COMMIE GIRL COLLECTIVE

Hey girl. You probably wanna rip a quick and dirty blog post about the exciting sale of Wonkette Media from Ken Layne to me, without doing much reporting or work.

Girl, you know I feel you.

Please feel free to poke around this, my personal website. (My mom might take over blogging here for me. You’ll like her. Her name is Commie Mom, and she writes about being a big fat LIEBERAL in Oklahoma, and living lightly on the land, and sometimes how she accidentally kills all her animals, individually, in horrifying Saw- or Hostel-style ways!) While you’re here, go ahead and ctrl-c/ctrl-v all you want — but not, you know, the WHOLE THING. Have some self-respect! Looking for pictures? Check my Facebook page! (I’m the only Rebecca Schoenkopf in the whole wide world.) There are hot ones and stupid, unattractive ones, if that’s the way you want to go. I understand! Sometimes you hate someone, and need a gross picture of them for mocking. I do not judge. Lord, I do not judge. You might like to look at a few of the columns and cover stories I’ve got here on the site. You’ll probably like the one where I look for Arnold Schwarzenegger, also too maybe the one where I go to Cuba. Some others, whatever, you’re an American, do what you want! Oh, there’s a really good one from 2006 where I explain EXACTLY what is going to happen to the housing market. Read that one please! Or don’t, if you don’t want to be terrified by my brilliance, prescience, and depth.

And now here is the answer to every possible question you could conceivably have.

Are you really a Communist? No. I am a socialist. Communists are scary, like Stalin and Barack Obama. Twenty million dead, Alan! How do you pronounce “primer”? Short i. What qualifies you to type dick jokes on the Internet as the newest Wonkette? I type 75 words a minute. Also, I invented typing dick jokes back in 1998, when I used to write columns about passing out on the hotel room floor of sad Young Americans for Freedom while making them watch Bulworth instead of porn. How do you know Ken Layne? Layne and I were set up on a date once in the mid- to late-’90s. It went so well we didn’t speak to each other again for … eh … eight years? Eventually we emailed each other a coupla emails — bygones! — and then, when I was editor of LA CityBeat, we implemented a happy content-sharing arrangement, whereby CityBeat got Wonkette’s content, and Wonkette got to give it! Will you be on our TV and/or radio program? Sure! I am not *great* on TV, because I’m cross-eyed (fake eye; rock fight; 8; you’re welcome) but I’m ok. Radio? You never heard such a honeyed voice as mine! How come Layne sold you Wonkette, and how much did he get for it? Well, you offered to buy it, but he told me he hates you. As to the price, it was $47 and a sandwich, or $47 and a sandwich more than Sam Zell paid for the LA Times. What do people say most about you? That a friend of theirs met me and said I’m “surprisingly nice!” What do you say most about yourself? ”I swear I’m really supersmart and good at stuff!” That hot picture of you must be like 15 years old, right? No, that picture is from last Friday, the night before I turned 39. Is it true you were a Sad Unemployed Poor for more than three years until this very second? Yeah, and I stopped counting after 13 job interviews since May. HEY JAY ROSEN, WHO’S SORRY HE DIDN’T HIRE ME NOW? How about a CV? Twenty years in alt-weeklies, intern at MAD Magazine, NYU/USC, copyeditor, art critic, political columnist, AAN Award, master’s, fellowship, urban policy, smart things, some stuff. I don’t know. I guess you could check my Linked-In. And? I have a son and we live in Los Angeles. [...] And I have a book too, from Verso (they publish all the best Communists), called Commie Girl in the OC. And if you want to buy a Commie Girl T-shirt, you can shoot me an email. They’re $20. You could give one to your girlfriend, and pretend she’s me.*

*Oh, come on, I was joking, stop being gross you guys Jesus Christ.