Cold Fury

Harshing your mellow since 9/01

Won’t somebody help this poor woman?

A different perspective on Sick Hillary.

What the heck is wrong with her daughter, Chelsea, that she is not stepping in and telling her mom, the campaign, and the entire political world that her mother is sick and that she should not be put through all of this? Chelsea’s just a few years younger than me, with children of her own. While our financial and social positions are light years apart, Chelsea and I are in the same boat when it comes to having older parents with clear health problems and finding ourselves in that transition period where we start becoming caregivers to the people in our lives who once gave such good care to us.

Well, except that professional politicians at Sick Hillary’s level, most of whom are driven to spend almost all their time grubbing for power, have to hire it done. So if Chelsea is to become a caregiver to the person that once “gave such good care” to her, she’s going to have to find whatever nanny or attendant or other staff was paid by her biological parents to do it.

I get why all the political operatives aren’t saying anything and are blindly ignoring the ugly truth about Hillary’s collapsing health: it was her turn to be the nominee and the nominee she now is and their finances and futures depend on her staying in this race.

Plus, if they said something and managed somehow to ruin her chance at the ultimate power she’s longed and worked her whole life for in so doing, she’d have them killed.

I get why the media is working overtime to cover up events like this bizarre collapse of hers in New York: ideologically and emotionally most reporters are committed to dragging Hillary across the finish line however they can. I get why all the people who donated to her campaign need her to keep going: they expect a return on their investment, like the nights in the Lincoln Bedroom they had the first time the Clintons lived on Pennsylvania Avenue.

But I don’t get why Chelsea says nothing, watching her mom’s body give out on her in such a spectacularly degrading and demeaning way while cell phone cameras capture it all. That woman in the blue pantsuit losing her shoe in public is not just a presidential candidate or a gravy train for Chelsea: that is HER MOM.

Well. In a manner of speaking.

Where is Chelsea’s compassion and love for her mom? Not her mother’s ambitions. Not her family’s quest to retake the White House they seem to feel belongs to them. Not her political party’s hunger for power. Where is Chelsea Clinton’s basic, primal, human need for her mom to be healthy, safe, and okay? Why isn’t she demanding her mom get the care she so obviously needs?

Ah, but see, there’s where you’re making your mistake: you’re assuming actual human emotion and empathy in people who have none. That would include Chelsea, who’s spent her whole life in the toxic atmosphere of professional politics and likely has as little of those things as her godawful parents do.




"America is at that awkward stage. It's too late to work within the system, but too early to shoot the bastards." – Claire Wolfe, 101 Things to Do 'Til the Revolution

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