And one more thing: see that Lucifer gets his bath.

Ted Cruz is making a very sexy announcement today, America! Nobody knows what it will be except all the people who say it will be Ted Cruz announcing his "running mate," who will be his "vice president," when he is the "president." (Of Montreal.)

But wait, the person everyone says Ted Cruz is picking, Carly Fiorina, is not even Canadian, so she is probably not eligible to be Ted Cruz's vice prime minister? Well, that is neither here nor there.

Ted Cruz is presumably choosing the 61-year-old former Hewlett-Packard executive not in any way, shape or form because she is (we assume) in possession of a vulva, as that would be playing the Woman Card, and as Martin Luther King made clear when he was voting for Ronald Reagan, it is illegal to choose anyone who is not a white man for any position because that is DISCRIMINATION.

We would never remind Ted Cruz that Carly Fiorina lost her only previous run for elected office -- the Senate seat held by California's Barbara Boxer -- by about 100 percent.

We would also never remind him that Ms. Fiorina's "unfavorable" rating is almost as high as Hillary Clinton's, which is an inspiring achievement when one considers that people have had 30 years to get to hate Secretary Clinton, while Ms. Fiorina only showed up a few years ago to remind everyone she could lay off more people than Mitt Romney with her uterus tied behind her back. We will not remind the senator of this, because if he does not pick Carly Fiorina, we will be :(

There's ever so many fun things we can stroll back in time to remember about Ms. Fiorina, mostly about how amazing she is at lying in people's personae constantly, how she kidnapped a bunch of children to show them graphic abortion pictures, and how Donald Trump said she was ugly, because Donald Trump is a disgusting pig.

Anyway, let's all tune in at 4 p.m. Eastern to watch Ted Cruz do bigamy to poor Heidi with Carly Fiorina, because we could stand to lose a pound or two, through the powers of vomit.

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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'Bella" by Wonkette Operative 'IdiokraticSubpoenaKommissar'

Sunday already, which means a substantial portion of US America is preparing to be astonished/heartbroken/outraged by the series finale of that show with the dragons, while another portion is just going to stay off Twitter for three days because nothing will make any sense. Yr Dok Zoom tends to come very late to trendy things, so get ready for our own thoughts on the gamy thrones show sometime in about 2023, or never. But we'd be glad to tell you just how much we enjoy the brilliance and humanity of the Cartoon Network series "Steven Universe," which debuted in 2013 and we started bingeing on the Hulu last month, late again.

Hell, we still want to talk about that one Mrs Landingham episode of "The West Wing," which we first watched years after it aired (We finally bought our new used car yesterday, and know one thing: don't drive over to the White House to show it off to President Bartlet). We might even get around to reading Infinite Jest someday. We hear it has something to do with a superhero team and a guy named Thanos. So hey, let's talk about culture and missing out and patching together some knowledge of what's happening anyway.

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Get Me Roger Stone

Roger Stone, his wife would like you to know, is broke. And he is not dealing with it well. Once in khaki suits, gee, he looked swell, full of that yankee-doodle-dee-dum, but now no one calls him Al anymore and he has to stand on a street corner singing "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?"

Yesterday, the conservative but also kind of Never Trumper site The Bulwark revealed the details of a grifty "fundraising" plea sent out by Stone's wife Nydia, begging supporters to give money to the Stones in order to help them keep up the lifestyle to which they have become accustomed.

It was titled "I am embarrassed to write this."

"Dear Friend," begins the missive. "My husband and I have an urgent new problem and we need your help. I told my husband I was going to write you, one of his most valued supporters. I am embarrassed to write this, but I must."

"Mrs. Roger Stone" tells a tale of woe: FBI agents swooping in on them at the crack of dawn to arrest her husband, a subsequent "fake news" feeding frenzy causing friends and fans to abandon the Stones.

"He laid off all our consultants, contractors and employees, and we have 'pulled in our belts' like so many Americans in 'tight times,'" she wrote, sounding for all the world like a plucky working-class patriot, not the wife of a man who made and lost his fortune lying in the service of power.

She should have been more embarrassed.

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