According to Andrew Sullivan:
“I’m not sure what she is, myself. If you peel back all the onion layers of opportunism, sound-bites on sound-bites, private promises, public compromises, spin, calculation, triangulation, reinvention and deceit, I think you get what can only be called numb. Deep beneath that numbness, somewhere in that Arctic, resentful interior of hers,I suspect she is just a congenital, well-meaning nanny.”
Is that really what she’s like? A frosty nanny?
Man, this is pretty nasty.