Portland, Oregon, Wonkers, This Saturday Is Your Time To Shine!

But no face kissing, I am sorry.

Hey Portland, whatcha doing? Having some gross fire smoke from your state fires that are so big they're making their own weather? Well good, I wouldn't want to miss Montana's gross fire smoke skies while I am coming to see you!

Important details from WONKMEET.COM:

Saturday, July 24, 11 a.m.-5 p.m.: We'll be meeting at Peninsula Park for a family friendly afternoon in the park. We have picnic tables and restrooms. This is a potluck and BYOB (beer & wine only, please) event. For those that can't make it in person, we'll have a live WonkZoom running for drop ins. Free commemorative sportsball cap! This is going to be major epic.

It IS going to be major epic! Because Shy and I and not one but TWO babbies will be there!

And what is upcoming on the WONKMEET calendar, these wonkmeets put on by wonkers who have seized the means of WONKMEET production? (Special thanks to Uncle Milburn for leading the REVOLUTION!)

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SOUNDOFF! It's Your Wonkette Mental Health Check-In!

I hear y'all are wilding in the comments.

Everybody! How are we feeeeeling! Me, I have been headachey all week, and crabby, and I announce things in the chatcave like "btw I am in a FOUL MOOD, so if I snap at you, it is definitely me," which I think is nice but then everyone gets VERY QUIET. Here we are, finally having stopped the lunatic marauder at the top of the government, and instead of fixing the GLOBAL CRISES, we're in this stupid holding pattern, because Joe Manchin woke up Joe Manchin again today.

The rightwing media is not sitting down and shutting up; the 1/6 Treason Caucus is not hiding away in shame; we're about to get a whole bunch of Obamacare-style Tea Party town halls about the bad Black people doing cancel culture by teaching that US history had slavery in it on top of the gerrymandering and laws saying legislatures can just throw out elections they don't like; the pandemic is not over yet, and I will never in my lifetime understand the people saying you shouldn't wear a mask because ??? ... PROFIT!!!

Everything seems kind of overwhelming and pooey and if they're trying to make Joe Biden into Jimmy Carter, "existential malaise" would certainly fit.

And I hear y'all are wilding in the comments.

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I Am Worried About My Mom

This one stays at the top a while, so NEW POSTS ARE BELOW.

We arrived home from Mexico late Thursday night, after an 18-hour panic attack through two international airports. (Denver International had bright shiny new posters, not even faded, warning against BIRD FLU and MERS. I wish I'd taken some pictures for you, but my hands were full of daughter.) I was in a low-grade panic, because I didn't want to bring coronavirus home to my 81-year-old dad. "Leave it," I told my daughter as she went to return the yellow teething ball the baby in front of us had dropped. "Leave it. Leave it. LEAVE IT!" I had seen so many comforting pictures of empty airports; neither of our airports was like that at all. I think everyone was trying to get home at once after Trump the night before started shutting down travel. But at least we got home before this ...

Thank you for the vacation, dear ones who pay my salary. It was wonderful, until the end.

Friday morning, my mom — this is my mother — got the results of her biopsy and news that her surgeon would be happy to take her breast off this coming Wednesday. She doesn't mind the breast. It will make it easier to shoot arrows, like an amazon. She lives alone, out in the country, on the 13 acres she bought to retire to after she got her then-57-year-old schoolteacher ass kicked by a proud member of the Manhattan Beach PD. She needs me to be with her. And I've just traveled internationally, and there are no tests.

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By which I mean come see us tonight, Vancouver, and tomorrow, Seattle!

My mom, God love her, has a touch of Marianne Williamson to her, a vestige of her 30 years with healing crystal friends in Southern California. She doesn't have Williamson's anti-science crazy, but she holds the idea that if I talk about my paranoia, my deep suspicion verging on certainty that His Lunatics have already started their shooting war, I am putting it out there in the universe and creating it as fact.

I always yes her. Yes, Mom, yes, I know. Of course, yes. I never argue that we need to be alert to the dangers around us, and that refusing to name the monster will not make it go away.

I am supposed to plump you up here, to assure you that in the case of that shooting war, we will have the military on our side, and we may. But we won't have the small town police departments, or even the Portland PD. I am not supposed to let the shooting war enter my brain at all, or I will ideate their bullets with the 3D printer of my mind. I must be a cheerful warrior, pure of heart and without fear; paranoia is bad for readership, unless your readers are stupid wingnuts desperate to SELL GOLD and BUILD THEIR BUNKERS for the HOLY RACE WAR they've got their sad old boners for.

I have been on vacation I think a week now, and the paranoia hasn't receded a bit.

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