2018 In Your Junior King Of You
And we don't mean that putz Jared Kushner.
Well my darling pudding pie honeylumpkin lambie punkin pops! We have MADE IT through the worst of years and we AREN'T DEAD YET!
It's been a hard damn month, and you're forgiven if you're feeling paranoid, and worn to a fucking nubbin, seeing as how you've been BESET ON ALL SIDES by STUPID DUMB EVIL!
America 2018 -- and a lot of the rest of the world too -- has been a mean dumb monster of fascist crymaking. You don't know where to turn; you don't know how to shake it off. Except here, with us, your friends at Wonkette.
And oh man, we are so grateful to have you.
This month, after I shrieked and cried at you, you sent us so much (record-breaking!) money that for the first time ever -- in addition to prepaying some 2019 expenses and nice bonuses and small raises for the kids -- we have a month and a half's operating expenses saved up! Who is so good to us? FUCKING YOU ARE.
(If you tried to set up a monthly donation and our thingy was GAH GRRRR BROKEN, it's working now, and you can have at it. Because you want to BE THE MENSCH you want to see in the world!)
And because of you, like the horny puppet in Team America, we will never die.
Which brings us to the baby pictures! Mostly because we are pretty sure we were upside down like so when we SURPRISE conceived her!
It is kind of weird that we are still throwing pictures of our three-year-old heiress, Donna Rose, your future empress and king of you, at you every week. EXCEPT. A year or two ago, a Friend of Wonk wrote to us that her only child is severely disabled, and she doesn't believe she will have grandchildren, and can she have some more pictures of ours please? So fuck you, here's our babby, and all the good pictures of her we can find from this year. It's our thank you to you, and our thank you to us, and we love you.
I don't know about you, but I feel better already, and I'm grateful for all my friends who are YOU.
See you next year bitches, we got tomorrow off.