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October 25, 2008

Rate Card

Hi. Welcome to my world. A world in which Radar Magazine does not exist.

It will cost about $1500 to cover just the last day of the campaign, and over $1000 a day for each day leading up to it. While I still blog for TIME's "Swampland" * -- and I will for as long as they let me! -- I am without a source for travel funds.

So, you know, anyone interested in sponsoring a foul-mouthed blogger, slightly used? I have come up with the following pledge drive bonuses! Rewards are cumulative.

  • Anything: Good karma, knowledge that sometimes merit is rewarded. If not in this particular case.
  • Over $10: A personal thank-you email (please include your email in "instructions for seller")
  • Over $50: A personal thank-you phone call (please include your phone number in "instructions for seller")
  • Over $100: My instant message screen name, regular personal updates via email and/or instant messages on election night
  • Over $250: I will ask a senior McCain adviser the question of your choosing and send you the MP3 audio of the exchange
  • Over $500: Phone call from McCain headquarters on election night, detailing hilarious antics sure to ensue
  • Over $1000: One-on-one post-election dinner debrief

I also have for sale a half-finished article on "The Last Days of the McCain Campaign," full of chewy, insidery goodness. Word rate negotiable!

Click below, hit the tip jar, whatever seems like justice to you.

*Now up and working again!

UPDATE: Rachel and I discuss my plight. And the ultimately much more tragic plight of John McCain:

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Biomass

  • Your basic bio-type information, excluding birthday, can be found here. (And it's 9/23/72). Otherwise: I am a Wonkette emerita, political junkie, self-hating journalist and occasional grown-up: I used to do this. And then this. You can also find me here. Back in the day, I did this, and this, and this. I live in Washington, DC with an adorable husband and three very understanding pets.

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Off Topic

  • Post-Election Pontificating
    Now that Obama is President-Elect -- how did we get to this point, and what's next? Ana Marie Cox of Swampland talks about last night's outcome, and we'll also check in with some surprising results from swing states. Then, a look back at some of the funniest, most outrageous moments of the long election season.
  • Me on On the Media
    The bad news for traditional media is seemingly unending. From The Christian Science Monitor to TIME Inc. to ABC News to Radar magazine. In fact, when Radar folded last week, reporter Ana Marie Cox found herself with credentials to cover the McCain campaign, but no funding. Instead of giving up her seat on the press bus, she went all public radio on the problem and launched a pledge drive. From a Palin press van, Cox says the pledges poured forth.
  • And One of Them Also Gets Shot in the End
    One of the physical laws of politics is that if your campaign wins, you’re a genius. If you lose, you’re an idiot. I know and have worked with Obama’s lead adviser David Axelrod, and he’s as smart as anyone I’ve worked with in politics and deserves a lot of credit for a well-run campaign. But I know he’d be the first to admit that he just had the good judgment to saddle up on Secretariat. I also know and have worked with McCain’s guru Steve Schmidt, who is also one of the most talented players in the game. He just saddled up on Seabiscuit. But he’s running against Secretariat. And only one great horse gets to win.
  • I Prefer the Term "Crazypants"
    Something about science fiction remains grubby and unappetizing to the mainstream. Maybe that's because it's the one branch of science that rarely makes money, and never results in a lucrative patent. Or maybe that's because it's associated with troops of socially awkward people who would rather play war games than actually go to war. Whatever the cause, we know the result. If you want to make pop science fiction, you'd better call it something else.
  • More Often Than You'd Think
    So caught up was I in my assigned role as ingénue that I was perfectly willing to entertain the possibility that another book on the same subject had come out simultaneously and I'd somehow missed it. He was already telling me about the very important book -- with that smug look I know so well in a man holding forth, eyes fixed on the fuzzy far horizon of his own authority...I should have known when Sallie interrupted him to say, "That's her book." Or tried to interrupt him anyway. But he just continued on his way. She had to say, "That's her book" three or four times before he finally took it in. And then, as if in a nineteenth-century novel, he went ashen.

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