Saturday, March 31, 2018


Today's Lesson Misses the Target
Children shouldn't see a stranger
come into their classroom,
pull out a gun
and aim at the teacher.
According to tweets, the gunman,
an estranged husband,
should have waited for his wife
to come home,
because a husband killing his wife
should only be done at home,
where children are witnesses;
because children shouldn't see a stranger
come into their classroom,
pull out a gun,
and aim at their teacher.

- Emma Lee

Wishing Not to be Stalled
"I am glad it is going slowly - you don't deserve a bullet," Uma Thurman
A relief from the worry of a crowded space
and groping hands. Here I can ride solo.
A space from tossing a coin as to whether
to walk home or, post-Worboys, get a taxi.
An open box that allows witnesses.
Its movement a reminder you're part of a chain
connected to compartments above and below,
as they are: it's not just you. A hashtag can be
brushed off, mansplained, but each dismissal
strengthens the links. I might be alone in this
paternoster but its not the same aloneness
as when I was threatened, dodged fumbles,
told, whilst wearing school uniform, I could earn
extra in my lunch break in the red light district;
when I was the only woman in a venue watching
a band I had to review. #MeToo. I stand
in this compartment, dare myself to go over the top
and pray the momentum continues the revolution.
(Paternoster elevators consist of open compartments, designed to hold up to two people, chained to move slowly in a continuous upright loop so users step on or off. Users are encouraged to exit at the final floor before the elevator travels over the top of the loop)

-  Emma Lee

WineDrunk SideWalk : ShipWrecked in TrumpLand week SIXTY TWO wrap up

Hello kittens and welcome to week 62 and our final week of Women’s History Month.
Before we get started, I just want everyone to take a moment to acknowledge this:

These are the kids we were supposed to protect, out here, in the street begging for their government to do, something, anything to save their fucking lives.

This is 2018.

And on Tuesday their voice was joined by John Paul Stevens who called for a repeal of the second amendment.

Look, we don’t need to repeal the second amendment. We just need to reverse Heller. Heller was a landmark case in which the Supreme Court held that the Second Ammendment protects an individual’s right to possess a firearm unconnected with service in a militia for traditional lawful purposes such as self-defense in the home. It also made it so that DC’s handgun ban that required shotguns and rifles to unloaded and disassembled or bound by a trigger lock was a violation of this ruling.

Heller only happened in 2008. It’s not even ten years old. There are so many avenues for change here.

In the meantime, the week started out with the president*’s personal lawyer team being down to just one little monkey jumping on the bed. Right now Jay Sekulow is the ONLY lawyer dealing with Robert Mueller investigation.  All the others have high tailed it out of there. I would love to say that this is a positive sign but I’m not ready for optimism yet.

Stormy Daniels did her interview in which she revealed that she was threatened not to speak about the affair and after it aired the president*’s lawyer Michael Cohen sent a cease and desist letter.

*insert rolly eye emoji here*

A government watchdog group has accused Cambridge Analytica of violating federal election laws that prohibit foreign entities from participating in the US election process, directly or indirectly.  After that the Federal Trade Commission confirmed that it’s opened an investigation into the privacy practices of Facebook, tanking its shares.

On Tuesday we found out that the president* wants to include a question on the 2020 census asking about citizenship which is OBVIOULSY a terrible idea. Naturally people who are not citizens, are going to not answer which is going to lead to an inaccurate count which can then snowball into funding issues as well as possible redistricting. The census has not asked about citizenship in 70 years. Because of this move, the State of California (shout out to my west coast resisters!) is suing the Admin. And by the middle of the week California was joined by 12 more states!

In the meantime, the president* is suggesting that the US military could pay for his stupid racist border wall.  Speaking of stupid everybody’s favorite son in law, Kushner is in trouble again. This time two loans, totaling $500 million, are under investigation for violating federal ethics regulations

On Wednesday we learned that Rick Gates KNOWINGLY communicated with a former Russian Intelligence Officer during the 2016 campaign.  Gates spilled his tea to Alex van der Zwaan who then spilled it to Bob.  And now he’s prolly going to jail! Which is what we all hope happens to the president* isn’t it, kittens?

Meanwhile the orange menace was planning on pardoning Manafort and Flynn. Wonder why? Worried about more spilt tea, you motherfucker?

So while Rick is playing nice with Bob, Manafort (god I can’t wait till we don’t have to talk about these fucking white men anymore) is NOT because he’s expecting Trump to pardon him.
And it looks like pro-ASSHOLE news sites are circulating stories to discredit the investigation so that if (though now I fear when) he fires Mueller he’ll have lots of news coverage to justify it. He’s running another fucking campaign here.

What else?

Oh Stormy ain’t quitting, the EPA sent staffers a list of 8 approved talking points to downplay climate change even though 45% of Americans are legit worried about our planet going to shit, a former Disney child star (his thing for young blondes is gross) is now a press aide, and he’s replacing Shulkin with this motherfucking personal physician.

Oh and this:

Drinks are on me! 

By weeks end, the president*’s outside advisors convinced him that he doesn’t need a chief of staff or a communications director, Mueller’s team was digging up dirt on Sessions meeting with Kislyak and the EPA Administrator Scott Pruit lived in a condo tied to energy lobbyists – while he’s rolling back federal rules to make cars cleaner, and David Shulkin said he was fired as the Secretary of Veteran Affairs because he was standing in the way of the orange menace trying to privatize the VA. The person filling his position has never run a large bureaucracy. And Ben Carson, our favorite fucking brain surgeon, is attempting to reverse federal efforts to enforce fair housing.

It’s like they’re not even trying to cover it up anymore. They give absolutely zero fucks and they want us to know it.

The president* who can’t find the time to call his own people to let them know they’re fired did manage to find time to call Roseanne Barr on her high ratings for the revival of her show.

Lots of people have said it much more eloquently than I ever could so you should read them, (really it’s Roxane Gay, it’s gonna be good) but I will say, this reboot is bullshit. Normalizing this man is bullshit. And doing it the way the show is doing it – with token diverse characters - is even more bullshit. In case you need a reminder of what Rosanne is like now, here you go. It’s not for the faint-hearted. And yes, it’s real.

Wanna watch a show about the working class that is not steeped in white supremacy and this false narrative that only white people are working class? Watch Superstore.

Our week did end with, well, I wouldn’t call it good news, because there is too much tragedy surrounding it but for a change a proper verdict was handed down. Noor Salman, the widow of Omar Mateen, was found not guilty of helping her husband carry out the Pulse shooting. I think it’s important that we remember that she was a victim of his violence – both physically and mentally. He beat her. He raped her. He isolated her. He controlled her. This woman was literally put on trial for her husband’s crimes.

I want to tie this into this excellent piece that was written by Isabelle Robinson, one of the Parkland shooting survivors.  This #WalkUPNotOut ideology is dangerous. Children are not responsible for managing the mental health of their peers, in the same way the women are not responsible for men’s violence. The Isla Vista murder blamed women for not meeting his needs. The Maryland teenager who killed a woman who stopped dating him was described by the media as lovesick.  And now, Noor was put on trial to be the face of her husband’s crimes.

What everyone needs to understand is simple – IT IS NOT OUR FAULT IF MEN KILL US.

Okay? Okay.

Before we call it a day, since this is the last week of Women’s History Month and my takeover of WinedrunkSidewalk I would like to say a few thank yous.

First off, thank you to John Grochalski who didn’t even blink when I told him I wanted to take over his blog for an entire month. Not only did he not blink, he was thrilled. He’s been running this thing singlehandedly since Day 1. We’re closing out Day 436 tomorrow. That is a long time to keep up an art resistance.

This blog is a protest. And it does not work without participants. So to all the women who submitted: I cannot thank you enough. You were fierce, you were honest, you were loving, you were real. You are all artists of the utmost caliber and I’m honored to have been a part of this with you.

Because you all deserve to have your names said here you are:
Thank you to Sarah Allen Reed, Samantha Clarke, Jennifer Lagier, Jennifer Eppinger, Anonymous, Beth Dranoff, Donna Hilbert, Rachel Nix, Kat Giordano, Juliet Cook, Claudia Blanchard, Emma Lee, Alexis Rhone Fancher, Kolleen Carney, Sarah Worrel, Tamara Madison, Jen Manalili, Susie Sweetland, and Rachel Toalson.

As of writing this your combined art had a total of almost 5,000 hits!!! Thank you to all the women and men out there who shared this work and helped resist.

I’m so proud of all of you.

BUT ….we are not done. I’m asking everyone, all the women who we have submitted and all the women who have been reading along and wondering – I need  you to keep submitting. This is, as I said, a protest piece and protest we will. Keep sending us your work. Keep staring at this Admin. 
Keep holding them accountable. Keep telling your stories of what it is to move though this world as a woman. Keep your voices at the forefront of this Resistance.

Keep submitting.

Women’s History Month is important and honored. But we deserve all the other months too, don’t we, kittens?

Submit. Submit. Submit.

The email is

Keep writing. Keep fighting. Keep submitting.

And remember, Keep your chins up.  And Keep your claws out.

Thank you again, for letting me a be a part of your amazing work.

Next up at 10:30 Emma Lee is closing up Women's History Month.

And tomorrow at 10:30 we have a drawing by poet Rob Plath

Friday, March 30, 2018


The Story of a Woman

I wear thin skin.
I cry easily.
I am often discounted.

I don’t run in my very safe neighborhood after dark, alone.
I don’t walk down sketchy streets alone.
I don’t wander into new and novel places alone.

I have been owned.
I have been made to feel small.
I have had my power stolen from me.

I have been catcalled, propositioned, touched inappropriately,
pressured to do what I didn’t want to do,

I have known the shame of insignificance.
I have known fear.
I have known the absence of security.

My body belongs to me.
My mind belongs to me.
My power belongs to me.

I am strong.
I am courageous.
I am worthy.

I am as intelligent as any man.
I am as innovative as any man.
I am as persistent as any man.

I am every woman.

-Rachel Toalson

She Said Something

She said something,
she pointed fingers,
she raised the alarm
on a fault line that shifts
beneath the surface of things
but never quite bubbles out
from beneath the cement slab of
fame, fortune, politics.

She said something,
she pointed fingers,
she raised the alarm—
but, in the end,
she was a woman.
Easily dismissed as

- Rachel Toalson

Thursday, March 29, 2018


Idiot Nation

“Should crazy have a place in the public square?” – Leonard Pitts

Sunday morning begins with frightening headlines,
an insane president’s tweets.

Research analyzes America’s rampant idiocracy,
documents the cause--educational de-funding.

Surrounded by cretinous crazy, it’s tough to persevere,
maintain hope, much less a positive outlook.

Around us, institutions crumble, replaced by
lowest denominator infotainment, crass propaganda.

In this Brave New World, resentful mobs
take out their frustrations on the wrong targets.

Trolls have seized control of checks and balances,
construct a totalitarian gulag, seal every exit.

- Jennifer Lagier

Life With Trump: a Quiz

1. Twitter is for
(a) announcing sensitive news
(b) Attacking people
(c) Congratulating yourself on your accomplishments so far
(d) People who are not the president of the United States

2. Puerto Rico is
(a) A country with a president who is not the president of the United States
(b) Nothing to concern oneself with
(c) Poor—in other words: insignificant
(d) Part of the USA

3. Immigrants are synonymous with the word:
(a) Terrorists
(b) Monsters
(c) Unwelcome
(d) People

4. A “diversary visa” is a
(a) Visa for diversary people
(b) Visa for diverse anniversaries
(c) Visa that celebrates a diversary
(d) An entirely made-up phrase

5. “It’s not good” is a
(a) Fact
(b) Factual observation
(c) Truth
(d) Personal opinion

6. Covfefe is
(a) Healthcare coverage for a fefe
(b) Sunblock coverage for a fefe
(c) Coffee with a “v” of whipped cream on top
(d) A typo courtesy of clumsy fingers

7. The “Cut Cut Cut Act” will
(a) Make provisions for the vulnerable
(b) Redistribute wealth
(c) Cut across the board
(d) Line the pockets of the already-wealthy and widen the gap between rich and poor, thereby further weakening the middle class

8. Bullying belongs
(a) At rallies
(b) At home
(c) In the White House
(d) Absolutely nowhere

9. A president should be a
(a) Joke
(b) Clown
(c) Narcissistic toddler
(d) Leader

10. A president owes the American people
(a) Nothing
(b) An entertaining show
(c) A three-ring circus
(d) Dignity, freedom, and justice

- Rachel Toalson

Wednesday, March 28, 2018


What You Do

Dissemble. Distract.
Stir up fake controversies
with conspiracist friends.
Deflect. Deny criminal activity.
Pretend all is well.
Give thanks the recent
assault weapon slaughter
temporarily diverts public attention.

When the media focuses
on your latest sexual scandal,
claim you’re a victim.
Tweet misinformation.
Attack. Accuse.
Use morally stunted mouthpieces
to perform your treasonous bidding.
Bluster and fume.
Tell the world “Pay no attention
to the man behind the green curtain.”

- Jennifer Lagier

In the Shadow of That Wall

"I will build a great wall -- and nobody builds walls better than me, believe me --and I'll build them very inexpensively. I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words." – Donald J. Trump

Orange Airbag-in-Chief is obsessed with enclosures.
Vows to build a great wall, one that rivals
the immense stone structure bisecting China.
Best of all, Mexico will pay all costs,
an announcement that causes white supremacists
and xenophobes to crow their approval.

I crave a tall barrier to protect
my sensibilities and body
from greedy, sadistic misogynists
currently running our country
into the ground for personal gain,
unfettered dominance, unholy profits.

It’s up to women
to topple this evil regime.
Take back democracy.
Re-establish rule of law.
We’ve had a lifetime of experience
cleaning up destructive men’s messes.

- Jennifer Lagier

Tuesday, March 27, 2018



last night I had a dream you offered me cocaine
and it’s funny because cocaine is like
one of three drugs nobody could get me to do
and also you yourself haven’t even done drugs,
even pot, for like the past 10 years
or something crazy like that, and in fact
the last two times i got stoned you were there
and I felt your sobriety like the outline
of an anvil that never quite came down
and I’ve only seen cocaine one time
in person, so when you pulled it out
of your pocket in the dream it was just salt
in one of those bags they keep spare buttons in
when you buy a sweater. I did a line
but don’t really remember the sensation,
or any sensation, just myself asking
if I did enough or too much, thinking
to get out my phone and google it
just as I was waking up,
how I woke up with heart palpitations
and that delicious impending doom feeling
of my forthcoming orgasm for you in my stomach
and all day I’ve been thinking about what it means,
my head swimming with the symbology of that weird sacrament
and all of the ways it was shocking,
that you’re good for me or completely terrible
and it changes depending on what I want
you to be and how it’s so much of both,
how in the dream there was this other guy there
who was also supposed to be you, I think,
and I felt the sting of his disappointment
long after I woke up and how neither of those yous
are you so I guess they’re me.

i spend so much time trying to editorialize
the contents of my chest, pick apart desire
and go crazy trying to catalog
its weight. like if i pay in shame
for all of this adoration i’ll stay sober
in its hands because it’s fucking easier
to be in school than to be responsible
for dealing your own tough love or worse,
not. last weekend at the peak
of that edible,  i was fucked and i wanted you
to judge me, didn’t recognize the pure intrigue
in your voice as you asked about the shapes
on the inside of my eyelids. i wanted you
to frown at me and be like CUT THAT SHIT OUT.
i wanted you to roll over and fall asleep
face down while the room spun around me, your body radiating
disappointment and bad vibes. i wanted you
to wake up and tell me how dumb i sounded but you didn’t
and i keep losing my place in all this
but the point is i dreamt you offered me cocaine
because then i could wake up and hate myself
for this racing heart and dime-sized
pupils and being so wound up I’d fuck
a piece of furniture and cum in five seconds
just thinking of the way you smell.
then afterward i could be hungover
and tell my bathroom mirror reflection
I did a bad thing again, verbally
bop myself with a newspaper like a dog
and then for good measure I could
message you and you’d yell at me but you
won’t, you’ll just tell me you’re happy
I’m happy, like some fucking sadist

and fuck you for that.

- Kat Giordano


He says he would kill to be this young, still undefined,
the ten years he has on me still spread on my apartment floor
like an empty map. He hurries to fill me with himself,
taunting, and I open for him, do what I always do
when I meet someone who gawks at me like a glass chandelier: forget
that a narcissist can only ever love himself, that I am
just a box of dirty mirrors.

He wants me hanging above his bed like a row of paper dolls,
childish. he’d have me groan as he skims me like an ala carte menu,
folding back the parts he doesn’t care for. My joy
bores him. My confidence disgusts him. My wholeness
disappoints him. He resents wanting me when I’m like this:
solid, no cracks for the light to pour in, no way for him
to gaze longingly at his own face.

Still, we were friends the way damaged people are always
friends: ships refusing to budge as they pass in the night,
our hulls scraping each other, fetishists
for the way the paint flakes off before it hits the water,
never to be seen again. Another chapter in this lesson
I fail over and over, not ready to live without it.
Who are we if we don’t leave these bruises on each other?
What would we have left to kiss when everyone walks away?

- Kat Giordano

Monday, March 26, 2018


The Good Wife

(Previously published in Moraine, by Pearl Editions as well as Pearl Magazine)

She wears her life like an awkward dress
she made in high school Home Ec class
decades ago. It doesn't fit too well by now:
the waist too high and tight, the sleeves
too narrow, and the color -- what
was she thinking? But it's her life now
and changing it would mean unraveling
everything, laying out a new pattern,
learning all the new rules in that hazy puzzle
of the unknown. Here she is tied up
with cords she made herself; she knows
every thread by heart. The face of her captor
stares out of her eyes in the mirror:
the anxious burning eyes of the bride
in the wedding photos, pale as the ivory lace,
gripping in gloved hands the trembling bouquet.

- Tamara Madison

This Gun is Real

I have seen my face in the black metal
felt the heat
breathed gray dust hanging
in the air.

This kid knows
what makes Saturday night special.

I open the flue
hide the gun in the chimney.

I am talking about terror.

Now I look for the knife.
this knife is real.
I have seen it at work
slicing the Sunday roast.

I slide the knife
into the shoe box
replace the lid.

Now it’s the middle of the night.
I am lying on the floor.
From the light under my door
two voices.

He says, “I’m taking the kid.”
She says, “I’ll do anything.”

Something black comes up from my stomach
covers me.
This child knows
how to die.

Sundays, he sleeps late.
We get up early.
I bring her the knife.

She starts dinner.

His favorite
pot roast sliced thin
pearly white onions
potatoes steamed in their pink jackets

leftovers all week.
- Donna Hilbert

Sunday, March 25, 2018


Poem For The Waitress At Rocky’s Cafe in Gorman, CA With The Diamond Ring Tattooed On Her Finger

Some women get sweet-talked.
Some women get beat on.
Some women get tired of taking orders.
Some women get fed up, run off,
end up at Rocky’s, taking orders.

- Alexis Rhone Fancher

Of Accents & Peanut Butter

I used to make fun of my mom’s accent.
Amused and fascinated, by
the way it would cling to her tongue. Heavy and thick
like the way peanut butter sticks to your teeth
when you eat it.
It dangles. On the edge
of different letters. My mom is a car,
and her accent continues to hang on tightly
with both hands clenched. No matter how long
she has been in America now.
One day-
The scene on the red trolley, when her voice was turned into a joke
at someone else’s expense. Someone who was not me.
A man with wrinkled, alabaster skin
sitting across from us. His eyes
narrowed. His face
tightened. Trying to make sense of
our laughter. Watching us
speak in a tongue he did not understand.
His knuckles clenched
around the newspaper he was holding
in front of his face, like a shield.
He rolled his eyes. A scoff lodged in
his throat, until-
The headline crumpled
between his hands.
“Speak English!” he spit.
“For all I know, you could be fucking terrorists!”
The words
seemed to vibrate back
and forth between us.
Until they landed on my
in silence,
her face filled with shame.

And that’s when my mom’s accent,
her voice, thick like paste. And peanut butter.
The same one that welcomed me into this world,
that soothed me in the dark,
that gave me my first name,
so no one could ever doubt I was anything but
American. That made
getting up, growing up. Easier-
It stopped being funny.

I realized this country could never belong to my mom,
not in the same way it belongs to me.
And I stopped laughing.

- Jen Manalili

Saturday, March 24, 2018


Gone midnight and I needed somewhere to press reset
Eardrums still reverberating, my mood was all wrong.
One moment was high alert, the next anger and disbelief.
What could be calmer than a graveyard? Natural shadows
from trees were a balm to a country girl who'd felt welcome
until tonight. I was used to being told it wasn't a girl's job,
heard the same banter many times over, but never been touched,
groped or assaulted until now. It's just a moment's lapse.
Instead of being first to leave, I'd mis-judged by seconds
and bunched with a crowd. Fool me once... I'd not leave my job.
I would still do what I loved. But I needed to hit stop
and refuse to rewind. Refuse the post-mortem of blame.
This wasn't my fault. The rustle of leaves reassured me.
The graves remind me history doesn't stop even if life does.
The noticeboard's Cyrillic script looks like the scrawled notes
I'd made to write my review from. A deadline looms.
But for now I have St George's Churchyard, its ambience
whispers that I can slay that dragon, I will survive tomorrow.
Emma Lee

Diary from Holloway Jail February 1907
(Alice Hawkins 1863-1946; suffragette, wife to Alfred, mother to 6)
6am the prison is holding its breath:
those moments before the electric lights click on.
Muscle-memory folds the two rough blankets
over the flat pillows and counterpane
while we clean and stretch out the night's cramps.
Breakfast is invariably a pint of tea and brown loaf.
Why is an equally-experienced and educated widow
and parent paid less than a childless man?
I couldn't find an answer in the Trade Unions
who didn't think of women as breadwinners.
I worked and worked but if anything happened
to Alfred, my work was worthless.
8am Chapel 10am Exercise Even damp
air is welcomed. Talk is banned so one
can only watch and guess another's crime.
Some have babies. Imagine being born
in a cage. Will they learn to sing?
11am back in cells until dinner:
haricot beans and potatoes
or pressed meat and potatoes
or suet pudding and potatoes
all with brown bread.
Refused entry when Winston Churchill
spoke at Leicester's Palace Theatre.
Alfred had to speak for me.
Without my vote, how can a politician
stand on a democratic platform?
4pm Tea is a pint of cocoa
and loaf of brown bread.
I was told, "Get back to your family."
One son joined the Army, another the Navy.
Both could vote, but me, the woman
who brought them into the world,
how could I have no say?
8pm Lights off I stretch on a mattress
where you feel everything and ache.
Room just a degree too cold to soften
the course weaves and welcome sleep.
Fresh bruises to count in the morning.
- Emma Lee

WineDrunk SideWalk : ShipWrecked in TrumpLand week SIXTY ONE wrap up

Welcome to week Pour Me Another Vodka, kittens.

Our week began with the president*’s  (the asterisk is necessary don’t you think?) lawyers turning over documents to Bob’s team in an effort to keep him away from the actual inquiry. The documents included White House memos and communications including stuff about firing James Comey.

Speaking of the FBI, IDIOT IN CHIEF hired a lawyer to kick around the idea that the FBI and the Justice Department framed the IDIOT in order to keep him from becoming President. Joseph E. diGenova actually went on Fox news and said, “There was a brazen plot to illegally exonerate Hillary Clinton and, if she didn’t win the election, to then frame Donald Trump with a falsely created crime…Make no mistake about it: A group of F.B.I. and D.O.J. people were trying to frame Donald Trump of a falsely created crime."

Kittens, I can’t. I just honestly can’t.

Then the IDIOT’s personal lawyer (how many lawyers does one person need? And by person I mean criminal) wanted Rod Rosenstein to end the Bob’s investigation. This was in reference to McCabe’s firing – which if you missed it was when Sessions fired McCabe 24 hours before he was set to retire because not only are they evil they’re just straight up mean. Afterwards, IDIOT’s lawyer walked back on his comment saying that he was speaking for himself not the president*. Okay sure.

So what did IDIOT do? He went to Twitter as usual and started calling Bob out by name. Ranting like the coke-infused maniac he is, he went on to say that the investigation team is staffed by pro-Hillary people and that there are no Republicans on the team. I would just like to take this moment to say that Bob is in fact a Republican.

In a rare moment of actual honesty Republicans – mainly Lindsey Graham, Trey Gowdy and Paul “I Should Be A Used Car Salesman in Wisconsin” Ryan all issued statements saying that Bob should be allowed to do his job.


It’s only Monday.

In fascinating news the president* is now in a twitter battle with Joe Biden like a couple of high school students threatening to beat each other up (but please mansplain to us again about how toxic masculinity isn't a thing) and ANOTHER woman, a former playboy bunny, is suing to be released from her NDA so she can talk about that time she *ugh* slept with the president*

And since we're on the topic of suing, Stormy how is also suing passed a lie detector test about having unprotected sex *barf* with the president* and a Manhattan Supreme Court Judge ruled that the president* must face a defamation lawsuit by a former Apprentice contestant! WHEE!

But Ally, you say, this is all going to be better once the mid-term elections come around. Is it now, kittens?

Because we've reached a point where Senators are urging state to purchase voting machines that use paper ballots because they're worried about Russian intervention.

Fucking hell. 
It seems they're concerned that the president* isn't doing enough to secure future elections. *laughs until she dies* But why would he? He's the same man who against all known advice from multiple national security advisors who literally wrote in all caps on his briefing DO NOT CONGRAULATE went ahead and call up Putin to congratulate him on his "win." After all we don't want to upset Daddy, now do we? Even the former CIA head knows it.

And that racist white supremacist who was terrorizing black people in Austin blew his racist white ass up but no one in the news media seems to want to actually call his actions terrorism because...

 On Thursday the president*’s lead attorney dealing with the special counsel investigation, John Dowd, resigned.  Then IDIOT said he would agree to testify to Bob who has four key issues:

1. What was Trump’s role in crafting a statement on Airforce One about Jr’s June meeting with the Russians

2. the circumstances surrounding the meeting

3. the firing of Comey and Flynn  

4. Connections between Trump and Cambridge Analytica.

Meanwhile House Democrats are trying to force a bill through to protect Bob from being fired and ending the investigation.

What else terrible happened? Oh yes, kittens, the House passed a 1.3 trillion spending bill to fund the government through September – including 1.6 billion for the fucking border wall and SURPRISE no resolution for DACA - which the president* did sign after much bloviating about what a hot piece of shit it was claiming that we had no choice but to fund the military. Gearing up for more war, asshole?

While that was happening the president* imposed $60 billion in tarrifs on Chinese imports (what’s gonna happen to all those Chinese-made MAGA hats now?) and in response the Dow did a swan dive of 724.42 points. In response China set tariffs on $3 billion worth of American products so I guess we're gonna go ahead and start that trade war up.

Is it vodka  o’clock yet?

Friday we woke to the oh so delightful news that HR McMaster got shit canned and replaced him with John Bolton who is unarguably a bad human being. Period. Full stop.

For sure the Iran deal is getting scrapped come May and he already wants to start a war with North Korea.

Are you there, Bob? It’s me, Ally.
Sir? We could really use some damning evidence right about now.

Keep resisting, sisters. We must not look the other way. I have this terrible dread that this blog will be seen at some point as a detailed weekly account of the collapse of America.

Who needs a drink?

Next up at 10:30 we’ve got 2 poems from Emma Lee
and tomorrow brings us both Alexis Rhone Fancher and Jen Manalili

Chins Up! Claws Out! 

Friday, March 23, 2018



everything is too much today. last night
you said you couldn’t handle me and now
the whole world prods at the emptiness.

at what point is it no longer a pit
and just my own stomach? the story
goes you were too sick to answer, yet
i imagine myself a dog in a rainstorm
who’s been locked out of the house.

i read and reread the poem you wrote me, try
to turn these words into arms,
your arms, that little scrunch
before you kiss me. i read it over
and over and try to remind myself
it’s only a poem, try to remember
crying myself to sleep last night,
how when i sprayed your cologne to evoke you
you never appeared. i try to tell myself
there are no love potions, no magic,
that even soulmates disappoint each other.

but then you text back, an echo that says
this hole has a bottom. and i wonder if you
smell the rain on me, if you know
your name on my screen feels like “walk”
would sound, how i want you
to wrap me in a light blue bath towel,
fluff me to death with reassurance, say
this will never happen again.

but at some point, i have to put my tongue away.

- Kat Giordano


it’s 1:05 AM on a work night
and I’m afraid to write a poem.
I’m afraid of finding out
the version of me who worries
about it being 1:05 AM on a work night
is not very good at writing poems.

i’m worried that a poem isn’t like a bicycle
but a family dog
and if you come home from a hard day at work
and forget to lock the gate,
it’ll charge off
down the block
and never find its way back.

i have forgotten to lock the gate every single day for a month
and i’m afraid to go into the backyard.

so I don’t.

i shut the curtains and the weeds
snake up the side of the house,
strangle the gutters, strangle everything.

eating honey roasted peanuts in bed
as the shoots overtake the windows,
i feel something a little like lightness
and close my eyes with weird acceptance
for the day the tendrils curl in fists
around the latches and none of them
will open.

- Kat Giordano

Thursday, March 22, 2018


America; America

I keep having this dream where
the white man isn’t angry
the black man entered
the white house.

When I wake up, the white man
has stolen everything.

I tell my neighbors but they don’t believe me
because he’s a white man wearing a red hat

and says he owns a bible.

They tell me he is our president and I don’t believe them
because I remember voting with my nephew
on my hip, his chubby fingers reaching for the ballot
while telling myself:

                              I’m with her because he’s with me.

I keep having this dream, America,
and you keep building more doors
for white men to enter our houses.

- Rachel Nix

There Are Too Many Memes

It’s 2016 & it’s not funny anymore.

Donald J. Trump, president elect:                                    I reject.
                                                                                         I reject.
                                                                                         I reject.

Doesn’t matter, they say.
This is a red state, they say.

We’re outnumbered by the right kind.

                                    I’m the white kind,
                                    but not the right kind—

                                    a woman & for all they know:
                                    every other label now in need of legislation,
                                    & rules to disappear within.

Electoral sweeping,
gerrymandering led by affluent fingers—

Democracy is as tangible as fear; but only one is real.

                                                                   Country-wide, we won
                                                                    but it doesn’t matter, they say.

The popular vote isn’t the popular vote.       

(Did I hear an amen?)

- Rachel Nix

Wednesday, March 21, 2018



Many of us have carried picket signs,
marched and chanted for over five decades,
grow weary repeatedly fighting the same battles.
Clueless, self-entitled men want to control our bodies,
dictate dress and behavior,
discount feelings, beliefs,
scoff at aspirations and plans.

President Pussy Grabber
is just another authoritarian,
narcissistic sexual predator.
His tiny hands, swollen ego
abuse our intelligence,
dismantle civil society,
unravel the rule of law
as he rapes Mother Earth.

Each morning I wake up seething,
find one more way to rebel,
recruit equally disenchanted sisters
to short circuit crushing regulations,
harness every iota of muscle to break
misogyny’s arrogant, soulless machine.

- Jennifer Lagier

A few days after the seduction
he decides to talk to me,
asks me to go to the clinic.
Make sure there is no growth,
he says.
Now I am looking up at the light.
My knees are spread and two women
sit at the foot of my table.
They carry on a lively conversation
as they work. I’m not listening.
I feel the warm light
on my newly-wakened
nether world,
and the women begin
to search inside me
as in a drawer.
I imagine them pulling things out –
bottle caps, old tires, tampons of course,
lipstick tubes, wrappers, leaves,
a shred from Seventeen magazine...
But I’m not so old, I want to protest,
I’ve barely begun my collection!
You’re fine, they tell me
and hand me a prescription
to make me bleed. Outside
it’s raining. I sit in French class
staring out at the rows
of eucalyptus dripping
in their ragged bark,
at the stream of bicycles
hissing on the wet path.
I watch him round the corner
as always at this time,
beard trimmed,
carrying his violin,
too old to be a student.
- Tamara Madison

Tuesday, March 20, 2018



Tofu fried in coconut oil.
Just a little bit of fat;
fat that belonged on my bones.
Fat you melted off of them
with your icy glare
and your wild, uneven heartbeat.
Fat that took up space;
that had once dared to exist
and had left me
to deal with the winter on my own.

Fat that I needed on my organs.
Fat as a protective barrier
around my heart.

I consumed fat--just a little
bit of fat--
as an insistence on my right
to have form
and tangibility.
I slipped behind you carefully,
in the shadows.
I knew my defiant act of existence
must be a secret.

You found out about the tofu
fried in coconut oil.
But it was too late.
I had already built enough onto myself
to shed you.
- Samantha Clarke

New Words

Those freakish fingers creep through the fourth dimension
to prod at me,
time itself no barrier
to the inflictions you insist upon.

I overturn stones,
like a fool,
and find all the mold and insects
I should have expected.

Of course it was you.

Of course it always was.

I have had to learn new words
to understand what you did to me.

- Samantha Clark

Pits & Bits

I have hair in my pits
And on more of my bits
Is this a problem for you?
Well, I don’t give a shit

Except maybe when
I’m wearing that tank
And I reach up to scratch my nose
At the bank

And you give me that stare
Yeah you, over there
From the edge of your chair
With that flip of your hair

There’s this flap of flesh that dangles
From that very same arm
Ignoring those bits
Are part of my charm

Sure, maybe I’m fooling myself
But is it bothering you?
Tell me, seriously, do you have
Nothing better to do?

Are you even judging me?
Or is that my internal voice?
Maybe you didn’t even notice
My stance, my choice

The good news is
I wasn’t asking you
To tell me who I am
Or tell me what to do

Razors be damned, it’s cold out right now
Guys don’t gotta; neither dost thou
So here’s my last warning: if you’re looking at my pits
And you’re squeamish about female body hair?

Tough shit.

- Beth Dranoff

Monday, March 19, 2018


I Am a Woman

I am a woman.

I did not come into this world with a silver spoon in my pocket that told me every word out of my mouth was gold; I came into it with a fork in my side that said, Stay quiet, stay invisible, stay obedient, because you and your kind have nothing of value to add.

I am a woman.

I did not come into adolescence with a solid path laid out before me, straight and relatively unhindered; I came with a twisting path, a shifting path, a drop-out-from-beneath-my-feet path that said the only way I could be somebody was if I was this size, if I had this hair, if I shaved my legs, if I folded myself inside this box, if I didn’t argue, if I passively watched my world unroll before me rather than grabbing it with both hands.

I am a woman.

I did not come into adulthood with an eye already fixed on the prize assured me; I came with an eye assessing the steep climb that would lead to maybe more value and maybe fairer pay and maybe a better chance to prove that I do have something important to contribute.

I am a woman.

I did not come into the world with anything assured me except that others have bravely worn this title of woman and have even so shifted the trajectory of the world.

I am a woman.

-Rachel Toalson


They can rape you
and get away with it.
They can fondle you
and get away with it.
They can say things
that make you uncomfortable
and get away with it.

It doesn’t matter
that you’re entitled
to due process or retribution
or, at the very least,
protection from rape or
unwanted fondling or
insensitive comments.
They don’t even know
what justice means anymore.
Judgment is made before
the first witness is called—
upon first sight, really.
They only need a good, long look
to see you for what you are:
a girl who doesn’t know
the difference between
sexual harassment and
an appreciation
of beauty.

Silly little girl.

-Rachel Toalson

Sunday, March 18, 2018



We wonder what can comfort us now
and here is what she has to say:

be comforted by your creations
by the dirty process
of putting pieces together
of arranging
and cleaning
and throwing away
and starting again.

Be comforted by the earth
and her chaos and creation
and death and life
and being held by her.

Be comforted by yourself,
reminded of your strength
and of where you’ve been,
who you have become.

Be comforted by the letting go
the knowing that you were
right to bury it in the earth
by knowing that you
can trust in your choice
of what to destroy.

- Susie Sweetland


The heat of summer intrudes
into everything

my anger burns hotter
and never quite quenches

no matter how many bodies of water
I find to lower myself into.

I want to
learn to be better
than I am
than I think I can be.

The world is falling apart

though I know really it never stopped

and tomorrow when we leave
on yet another journey
the moon is coming
with us.

In this new space
I feel cooler, with
more shades of blue
more calm
and with space
to pause.

I want cold water
cooling and quenching

so we travel
to a mighty lake
with frigid waters.
We find a place where
she shares her coolest parts,
from the deepest of her depths,
with a dry, burning world

and we peel off our layers
and run joyfully in.

- Susie Sweetland

Saturday, March 17, 2018


For the Fourth of May

the nation watches,
glowing sunlight reflected on their
faces, pressed up against television screens.

a garden party.

the land of the free
has erected a guillotine
and sentenced its people to their deaths.

oh, Lady Liberty is crying.
her sobs, getting lost in the laughter.
she watches, paralyzed.
her children are drowning.
they’ve made sure
 they cannot cross the threshold of her home
and seek sanctuary in her arms.

she can see them.

shattered dreams sit, waiting,
inside of airport terminals.
they’ve thrown her children out.
have promised to make them sick, make them dead.

she watches it unfold.

the finality of closed emergency room doors.
of graying flesh.
of dying heartbeats.
they’ve stolen ladders from her poorest
so they cannot climb out.

she stares

at the hands bobbing above the water
like floating pieces of outstretched tree branches.
begging for her help.

she cries.

crumpling to her feet
a shattered lantern at her side.
this is not what she meant,
when she called for the huddled yearning to be free.
for the crowds to follow her voice
and approach her docks,
run into her arms, and embrace her.

she wants to recoil.

they’re singing.

in her name.

in the name of liberty.

“Na na na na. Na na na na na.
Hey. Hey. Hey. Goodbye.”

The land of the free
has erected a guillotine,
and the first head they’ve cut
is hers.

-Jen Manalili

*Rewriting What Happened in Twin Lakes
*The Retreat at Twin Lakes is the name of the gated community in Sanford, Florida where Trayvon Martin was shot and killed.

He asks me if I saw him too.
His arms outstretched,
he shows me the evidence.
The skin caked under his fingernails
from where he fought back.
He says, “He almost got me.”
I can’t think,
above the smell of sweet tea
and round, rainbow candies.
His smile falters when he recognizes it too.
The smell of copper.
The red stains.
Illuminating the holes in his shirt.
When he tells me he can’t breathe, I try to imagine
I can unzip my own chest.
As if I can cup the air from my lungs
and feed it to him, with both hands.
And when he looks at me, the fear seems to
tighten his eyes.
I know, already
I am blurring in his vision.
There is not much time left now.
So I clutch his hand.
I promise him it will be alright.
I will tell his mother
he tried to make it back to her.
And he does not choke on blades of grass.
And the last thing he sees is not the barrel of a gun.

In better dreams, I am early.
He brushes dirt, not blood from his hands.
He gets up from the floor.
we watch the moon.
And next time, I promise him
I will walk him home from the store.
- Jen Manalili

WineDrunk SideWalk : ShipWrecked in TrumpLand week SIXTY wrap up

Hello Kittens.

Welcome to week 3 of Women’s History Month which sadly started off with day 417 under DOUCHE. And I do have some of the best bad news.

We got SO many submissions from all you amazing talented life-giving women out there that for the rest of the month we have to (at least) double up the posts. I want to make sure everyone gets their space, so kittens we have to share with our sisters. As I said this is the best bad news. I’m so proud of all of you and so thankful to everyone who has submitted. Women are leading the Revolution. I believe that fully. You deserve to have your voices heard and I love seeing you shine. I’m honored to have had the opportunity to give you that platform. You all make my heart full.

And because this is less a magazine and more of a protest art blog, I truly hope you ALL continue to #submit2resist well beyond March.

In the words of our Eternal Lord and Savior Beyoncé, “Who runs the world? Girls!”

Now let’s get started on this week, kittens.

According to White House officials, DOUCHE still intends to meet with special bad ass counsel Bob “the man” Mueller under oath. Miraculously the White House managed to find someone who, unlike Ms. Devos or DOUCHE, can string together a series of words into a coherent sentence: “There’s no intention, whatsoever to fire Robert Mueller, the special counsel, right now,” Raj Shah said. “We’ve been fully cooperative. We respect the process. We’re hoping it will come to a conclusion in the near future.”

I mean, that almost sounds legit. The “right now” is a touch unnerving as is the laughable “fully cooperative” and “respect the process” but I think we can all agree that “hoping for a conclusion in the near future” is literally what we’re all doing.

Save us Bob Mueller. You’re our only hope.

That said, it’s looking like the obstruction of justice part of the investigation is winding down but they’re going to delay releasing any information until the collusion and email hacking parts are finished. Rumor has it that the concern is that DOUCHE will feel the net tightening and others might not cooperate or he might try to end the investigation altogether.

While actual progress was being made by Bob, the House Intelligence Committee (there’s an oxymoron) ended its investigation saying there was no collusion between DOUCHE and Russia. This comes as no surprise as it was a Republican run investigation and the Republicans over the last 417 days have shown themselves to be a craven lot who did such a thorough job that they never bothered to meet with Paul Manafort, Rick Gates, Michael T. Flynn, or George Papadopoulos.

Looks like the Qatari government is not cooperating with Bob’s investigation. They chose not to provide information for fear of hurting their relationship with the DOUCHE administration. This includes information about Jared and the United Arab Emirates.
Moving onto Ivanka, turns out she made 1.5 million clams in 2015 from three companies affiliated with the DOUCHE organization, which, surprise, creates numerous potential conflicts of interest that are, double surprise, ILLEGAL.

I have to tell you, kittens, the desire I have to see this entire family locked up is reached epic proportions. I might need a lie down. Or a double vodka. Probably both.
In light of the Parkland shooting (what number are we up to now kittens? Do we even remember?) DOUCHE has walked back talks about raising the age limit for gun purchases but he’s doubled down on arming teachers. Because so many people that I care about are teachers, because they give so much of themselves to these kids the idea of them carrying firearms is horrifying. Especially since we all know the number of black and brown dead children is going to soar. That’s just a fact.

The newest part of the gun issue is that DOUCHE wants to establish a Federal Commission on School Safety which will be staffed by, yes you guessed it, Betsy.
Betsy of the famed, “I can’t string a sentence together” Devos, who admitted to not having “intentionally” visited schools that are under performing.


Moving along, our Game Show Host President has sent his goons after Stormy Daniels trying to stop her from going on 60 minutes. In order to do this DOUCHE would need to file a restraining order against CBS so good luck doing that before the airing date on Sunday March 18th. And cause she’s being fair Stormy has offered to wire the money back to DOUCHE’s lawyer on Friday. Guess that hush money doesn’t always hush, huh?


Where’s that vodka? Cause we’re all gonna need it to get through this latest episode of America: The Apprentice. On Tuesday Rex Tillerson was fired (via twitter no less) and replaced with C.I.A. chief and former Tea Party congressman, Mike Pompeo who was viewed as being more in sync with DOUCHE’s America First *cough* Nazi *cough* ideology. The firing caught even White House official by surprise (and can we just take a minute to think about what it must be like working there? I feel like everyone needs an Ativan and a nap). Just a day before Tillerson commented on Russia’s responsibility for the poison attack in Britain. He said Russia was “an irresponsible force of instability in the world, acting with open disregard for the sovereignty of other states and the life of their citizens.”

So yeah, that’s the kind of talk that gets you shit-canned in DOUCHE’s world.

Now that Pompeo is out of the CIA the spot goes to our favorite torturer Gina Haspel. Twitter, the cesspool that it is then went on a crazy bend saying that liberal, feminist, progressives were excited about this because the CIA was now led by a woman for the first time.

Kittens, this is a tired narrative. Fine me ONE feminist/progressive/liberal woman that is celebrating this and I will eat all my doc martins.

Then the firings continued as DOUCHE dumped his personal assistant John McEntee (who is under investigation by the Dept. of Homeland Security). He also considered firing Veteran Affair Chief David Shulkin and replacing him with Rick Perry.  

I just want to take a minute to pause here and acknowledge the passing of Stephen Hawkings. His theories unlocked a universe that we are still just beginning to understand we should all be thankful that, in what feels like an intellectual vacuum these days, we were all around to breathe the same air as this man. Thank you, sir.

On Wednesday we learned that the much-maligned kids were going to be just fine. Not only were they going to be fine but we all should all get behind them and let them lead. The student lead protest over school shootings began at 10 am and the protest lasted for 17  minutes in honor of the 17 kids killed at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. The pictures (courtesy of the New York Times) are life-giving.

Of course there was some backlash – some schools barricading doors, others calling the police, and many suspending and/or giving out detentions to those that participated but that was expected.  As Pope High School senior Kara Litwin said, “There’s always going to be backlash. This is a movement, this is not simply a moment, and this is only the first step in a long process.”

A movement. Not a moment.

Sadly because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, while this was happening three students were injured when a teacher who is also a reserve police officer accidentally fired his gun in a class devoted to public safety.

So maybe we can rethink that whole arming teachers thing. The House passed a school safety bill (407-10) to help schools and local law enforcement prevent gun violence. Sadly and predictably, it does not include in any gun control measures. Instead it provides more training for mental health officials and money for anonymous reporting of potential threats and of course, metal detectors.
Because heaven knows we’ll do absolutely ANYTHING to avoid actual gun control. This empty gesture with a wink-wink at the NRA goes to the senate for approval.

In local elections – because this is now a thing everyone has to obsess over – Conor Lamb squeaked out a razor thin lead to win the House special election over DOUCHE-backed Rick Saccone. Pennsylvania as we all know went horrifically red in the 2016 election, a rare event for a very union-backed state. This is a good sign. This is a sign that even in areas where DOUCHE won there can be reversals. It is also worth noting that the most contested district will not exist in 2019 because the State Supreme Court ruled in January that the House map was gerrymandered unlawfully.

I also want to say that Lamb is not a progressive. He’s a rather conservative democrat because a progressive dem couldn’t win in deep red PA. The takeaway here is we #VoteBlueNoMatterWho

In other good news the family of slain DNC staffer Seth Rich are suing the ever loving pants off Fox News and this gives me life because fuck them forever for using that poor man to steam roll their nonsense about Hillary.

On Thursday Bob came back with a vengeance and upped the ante when he subpoenaed the Trump Organization! What does this mean? Mostly that this is far from over. Clearly Bob is broadening the scope of his search and the plot is as they saying thickening.

In other fun news at a dinner fundraiser DOUCHE bragged that he made up facts about the US trade relations with Canada to Justin Truedeau. Honestly I think I’m at peak stupid for the week. I really do.

Also on Thursday Twitter lost its goddamn mind when it found out that Trump Jr is getting divorced. I’m not going to get into whether we should all be gleefully happy at this monster’s misfortune or if personal is personal and we should “rise above for the sake of the kids.” I try every day to have radical empathy but I don’t even feel like spending the emotional labor to figure out where I stand so I’ll stick with something that I think is more important: Once they are divorced, Vanessa can be forced to testify against DOUCHE JR as the divorce kills spousal privilege.  Anything she knows is now available to Bob.

Jeff Flake came out on Friday and said what every liberal has been saying for 400+ days now which is that the Republicans don't "deserve to lead." Yes, Jeff, they don't. This has never been more evident that it has since the election. You have full control over everything and it's been nothing but chaos, bad policy to unnecessarily hurt people and not standing up to the president*

And that's our week kittens. There was probably a lot that I missed but honestly this is like herding cats. There's only so much crazy one girl can manage.

Again, shout out to all the wonderful ladies who out did themselves. And please keep sending your stuff. Think of this as resistance art. We need your voices. Women are leading the Resistance.

This is every one of you beauties. (Also forgive me, I'm an unstoppable nerd).

Next up at 10:30 we have TWO poems by Jen Manalili
and on Sunday at 10:30 we have TWO poems by Susie Sweetland

Keep resisting, my friends. There are more of us than there are of them.