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April 1, 2025 - Lionel Nation
15:54
Kamala’s Stepdaughter Can’t Handle a Phone Call Without Compliments 😂
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Well, let me warn you, this story is going to make you sick.
Stick to your stomach, and you're going to say, oh my god, but you're going to love it in a weird way, because it's everything you thought and everything you knew, but it's going to make you sick to your stomach.
I'm just warning you.
I mean, you're going to just say, oh my god.
You're going to feel queasy, is one of those stories.
The princess, or prince, or it, or they, or whatever you want to call it, of privilege, Ella Emhoff, this whiny, woke world of shut the fuck up.
Big time.
You know Ella Emhoff, don't you?
She's a model?
Anyway, I don't know what she is.
She's the reason why you need pronouns.
That's all I'm going to tell you.
Anyway, you can't make this stuff up.
Ella Emhoff, the stepdaughter of Vice President Kamala.
Kamala.
She just graced us, ladies and gentlemen, with yet another tone-deaf Painfully out-of-touch media spectacle and appearance, this time whining like a little baby about how sheltered she was during her stepmother's presidential campaign.
Yeah, I'm not making this up.
I'm not making this up.
Seriously.
In an interview on the Girls Rewatch podcast, that's a biggie, The 25-year-old art school darling with a modeling contract.
A modeling contract?
Yeah, she gets a modeling contract, and I'm going to be the center for the Knicks.
Come on!
Come on!
God!
Remember when you thought Kate Moss was like, ooh, Kate Moss is Olivia de Havilland compared to this, and I don't even know what the hell that means.
Anyway, she gets a modeling contract.
So, She comes and she starts giving us this nonsense, you know, this is this, she's got this modeling contract and a soft-serve brain, ladies and gentlemen, actually said that she was, quote, set up for positive calls.
You hear that?
When she was volunteering for my last campaign, she was set up for positive calls because, heaven forbid, God forbid, somebody might say something mean to her, i.e., you not.
So let's be clear.
This isn't some teenager working a phone bank for school credit.
This is a grown adult woman, theoretically.
Someone the radical left considered a rising cultural icon.
A beauty of butte.
Admitting she needed this safe space.
A safe space during cold calls.
Oh my god.
Welcome to woke America, ladies and germs.
Where, I guess, participation comes with...
The notion of some pre-screened compliments in reality is treated like hate speech.
Don't let her in on the story.
She's Ella.
And what's astonishing isn't that Ella, or as we say in Spanish, ella, what Ella needed hand-holding about, that's par for the course of these fragile progressive types, but it's that she's proud of this.
See, she giggled about how campaign staffers protected her from hearing anything heinous.
Heinous!
Heinous, by the way, meaning any form of disagreement.
Anything that's not consistent with her fantasy world.
That's the level of emotional fortitude we're dealing with right now.
This is a child, and she says it proudly.
Compare that to the treatment of Donald Trump and his kids, a man who faced nonstop media firestorms, relentless political sabotage, baseless accusations, and assassination attempts, yet never once asked for positive calls.
Positive.
You think his kids took some negativity?
I think so.
Trump took the arrows, my friends, the slings and I...
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune stayed in the fight, never gave up, and kept delivering for the American people while Aya had to be sheltered.
Love him or hate him or either way, the man never hid behind handlers and cried about mean voices on the other end of the phone.
Not in person, on the phone.
Ella's whiny ass This pusillanimous implicit podcast, these confessions, it gets worse.
Not only was she shielded from tough interactions, you know, like talking to people, but she went on to moan about being robbed of her broad city moments.
Those carefree millennial meanderings around New York City.
Because, get this, her stepmom became vice president.
Oh, the horror!
Oh my god!
The agony!
The agony!
Now, most Americans are trying to figure out how to pay rent and feed their families in Biden's wrecked economy, but, hey, yeah!
Oh, no, no, she's different.
She's over there crying because she didn't get to frolic.
You know, you just, you can't make this up.
It's the perfect encapsulation of leftist privilege, of lunacy, all the perks of power, zero responsibility, while hardworking Americans like you and me, my friends, are being surveilled, censored, taxed into oblivion.
But Ella Emhoff, oh no, she's lamenting, lamenting the fact that her...
Boho glam life got disrupted by the proximity to the White House.
I mean, you can't parody this kind of entitlement.
You can't do it.
You can't.
And she says it not knowing how stupid she sounds.
Now, of course, this is the same Aya Emhoff who sparked outrage for fundraising for the...
For a variety of, shall we say, interesting coordinated efforts.
Okay?
This is the woman who, for the longest time, has been trying to fit into some form of, I don't know what, some category.
Nothing really seems to bother her.
Nothing really, I mean, really, she's, I think she manufactures it.
First of all, nobody knows who she is.
Nobody cares who she is.
But being asked a tough question on a phone call, oh my God, the horror!
The humanity!
The horror!
The radical left breeds this kind of thinking.
It champions softness, this imprecisence as a virtue, and victimhood as status, and confusion as enlightenment.
See, these are the same people who scream about fascism while demanding censorship.
Who want to abolish police but need security escorts to go to brunch.
Who need to be coddled and kept from reality like Eya.
Eya even joked about biking again.
Only she got into a collision and I guess a whimper about her injured pinky or something.
I have no idea.
She actually said...
Quote, I think I really messed up my hand, like I can't feel my pinky.
Is there a purple heart handy?
Can we, some, some, some medal for valor?
This is the same person the media promotes as some kind of cultural force.
Should be cultural farce.
It's beyond parody.
It's pathetic.
And this is what happens when your entire life is curated by political handlers.
Modeling a, modeling!
Can you imagine her getting a, who's got, who?
Can you imagine somebody, I'm sorry, we can't help you with your modeling career, because we've got to turn it over to this thing.
I mean, come on.
These people, she and this, oh God, these Bushwick-based enablers, oh my God.
Aya has strutted for coach, attended the Met Gala, and while selling overpriced knitwear to her coastal elite fan base.
This is true.
She's never faced a real challenge, and she's never had to develop a spine, and yet she's lauded as authentic.
I don't even know how the hell they do this.
Authentic to what?
What are you talking about?
A movement of pampered, performative progressives, I'm being very illiterative here, who think through some kind of weird, I don't know, lens that activism means, what, retweeting hashtags while sipping an $8 matcha latte?
Don't you...
Yeah!
Does it just...
Can you see the disgust on my face?
I feel dyspeptic.
Anyway, let's talk contrast, right?
While Aya Emhoff was modeling fuzzy cardigans or whatever else he was doing or whining about not being able to meander, Donald Trump was building a booming economy, securing the border, brokering historic peace deals around the world, doing the best he can.
He was mocked, vilified, impeached twice.
Yet never blinked.
Never complained.
Kept doing it.
And he certainly didn't run to a podcast to cry about his pinky and cold calls.
I mean, this is where we are today.
These are the same people who, by the way, if you do any kind of business or venture or anything and you have some millennial, you know, Ella type, and you'll say, how come you didn't email me?
Oh, I don't answer my emails.
Why didn't you show up?
I don't know.
I was slammed.
This is the mentality.
The entire Harris, Emhoff, what about the father?
I'm not going to rekindle that one, or regurgitate it, I should say, but the whole household is a microcosm of leftist, complete and total dysfunction, and Gamala couldn't keep her campaign alive past the primary, a single primary.
Meanwhile, Dougie went from second gentleman to invisible figure, and we know where that's going.
He's coming here.
He's going to go, he's had enough of that.
Enough of that.
That was just, I don't even know what that was.
Okay?
I don't know what that was.
Meanwhile, Aya is out here acting like she's one step from exile because she had to spend a few years in D.C. Privilege, I guess, instead of what?
Brooklyn hipsterhood?
I don't know.
I don't know what she's talking about.
And while the Emhoffs are crying and bitching and moaning and lamenting their hardships, the rest of the country is dealing with open borders, spiraling inflation, and a collapsing education system, thanks to these goons.
All thanks to the very people this family cheers on.
Can you believe this?
The radical left.
They gave us lawlessness, gender confusion, and Economic ruin, economic collapse, and instead of fixing it, or trying to fix it, or pretending they're fixing it, they're doing podcasts along with that horror show.
You notice how we don't hear about Michelle Obama and her brother.
Remember that one?
She was whining too!
They get on the bench and they whine and say, shut up!
My God!
This is why the American people are done.
This is why we're finished with this stuff.
This is why we're done with this elite whining, this bitching and moaning and crying and clutching.
We're done with the coddled coastal brats crying and bitching.
I keep saying bitching a lot, but it's my nature.
We're done with this.
We're done with being told that strength is toxic and mansplaining and weakness is...
Shut up!
So sick of this.
Grow a pear.
Grow a backbone.
Hack.
Butch up for the...
Well...
I think somebody beat us to it.
In any event, we need real leadership, my friends.
We need leaders who don't need to to have their calls pre-screened.
Think about it and admit to it.
We need men and women who can take a punch politically, culturally, and maybe actually, and keep fighting for the truth, fighting for sovereignty, fighting for freedom.
People like Donald Trump.
People like Donald Trump.
Not pampered fashion influencers like this thing.
With her emotional labor trauma, with political volunteer work, it's incredible!
So to Aya, maybe next time, honey, maybe next time, don't volunteer if you need trigger warnings before dialing a voter, or answering a call, or better yet, stay on the runway, like maybe the runway, airport runway, was on C-130.
Stay on your runway.
And leave maybe the real work to the real grown-ups.
Because, you see, America doesn't need any more of these whiny, bratty, bitchy, complaining elites.
It needs warriors.
Right now, you, Ella, you and your woke, weird, mumbling, can't-make-eye-contact, wishy, squishy, handshake crew.
You're the reason this country is fighting for its soul because of you.
So we know what you did.
And thank you, by the way.
Thank you for reminding us what a twit you are.
And thank you for reminding us how lucky we are that we've got a real president and a real man in office and not you and your implicit, atesticular, invertebrate little, these, you, you, you, you, inchoate twits.
I think I've said twit enough.
Now do me a favor, my friend.
You grow a pair.
Stand up tall and like this video.
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