🎤 I Am Not Woke I am a woman. I am Gen X. Which means I was raised on hot hose water, unsupervised bike riding, and the understanding that if you’re bleeding but still conscious, you’re probably fine. I am not emotionally injured by words. I have survived mall bangs, dial-up internet, and New Coke. You are not going to take me out with a tweet. I believe in equality. Not the Oppression Olympics, where everyone shows up with a clipboard and a backstory. I am a strong woman. I pay my bills. I change my tire. I handle my life. But yes, I still want a man who opens jars, kills spiders, checks the noise in the basement, and says, “Relax. I’ve got this,” while holding a flashlight he definitely does not know how to use properly. That is not patriarchy. That is foreplay. That is chemistry. Somewhere in the last decade, feminism stopped being about opportunity and turned into a poorly dubbed workplace orientation video that never ends. Now everything is “toxic.” Except the people screaming it on social media at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday with 14 pronouns and a coffee addiction. We turned “live and let live” into “live exactly like me or prepare for a 37-tweet thread.” Disagreement is now violence. Silence is now violence. Looking at someone wrong is probably violence. Everyone has a label, a trigger, a diagnosis, and a podcast. No one has a sense of humor. Personal grace is rarer than Sasquatch. We replaced confidence with outrage. Facts with feelings. And actual problems with performance art. I do not need a seminar to exist. I do not need a warning label on jokes. I do not need a committee to approve my opinions. I am a woman. I am independent. I am emotionally stable. I like men who act like men. I like women who do not hate them for it. And I would like to enjoy my coffee without being educated. My wish for 2026 is simple: May woke finally go to sleep. Put on its little eye mask. Take a melatonin. Log off the internet. And let the rest of us get back to living. I am not woke. I am awake. And I would like my culture back, preferably without a training session. Happy New Year friends! May this be the year we shed the cloak of woke for good and start living our lives as intended... Free.

On this day in 1985… The Golden Girls premiered on NBC. Dorothy, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia were older women at the center of the story — unusual for prime-time television at the time — but the show became a hit almost immediately. It stayed popular for seven seasons, and all four stars — Bea Arthur, Betty White, Rue McClanahan, and Estelle Getty — eventually won Emmys for their performances. Who was your favorite Golden Girl?

I need to make a very PUBLIC announcement on behalf of younger GenXers and older Millennials. If you see someone in their 40s or 50s who seems a little boring now, I need you to understand something... We already got it in. Like...GOT. IT. IN. We are not sitting home on a Friday night because we never knew how to have fun. We are sitting home on a Friday night because we have seen enough. We went to parties in houses that should have been condemned and were almost certainly owned by the local drug dealer. We saw police lights and RAN and not across a nice, flat field. INTO THE WOODS. Do you understand the athleticism required to hurdle uprooted tree roots in platform shoes while simultaneously trying to keep your low-rise jeans from sliding completely off your ass? And somehow...we never spilled the Zima. We never spilled the Boone’s Farm. That was TALENT. We slept on floors in strange houses because the designated driver either never showed up or, in a shocking turn of events, was drunker than everybody else. There was no Uber, Life360 or Find My Friends. There was just somebody named Mike saying, “I know a shortcut.” And we FOLLOWED MIKE. We closed down bars and then decided the night was still young, so we drove to Atlantic City, where we somehow managed to get drunk, sober up, get drunk again, sober up again and then get drunk a THIRD TIME before breakfast. And according to our parents? We were at Michelle’s house. Eating pizza and watching movies. Michelle’s mother unknowingly covered for approximately 17 people every weekend. If there even was a Michelle. We drank things called Purple Passion, Mad Dog 20/20 and whatever somebody mixed inside a giant plastic garbage can. Nobody asked what was in it. You grabbed a red Solo cup and trusted the process. We went to clubs until the lights came on. Do you know the psychological damage of seeing a nightclub with the LIGHTS ON? Nothing good happens after those lights come on. We danced for four straight hours in shoes that permanently altered the structure of our feet. We made entire plans without cell phones...no texts, dropped pins or group chats...just an extremely questionable sense of direction. We rode in cars with 11 people when the vehicle legally seated five. Someone was always sitting on someone. Someone was always in the hatchback. And there was always one friend yelling, “DUCK!” when we passed a cop. So yes...now we like being home. We like sweatpants. We like cancelling plans. We like saying, “That sounds fun!” with absolutely no intention of attending. We like restaurants at 5:30 because we can get a good table. We like being home by 8:17. And if someone texts at 9:30 PM and says, “What are you doing?” Sleeping...we are sleeping. Because this is not boring my friends...this is retirement. We already played, partied and danced on the bar. We already ran from the cops through a wooded area dressed like a Spice Girl. We have stories that cannot be posted because there are still people with careers, marriages and reputations to protect. And thank GOD there were no camera phones. So kids, when you look at your Gen X and older Millennial parents sitting peacefully on the couch watching Dateline at 8 PM and think: “God, you guys are boring.” Sweetheart...oh sweetheart. You are looking at retired legends. Put some respect on our names. We're probably the reason Life360 was invented. xoxoxo (posted from someone else on FakeBook) 🤣 #genx #oldandtired

Mamdani and AOC laughing while names of victims of 9/11 are being read should be in every single campaign ad in every single city in America until November. This is the Democratic Socialist Party. They hate you. They hate America. Blast this everywhere

25 years ago, today…we learned what “globalize the intifada” means. Seems we’ve forgotten.

Good men must die, but death can't kill their names.

You’ve been lied to about Lindsay Clancy, she wasn’t some struggling mom, she was very privileged “The 8 month old baby was born. The 3 and 5 year old were in daycare full-time. Patrick took a 12 week paternity leave, and they hired a nanny to help with the newborn baby. After the 12 week leave was over, Patrick could see that Lindsay needed more help and support, so he decided to move his office into home and started working from home. So they decided they didn't need the nanny anymore because Patrick was gonna stay home, and you guys are saying that this woman had no support? That is false. A key factor that you guys are missing of this whole entire thing, and you're letting this woman play on your emotions, she was a labor and delivery nurse herself. She was in this career path. Lindsay knew, she knew, if I tell my doctors that I am hearing voices and having thoughts of harming my children, they're going to be taken away from me. She knew that. She is smart, she's calculated, and this was premeditated. Any woman going through actual psychosis, especially with the career path she was in, being very educated on this, she would have gone to her doctors and said, "I need them away from me because I think I'm gonna kill them." She didn't do that. Why? Because she wanted the opportunity to kill her three kids. She Googled how to kill. She Googled how long it would take Patrick to go from the house to the restaurant. She murdered one child. Patrick called. She missed the call. She called back after killing one child and said, "We're good here. Everything's fine. We're fine."’ She also gives an excellent medicine breakdown on how there is no way she was actually in the state of mind she claims to be “You guys are letting a very smart and calculated woman manipulate you and play on your emotions, and it's working, and a jury really might let her walk because… it's scary” And now we have a mistrial…. The only correction here is the children were in preschool not daycare but either way they were not in the home and being attended to at preschool 3 and a half days a week. The callback after the first murder is speculation but she 100% did call Patrick back after he called her. Showing she was definitely not in some psychosis Lindsay Clancy was very privileged. Her husband is estimated to make between $258,000-$482,000 per year based on his job and Glassdoor salaries

If hormones or hormone imbalances are dangerous enough to lead to murder, then why are doctors allowing for children to be injected with hormones that aren’t meant for their bodies? Why are children allowed to be prescribed puberty blockers?

Dispatcher: Explain how she tried to commit suicide. Where is she now? Patrick: (to Lindsay) Stay awake. Dispatcher: How old is she? Patrick: 31–33. Dispatcher: Is she awake? Patrick: Yes. Dispatcher: Is she breathing? Patrick: Yeah. Lindsay, what did you do to your neck? Dispatcher: She's talking. When did this happen? Patrick: Last half hour. Dispatcher: How far did she fall? Patrick: 20 feet. Dispatcher: Is she responding normally? Patrick: A little bit. Wake up. Dispatcher: What part of the body was injured? Patrick: Neck. She's breathing. Lindsay, look at me. Look at me. Dispatcher: Are there weapons? Patrick: I don't see any. Dispatcher: Where are the kids? Dispatcher: Do not move her. Patrick: Open your eyes… Lindsay, look at me. Open your eyes. Dispatcher: I'm going to tell you how to stop the bleeding. Patrick: It's not bleeding — open wounds. She's in the backyard. Dispatcher: Is there something on her neck? A knife or something? Can you put pressure on it? Patrick: No. (Lindsay moaning in the background.) Patrick: Lindsay, wake up. Put pressure on the cut. Lindsay, look at me. Say my name. Dispatcher: She's conscious. Don't move her. Tell her to be still. (Whimpering. Sirens in the distance.) Dispatcher: I'm going to stay on the line with you. Is there a fence? Patrick: Right here, right here. (First responders arrive.) Patrick: I need you to stay — I've got to go check on my kids. Dispatcher: Hello? (Footsteps as Patrick runs inside and down to the basement.) Patrick: Guys? Guys? Oh, no! Oh, no! Wake up! (Screaming.) Dispatcher: What is he screaming about? Patrick: OH, MY GOD! Dispatcher: Hello? What's going on? Patrick: Basement! Basement! OH, MY GOD! Dispatcher: Hello? Hello? (Screaming.) Patrick: AHHHHH, SHE KILLED THE KIDS!!! OH, MY GOD! (More than 30 seconds of screaming, breaking into more screams as he finds each child.) Patrick: DAWSON! MY BUDDY!!!!!!!!

Why does Epstein Island shock everyone, but not Islam?