While it's a fairly well-accepted fact that GOP Presidential nominee Mitt Romney's strange behavior is best explained by the theory that he's actually an advanced humanlike robot controlled remotely by a crazed billionaire villain in a volcano lair, Hillary Clinton has largely escaped similar Replicant scrutiny. But now, a fawning new profile reveals the truth: she never sweats and can sleep on command, but has no problem connecting "on a human level." Like Robocop.
The Secretary of State and former First Lady graces the cover of Condé Nast Traveler this month standing confidently in a pantsuit, arms crossed, gazing approvingly at text announcing that inside this issue, readers will be able to finally learn about the 32 most something something trips in the world. But that's not all we learn.
[T]here's one very intimate detail that most people still don't know about Hillary Clinton, and which I shall divulge: She does not sweat. Literally. She does not even glow. No matter how high the heat, not a drop nor a drip nor a bead nor so much as the faintest glisten can be detected anywhere about her person.
Hm, curious. Nary a drop. Like an anhydrotic desert horse, a gazelle. The piece also refers to her "superhuman stamina, uncommon thoughtfulness, and a steel-trap mind," and her grueling schedule. But wouldn't a life of travel (she'll have logged a million miles by the time her tenure as Secretary of State is through), diplomacy, and jet lag wear on a person? Not Hillary.
Those close to her say that she benefits from the ability to sleep on command-and to draw on reserves of energy lacking in most mortals.
Not only does Clinton forsake normal human life processes like sleeping and perspiring, she excels in imitating those around her,
She can be slightly naughty, but not in a ribald sense, and has a knack for doing impressions to hilarious effect.
Beep beep boop. But if she's a perfect technological creation, then when she dances, why doesn't she do the Robot? Too obvious?
But even Clinton, possible Android probable former resident of Krypton, has days where wires get crossed. Per the Traveler piece,
The only hint during the trip that the pace had taken a toll on her came as she went to sign the guest book at the end of the tour. "I have no idea what day it is," she said, her pen poised above the page. "I've lost track of time."
To whatever future world of wonder sent her back to serve people in the year 2012: thank you.