Fixated

A couple of eons ago, before the eon of the just-concluded primary season, Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)” was the leitmotif of the first Clinton Presidential campaign. At a level of irony worthy of Shakespeare, the same unrelenting fixation on the future that served her husband’s candidacy so well has helped doom hers.

Hillary’s chosen path, from the moment she and Bill struck their Faustian deal back in Arkansas, led straight to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Well, perhaps not straight. Along the way were some minor detours – Whitewater, bimbo eruptions, impeachment proceedings and the like. Through it all however, Hillary’s gaze remained tightly, unwaveringly fixed on the prize.

But focusing only on the future makes it difficult to either remember yesterday or take note of today. Having the nomination, in fact having been anointed the inevitable candidate, why pay attention to anything this side of the Democratic convention?

This might have worked if everyone else in the room had been reading from the same script. Oops. From out of the weeds comes this one-term Senator with a funny name, no record to speak of, and some crazy sky pie message of change. And starts winning, plowing through the rest of the contenders like the New York Giants playing the “B” team of Smithtown Elementary.

To which Hillary’s response is. . .pretty much nothing. Or close enough to it until it’s clear the S.S. Clinton is headed for the rocks at great speed, at which point ensues much confusion, and lots of the kind of dumb mistakes people make while running around like their hair’s on fire. Which, of course, only worsens Hillary’s standing in the eyes of many of those people not already enlisted in her army of the disillusioned, disadvantaged, and otherwise dissed.

Looking over the myriad lessons of history, Hillary could have picked up on the suspicion, if not outright antipathy commonly felt towards those who would don the crown before the coronation. The mighty brought low is not only a theme mossy with age, but exceeded in popularity perhaps only by the love triangle. Admittedly, there’s something of a schizophrenic view of ambition and humility as desirable traits. But all “I’m entitled” and no “Aw, shucks” is a foolproof recipe for failed dreams.

And as Hillary considers her options, she might modify the lyrics of “Don’t Stop” a bit:

Why not think about times to come,
And not about the things that you’ve done,
If your life was bad to you,
There’s always two-oh-one-two.