generic propecia The Kids Are...Married.

The Kids Are...Married.

In case you haven't heard, Chelsea Clinton, the former first daughter, got married today. And that got me thinking about people and dogs.

You know how some people really love dogs and others really love cats? And you know how, when you're in a room with a dog and there's someone who doesn't particularly care for dogs, and that's always the person the dog goes to, as if trying to win them over with acts entirely adorable and boundless displays of devotion?

The fascination with this wedding, a wedding about Ms Clinton and Mr Mezvinsky, is not at all about us, in spite of, well, us, thinking it is or, perhaps equally so, the media telling us it's about us. Why did we need, for example, all nine updates on the "Caucus" blog from The New York Times "live-blogging" an event reporters couldn't get into? The blog, as it's subtitle notes, is the Times' "Politics and Government" blog, and, with the exception of some campaign appearances on behalf of and in support of her mother's presidential bid, Ms Clinton really didn't want to be in the public eye. Nor did her parents.

Camped out by brown milking cows, you've got to wonder if even those intrepid reporters sent to cover a practically uncoverable event wondered if this was responsible press.

Sure, everyone likes a good story, and these days we all need a story we can feel good about. But for such a private person--and to even attempt to compare Ms Clinton with the late Diana, Princess of Wales, which seems both absurd and unconscionable--perhaps the best thing, the best coverage we could have done for Chelsea was to give her the quiet calm she wanted to surround her wedding day and simply wish her and Mr Mezvinsky a very happy life together, without the commemorative t-shirts, revelers in Bill and Hillary masks, and the order of a no-fly zone.

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