Looks like time to hit the liquor store

Hi! It's me, Editrix. I hear you guys have been wilding in the comments, and generally sniping at each other like it is Twitter instead of the world's gentlest momblog, and that you maybe need a good nap and a stuffed bunny.

I don't have a nap for you, and our stuffed bunny's taken, but I figure here is a cocktail and I stole it from here. If you're a Friend of Bill, smoke some weed instead!

Noble Hostess calls this "The Griffith" for some uppity place in Los Angeles, but we call it a Golden Poppy because it feels like home. The recipe is SO EASY, but first you got some liquor to buy.

Look at Grand Poppy's ingredients, are you KIDDING ME, WHAT!

Organic California poppy, orange, lemon, grapefruit, bearberry, California bay leaf, pink peppercorn, dandelion, blessed thistle, burdock, rue, artichoke, gentian, geranium, cherry bark, cane sugar


Now take one part EACH:

Grand Poppy liqueur


lemon juice

simple syrup

and smash up three slices of cucumber*

*Fuck it, just use cucumber vodka instead.

Shake them with ice, and don't drink anything else all summer or ever again.

Because you guys, we are all so tired. We're all exhausted. It feels like they're winning, and we're losing hope, and we're taking it out on each other and ourselves. And we can't. We have to go out in the sunshine, and breathe, and drink a lovely beverage and pat a cat or a dog or a child or a husband on the head. Have some sex if you can stand it. Watch some (non-politics) TV if you can't. Get a massage. Take a walk. Be in touch with your body and look at the moon.

Because we're not going to make it if we're turning on each other -- and that goes quinfuckingtuple for Bernie v. Hillz. Nice things have happened yesterday and today! The courts are with us! Primaries turnt out as fuck! Michael Cohen WILL go to jail, and our hearts WILL go on!

In the meantime, be gentle, Terrible Ones. Because 50 people canceled their Wonkette accounts in May, and since I don't want to worry that they lost their jobs or we just suck now, Ima have to blame you.

Stay gold

Drink up, cheers, we love you, NOW BREATHE and have your OPEN THREAD!

Rebecca Schoenkopf

Rebecca Schoenkopf is the owner, publisher, and editrix of Wonkette. She is a nice lady, SHUT UP YUH HUH. She is very tired with this fucking nonsense all of the time, and it would be terrific if you sent money to keep this bitch afloat. She is on maternity leave until 2033.

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We want to say right here at the outset that we hate Julian Assange. Aside from the sexual assault allegations against him, and aside from the fact that he's just a generally stinky and loathsome person who reportedly smeared poop on the walls at the Ecuadorian embassy in London, while reportedly not taking care of his cat, an innocent creature, he acted as Russia's handmaiden during the 2016 election, in order to further Russia's campaign to steal it for Donald Trump. All signs point to his campaign being a success!

So we are justifiably happy when bad things happen to Julian Assange. We are happy his name is shit the world over, and that any reputation WikiLeaks used to have for being on the side of freedom and transparency has been stuffed down the toilet where it belongs. We are happy he looked like such a sad-ass loser when the Ecuadorian embassy finally kicked him out and he was arrested.

And quite frankly, we were OK with the initial charge against him recently unsealed in the Eastern District of Virginia. If you'll remember, he was charged with trying to help Chelsea Manning hack a password into the Defense Department, which is not what journalists do. Journalists do not drive the get-away car for sources. Journalists do not hold their sources' hair back while they're stealing classified intel. Assange is essentially accused of doing all that.

Now, put all that aside. Because -- and this is key -- journalists do publish secrets they are provided by sources. That's First Amendment, chapter and verse, American as fucking apple pie and fast-food-induced diabetes. And that is what much of the superseding indictment of Assange unsealed yesterday was about. (And nope, it wasn't about anything regarding Assange's ratfucking the 2016 election or Hillary's emails. Why would the Trump Justice Department prosecute anything about that? It's all about the older Chelsea Manning stuff, the stuff the Obama Justice Department considered charging Assange with, but ultimately declined, because of that little thing called the First Amendment.)

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The pharmaceutical giant Gilead Sciences, Inc. -- heck of a name for these times -- recently announced US sales of a generic version of its HIV prevention drug Truvada would begin a year earlier than originally planned. The stepped-up schedule for the generic was at least in part the result of pressure from activists, who have made a lot of noise about the fact that Gilead's huge revenues from Truvada -- about $3 billion annually -- came only after the basic research for the drug was done at taxpayer expense, largely through grants from the Centers for Disease Control, which holds the patent on the drug.

At a House Oversight Committee hearing last week, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez let one of the witnesses, Gilead CEO Daniel O'Day, know she wasn't personally blaming him or his greed for the high cost of the drug, which prevents the spread of HIV through "pre-exposure prophylaxis" (PrEP). No, that's all a result of the terrible incentives that come from the fact that the US, alone among developed countries, treats healthcare as a commodity, not a right for all. Which is why a monthly supply of Truvada costs nearly $1800 here, and roughly eight dollars in Australia.

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