Ah, yes, this how it works, isn't it? All you survivors of tangled marriages laden for decades with unexploded depth charges buried in the sands of life and time -- you understand how this works, don't you? Hill has had Bill helplessly pinned down, at an utterly humiliating moral disadvantage, ever since Monica. So long, the time.
There's only so much a guy can take. Especially when, in his raging id, he longs for the throne she is now claiming for her own -- and she expecting him to hold her royal trains as she ascends the summit that once belonged to him.
Suddenly, in a marginal aside, just a subordinate clause in a litany of self indulgence -- out it popped. He knifed her. He didn't mean to do it. He wasn't intending any harm, not consciously. But Slick Willy is always wriggling of hooks. It's his nature. Wriggle, wriggle. That's what he does. The historical weather vane today points against the Iraq war, and Bill just couldn't help but genuflect in its direction.
He was against the Iraq war from the beginning, he said. He slipped it in between a couple of commas. Maybe she won't notice. That's what his reptilian unconscious was telling his slippery soul as he slithered his way through that moment of betrayal.
Yeah. Maybe.