Had it been HC, not AHC, who was Ms. Right.



Article excerpt, p. 25: Her detractors say every time she tells a lie, another wrinkle shows up on her face—"lie-lines," they call them, as opposed to the maniacal-laugh ones interspersed among the former, both kinds spewing like Forth of July streamers out from each of her arctic-cold blue eyes. If this is true, even given the amount of facial shriveling normally associated with someone of her advanced age, then she must have told a lot of lies in her lifetime.


p. 27: A flat-out ability to sell cattle futures for 100 times their original worth is just one of her many talents, friends say. "That's a common misconception," she corrects them with a laugh. "Everyone does it all the time. They just have to be in the right place at the right time, is all." No doubt her former campaign finance manager, David Rosen, would disagree. He's awaiting trial on four felony counts for allegedly trying to pull the same stunt in reverse—all on her behalf. She furrows her brow whenever someone reminds her of this, causing her forehead to look even more wrinkled.


p. 32: Hunching over her egg roll at the Chinese restaurant we had visited, she reminded me of Quasimodo trying to find sanctuary. When asked whether she knew about the investigation, she shrugged. "I'm always being investigated for one thing or another." Her flippant remark notwithstanding, it was as obvious as the numerous canyon-like lines deeply entrenched across her face that she was very worried this time.

(Numeric tattoo in the first image was digitally enhanced.)

	11:25 AM

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