Peak Chelsea.

 

I knew the time was coming.  It couldn’t persist in a “sane” world. The Junior Wenchess, who has long grated on the nerves of those of us on the Right, has begun wearing on the Left’s welcome as well.

 

This mug. This smug Clintonian bullshit and that platitude-spewing trap.

 

Is it possible someone could possibly be more intolerable and abrasive to the psyches of reasonable men everywhere than Hillary herself?

 

Turns out, it is possible;  and only possible from the spawn of the demoness herself.

 

 

 

 

How much of Chelsea will we be expected to endure?

 

Thankfully her Grand Canyon-sized piehole appears to be wearing thin on many people, including Vanity Fair’s T.A. Hank.

 

He writes:

 

Amid investigations into Russian election interference, perhaps we ought to consider whether the Kremlin, to hurt Democrats, helped put Chelsea Clinton on the cover of Variety. Or maybe superstition explains it. Like tribesmen laying out a sacrifice to placate King Kong, news outlets continue to make offerings to the Clinton gods. In The New York Times alone, Chelsea has starred in multiple features over the past few months: for her tweeting (it’s become “feisty”), for her upcoming book (to be titled She Persisted), and her reading habits (she says she has an “embarrassingly large” collection of books on her Kindle). With Chelsea’s 2015 book, It’s Your World, now out in paperback, the puff pieces in other outlets—Elle, People, etc.—are too numerous to count.

 

 

The crude conventional wisdom is that Bill Clinton craved adoration and Hillary Clinton craved power. But Chelsea Clinton seems to have a more crippling want: fashionability—of the sort embraced by philanthropic high society.

 

 

But let’s have a reality check. No one bothers George W. Bush’s daughter, Barbara Bush, who quietly works on her nonprofit, Global Health Corps. On the other hand, if you’re posing for magazine covers, granting interviews, doing book tours, placing your name on your parents’ multi-million-dollar foundation, and tweeting out daily to 1.6 million people, then—guess what—you’re a public figure. And if you’ve openly entertained the possibility of running for office if “it was something I felt called to do,” then assurances to the contrary aren’t quite good enough. You’re a public hazard.

 

 

Just when you thought perhaps the dark gaping yaw that portends yet more rampant Cult of Chelsea chanting from the mindless legions has finally closed up, there is always more.  Much more.

 

But perhaps reason is beginning to settle in and Chelsea’s spell is waning…

 

Now there is some hope I can get behind.