2023 and Me

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Happy New Year!

Thanks to all of you for reading and subscribing to this newsletter in 2023. I’m happy to report there are over 7,000 of you now and lots who generously got paid subscriptions to help support me. To show my gratitude, I will be posting the highest quality content, the spiciest takes, and all the stuff I can’t say in print elsewhere.

Since I am in the “writing business” now and am supposed to “be professional,” I thought I should do a little market research. My first-ever reader questionnaire is here! It will take you 2 minutes. No email or twitter handle is captured or needed. Nothing will be shared publicly. Check it out—click here!

What I Did Last Year

I published a book in June. I spoke in public as Peachy Keenan for the first time, including at my first conference (the Natal Conference) and at a fancy Christmas Gala, where I got to meet Tucker. I even made my teevee debut!

Shout out to the Fox News makeup artists:

When I met Tucker (who sort of knew me, since he had blurbed my book and corresponded with me via text on a few occasions), he told me he’d been reading my Twitter on the plane. I was busting, Jerry.

Meeting the King.

Taking it out and chopping it up at the APP lunch.

In other news, I celebrated a 20th wedding anniversary to the first Mr. Keenan. I got my oldest kid into college. I met my sister’s miracle baby. We went to Las Vegas, Berkeley, San Francisco, Big Bear, Austin, Nashville, Franklin (TN), and D.C.

I got to meet a 2024 presidential candidate. And I made lots of new friends. You know who you are!

Prager U + Peachy

And: I shot a 5-minute video for the good people over at Prager U. It came out today!

I guess this is something Twitter anons don’t get asked to do very often, so how could I say no? Maybe you watch, maybe you enjoy. We are Raising Awareness of the domestic extremist movement!

Watch it for the animated version of my family. I swear I am not married to Matt Walsh, nor would I ever be caught dead in an ankle-length skirt the color of cardboard. But still, it’s pretty cute.

Prager’s got an incredible operation and they’re doing a lot of good work to save western civilization from those trying mightily to crush it. Thank you, Dennis and Allen!

My Last New Year’s Rager

L.A. county line, December 31, 2023. Photo by me.

I spent this New Year’s Eve in bed, watching movies with my daughter. I’m tired, folks. And I’d been at a raging Catholic wedding out of town just the night before, and that was all the socializing I had in me this weekend. The last New Year’s Eve that I made big plans for was 2019. We hosted a big party at our house, black tie mandatory, Champagne punch, the whole number. I wore black velvet tuxedo pants, a tux jacket, and a silver sparkly blouse. All our friends came, I got wildly over-served from my husband’s Champagne punch bowl, and everyone sang in the New Year, excited and happy to usher in a new decade… with the year 2020.

Long live the UHBs

For months leading up to our party, I was haunted by an intense feeling of impending doom, like a storm was approaching. I felt this when I drove the kids around in the bright winter sunshine of L.A., when I was going to sleep at night, and when I was buying party decorations on Amazon. Something was coming, and it wasn’t good. The last time I had this unshakable sense of disaster was about a month before 9/11, when I literally had a vision of disaster coming from the sky. I’m not some seer or prophet, but I really had a bad feeling about whatever was on the way.

But since I’m a hypochondriac, I assumed this time it meant I’d be diagnosed with cancer or some other awful disease (hey, I was close!). Or maybe someone I loved would die in a car crash. I could not shake the doomsday feeling, and maybe that’s why I ended up pounding punch all night and then brutally hung over for two days afterwards.

Ah well. I immediately got the flu (despite a flu shot) and lay in bed for a week in January. That gave me plenty of time to scroll Twitter. And lo and behold, strange videos started leaking out of China. What the heck? A mysterious virus was ripping through the country, people were having convulsions in the streets, an illicit gain-of-function virus lab had been working on Sars-Cov chimeras? Oh SH*T.

I learned my lesson to never, ever host New Year’s parties again.

Praying that you all have a wonderful and productive year and that God protects us from those that wish to cause chaos and hurt our chances. There is great strength in our numbers, so cling bitterly to your friends and allies! I am honored for your fellowship—now go forth and fight. Win!

—Peachy