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'SUP, WONKERS!

Around this time in the month, you all usually get a very funny post from your editrix Rebecca, where she tells you stories and DEMANDS MONEY. That is not happening this month, because instead we are writing it!

So listen up. If you are a regular reader, you have heard this before. (And you may have financially supported us before! And you may be a subscriber who supports us every month! To you we say THANK YOU and humbly ask you to keep it up and even chip in a little more if you can! )

But maybe you are somebody who just comes by a few times a week, maybe when you are riding the train, maybe when you are driving in the car (EYES ON THE ROAD, BRAIN DILDO). Maybe you saw this on Twitter and you clicked like "what the hell is that Wonkette even talking about right now?"

What we are talking about is the simple fact that times are tough for journalism and publishing, and every single day we hear about some website that's doing layoffs or a newsroom having to cut out its "news" section because "news" has a well known liberal bias that isn't pleasing to its new corporate conservative owners. But not Wonkette!

Not only does this wonderful place that gives you information, sustenance and dick jokes not have ads that murder your browser and make you angry like a common Donald Trump, it's also unique in that ALL our funding comes straight from readers. ALL OF IT. There's no secret slush fund that covers overages, there's no corporate or even nonprofit grant money. Your donations go straight into our monthly budget, which pays salaries for all the full-timers and healthcare for the full-timers (that would be yours truly, on top of Rebecca and Dok), and also pays all the freelance writers you love (by process of elimination, that is the other people not contained in that first category). Oh yeah, and it pays for the "Infrastructure Week" part of Wonkette, which is servers and technical stuff like that. So when we say "we love you, you pay our rent," we mean it literally!

And when we write you one gabillion stories per week and liveblog ourselves covering hearings and reading court transcripts and the whole Mueller Report and say "please send donations, we are dying here," we also mean that literally.

Oh GOD, who put another adorable dog picture right there?

Well, since SOMEBODY brought up dogs, did you hear our idiot Lula sent us to the emergency vet AGAIN, this time on our BIRTHDAY? "Ha ha! I bet you have plans with people who are not the dog tonight! I will show you!" That is what we are pretty sure she was thinking.

Anyway, it was just some kind of fucked up tummy thing this time, but while we were there, the X-rays showed that she, the 14-year-old dog, has developed spondylosis, which is basically like bone spurs on the spine. (That's right, Donald Trump, BONE SPURS. And she ain't even fakin' it!) It's pretty normal for old lady dogs her size, but it can be painful, so obviously we had to start looking at pain management. Long story short, the first prescription involved TEN PILLS PER DAY. (Not ten different kinds, just two prescriptions that came out to ten pills per day, blah blah blah.) Obviously we wanted to do whatever we needed to do for her and make sure she's out of pain, but that seems a bit excessive, yeah? At least enough to get a second opinion?

SO OFF TO THE VET WE WENT AGAIN. And it wasn't some vet we found on the side of the road either, but another vet we had a great relationship with in the past and who takes care of a lot of our friends' and family's pets. Point being, after a full exam, THAT VET wasn't even sure Lula needed any pain management at this point. That's quite a second opinion, right? So ultimately we ended up meeting in the middle, keeping one pain pill prescription that actually seemed to be helping, and now she also gets CBD oil twice a day in peanut better chewies that she thinks are THE SHIT.

End result is that she seems like she's easily a couple few years younger now than she did before she started the new regimen, most likely because of the CBD oil, and also because her damn back doesn't hurt.

What we're saying is that when we say "We love you, you pay our rent," what we really mean is "We love you, you buy our dog cannabis drugs."

And we appreciate that very, very much.  

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Thank you, we love, you, DOG DRUGS FUCK YEAH!

Love,

Evan

 Follow Evan Hurst on Twitter RIGHT HERE, DO IT RIGHT HERE!  

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