A Comforting End Of Day Post Consisting Of Some Words In An Order

Mommyblogging

Maybe next month.

Yesterday, when I sent Donna Rose off to school, I think I remembered to throw a pro forma "probably" in with my assertion that at the end of the night, the world would be back to normal, all the clanging chaos would be, if not stopped, at least greatly reduced, and we would be able, finally, to breathe. My daughter has very strong opinions about Donald Trump. They are not overly well-formed opinions, but they are strong.

Instead we have this terrible news, just now ameliorated a tiny by a far better comforter than I, Joe Biden, who has just finished speaking. He is ahead in all the states that matter today; he and we believe he will succeed; he and we know that when he is President Biden, he will not be a dick to others.



It is working its magic already against all terrible stings. All that record high turnout, all those bright shiny voting youngs, a historically unpopular president, and we somehow remained in stealing distance. (Follow liveblog for updates!) Cue Marge Gunderson: Well. I just don't understand it.

At the moment it looks like, barring a vote stoppage by Michigan mobs, or a Supreme Court newly empowered, we will have a President Biden. It looks like we will have a decent president boxed in by evil men, and when he is unable to deliver solutions, because they blocked them, they will blame him for making them do it. Again.

Without the Senate — and oh, we all thought we'd get the Senate, the question was by how much, and maaaaaybe we will but good God — forget rightsizing the Court, we won't even be able to do the first, most important order of business: sending some goddamned money to everyone who's used up every last scrap of cash in the eight months there've been no fucking jobs. So they can eat, and pay rent, which hey! helps the landlord class! and not increase Los Angeles's unhoused population by 12.6 million goddamn people.

Hmmm. What part of this did I think would be "comforting"? Oh yes: this.

I never thought that monster would last four years. I had "resigns in pique in three months" in the office pool. I am terrible at "politics." But he did, and he spent four years terrorizing us. The first job was to GET. HIM. OUT. And it looks — it looks — like we're doing it. His party is still slaveringly amoral, and they still hold veto power. But outright fascism will have been oh so barely rejected.

President Biden will not start your typical Thursday by banning all Muslims. He will not sic goon squads on those who displease him. He will not demand people show their loyalty to him by their willingness to actually, literally die. He will not rule by fiat and whatever he pulls out of his ass and finds shiny. When Trump fires Dr. Fauci, if he hasn't already today, President Biden will hire him back. He will overturn Trump's petulant executive orders and sign his own (and they will cry "tyrant" and "tsar"). He will stop breaking the Post Office on purpose, although — DEEP BREATH — the USPS board of governors that hires the postmaster general all require Senate confirmation.

He will follow the sainted Miss Ivins's First Rule of Holes: Stop digging.

And here is the second "comforting" part. We will be here for all of it. Dok, Evan, SER, Robyn, Liz, Jamie, Michael, and my husband Shy and I will set our mouths into grim upside down smiles and we will make you laugh when shit's funny, and often when it's not. We will tell the truth, always, and we will do it as LOUD AND CUSSY AS POSSIBLE. And, as the old-school bloggers demanded, we will document the atrocities. For history, or what remains of it, and so you know: YOU'RE NOT CRAZY, INSTITUTION, THEY'RE THE ONES WHO'RE CRAZY, INSTITUTION. Unless you are actually crazy, of course, in which case, we love you just the way you are, and ask for help when you need it, that's why we're all here.

And here is the third comforting thing, and I think that's about all of them: Maybe (acting) Attorney General Doug Jones (you know Mitch won't confirm anyone to shit) will look into how very odd this election was, and the one before it, and we'll discover our nation wasn't quite so lost, after all.

Comfort four: GTFO Bill Fucking Barr, you rancid toad anus. You couldn't quite manage to steal ballots on paper.

We love you so much we can't even stand it. OPEN THREAD.

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Rebecca Schoenkopf

Rebecca Schoenkopf is the owner, publisher, and editrix of Wonkette. She is a nice lady, SHUT UP YUH HUH. She is very tired with this fucking nonsense all of the time, and it would be terrific if you sent money to keep this bitch afloat. She is on maternity leave until 2033.

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