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Oh Terrible Ones, how sorry I am to have been overwrought at you yesterday, but everything was awful! I was thousands of dollars short to pay Dok and Evan -- and mama keeps her ducks in a row and would NEVER NOT PAY SOMEONE I AM NOT DONALD TRUMP -- and that's even after laying off our good, funny Robyn, what even the fuck, and I was internalizing my Failure Shames all fucking weekend, even in old growth national parks, which is really where one should go when one has a thousand-pound block of quiet dread on one's shoulders. Except then you are like, "oh this is nice. Welp, 6 p.m., guess I will go to sleep and ignore my family for the next 14 hours of xanatos or thanatos or whichever is the sweet relief of death, I forget."


I was only *pretending* to smile

But I knew I would ask you, and you would come through. There were giant checks and tiny checks, the usual suspects stepping up to give us more and bigger, and a lot of new names. Sorry to prodigal son at you (one of the most unfair, shittiest Bible stories, I think we all agree!), but the new names meant the most. As I said yesterday, we know the few hundred of you who regularly comment, and the roughly 2000 of you who send money each month. I see your names in my Paypal. But I knew there were another 900,000 of you who drift through each month, a post or two at a time, and not all of you were sent by a batcall from whichever gunhumper site you do your drooling at.

WELCOME TO THE CULT, RECRUITS. Just kidding. OR AM I? I'm not.

I know you want to know how you did yesterday! As of this morning, it looks like $18,000 and change in one-time donations and I don't know, maybe a thousand dollars each in recurring donations and monthly ad-fewer subscriptions? Don't make me do Excel functions this early in the morning, Excel is counterintuitive and terrible. It's the Google Apps of spreadsheets, except that all the other ones are worse.

So yes! Payroll made, this month and next! (Not counting for me. Too depressing!) And yet you know what's coming: yes, at our current rate, we'll still need more.

Don't be a hero -- don't send us anything you can't afford, and don't send us anything if you're poorer than we are. We are not Mike Huckabee up in here, selling diabetes cures fashioned of cinnamon to any sad housebound Hoverounder whose wallet he can Bad Jesus Touch.

Now about the money you did send! I won't lie and say I was as excited for a dollar donation as I was when I saw with my greedy eyeballs several of you sent a thousand or more. (But I was equally touched. Does that make sense? Yes shut up of course it does.) Those of you who sent us a thousand, let it be known, can endow a blogging chair of your choice, because we are just like that nice young punchy faced man with the money and the voting.

Just as we had the Patty Dumpling Endowed Chair for Oilspill Blogging and Coalmine Funstravaganzas, and The Fartknocker Report: Fartknocker Presents The Sarah Palin Channel, Presented by Fartknocker, we may soon have a This Lady Chair for Library Studies and Homeschooling Catastrophes, or a This Other Dude Chair for Stuff in the Butt! Be in touch with me or I'll be in touch with you, let us make some blogging chairs happen.

Hmmm, let's see, is there anything else? Well, I love you even though you're the worst, and vice-versa I'm sure!

Here, have a baby, pictures of which are the purest tokens of love between a blogger and her loves:

Imagine there is a funny wizard quote here.

OK we love you bye bye.

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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