RUTHFULLY YOURS

With Hollywood on her side, Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton figured she could glitz up her yawn-eliciting campaign and wicked-witch-of-the-west persona with some light-hearted entertainment.

Putting their heads together to come up with “what millennials and blacks want,” her advisers came up with a few hot properties, among them the sex symbol Beyonce and her rapper husband, Jay Z.

Performers young and old have been threatening to leave America if Donald Trump wins the election on Tuesday. So, other than this serving as a reason for many of us to run to cast a ballot for Trump, it is likely that it was easy for Clinton to book the Grammy winners for her rally in Ohio on Friday.

As Trump pointed out after the event, however, even one of the music world’s most prominent power couples was unable to attract or even keep the attention of the audience at the concert-turned-political happening.

More significantly, Clinton made a major blooper by inviting Jay Z to the stage, particularly after spending so much time attacking Trump for being a racist and a misogynist. Because what the rapper did was belt out songs whose lyrics would have landed the rest of us in a prison of ostracism, if not worse.

Though it appears, from her fashion-forward version of the classical Clinton pantsuit, that Beyonce was told in advance to keep her usual display of cleavage in check, it is doubtful that the Clinton team thought to request a preview of Jay Z’s lyrics. Nor is it clear whether Clinton was actually listening to the words being shouted out on her behalf.

But then, she has a great knack for seeing and hearing no evil when those exhibiting it are in her political camp. This was true even when she herself was being mistreated and publicly humiliated by her man. In fact, she went as far as to call the women who came forward to recount stories of Bill Clinton’s sexual misconduct and abuse “whiney” and “trailer trash.”

But, hey, what’s good for the goose — in this case, not only a woman, but a left-wing one, to boot — is forbidden to any Republican gander.

Given my own penchant for foul language, I am the last person to judge others who use profanity to express themselves — though, in my defense, profanity does not butter my bread; it merely prevents me from throwing my computer off the nearest ledge at least once every day, and has helped me get through this intolerable pre-election period without putting my fist through the TV.

However, I do feel fully justified in calling out the hypocrisy of the #neverTrump-ers, many of whom I happen to know personally, and therefore I am aware that they engage in the kind of behavior that would make The Donald blush.

Furthermore, since the Clintons themselves have such a long and dirty history, they ought to be attempting to keep the whole issue of morals off the table, not shining a glaring spotlight on it.

Which brings us back to Jay Z and his “n–ga-loving bitches.”

Does anybody remember the shameful controversies in the United States of Political Correctness surrounding the word “niggardly”?

Though it bears no etymological connection to the N-word — the mere utterance of which by anybody possessing fair skin color is strictly forbidden — it has been targeted several times for sounding like the racial slur. This is not simply laughable; it is the kind of nonsense-gone-wild that is responsible for the Trump phenomenon in the first place. Let’s face it: Most Americans are fed up to their eyeballs with having to watch everything they say and do, for fear it will get them into trouble with lingo-fascists on the ready to pounce at every syllable deemed offensive or “phobic.”

And then along comes the former first lady, championing the dubious cause of becoming the first female president, dancing and prancing to an anti-female diatribe the likes of which makes even someone as jaded as I am wince.

If Hillary Clinton were running for hypocrite-in-chief, she would deserve a landslide victory. Unfortunately, she is auditioning for the part of the leader of the free world — and she can’t even fill President Barack Obama’s very small shoes. Now, that is a bitch of a situation for all of us.

Ruthie Blum is the managing editor of The Algemeiner.