Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?
Damn, it's been a while, huh?
This week, Andrew Our Canadian Pal asked if it’d be convenient for him to have this weekend off, and I said yes! I then did absolutely nothing to ensure you’d have a post to comment around today at 11. I waddled down to the couch at 9. Is there anything important I should write about, I asked my husband, your comrade Shypixel.
“Kitties in outer space flying on pizza and their eyes are shooting stars and there’s a dinosaur that acted like a good guy but he was actually a bad guy with a cape and turned the whole world into zombies,” my granddaughter advised from across the living room. “Have to say I agree with Lu,” said Shy.
But that seemed like work. And I don’t want to do any. So I checked Bluesky for any big news. Guess what, it’s mostly bad! I’m certainly not going to interrupt your Sunday with “Trump making stupid threats to blow up Iran, again, some more” like I did a couple weeks ago for “Trump goes apeshit on Easter” (it seemed important at the time).
And then I remembered it’s been a GOTDAMNED LONG TIME since I sent you just a simple thank you note post telling you I love you. This is despite the fact that one of the tiers on our Patreon, with which we do literally nothing except provide a Substack alternative to taking your money, is “I will send you a thank you note, every month.” So that’s been a lie for at least a year now! Maybe more even! Maybe THREE! Who knows, not me! How would I even look that up? I wouldn’t! I should probably erase those tiers, so’s I won’t be FRAUDING.
A Simple Thank You Note Post Telling You I Love You
First, I want to say, this is not a moneybeg post in disguise, even though aiyeee we have lost so many subscribers this week (thanks again, Substack), and only about 10 percent of those cancelling subscribers went on to sign up via an alternative pay-me method. I truly mean it when I say you are under no obligation to give me your money, I mean it out loud, with my whole chest. I sincerely love all of you whether you pay me or not, and if you paid me in the past and then you stopped, I thank you for everything you already did for us. You helped me make payroll for 168 months now and counting. You kept us in health care premia and some pretty sick bennies for Evan and Robyn and Dok and Marcie, and decent freelance rates for the rest of the gang. Back when I bought this joint, we were paying $8 ($12?) a post, so that’s terrible! And for staff, we had just me, and I was working 18 hours a day six days a week and I was drunk and crying by noon, and then yelling at the commenters by 10 p.m. You ponied up for a wonderful, erudite, crude, disgusting, long-institutional-memoried staff able to opine but with facts on just about any topic, who watch all this crazy bullshit so you don’t have to. Then you ponied up so we could switch to a civilized, European-style four-day workweek — though no civilized, European-style four weeks off, yet — so we wouldn’t die. Whenever there’s been an emergency, I knew I just had to put up the Wonk Signal and you’d be there. Sheeit, I’ve been waiting a decade for one of us to get arrested, so that you could make our bail.
You made — you make — me feel important, and loved. You are generous, and gross, and catty bitches, and loving, and most of you are pretty fucking smart and funny, and you care about our world and the humans and other living things in it.
And my heart is full loving you in return.
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RECOVERY PROGRESS / NICE TIMES NEWS...
I DID IT! I managed to get myself downstairs without further damaging myself or Mr Cakes!
A few days ago I remembered that we have a foldable stepladder, the kind that is 2 steps set up on an A frame. I figured this might he just the kind of thing I could use to get myself safely yo a sitting position on the floor at the top of the stairs without relying on Mr Cakes supporting me. I figured I could get myself to the of the stairs using my walking frame, sit on the top step of the stepladder, then carefully lower myself down to the lowest step, and from there to the floor. From there, I could scoot down the stairs on my butt.
It worked! I am now safely ensconced on the sofa, where I will remain until after my hospital appointment tomorrow.
So am I hearing this correctly?
People are leaving the mommy blog because substack also hosts creeps and nazis. And because they do not like creeps and nazis the mommy blog must suffer for the sins of substack.
Well fuck that! I ain't leaving the mommy blog nor punishing the mommy blog because subsatck fucked up. Find some other way to punish substack. Don't destroy a good thing because a bad thing is adjacent to the good thing. That's like setting your house on fire because your neighbor still has dusty rose colored bathroom and kitchen fixtures from the 1970s or they have a nazi flag in the garage or -much worse- they have the nazi flag above the dusty rose toilet.
I got news for all the purists: ain't anything pure except the stuff found in the periodic table of the elements. We are alll upset about this shitshow. But HURTING the one news source that TELLS IT LIKE IT IS is not the way to fix anything. You want to boycott something and send a message? Cancel Amazon Prime. Cancel New York Times. Cancel WaPo. Cancel Direct teevee. Cancel everything except the mommy blog.
Quit setting your own house on fire because your neighbor is a nazi with old bathroom fixtures.
Go set your neighbor's house on fire instead.