It' s still difficult for her to tell the story.

It was a cool morning in 2011, or 1984, or 1526, or 4 B.C., the year doesn't matter. Kellyanne Conway was a young girl, or a teenager, or possibly an old great grandmother, reflecting on a life well lived. She doesn't remember how she ended up in Bowling Green that day, only that she had just left an angry meeting with the owners of the Miss New Jersey Blueberry Princess Pageant, who had told her she wouldn't be able to carry out her duties as Blueberry Princess Of New Jersey if she kept eating her fingernails like that. They also told her to stop lying, and you know what, that's highly unfair.

Furious, she drove and drove, and before she knew it, she was in Bowling Green, Kentucky, getting massacred by some Iraqi refugees. Whether it was just she that perished in the attack, or a number equivalent to the millions of people who attended Donald Trump's inauguration, it doesn't really matter. All Conway knows is that way more people died in the Bowling Green Massacre at the hands of Iraqi refugee terrorists (PAID TO BE THERE BY BARACK OBAMA AND GEORGE SOROS) than the number who marched in the world-famous Bowling Green Women's March the next day. So many more, it was yoooooooooge.

Regardless, this is why Donald Trump's Muslim ban is so important, so Kellyanne Conway doesn't perish in the Bowling Green Massacre yet again, like she did all those times during the Obama administration.

If you don't believe her, then how is Kellyanne Conway sitting here today, telling us about the time she died in the Bowling Green Massacre? Yeah, that's what we thought. Liberals at the Washington Post and Vox and all the other places say snippy things like, "There is no such thing as the Bowling Green Massacre," and "Hoo boy, there goes Kellyanne Conway, just cold makin' up shit again," but that's fine, they have their own facts, and Kellyanne Conway is just presenting Alternative Facts, so that the American people can decide whether she died in the Bowling Green Massacre or not.

We see you are one of the brainwashed majority of the American people, who trusts the liberal media and John McCain more than you trust Trump and Kellyanne Conway. Why are you so focused on the words coming out of Conway's mouth, about the Bowling Green Massacre, instead of focusing on whether she truly believes, in her heart, that she died in the Bowling Green Massacre? You are unkind, and the worst.

If the Bowling Green Massacre didn't happen, then why does Kellyanne Conway distinctly remember that being the day she met Frederick Douglass and saw what great work he's been doing these days? Douglass didn't die in the Bowling Green Massacre, thankfully.

But Kellyanne Conway did, because she says she did, and if you say differently, you are FAKE NEWS, and you should shut your mouth.

(To donate to victims of the Bowling Green Massacre, click here.)


[Washington Post / Vox if you really haven't heard the background on this yet]

Evan Hurst

Evan Hurst is the senior editor of Wonkette, which means he is the boss of you, unless you are Rebecca, who is boss of him. His dog Lula is judging you right now.

Follow him on Twitter RIGHT HERE.

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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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