It's Your Virtual Joe Biden Inauguration Vendor Cart!
Hello, good morning, welcome to the first day of the rest of our lives!
The other night, as we were parceling out our Inauguration Day Advent Calendar mini liquor bottles, my son what prints your merches in our basement factory said, regarding the only two days remaining before our long national nightmare would (PRESUMABLY) come to an end, "Already? That was fast!" and my husband almost murdered him right there in the kitchen where he stood.
"'FAST'? 'ALREADY'?" he bellowed, followed by a cartoon string of epithets. He had a really good point! Every single day of the past four years has been a fight to even continue existing, and that's before the shithead that unaccountably somehow got "elected" president of the United States affirmatively killed more than 400,000 Americans and attempted to murder democracy itself.
It has been, dear ones, a trial.
Four years ago, I put "three months" in the office pool for how long it would be before Trump got bored and resigned because people were mean to him. I undershot it by 45 months. You should never ever ever listen to me.
But we have survived, except for those 400,000 of our friends and neighbors, which still spatters my poor little brains across the wall. Obviously he couldn't react properly and use the bureaucracy to provide states medicine and PPE. But it would have cost him nothing to say, "The Democrats want to shut down the country, but we are STRONG! We must WEAR MASKS and go back to work instead of cowering in fear!" And his idiots would have put on the biggest face-merkins they could imagineer. How do you make a culture war out of not dying of an infectious disease?
That was only the last year of our lives so far. Before then there were three years of everything else in the entire world. I can't even remember it, can you? Good. We're better off that way.
There was a headline yestertoday I didn't click on, "Joe Biden, Our Imperfect President," because who cares? Nobody expects him to be perfect, and I imagine that was probably their point, and also fuck them. He's old, he's handsome, he's a nice fella, and probably none of our beloved fightin' types — our Liz Warrens, our Bernies, even our Kamalas — could be the normal the world needs for a while.
Mother Teresa had her (ferocious) detractors. Jimmy Carter deregulated some stuff and maybe was bad in Nicaragua (Afghanistan?), I forget. Barack Obama, a fine man, believed some stupid shit sometimes, like "the American people want me to work with these dicks."
Even I am not perfect — I am greedy sometimes, and envy others, and sometimes I whine at our fabulous staff about why they (yes they) make me work so much, and I'm too lazy to make a podcast — and I'm really fucking close to perfect, you can ask my mother.
I know the craziness will continue; we're still in a goddamn pandemic, for one thing, and Mitch McConnell doesn't do "life lessons." A third of the American people have fallen victim to some wildass cult brain rinsings, and we can't deprogram them because they like it there.
We might lose Congress two years from now; we often do, and Fox and its new even more cracked-out siblings OAN and Newsmax will be doing every lie in their power to make that happen. But for a minute, or two years, we won't have a rubber stamp on whatever Trump lieutenant Santa Monica Goebbels pulls out of 1930s Germany's ass. Instead, we will have a moderate Congress backing a moderate president — but one who claims he sees the need for big change. And hell, when Chuck Schumer is pushing you to do more and bigger, you listen to old Chuck.
So what's on our agenda? We'll drink, we'll dance, we'll livebloog, we'll breathe deep and better assuming there's no bombings, and if there are, I'll make Dok and SER and Robyn and Evan and Liz deal with it.
I bought Wonkette just shy of nine years ago, in March 2012. Never ever ever saw this shit coming; I thought George W. Bush and his lie enablers were as Nazi as our shit could get. This year isn't going to be perfect by any stretch of Walt Disney's imagination, but it will be better. And 2022 and 2024, we'll cross those bridges when Josh Hawley comes to them.
It's my fervent desire that you no longer need to check in at Wonkette three or six times a day, unless you're retired and your buddies are playing pinochle in the comments. It's my fervent desire that we'll be able to write about other things once in a while, nice things, shiny normal things, culture and the world, because all our bandwidth won't be sucked up by one criminally psychopathic man. And it's also my fervent desire that you keep us going regardless, because you know when news breaks, there's nobody you want screaming and frothing at the mouth about it but us, and that's why we're your very first stop.
Now give us money and buy some shit. Because we love you, but more importantly, you love us right back.
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.