Ask Wonkette: Character, Plot, Moveable Type

Omg I Can't Believe It's My Fucking BookWe got so many questions yesterday and we had so much fun we figure, what the hell: We'll take questions (to ) as long you have them. It's easier than actually writing. Speaking of which: Jeff B. asks:

What's the book going to be about?

It better not be about blogging. Just thinking about that drains all my energy.

Oh, God no. A novel about blogging? Just thinking about it drains all my advance. The novel is about D.C.

It's about campaign culture and Local 16, it's about people with far too many things clipped to their belts and who take their laundry on the road so that room service can do it and the magazine will pay for it. The book takes place in August during an election; people leave work a little earlier and stay out a lot later. The town is almost empty, the wives are gone, and people who normally wouldn’t see much of each other see a lot of other. As I believe the catalog copy says, in a town that's always a lot like high school, it becomes more like summer camp.

And I think this snippet of dialog tells you just about everything else you need to know:

“Doesn’t the little Berry indicator light remind you of the slit at the head of a penis?”

“Uhm, no. And the only reason it reminds you of one is because you use it facilitate sex. Your Berry is, in fact, attached to a penis.”

Dog Days [Amazon]

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How do you do, fellow libs? We come together tonight to cheer and clap and cry and laugh, with our leader, Elizabeth Warren, and her fellow nice people Jay Inslee (the gold standard in climate action), Beto O'Rourke (excellent on being a good ally mostly), Cory Booker (best corny love hippie but also Wall Street, it's weird), Julian Castro (I don't know, people are super into him despite his creepy twinness and his too much pomade), Amy Klobuchar (bad bitch), Bill de Blasio ( ... ), John Delaney (???), and Tim Ryan and Tulsi Gabbard.

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We know, the thing we said in our headline is a thing you can say every day, but it's really intense today, maybe because Donald Trump is now filled with fear of the inescapable reality that millions of Americans who have not read the Mueller Report are going to see Robert Mueller testify on live TV on July 17, and Donald Trump will be exposed. Maybe the Big Mac vending machine next to his golden toilet is on the fritz and he hasn't had gotten to eat a Big Mac on the poop chair since last night. Maybe he's just a weak and sad person, a collection of shithole cells God meant to throw in the garbage, but accidentally implanted in Mary Trump's turkey incubator. We imagine that'd lead to a pretty constant state of anxiety and ennui.

Whatever it is, he's totally fucked right now. We were going to write a nice post about Trump's batshit interview on Fox Business with Maria Bartiromo, but we were busy, and by the time we got to it, he had performed so many batshit feats that we're just going to stick them all in this one post.

Let's start with the fight he's trying to wage with US soccer star Megan Rapinoe, who in a now-viral video stated that she has no fuckin' interest in going to the White House to meet that idiot. He got into a quarrel with her on Twitter ... or at least with a Twitter account that didn't belong to her. It's now been replaced, in order that the adult president may shit-tweet at the soccer superstar who hurt his feelings, but Splinter grabbed the original:

The rant continued:

Right. And Megan Rapinoe just said win or lose, she has no interest in meeting your crusty ass, because no decent American would consider that an honor.

Besides, she has already been to the White House to meet a legitimately elected president:

By the by, the owner of the incorrect Megan Rapinoe account saw Trump's whining and told him to grow a dick and set it on fire:

Ya burnt!

But as we said, it was a whole day of batshit from Trump, so let's continue.

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