What is the genesis of this thread?

Things were already looking bad when, several people told me, Chelsea Clinton popped the Champagne. It was just after 9 p.m. on election night and she was having her hair and makeup done in the family’s suite at the Peninsula hotel. She stopped to pour what someone said was Veuve Clicquot into everyone’s glasses, figuring that in a couple of hours Donald Trump’s run of early victories in red states (West Virginia, Oklahoma, Alabama) would end and the map would turn back in her mom’s favor.

Three hours later, the Rust Belt was awash in red, and somebody had to tell Hillary Clinton.

Robby Mook, the drained and deflated campaign manager, told his boss she was going to lose. She didn’t seem all that surprised.

“I knew it. I knew this would happen to me,” she said, now within a couple of inches of Mr. Mook’s ashen face. “They were never going to let me be president.”

In July 2013, Jill Abramson, the former executive editor of The New York Times, put me on the “Hillary beat” ahead of the 2016 election. It was 649 days before Mrs. Clinton would announce she was running for president again, 1,226 days before she would lose to Mr. Trump.

Every major life decision in my 20s and 30s — when to get married, where to buy an apartment, whether to freeze my eggs until after the election — had revolved around a single looming question: What about Hillary Clinton? [My note here: Huh?]

I figured that if anyone knew whom Mrs. Clinton was referring to with that insidious “they” that, like some invisible army of adversaries (real and imagined), wielded its collective power and caused her to lose the most winnable presidential election in modern history, it was me.

They were the vast-right wing conspiracy. They were the patriarchy that could never let an ambitious former first lady finally shatter “that highest, hardest glass ceiling.” They were the people of Wisconsin and James Comey. They were white suburban women who would rather vote for a man who bragged about sexual assault than a woman who seemed an affront to who they were.

And yes, they were political reporters (“big egos and no brains,” she called us) hounding her about her emails and transfixed by the spectacle of the first reality TV show candidate.

It’s dizzying to realize that without even knowing it, you’ve ended up on the wrong side of history. Months after the election, every time I heard the words “Russia” and “collude,” this realization swirled in my head, enveloping everything.

If anyone would like to read along: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/20/sund ... llary.html

What did she expect from a guy named, "Mook"?

Let me be President....

The funniest moment of the general election campaign was when Hillary Clinton hit the ground like a sack of potatoes on a 78-degree day and every limp-dicked Ezra Klein wannabe rushed to scream "I pass out on 78-degree days all the time, it's totally normal, 78 is a sauna, there's nothing to see here, healthy people pass out all the time, Hillary is definitely not a feeble old woman, everything is fine." They'd never let her be president!

Hillary may very well be the worst major party candidate of the modern era. She is literally the only person who could lose a general election to Donald Trump.

Hillary may very well be the worst major party candidate of the modern era. She is literally the only person who could lose a general election to Donald Trump.

Hillary may very well be the worst major party candidate of the modern era. She is literally the only person who could lose a general election to Donald Trump.

Let me be President...was exactly why she lost that easy election.

And politics over for Dr. Ken.

Let me be President...was exactly why she lost that easy election.

And politics over for Dr. Ken.

I wish a meteor would fall on her.