“I can’t stand that angry white boy talk. But we really won’t get any relief until November,” she said.

“Just watch. You might get four years of it,” her friend replied. “And look at the alternative. You want more of that liberal BS? Hillary’s whine has had its time.”

The ladies were enjoying their happy hour. Maybe a little too much.

“You’re right. Hillary’s show gets old really fast. There’s this vast potential for boredom. But with either candidate, there’s a huge potential for mischief,” the friend said. She stuck a finger down her throat. Then she smiled and ordered another round.

“Those people are world-class ugly,” she continued. “Fatally flawed, way down deep. But if Hillary goes down in the gutter with him, it’s over. She’ll get flattened by the Trump steamroller.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” the first woman replied. “She can take the high road or the low road, and it’ll end the same way. Trump stomps everyone. Just chews ’em up — like those 16 chumps in the primary. How do you fight a playground bully?”

“You can’t. But I feel sorry for Trump,” her friend said. “All the anger and fear … where does that come from?”

“I don’t know. But it’s Trump’s theme. And it’s a big miscalculation. I mean, that’s what you get from a coward. Americans have never followed anyone who sings that tune.”

“I know. But Hillary sort of comes across that way, too, but her anger and fear are more unspoken. You just get that feeling,” her friend said. “And it doesn’t inspire confidence. At all.”

The Reagan Mystique

“It’s tragic. Hillary and Donald aren’t presidential material. That’s why everyone always talks about Reagan. He set the standard. Sort of created a shared perception.”

“What perception?”

“Since Reagan, people think the president should be a superstar. More important, a president has to have his fearless optimism. Reagan had guts. It’s a hard act to follow,” the first woman said.

“If you say so. I can’t remember. But do you think she’ll lose?”

“Very possibly. Trump always finds a way to win. It’s etched into his DNA,” the first woman said. “First, he forces you to fight at his level. Then, with little or no effort, he pounds you into a shapeless pulp. How does that happen?”

“I don’t know. But I thought Trump would be out of this thing a long time ago.”

“So did I. But it’s obvious. It’s the reality TV factor,” the first woman said. “Politics is just more of that. Ideas don’t count. Facts don’t matter. And policy is mostly irrelevant. With reality TV, you don’t need a ‘real’ reality.”

“Thank you. Welcome to the age of post-reality. So what comes after that?” her friend asked.

“I don’t know. But Hillary could be history. Compared with Trump, she’s a sedative. I mean, when she comes on, you feel like hitting the snooze button. But it’s a fascinating race. Lots of lessons there.”

“Yes. Except one thing. Trump’s game doesn’t add up. What’s his magic?” her friend asked.

Reagan Retro

“Like I said, it goes back to Reagan. He was the grand master. Trump’s just an apprentice,” the first woman said.

“Ronald Reagan?”

“Sure. He knew the truth. When it comes down to it, entertainment is the only game in town. People think ‘politics’ is important. But it’s not. At this circus, politics is just a minor sideshow.”

“And Trump’s milking that cow for all it’s worth,” her friend said.

“Sure he is. It’s all just entertainment. You know, getting the big ratings. Nothing else explains the strange things we’re seeing this year,” the first woman replied.

“Then Clinton’s sunk.”

“Not necessarily. But she should face the truth. If she takes a page from Reagan, she’ll beat Trump at his own game,” the first woman said. “And, to boot, maybe she can rescue us from four years of insufferable wonk talk.”

A Prescription for Hillary

“That’s crazy. You’re saying Hillary Clinton can be entertaining?”

“I know. It sounds impossible. But she’s a smart girl. To get the job, Hillary needs to put on a good show. So ask yourself: How can she bring home the bacon?”

“It’s too late. Fresh lipstick won’t help that pig,” said her friend, signalling for another round. “That’s rude, but Hillary and the word ‘entertainment’ don’t mix. Not even a little bit.”

Follow Reagan

“Stay with me a minute. Look. Compared with Reagan, Hillary and Donald are stupid. Reagan was totally wired in. He knew the fundamental truth: A leisure class exists at both ends of the economic spectrum. Therefore, if you’re rich and powerful, you have just one option: Be totally lazy.”

“Any sensible person knows that,” her friend replied.

“Of course. So what did Reagan do? First, he delegated all the work. He wouldn’t let his official duties interfere with that laid-back California lifestyle.”

“No. You wouldn’t want any interference there.”

“Of course not. Reagan was normal. But he was also a political animal. And deep inside, he was a movie star. He knew you have to look like one — like Kennedy did when he whipped Nixon in 1960. I’m sure you recall. It was the first televised debate. Kennedy was fit, tan and relaxed. And he knew how to smile. And it was obvious that Kennedy enjoyed his place in the limelight.”

“That was before my time.”

“I know. Me too. But the first debate was crucial. Nixon was stressed-out. He was tired and shifty looking, a nervous, sweaty-faced man with a 5 o’clock shadow. You know, kind of like Hillary looks. Except she doesn’t need a shave,” the first woman said. “The difference was striking. And JFK squeaked by with a tiny margin.”

“So what’s your point?”

“The point is, top performers need their rest. So our rich layabout — Hillary, in this case — needs downtime by the pool. Everyone needs that, but especially Hillary. She needs exercise. And sunshine. And while she rests, she can nurse a tall drink — preferably one with a little umbrella. That might help her chill out a bit.”

“Oh! I like those!” her friend said. Turning to the bartender, she ordered a Mai Tai. “And don’t forget my umbrella,” she said. Turning back to her friend: “What were you saying?”

“Trump and Clinton are not built like Reagan. They’re rich and powerful. But mostly misguided.”

“It’s silly.”

“No. It’s either stupid or compulsive. Just look at Donald and Hillary. Imagine: You’re already on top. You have everything in the world. Why aren’t you enjoying massive leisure? Why would you want to be president — doomed to wasting your time with a million petty grievances? Give me a break.”

“Yuck. I agree. But what should Hillary do?”

“The election is November 8. You’ll either ride a rocket to the stars or take a slip off the cliff. What would you do?” the first woman asked.

“I’ll take the rocket. But I still think you’re full of it. You won’t turn Hillary Clinton into some riveting showbiz personality.”

“Why not? She can do it if she reads the stars. I mean, I keep telling you. She should follow Reagan and the other superstar legends. They showed us how to do it,” the first woman said. “And it looks like you’re ready for another one.”

“You bet I am. But could you get to the point? What are you saying?”

All You Really Need: The Right Line

“First, Hillary needs writers who know what they’re doing. Just check out her current stuff. The material is shopworn. There’s a certain stench that comes from constant recycling,” the first woman said.

“The stench is there all right.”

“Of course. And Trump’s paddling his little canoe in the same swamp. This is the acid test: Can you remember anything those people say?”

“Not really.”

“Of course not. No one can. High-quality lines are pretty scarce these days. But I’ll say it again. You have to do what Reagan did!” the first woman said.

“Which was what?”

“Look. When you’re president, you don’t have time to think. Too much excitement. Bizarre stuff is going down. All the time. And the life of Riley is overwhelming — you know, state dinners and all that. Some days, it’s almost as good as being a rock star. But be realistic. You’re number one honcho, so you insist on the best.”

“Who wouldn’t?” her friend asked.

“OK. So, get your priorities in order: Hire the best folks. Delegate everything. Then lounge around. A lot. That way, you look your best when you actually perform. Adopt Reagan’s carefree attitude. For example, he liked to joke about the naps he took during cabinet meetings.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He slacked all the time. But, being an actor, Reagan simply marinated his brain in a few obvious truths. This was his mantra: ‘The world is just a stage and I’m just an actor playing a role,'” the first woman said. “And that led to his remarkable success.”

“I like it. A marinated brain. Sounds about right.”

“It does. Remember Reagan’s Hollywood days?” the first woman asked.

“No.”

“His mental circuitry was soaked in that whole scene. Basically, Reagan put his energy into kicking back and doing nothing. But he made damn sure he stuck to the number one rule: An actor always has a good script. The better your lines, the more you can relax. The more you relax, the higher your confidence level.”

“I like it.”

“Then, what happens when you go in front of a crowd?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“You skate right through. Everybody loves you because your priorities are in order. It’s obvious that you’re lazy as hell. But when everything’s on the line, when the odds are against any success, you pull a rabbit out of your hat. You end up saving the day, even when things looked totally bleak before you started talking,” the first woman said.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Anyway, back to Hillary,” the first woman said. “As president — and candidate — your job boils down to one thing: talking. That’s it. You just need a big stock of lines. Lines that are memorable and original. And, preferably, funny.”

“Funny is good. But go on,” her friend said.

The Right Line (continued)

“OK. So put yourself in Hillary’s shoes. You’re the contender for the top job. Your material has to be clever. That’s essential. You want material that builds people up. You know, the sort of stuff that leaves people with warm, fuzzy feelings. Then, your lines must create a positive vision of the future. And, preferably, it all happens with a lot of shared laughter.”

“That’s a tall order,” her friend said.

“Well, it’s a big job. But check your history. How do you climb to the top and stay there? The smartest people always had a crack team to create the best lines for any situation. That’s totally necessary. A few stayed on top for decades — people like Bob Hope or Johnny Carson.”

“You’re right. They did stay on top for decades. That’s hard.”

“Yes. But they always had a team, five or more writers, usually. It’s absolutely essential because the huge success fuels this outrageous celebratory lifestyle. I mean, you’re talking totally out of control. The constant debauchery pushes everything else to the back burner.”

“I’ll drink to that. Party ’til you puke,” her friend said. She started another Mai Tai coming her way. “So what else does Hillary need?”

“Actually, that’s it. When you’re president, the demand is insatiable. Your repertoire has to be unlimited. Lines, lines, lines. You have to have all the answers — for speeches, for interviews, for press conferences, just for general ad-libbing.”

“Sounds hard.”

“It’s not. That is, it’s not difficult if you have your lines. But it’s constant. You must be ready for every possible question. You always need the snappy comeback, the point-on rejoinder,” the first woman said.

“It sounds hard.”

“I told you. It’s not. You just automatically say the right thing at the right time. And you must be ready to deliver with absolutely no notice.”

“Why?”

“If you hesitate, all is lost. Hesitation undermines your credibility, your trustworthiness,” the first woman said. “Look: You’re the one in charge. Everybody thinks you’re like God — all-knowing, that sort of thing. So it’s essential. It has to look like you know what you’re talking about. All the time. … I mean, what happens when someone hands you a real zinger? If you take even a second to think, it looks like you’re lying. Like you’re trying to figure out the best answer.”

“Hillary and Donald have big problems in that area. It’s the deer frozen in the headlights.”

“Yes. It’s pitiful, but that’s what happens,” the first woman said. “They’re not ready with the best lines, and right there you have big trouble. To the casual observer, it looks like they’re just making stuff up as they go along.”

“They probably are. But go ahead.”

Game Changer

“OK. As the top dog, your lines are all you’ve got, really,” the first woman said. “And the words you use can make a major difference. In fact it’s rare, but the right line can be a big game changer. Look at JFK. He was in hot water right out of the gate.”

“Why?”

“Well, he wanted his little brother for the attorney general job. But it looked like a bad call. Important people said Bobby was inexperienced and otherwise unqualified. But Kennedy was quick. His response: ‘I can’t see that it’s wrong to give him a little legal experience before he goes out to practice law.'”

“That’s good!” her friend said.

“Yes. And that line made the issue go away. Bobby got his job, and once again, JFK extended his reputation as a man of good humor, charm and wisdom.”

“I love to laugh,” her friend said. “That’s what Clinton needs — killer lines. And lots of ’em. Here’s one. It might work against Trump: ‘If you have a nuclear arsenal, you really can’t be too careful. Do we really want a short, itchy trigger finger anywhere near that button?'” (Click this link for more on Trump’s short hands problem.)

“Not bad. But it’s a little harsh,” the first woman said. “Once again, Reagan showed the way. He slept through two terms, mostly, but he came alive if his career was in trouble. He could move huge crowds into his corner. Remember 1984, the year Reagan came up for re-election?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. But the president was up against the wall. He was getting old and his mind was fading. Everyone could see it. The age issue gathered momentum, and it looked like it might derail his bid for a second term. But Reagan did a verbal take down.”

“He did?”

“Yes. And that turned the tables. It was at a debate with his opponent, former Vice President Mondale. When the moderator questioned his ability to focus during a major crisis. Reagan said: ‘I want you to know that, also, I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent’s youth and inexperience.'”

“That’s funny!”

“Yes. And the age issue disappeared. Reagan left his opponent in the dust and won 49 states — one of the biggest landslides in U.S. history. So it’s easy. Put out the right line and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

“I need another drink. But if you don’t shut up pretty soon, you’re paying the tab,” her friend said.

“OK. I’m done talking,” the first woman said. “But like I was saying, the superstars showed us how it’s done. And it’s quite obvious. Hillary is a rank amateur. With her resources, it should be easy.”

“Right there is where you’re wrong. No one can learn to be charming. With Hillary, it’s a basic lack of talent. Nothing there to work with.”

“Well, charm’s one thing. And you’re right — there’s very little to work with,” the first woman replied. “But here’s the idea: Maybe Hillary can learn to lighten up a little. Just let go. The way she comes across is a big minus. It’s like she reflects the anxiety of all those high rollers. You know, those big shots she hangs with.”

“I feel sorry for her.”

“I don’t. She needs a two-week vacation. And the right script would boost her confidence. Enormously. A good supply of the right words might minimize her free-floating anxiety. And then we’d all feel better — about her and about her potential for a strong job performance. After all, it’s likely that she’d do no worse than her husband.”

“That’s scary. But, obviously, she doesn’t share Bill’s supercharged hormones. Maybe she’d be able to focus on her work,” her friend said.

Hillary Can Deliver?

“Then there’s the delivery problem. Which reminds me. You’d better order another one while you’re still vertical,” the first woman said.

“Vertical. What’s that?”

“I’m not sure anymore. But like I said. Delivery. You gotta have it. And Clinton’s weak in that area. In any entertainment venue, delivery is extremely important.”

“You’re right. Hillary’s OK, but she has a hard edge. That destroys any pleasure you’d get from her speeches.”

“I know. She lacks that playful sense. She doesn’t enjoy herself, apparently. She can’t even remember how to relax a little. So, from her, even the best lines fall flat. But I detect a crazy party girl in there somewhere. There must be. How else could she put up with Bill’s shenanigans for so long?” the first woman asked.

“Yes. That’s true. But I’m still skeptical,” her friend said.

“Ease up on the drinks a little and try to see the point. Hillary could benefit from expert help. With a comedy team, she might get lines that broaden her perspective. Maybe make her more likeable. … Well, at least make her a little more tolerable. After all, when it’s pitch perfect and delivered in the right way, humor is the universal elixir. It can remove the venom. And politically, it can be extremely effective.”

“I think we’ve had enough to drink,” her friend said. Then she signaled for another round. “Doubles this time.”

Then she said: “Oh. I just thought of something. Try this. Hillary’s on the campaign trail. This is her warm-up line: ‘I keep having this nightmare. I’m running uphill. Suddenly, I’m in a herd of orange elephants. It’s amazing! They all have the same haircut. I can’t describe it. I keep telling myself, “That’s the kind of hairdo I want!” Then I wake up panicked, in a cold sweat.'”

“Not bad. It’s probably too long. But it reminds me of the biggest star in the Republican firmament. You remember Abe, right? His sense of humor was way beyond anything we see these days. Refreshing … like the time his enemies called him ‘two-faced?’ Abe’s reply: ‘If I were two-faced, do you think I’d be wearing this one?'”

“That’s classic,” said her friend. “But I’m sick. And not from the refreshments. It’s you. History is boring. Worse than those two lousy candidates. And history is irrelevant. Nobody cares about what happened yesterday, let alone 150 years ago.”

Trump and Lincoln

“That’s true. But don’t forget Honest Abe. He was, as you know, one of the founders of Trump’s party.”

“I did know that. But who cares?”

“I do. And you should, too. And Hillary can learn from him,” the first woman said. “Lincoln was a shrewd politician. He knew that it’s foolish to exclude people. Even people born into slavery. … I mean, wake up. If you’re asking people for their vote, why would you close the door on anybody?”

“I don’t know. Because you don’t like them?”

“Maybe. But Lincoln knew a lot about leadership. And he made it clear. The future includes a place for everyone. Even for your enemies. How can anyone forget those immortal words? You know, when he said we need to move forward ‘with malice toward none, with charity for all.'”

“We need more thinking like that. Maybe Trump could learn from Abe, too,” her friend said.

“No, that won’t happen. As far as I can tell, Donald already knows everything. But that’s why he’s such a strong candidate. Trump’s like Abe. He tells the truth and that reminds people of Lincoln.”

“No he doesn’t. That’s crazy,” her friend said.

“Yes, he does. Just look at it this way. Abe was completely honest. Right?”

“He was. First, last and always.”

“And Lincoln knew that if you always tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything. And if you’re totally honest, you never need help with your words,” the first woman said.

“You’re right. Trump is like Abe. And that’s why people love him.”

(Contact spooky with any feedback. Your comments are appreciated!)