Ben Bradlol - WonketteBy guest contributor Ben Bradlee

Sometimes I am embarrassed at how satisfied I am with my life.

I'm 85 years old.

My doctor has just told me I'm in good physical shape. Actually, he said, "wonderful" shape.

I am surrounded by the people I love. I live in fabulous houses, spectacular enough to be featured in national magazines, yet comfortable enough for someone who values "comfortable" above "beautiful."

My kids are healthy and apparently happy. And the same for my 10 grandchildren.

I work out in the woods, clearing brush with a tractor and three chain saws.

My wife of many years is a spectacular person, and a great partner.

I had a great ride as editor of a great newspaper. I was lucky enough to fight in a war I believed in and work in a profession I believed in.

I still smoke three packs a day of Chesterfield Kings.

I wrestle wild cougars in my spare time. I drive a monster truck.

Sometimes I call up some ex-CIA friends and put out hits on my enemies, then call them off at the last minute just to demonstrate my mercy.

A veritable harem of beautiful young girls (and boys) serve me breakfast (two eggs, poached, black coffee, and an 8-ball of uncut cocaine better than Lindsay Lohan's wildest dreams) in bed each morning, then sponge me down in ass's milk.

I'm friends with Bruce Springsteen.

I fuck dancers and once a month I dig up Nixon's corpse to piss on it.

I still force the Post to publish Sally Quinn.

Benjamin C. Bradlee is vice president-at-large of The Washington Post. He was executive editor of The Post from 1968 through 1991. His memoir, "A Good Life: Newspapering and Other Adventures," was a best-seller. His wife, Sally Quinn, is co-moderator of On Faith. He has the strength of ten men and keeps Napoleon's dick in a jar beside his bed.

A Good, Abundant Life [WP]

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It started with them damn hats. (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

A guest post by "Knitsy McPurlson," which we suspect is not a real name.

Yr Wonkette is not the only website run by brilliant peoples unafraid to poke people with sharp, pointy sticks. – a website for knitters, crocheters, and other folks interested in textiles and fiber arts – is poking people with knitting needles, which are very sharp indeed.

This past weekend,'s founders showed the world how easy it is to de-platform white nationalists and racists when they banned all "support of Donald Trump and his administration" from their website, concluding they "cannot provide a space that is inclusive of all and also allow support for open white supremacy." Seems like people smart enough to decode a knitting pattern are also smart enough to decode Trump's not-so-hidden message of racism and white nationalism.

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One day, God willing, my grandchildren will click open their history textbooks and read about the Central American migrant internment camps. They'll learn about sick kids, locked in cages, kept hungry and dirty and cold for weeks on end, and they'll be horrified.

"Bubbie," they'll say, "how could this happen in America? How could there be toddlers sleeping on the ground without blankets, without soap or toothbrushes to clean themselves?"

"I don't know. I wish I had done more. I'm ashamed," I'll say. We will all have to answer for this atrocity. But some of us will have to answer more than others. Not just the archvillains like Stephen Miller and John Kelly, but the people who kept right on doing their jobs, even as those jobs morphed into defending concentration camps.

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