech. In fact, she will avoid the topic entirely, if history is to be trusted. (History is not to be trusted this year.) She has been speaking in public, and speaking publicly, for almost 50 years, and there are no reputable accounts of Mrs. Clinton ever broaching the subject of tittyfucking (or, as it is known in Arkansas, boobybanging).
Her husband, former president Bill Clinton, brought up the Police Academy series of films, but Hillary will almost certainly not. It would be odd; people would talk; it would overshadow the rest of the proceedings. You came to Philadelphia to talk party unity and policy and Katy Perry, and for some reason 20% of the speeches are about a middling and dated hexology of cheap comedies.
(An aside on Police Academy: Hillary Clinton is totally Tackleberry, right? Blll’s Mahoney, and Trump is the bumbling villain Captain Harris, and Pence is Proctor.)
(A pitch to Hollywood: Four words – Police Academy Cinematic Universe. Origin story for Commandant Lassard, solo movies for both of Leslie Easterbrooks’ boobs, an animated feature with Michael Winslow doing all the voices and noises and whatever. Call me.)
Please stop parenthesizing.
If you stop making up words.
Hillary Clinton will not light the warning beacons of Gondor, nor will she prophesy, nor scry. Auguries will not be consulted, nor will any offering be made to the household gods Braughnchgh, Hobgoblin, or Domovo. She will not alert the camp of Pinkertons, nor Miwok on the warpath; if the Wells Fargo Wagon comes around the bend, the Hillary Clinton will not be its cryer. She will make no note of the caravan, and whether or not it’s on its way, even if its arrival means that we can finally get down to what’s really real, really real, really real.
It is a sure bet that the vast majority of the speech will be in English. There may be a line or two in Spanish, for which she will be called a racist for some reason, but 99% of her lines will be English. Hillary Clinton will not recount the story of Chelsea’s birth in Klingon, partly because the word for “birth” in Klingon translates to “punch the baby into the world” which is a weird image for such a pro-woman party. Hillary will also not speak Mincucho, a minor language of the Amazon rainforest, as the dialect creates plurals via whipping it out: “h’ok” means “frog” but “h’ok” with your dick out means “two frogs;” it’s a problematic language, if we’re honest.
There will be no war whoops, ululation, keening, yodeling, T’uvan throat singing, shrieks of bloody fury, bird calls, Christopher Walken impressions, voice-throwing, that thing where you put your pinkies in your mouth and whistle real loud, fake accents, or Hawaiian nose-guitar. The former Secretary of State will do her best not to belch, and if she does, she will not follow the outgassing by saying into the microphone, “Hey, better out than in, right?” Mrs. Clinton will not chew gum, even if she has brought enough for the whole convention.
Hillary Clinton, who was a United States Senator representing the state of New York (which has a long and proud tradition of electing carpetbaggers), will beyond a shadow of a doubt be wearing one of her signature pantsuits this evening. Politicians in America have slightly more choice than men in formal wear in that they may opt for the longish skirt to go with the jacket, but Hillary is Team Pantsuit. That said, the pantsuit will not have giant paintbrush epaulets on it like she was in a crazed admiral from a Gilbert and Sullivan show. There will also not be fringe.
We can assume that Mrs. Clinton has received no facial tattoos this afternoon.
As to the content of her speech, Hillary Clinton will use the loftiest language she thinks she can get away with to describe her plan, which is one of gradually liberal social policies; for everything else, a continuation of the exact same bullshit that got us to where we are now.