Back in the last millenium, it was all the rage to pick on Chelsea Clinton. Mostly because she looked like the Spaniel mix left unadopted at the pound. But also I guess because some people hated her dad. But there were those of us so refined, so pure of heart, and so incredibly pussy-whipped by young girlfriends, that we talked down those nasty Chelsea jokes. We refused to guffaw or snicker at Chelesea’s expense. We called those disparagers some of our own bad names. Things like ‘hey, mean person’ and ‘stop being such a mean person’. It impressed our girlfriends. And it impressed ourselves.
But fuck all that now. Chelsea Clinton and her husband just bought a $10.5 million dollar apartment mansion in the Whitman building in Manhattan. I don’t even know what Chelsea does for a living, but she’s got some serious cash. Or her husband does. Or daddy does. Either way, while America has taught me to admire the successful, rather than be jealous, screw that. It’s a 6 unit building with a private gym. I live in an 80 unit apartment building and we got a 15 x 15 room with a ratty shag carpet, a medicine ball, and an unwound Best of Bon Jovi cassette tape decaying in the corner.
Enjoy your workouts, Spaniel.