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rvoronacote.bsky.social
Author of Too Much: How Victorian Constraints Still Bind Women Today. Freelance book critic all over the place. Get in touch: [email protected]. @RVoronaCote on Instagram. She / Her.
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My stomach lurched. We are in profoundly disturbing territory.

I wish we could temporarily adjust journalistic standards so that every story about the evil dimwits gleefully dismantling democracy did not require an accompanying photograph of them. Just include a blank white box, with the caption, “You don’t need another picture of this lousy motherfucker.”

Cannot put into words how I feel about this man.

Humble suggestion: rather than acknowledge the orange man's birthday on June 14th, you can just continue to celebrate mine, which is on the 13th. Mine is the superior event, simply because I am not him.

Living in a heavily militarized Capitol Hill after January 6 only to watch it become militarized again a few years later so the perpetrator of those historic crimes can throw himself a big birthday party is soul-sickening in a way that's genuinely impossible to describe. Thank you again, America.

Enraged, nauseated by this tasteless dictator cosplay headed to town

Here are some texts I got from an immigration lawyer friend of mine. Shared with permission. Some of the bleakest shit I’ve ever heard.

Imagining Elon gorging mountains of cocaine like Tony Montana at the end of Scarface to prepare for a weekend of bitchy little breakup tweets.

We all knew that Trump and Musk's sordid alliance was going to end in this petulant, loud, and stupid way. Now the end is here, and there's no avoiding exposure to it, which I find deeply fucking irritating.

My very favorite Morris pattern 💆🏼‍♀️

That's right, queen. (Love the NPG — from all appearances, it's under the right leadership.)

Not trying to put on a tinfoil hat, but I’m beginning to suspect that a few of America’s more literate overlords read “Harrison Bergeron” in AP English and thought to themselves, “hmm seems good.” Thus, all these rancid generative AI programs, which are gradually turning brains into cheese.

no more posting about any of those “writing routines of famous writers” unless it’s Edmund White’s

I'll say this: the Dems' commitment to political uselessness has grown so extreme, it almost looks like performance art.

Update: My DMs are bursting with feverish agreement. You little freaks. 😛

I think that when you turn 40, you should receive a comprehensive list of everyone who has ever had a crush on you up until that point in your life. No matter if the crush lasted one hour, while the crusher was inebriated; it goes on the list. (I'm turning 40 on the 13th.)

New kenning, compliments of the three-and-a-half year old: a highway service station is a “potty store”

Lord forgive me, I bought a pair of pedal pushers.

I haven’t used AI to write any of the stuff I’ve published but I think AI might be using me. If that makes sense.

Good for sure, although I continue to feel insane over this protracted definitional litigation. So much gnashing of teeth, so many profoundly bad faith accusations, and all because so many of us have borne witness to what is happening, and dared to describe it with the most accurate term.

…the space rock?

bewildered + big mad

It’s just now clicking that my 40th birthday lands on Friday the 13th (in June, there’s still time to buy me a gift). Will I turn into a witch or…???

oh my god can u imagine!!!

At 9 p.m., my 3.5 year old emerged from his bedroom, armed with three ukuleles (yes, three, don't ask). Love him though I do, this was not a welcome sight.

So proud of my wildly talented friend!!

From the moment my son was born I realized that loving him would always be inextricable from the fear of harm befalling him. What Palestinian parents are being made to endure is the most inhumane torture, and history will judge us accordingly.

The soft animal of my body also hates this.

Everything about this is a tragedy, every level, from cheated freelancers to authors obscured to readers who don’t get served either.

I’m surely not the only one who wishes Douglas Adams were here to comment on the ChatGPT of it all. Maybe it would be a useful time for an Adamsissance.

You can’t whimsy your way out of this one, guy.

Whole Foods played both “Girl,” by Beck and “I Turn My Camera On,” by Spoon. So, that means…whatever it means.