Attention whore Hillary Clinton, who refuses to go quietly into the good night after her epic 2016 presidential defeat, and her ambitious yet untalented daughter released an uber-cringe car karaoke performance for a show called Carpool Karaoke: The Series from Apple TV.
There is no ostensible reason for the spectacle beyond getting eyeballs. I’m writing an article about it, and you’re reading about it, so mission accomplished, I guess.
Let’s be honest: There’s very little substance here, and there’s no real lesson or instruction to be had from covering really anything regarding Hillary Clinton, especially not her vapid cries for attention.
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We can note in passing the slap-you-in-the-face intentional insertion of two People of Color™ to round out the whiteness, as well as the selection of the slay-queen independent-woman anthem “I Will Survive” to pander to the woke audience. What’s most amazing is that Chelsea Clinton, who has spent her lifetime being chauffeured from here to there, apparently knows how to drive a car.
Beyond that, this is where convention demands some deep insight or witticism, but really this is just sad. Imagine the poor bastard tasked with editing this monstrosity, forced to listen to the same cuts of Clinton’s shrill voice over and over and over in some dank office up against a deadline. He can’t say no, because he needs the money and because he doesn’t want to get suicided like the other Clinton-world figures who died suddenly before dying suddenly in the post-COVID world was a thing. So he does the work begrudgingly, probably swallowing a bottle of Adderall to make it through. Then he rides the subway home, hoping he doesn’t get robbed or raped on the way, just to curl up in his New York coffin apartment beanbag in the fetal position and wonder how it all came to this.
So let’s take a moment to acknowledge the plight of the working man. How much does a soul cost? Is it the video editor’s salary at Apple TV?
Saddest of all is that there is some subset of the population out there — no matter how small — who are actually impressed with this kind of cheap publicity stunt; who will clap their hands like trained seals in celebration of the braveness and stunningness of a vapid pop culture icon singing feminist anthems in a car in a highly choreographed corporate production as if it means anything.
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