Hillary Clinton is a pathological liar.

Please, God, let her be the Democratic nominee.

Her skeletons are banging to get out. Just please, Lord, hold the closet door until February.

(Watch the WHOLE video. Suffer the backstory. The big reveal towards the end will sicken and thrill you at the same time.)

Its always good to hear her kind voice and see that genuine mega-watt smile.

VIDEO LINK HERE.

And can I just say…what does it matter if she WAS “running the show” as she is always accused?

Michelle Obama is an snapish loud mouth doing plenty of “show running” and who is giving her grief? Um….NOBODY. 

I guess the Left is presupposed to front milquetoast mama’s boys with butch ventriloquists to run them. The electorate simply expects better from us.

I can live with that.

The hunkier of the duo is outfitted in a FRED08 t-shirt!

You GOTTA KNOW the Libbie network execs are twitching in the booth over this one!!

ROCK ON, gentlemen!

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 Jeri and Fred are headed to the Country Music Awards too. Photos to follow!

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It is 7:58am on the East coast and sources tell me that Fred Thompson is about to sit down to the finest breakfast this side of a Heart Cath lab. “The Ham House” in Greenville, South Carolina has been the site of many of my personal gorgefests over the years.

Nothing formal, but a true Southern institution that raises the profile of simple cured pork to a religious experience. The house wine is a cloying balance of eight pounds of sugar and two Luzianne tea bags. It cuts the salt of their house specialty like nothing else, and folks drive for hours for the sacramental combination.

I met some sorority sisters there this summer and we gorged ourselves on turnip greens, salty ham biscuits and sweet tea. I would highly recommend that Jeri allow the good Senator punt his diet for just one day. Rubber chicken can be missed, but to skip the essence of Tommy’s Country Ham House is utter sacrilege.

 >>>>>UPDATE with photos when they become available.

AND A LINK TO THE NEWS STORY covering his love of good Southern food, and his distaste for Rudy Guiliani’s love of sactuary cities for illegal aliens.

I caught Fred on Hannity and thought I’d get him live.

On Clinton, Inc. :

“It is amazing to me that the Clinton campaign is trying to portray her as a strong, strong woman…then on a dime (they) say, ‘ Oh my goodness, the men are ganging up on her.’ You can’t have that both ways in American politics.”

(Tough enough to take on the mean, meanies of the world, but she can’t face six badly dressed American men on a stage? And one in four Republican women are predicted to jump the Red line to vote for her simply because they have breasts and so does she?)

On Hillary’s vote buying scheme du jour: 

“If she can find me one credible ecomonomist who says we can run the economy with entitlement programs, I’ll fold my tent.”

(And I would cheerfully pack it into my gas swilling SUV, Fred.)

On his self-effacing, deliberate campaign style:

“I am who I am… I think people are looking for someone who is independent minded and truthful with them.”

(Truthiness is next to Godliness, gender politics be damned.)

He went on to defend his McCain/Feingold vote by saying that unless the Republicans are willing to get “truthful with themselves” they can never challenge Democrats on issues of integrity and credibility.

(I think he is right, but unfortunately the Information Age has changed the prism through which the implications of his vote will be viewed by the Conservative wing of our party.)

Sean Hannity finished up the segment by probing him for some apology for his late start and slow pace in the campaign. Fred gave no quarter and rejected the premse entirely.

(I think Fred is taking his Southern ease and unfolding his intentions at just the right pace in our news saturated society. He is showing just enough leg to tease the tough tickets who won’t turn on to this race till after Christmas anyway, while still giving us political tramps plenty to simply keep us turned on.)

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With all of the flap about a “healthcare crisis” (we Conservatives read: lifestyle crisis) in this country, one would think that Fred Thompson’s new slender figure would inspire admiration rather than arouse suspicion. 

He assures us that there has been no reccurance of his cancer. And if he is as smart, he will confirm as much with the speedy release of his medical records.

It is an anecdotal reality that married men generally reflect the physical condition of their wives, who make most, if not all, of the food choices in the home with regard to what is available in the kitchen cupboards. A slender, healthy wife generally has a healthier husband unless he is a closeted Twinkie addict.

We know the good Senator ate crap when he was a bachelor, as Jeri admits to the contents of his grocery cart in the Kroger the day she met him. YUCK. O.

If the Fit Wife, Fit Hub theory holds, Fred should be considered the healthiest horse in this race, right?

So rather than hours (that he does not have) getting his huge on in the weight room, perhaps Jeri is offering the simple advice of the legendary Jack LaLanne, “If man made it, don’t eat it. If it tastes good, spit it out.”

But ultimtely, like most American husbands, Fred Thompson gets the last word with regard to his wife’s healthy suggestions.

“Yes, dear.”

But somehow I don’t think the Senator will mind.

This is a long video, (h/t Blogs for Fred) but I think if you can watch it all through you will find the convivial tone is genuine, but the questions do have a bite to them. The whole thing is a little too “Oprah-Winfrey-Pop-Self-Reality” for my taste, complete with snooty Lear Jet Liberal hostess with an unabashed preference for Obama, but Jeri handles herself beautifully.

Elizabeth Edwards seems genuinely sympathetic. But I do think she is wrong when she says it does not matter who the candidate is married to. She comes back around when she realizes there is a political point to be scored against Hillary’s sham marriage. (Gee…could that have been why Slick Willie didn’t show?)

The spouse of the Leader of The Free World is a direct reflection of his or her personal priorities.

Michelle Obama is just a whining sound bite politician no matter where she is. Every answer has an angle, every answer a sanctimonious plank in Obama’s platform. Enough already, Michelle. And she seems way too much like the frightening other half of a Clintonesque Two-fer.

AND GOOD ON JERI for suggesting the good ol’ days of the long form debate. AMEN, sister!!!!

Genuine debate is how thinking Americans make their choices everyday at coffee shops and informal gatherings all over this country.  But the highly produced snark fests that substitute for discussions of substance between candidates for the express purpose of byte production do a grave disservice to the meticulous system of Democracy our Founders sweated over that miserable summer of 1776.

And that Bill Clinton’s name was even mentioned after he snubbed the equal opportunity of being called the politically correct term “spouse”, was an insult to those in attendance. But as for the rest, pour yourself some Reisling and settle in for a very telling gabfest.

A friend of mine is a super Alabama blogger and while thrilled to have Jeri way down South in Dixie, she was a little confused about the whole “Rocky Top” theme.

I will let the Mad Cow explain.

OK, OK…I know, the candidate’s wives panel at  The Women’s Conference wasn’t actually a beauty contest, but it was in California, it was a bevy of mostly attractive women, and they were all asked fairly inane questions. Some more loaded than others, to be sure.

Maria Shriver first editorializes, then gets around to asking Jeri:

“I have read everything from you are the campaign mastermind, to you are the campaign strategist, you are the trophy wife, you are everything,” said Shriver, as the women sat in a semicircle of blue armchairs. “Which is the right depiction of you?”

Thompson did not respond directly to any of those descriptions, saying she was focused on her children.

“I’m not even qualified to do a lot of the other stuff,” she said.

Of course Maria couldn’t add just plain “devoted wife” or ordinary “loving mother” to that list. That might make the real campaign mastermind and real campaign strategist arrayed in those blue chairs next to her feel less than intellectually honest. (I would have included real trophy wife in the list too, but she declined her invitation to the Conference.)

Jeri answered Ms. Shriver’s snarky question brilliantly by skirting its fallacious premise altogether.

Sometimes the most sincere candor can defuse the most veiled hubris.

Nicely done, Mrs. Thompson.