Despite my best attempts to utilize the Ellis approach to tackle unwanted thoughts, the latter sometimes have a way of surfacing and resurfacing (no matter how many times I might try repaving and regrading).

The other night I saw "Queen Bee" -- a 1955 film starring Joan Crawford as Eva Phillips, grande dame from Hell. A more nightmarishly dysfunctional person would be tough to conjure up, and watching the film was painful. Here's an excerpt from a pretty thorough review:

Those close to Eva know she's utterly evil and corrupt, but young Jennifer Stewart (Lucy Marlow), a cousin who comes to live in the manor, is not so sure -- at first. As the picture makes quite clear (from a character's speech about bees, to another character actually reading a book about bees...bees...bees...so many bees), Eva is, yep, the Queen Bee and those buzzing around are her drones. She will sting anyone who crosses or interrupts her ambitions to get what she wants -- which is, apparently, everything. World domination would not be surprising.

So painful, in fact, that I'm now wondering whether it might have been a factor in why I was too worn out and preoccupied (and perhaps overly concerned with my mental health) to make myself watch the Democratic debate on television the next night.

It would be too easy (as well as a bit of a cheap shot) to compare Hillary Clinton to Eva Phillips. (For starters, there are too many dissimilarities.) Seriously, I had not been planning to do that at all, for I try to stick to facts, and I didn't watch the debate. So maybe I should blame Hollywood post traumatic stress for the fact that I'm even daring to think these unwanted thoughts about a debate I did not watch, and a comparison I never would have thought to make.

Then again, maybe it's my interest in nostalgia, aggravated by a hypersensitive imagination with a penchant for making associations. The fact is, I was unable to avoid wincing when I read about Hillary's jacket:

Wow! She's wearing an orange jacket textured with curving, scalloped lines. It reminds me of a chair we had in the 1950s, but it actually looks rather pretty and definitely sets her apart from the guys who absolutely are not free to wear orange suits. She speaks in a solid, stern voice that has nothing to do with wavy orange patterns. She speaks in a straight, navy blue line.

Most of them won't say anything bad, but Edwards snarks about Hillary's jacket: "I'm not sure about that coat." Which might seem cute, but might piss women off. Hillary comes back with: "Yes, John, it's a good thing we're ending soon." Which sounds like a wife telling her husband he's had too much to drink. But she's supposed to talk about Obama, so she says: "I admire and like very much Barack." I find it hard to believe a sentence that sounds like it was translated from a foreign language. But then, why should she like very much Barack? She'd like very much less Barack. Then Obama one-ups Edwards with "I actually like Hillary's jacket. I don't know what's wrong with it." Which could be read as a double insult. First, it puts down Edwards for knocking the lady's clothes. And second, it subtly implies that Edwards is feminine: Obama can't tell what is wrong with the jacket, because he's a man and doesn't know about fashion, not like some other men, who aren't manly enough.

FWIW, I think all the men were being had. By a pro.

Again, I am not saying that Hillary Clinton is Eva Phillips, but the post traumatic stress from the "Queen Bee" film just won't leave me alone.

Obviously the problem is with me. I must be a total neurotic, and once again, I need to work on my REBT.

Like it or not, the fact is, I can't even look at a totally normal picture from the debate without feeling stung by that post traumatic Queen Bee stress. I ate dinner in Philadelphia last night, and I happened to pick up a copy of a local throwaway, only to see that picture of the woman in the blazing outfit surrounded symetrically by gray men on each side, as two cadet-soldiers stand grimly and solemnly at attention (as if to add symmetry to the picture) in the background.

(Isn't it obvious who's in charge?)

Speaking of cadets, why was the debate held at The Citadel? Is it any coincidence that the DNC would pick a place that lost a famous battle after feminist icon Shannon Faulkner sued to be admitted? There's altogether too much symbolism staring me in the face. You'd almost think someone was sending a reminder about which "side" won.

But wouldn't it have been a better reminder been to make sure that one of the cadets was female?

Ah, but that would have not only interrupted the symmetry, but it might have been a distraction. Again, Hillary Clinton is not Eva Phillips, and vice versa.

Only one Queen Bee at a time.

(It's probably "nature's way," if you believe in that stuff....)

MORE: Once again, Ann Althouse shows gets it right.

"I do love Givhan's idea that the most advanced woman would be so confident about her image as a competent professional that she'd forthrightly use clothing to express her sexuality. If she does this in a profession setting though, she will be surrounded by men in suits who have no way to present themselves more sexily. What's the male equivalent of the Jacqui Smith style? Can Joe Biden wear a codpiece?"

Geez, isn't Biden in enough trouble for his hairpiece? Or is that a hair transplant? Sexed up hair, sexed up, um, codpieces. The difference is that men cannot say, "Honey I'm having a bad codpiece day!"

Advantage, Hillary.