Wait, What? What The Fuck? Is This Happening? MY GOD.

My television is calling Pennsylvania for TRUMP?

Eight years ago, about this time of night, I screamed and caterwauled and God DAMNED America. How could people look at that stupid, grunting rapist and say fuck yeah, sign me up? And then those years were so horrible, so much worse than we could imagine, so many years shaved off all our lives by our skyrocketing stress and blood pressure, and that’s before he killed a million Americans by letting his son-in-law pit states against each other for ventilators in the pandemic.

You do not subscribe to Wonkette for our political prognostications, because as I have explained — until quite recently, when I apparently lied to my own face and brain and shushed your worries and told you NO, WE HAD THIS — I am quite terrible at it. Our job is watching, and cataloging, and calling bullshit, and having long memories and institutional knowledge, not predicting the future.

But I watched this FUCKING MORON babble and shit himself, while the supermodel badass tough smart lady ran a flawless, magnificent campaign, and I knew you were worrying about nothing. Oh you, so silly, your dumb little fears! I knew we had this. I knew it was a BLOWOUT. Maybe with TEXAS.

And never for a moment did I think that after we’d lived through this, we’d affirmatively sign up to do it again.

Where did my women-plus-10 turnout go? I guess the men met it in the final hour! What about all my youngs? Well in Michigan, according to the exits, Trump won them affirmatively! And Latinos in Michigan at 60 percent.

Here’s something stupid to wrap your heads around. According to those exits, 56 percent of the country said they want undocumented immigrants to be able to apply to stay legally. And yet people just voted, in bigger numbers than ever before, for the guy shouting MASS DEPORTATIONS NOW, and that was one of the biggest issues on which people voted overwhelmingly for him.

MAKE IT FUCKING MAKE SENSE.

I can’t begin to describe the atrocities we know are coming. There’s everyone’s number one issue The Economy, on which he’s about to open a giant pile of 20 percent taxes on all imports — that’s your Temu, people! — as well as MASS DEPORTING NOW all our fucking immigrant friends, who tend to be the workers we need to make things and grow things and buy things and also care for our parents. There will be pain for journalists, and pain for our gay and trans brothers and sisters and children; there will be explicit pain for everyone who didn’t support him, he already promised that. The man is going to put Robert F. Kennedy Jr. in charge of vaccines. Oh, did western North Carolina just get drowned in mudslides from climate change hurricanes? No it didn’t, it was abortions.

And not only did he apparently squeak out a win, but his numbers grew. They grew! While he was fucking his own ass up there, talking about the Haitians and the Puerto Ricans and the cats and the dogs and his interminable Fidel Castro-length word-shits, people said … who the fuck knows what they said.

I think when we demanded everyone stop showing his rallies all the time, we made a mistake.

My old women friends were down, down on Candidate Kamala. They said we as a nation were too sexist and too racist, and I yelled at them. But the men’s gender gap, per these exits, was bigger than the women’s! In some swing states, as many as fifty-eight percent of men looked at the rapist and said FUCK YEAH, THAT’S OUR GUY. Oh how I believed the young women and old women (not so much the Gen X women, my own, worst generation) were saving the day! I didn’t just believe it. I knew it.

My head is spinning, and splitting. I know yours is too. I don’t even have a feral, primal scream, like that last time, to howl for you. I’m empty and shaken and in shock. My god, how am I going to tell Donna Rose and Tallulah, when they wake up? My god my god, my beautiful babies.

DEEP BREATH, DEEP BREATH, HANG ON GETTING MORE WINE.

Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to maybe puke some, and maybe cry now or later — I’m still too shocked to do so — and if it’s anything like eight years ago, it will be a solid six months before the shock of it doesn’t hit us in the face each morning before we’ve even opened our eyes. We’ll turn to our friends — that’s you, that’s me, that’s the commenters, that’s some real life people — and we for fucking sure won’t harm ourselves. You heard me: NO HARMING.

And at least here at Wonkette, we’ll do the grim job of cataloging, watching, testifying, and having long memories.

You can come and go as you please; I do not expect you to wear yourselves down watching everything that vile shit buffoon does for the next two or three years before he keels over for that guy everybody hates even more. But we will be here, doing the work. We’ll also be here finding good things, as they come, and hilarity, when you and we didn’t think it could exist. We will be organizing, but with time for breaks. Oh my god my fucking head.

Please stay with us. We need you like you need us.