Before I begin this sperging, I understand that these thoughts are not necessarily novel or original, but given recent happenings, it must be reiterated in the most callous of verbiage.
Chantal is a strong proponent of the notion of karma. She believes that for every slight against her, whether it be a critical comment expressed during or after stream, a channel created to discuss her guntdemonness, histrionics, and overall Cluster B'zin, or a post in her now legendary Kiwi Farms thread, the omnipotent being known as Karma will visit her dissidents and make them suffer ten-fold that of which they incurred on Chantal.
Have something negative to say about her? Karma's gonna get you.
Don't agree with a particular viewpoint she espouses, or life decision Chantal has made? Karma’s gonna get you.
Do you directly or indirectly support one of Chantal’s detractors? Karma’s gonna get you.
I am no theologist, nor am I some influential philosophical or religious figure so I have no grounds to opine regarding the existence of the notion of karma or karmic justice, but I can tell you this: if karma exists, Chantal Sarault is one of karma’s most well-documented victims in human history.
Let’s take an inventory of what has befallen Chantal in the past five years alone. After cheating on her shitheel Aspie boyfriend infected by a penchant for dog porn and troons and being smacked around by some Rwandan dude in a club, she shacks up with a Senegalese manlet that resented her very being and did his very best to forget that not only has he slammed her gunt but he also sleeps next to it every night. During this relationship, and by “relationship”, I mean “glorified roommates that may have banged two or three times”, Chantal was let go from a stable job for failing to meet the most basic of modified responsibilities and obligations as negotiated between her and her employer. Following this, she created a YouTube channel that was largely stagnant until she actualized her only God-given talent: obscene gluttony. As a woman with no mind, intelligence, morals, personality other than the entire Cluster B, skills, hobbies, or redeeming qualities in any sense of the word, she sure is damn good at eating.
After eaiting, ahem, eating herself into reproductive Chernobyl and requiring a full hysterectomy, Chantal is then dropped by her saintly servant and is thereby forced to retreat with her tail between her gunt to grovel to her submissive and most definitely not breedable ex-fiancé to be her roommate in a luxury villa.
At present, Chantal is ostracized by not only her scorned ex, but also by her family, who went as far to exclude her from family gatherings and even neglects to mention her in some comments on her now deceased grandmother’s obituary.
Now as a familial pariah and an Internet-wide laughingstock, Chantal’s only source of positive attention and in-real-life affection is derived from a junkie with the teeth of a shattered piano and a body of a piece of beef jerky who may or may not beat her and may or may not have jammed a broomstick into her rectum whom she pays all of life’s expenses for next to nothing in return, other than the occasional compliment and guntslam. Leave it to Chantal to make people feel sympathy for, or any positive emotion, toward an emaciated junkie with an allegedly violent streak.
The only people that pay her any mind are those that laugh at her misfortune, supply her drugs, or drain her bank account because they know she’s too inept and stupid to understand otherwise. Though she may front as someone who is highly skilled and educated, a cosmopolitan influencer of sorts, Chantal has absolutely nothing and no one.
If one can argue the existence of karma, the argument’s name is Chantal Sarault.
ETA: Would you look at that! @Dutch Courage is shitposting and I am over here writing a novel, it must be opposite day!