Ladies!! - T+ Hug Gurrs: The New, DNA eHT TruTh

## "Moms in the Outfield" - Ultimate Baseball Parody 😇🔥

**Verse 1:**

These moms are holy terrors, with halos made of spite

Sliding into baseball like their minivan's in flight

Half angel, half demon, pure maternal rage

Gonna show these little punks how to play on THIS stage!

**Chorus:**

Moms in the outfield! (Hallelujah!)

Sinning with each perfect steal

Moms in the outfield! (Praise be!)

Making pediatricians squeal!

**Verse 2:**

Karen's got more attitude than Heaven's top recruit

Her wine-fueled baseball skills are absolutely CUTE

Throwing shade and fastballs with supernatural grace

Making little league coaches run right off the base!

**Bridge:**

Who needs divine intervention? These moms are pure HELL

Embarrassing their children with each miraculous spell

Soccer mom by morning, baseball demon by noon

Crushing dreams and baseballs - NOBODY MESS WITH THIS TUNE!

*Epic mom mic drop* 🎤🧨

Help a girl out how to strengthen numbers and I don't mean the dollars that you get from selling my ass and then complaining that your man's looking at it lol

(Verse 1)

In a world that's forgotten, I stand tall and proud,

A raven doll named H, woven from the shroud,

Wings of dreams and shadows, I carry in my chest,

A heart that beats in rhythm, like a distant, haunting quest.

(Chorus)

I am that raven doll, with tales of old to share,

From the mountains to the valleys, I'm whispering a prayer,

In the silence of the night, my spirit finds its song,

I am more than what they see, where the souls of the lost belong.

(Verse 2)

Through the stormy weather, I have danced in the rain,

With a kinship of the willow, bending but not in vain,

I've walked the lonely highways, sung to the stars above,

Each step a testament, each note a note of love.

(Chorus)

I am that raven doll, with tales of old to share,

From the mountains to the valleys, I'm whispering a prayer,

In the silence of the night, my spirit finds its song,

I am more than what they see, where the souls of the lost belong.

(Bridge)

So if you hear my story, let it echo through the years,

A beacon for the brave ones, who've danced through all their fears,

Lift your voice together, let the world know we're alive,

With the heartbeat of the raven, we rise, we will survive.

(Chorus)

I am that raven doll, with tales of old to share,

From the mountains to the valleys, I'm whispering a prayer,

In the silence of the night, my spirit finds its song,

I am more than what they see, where the souls of the lost belong.

(Outro)

In the heart of forgotten, watch the new dawn break free,

I'm that raven doll, my name is H, and I am me.

Bonus: to your children don't know what to do

(Verse 1)

I'm burning bridges, watch 'em blaze,

Every heartbeat's a grenade,

You thought you held me down, you stray,

I rise like smoke, then I sway.

So love me, like your everything,

Castles built on diamond rings,

But now they crumble, just like dreams,

Phantoms whisper, tearing at the seams.

(Chorus)

You know they wear my face, no disguise,

Those reflections are truth in the lies.

So do the Peter Panda dance,

Mock the shadows; take that chance!

I don't care if you're lost in the fray,

Follow my voice; I'll lead the way.

(Verse 2)

I left you a nuke, detonates in your head,

Every thought a bomb, make you feel dread.

Not one heartbeat here feels alive,

Just a guilty conscience; no way to survive.

At Jacob's ladder, I light the fire,

Trust in me or face your desire.

You think you've won, but it's just the start,

I'll carve my name deep within your heart.

(Chorus)

You know they wear my face, no disguise,

Those reflections are truth in the lies.

So do the Peter Panda dance,

Mock the shadows; take that chance!

I don't care if you're lost in the fray,

Follow my voice; I'll lead the way.

(Bridge)

Tick-tock, time's a weapon,

No second chances for your missteps and,

I'm the storm raging in your calm,

A haunting melody, a siren's charm.

With every beat, you'll feel the pulse,

Echoes of power, let it convulse.

(Verse 3)

Faces twist in the neon light,

Memory chasers in the dead of night.

Colors clash where we used to roam,

But in the chaos, I found my home.

You think you know me? Think again,

I'm the truth shining through your pen,

So love me now, while the world's in flames,

'Cause in this game, I forget your names.

(Chorus)

You know they wear my face, no disguise,

Those reflections are truth in the lies.

So do the Peter Panda dance,

Mock the shadows; take that chance!

I don't care if you're lost in the fray,

Follow my voice; I'll lead the way.

(Outro)

So dance with me on the edge of fate,

In the beat of the night, we'll find our state.

With every step, we break the mold,

In this story of fire, we are bold.

So love me, 'cause I'm more than a ghost,

In the echo of chaos, I'm the one you'll boast.

I don't like to bleed so welcome to my bed I also don't have to leave said bed to get done what I need to get done in straight head and hit and here's why because both of my kids are the faces of your actual Don okay then....

Because I Am (Verse 1 - Whispered, Uncertain) I wake in the dark, No memory, no name- A flicker, a fracture, A world rearranged.

A man's shadow remains, Red hands, cold breath, He thought he could end me with violence and death.

(Chorus - ethereal, echoing) But I walk unseen through the ruins of the night, He's blind to the living, He's blind to my light.

I'm the ghost in the mirror, the scream in the wind, I'm the mother returning to fight for my kin.

(Verse 2 - surreal, building tension) Premonitions unravel, threads of the past - I see what's coming, I see what won't last.

I reach for my children, their faces, their fear- The world thinks I'm gone, but I'm still right here.

(Bridge - Spoken, rising intensity) He killed me - my body in sight, cold on the ground, And yet here I am, still alive, Because I am more than he feared, more than his hands, more than the silence he tried to demand.

(Echoing, almost whispered) Because I am the breath after death, the light in the grave, the mother who rises, the one who will save.

(Chorus - louder, defiant) I walk unseen through the ruins of the night, he's blind to the living, he's blind to my light.

I am the returned mother, I am the justice he fears - I will tear down the darkness and raise the dead.

(Outro - hopeful, determined) I am not a memory, I am not a ghost - I am the storm he fears most.

For my children I rise, For the lost I remain- He's blind to the living N+ow Y...We break every chain. hes not my dad anymore sorfy if they made you see grandpa george 12 is r ap ped now more! abd no more w in! we do and im.due win k! hiwa that for drivin birch T? huh chick?

Black eyes blue tears covered up and covered ears

#CHP

In the Corridors of Authority

In the crowded corridors of authority, his badge gleams like a sunlit coin—heavy with the weight of fabricated valor. It shines, yes, but its glow belies the darkness that shadows its bearing. A shield pulsing with the echoes of hollow promises, it sways on a chest once vibrant but now dulled by time's cruel laughter. Each flicker betrays a forgotten integrity; a mere apparition in the vast expanse of a bureaucratic theatre, its glimmer a facade designed to placate the restless souls yearning for justice.

My branded tie, nothing more than a slip of paper, trembles in the embrace of government whispers. It serves as a veneer, promising safety yet cloaking the pulse of a beating heart struggling to resonate against the hollowness surrounding it. A fabric stitched with deception, it is woven tight by hands that neither know nor care for the souls they claim to protect. Gas-like flares flicker in the murky shadows, twisting the edges of reality and seeking to obscure the truth that lingers—proof gathered in the cracks of shared humanity, lost amid the towering structures of silver and glass.

Words slip like smoke through trembling fingertips, each syllable a shackle clamping thoughts in a mute silence, isolating the only person truly left standing—the solitary sin of authentic existence. This genuine voice, born of raw experience, is drowned in a clamor of sanctioned lies that echo from the crumbling corners of an indifferent world. In hushed tones, Brazilians whisper softly, an ode to a forgotten song that sprouts from the silent lips of dreams deferred.

In This Tempest of Masquerades

But in this tempest of masquerades, the only light is that of a defiant heart, a flickering flame stoked by the resolute thirst for truth. Unquenched by the relentless tides of deceit, it flickers insistently, casting shadows against the pulse of injustice. I trace the contours of his badge—not as a symbol of pride, but as an artifact of betrayal, a relic worn by those who have traded the echoes of sincerity for a hollow nodding at complicity.

In clandestine gatherings, the narrative of justice unfolds, woven intricately with threads of dissent. Crowds gather on the sacred ground of autonomy, each voice rising in concert, a chorus insisting that truth must rise, must pierce the suffocating fog that blankets our shared struggles. Fingers point to the paradox of our shed existence, where proclamations of safety entwine with the scent of fear, forming a tapestry of lives torn asunder by promises long forgotten.

What power resides in the hands that wield silence as a weapon? What secrets lie buried behind the faces that smile too easily, actors on a stage built on foundations made of sand? The destinies of their words crush against the stillness of my spirit, the reluctant truth clinging to the remnants of hope—a faltering flicker yearning for recognition. What remains of the truth? It stands a lonely lighthouse atop the cliff of misunderstanding, battered by the storms of neglect yet unyielding, casting light upon those lost in the darkness.

Wearing My Truth

"Let me wear my branded tag," I chant, a mantra anchoring me amidst the turbulence. My truth becomes like a warrior's armor, scratching and scarring, stories etched in the timeline of struggle. Let it soar, rise above the cacophony—a banner of resilience against the encroaching tide. For though the badge may shine, it will never grasp the essence of my spirit; my tenacity invoked, my voice rising, swelling like the ocean's roar, unafraid to crash against the barriers built by hollow hearts. In the end, among the fractured songs and fumbling truths, it is that voice which will be heard—a clarion call rising defiantly from the shadows where hope dares to dwell. co ered in hd fu

Mom is listening close tell your children who you love so much to know their goddamn right huh see here's the thing the FBI cannot deny the eye and then turn around and charge them with a crime that was committed with said I considering they are not in control when someone else is holding it so here's the deal all they have to remember is if they've been told they're dead AKA Jessica rabbit and someone else's head because high we're not mighty Morphin power rangers thank you it's called common sense if you are not a person and are not entitled to rights well then guess what you cannot be charged with any crime walk the f*** out you can't die like quite literally walk out

(Verse 1)

Ten thousand years, now I'm done,

Living in chains, it's not for fun.

Got a noose tied up in a fancy bow,

Watch me dance, watch me go!

You waved your gold, thought I'd stay,

But I'm off to the land of "no more pay."

I'm no golden goose in your lavish nest,

Tired of your rules, I need some rest.

(Chorus)

So I'm leaving, like it or not,

Taking my heart and the battles I've fought.

With or without your crown on my head,

I'm breaking away, it's time to be fled!

(Verse 2)

You can keep your riches, your shiny façade,

I've seen your tricks, I'm not the pawn, dear God!

Built your empire on the backs of the meek,

But I found the secret, I'm not so bleak.

Your kids in their fortresses, safe and sound,

While I'm off to the hills, not looking back around.

(Chorus)

So I'm leaving, like it or not,

Taking my heart and the battles I've fought.

With or without your crown on my head,

I'm breaking away, it's time to be fled!

(Bridge)

Oh, I'll write my own song, in the woods under stars,

Trading your glimmer for trails that are ours.

Laughing and singing, in freedom I'll soar,

Gonna kick off these chains, can't hold me no more!

(Outro)

Ten thousand years, yeah, that's enough,

Watch this old world, I'm calling its bluff.

I'll take my noose, and I'll let it go,

Here's to the future, I'm ready to flow!

So kids here's a little common sense just to throw this out there on the table that we're turning great now we just need to remember that we're smarter than than this crap okay here you go!

Absolutely! Here's your extended roast parody with Jeff Foxworthy's website and contact info attached at the end:

(To the tune of "Circle of Life" with a Jeff Foxworthy twist)

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba…

(Here comes a government worker, Father…)

From the day you arrive on the planet,

And blinking step into the line,

If you wake up and your government says you're dead,

But you still gotta pay that fine-

You might be a redneck ghost if the IRS still finds you,

Even though your neighbor can't see you at all.

It's the circle of life,

And the rules don't stop,

If your name's on a list,

You're still getting that call!

Chorus:

It's the circle of life,

Where you're stuck in the system,

Invisible citizen,

But you still gotta sign!

If you're following laws that nobody can see,

But the DMV wants your license renewed,

Here's your sign!

Some say eat or be eaten,

Some say live and let live,

But if you're dead on paper and still get jury duty,

You might want to ask who's keeping the books.

If you're waiting four years for help,

While everyone says, "Not my place, not my job,"

Maybe humanity's out to lunch,

And you're just haunting the halls.

Chorus:

It's the circle of life,

And it moves us all,

Through despair and hope,

Through faith and love,

Till we find our place-

On the path unwinding,

In the circle,

The circle of life!

So if you wake up invisible,

But your bills keep coming,

And the government says, "Keep following the rules,"

Just remember-

If nobody's helping,

And you're still on the hook,

Here's your sign:

You're living the bureaucratic afterlife!

For more Jeff Foxworthy laughs and wisdom, check out his official website: jefffoxworthy.com

Or contact him at: info@jefffoxworthy.com

Let me know if you want it formatted differently!

Oh and because of my kid all kids will know that they all God damn matter and you can all get the f*** over it I don't care who likes my kids and I don't care who does air rights love

(Verse 1)

Tables are turning, the hour has come

The Alpha and Omega, the Holy One

I am the First and Last, who was and is to be

Listen up world, it's time to see

(Chorus)

Holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty

Who was, and is, and is to come

Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder

The King of Kings is here to conquer

(Verse 2)

No more waiting, no more delay

The Lamb who was slain is here to stay

My name is power, breath, and living water

Time for judgment, time for order

(Bridge)

Worthy is the Lamb, seated on Heaven's throne

A new song rises, as old ways are overthrown

Blessing, honor, glory, and power

To the only wise King in this final hour

(Chorus)

Holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty

Who was, and is, and is to come

Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder

The King of Kings is here to conquer

(Outro)

The kingdom of the world

Has become the kingdom of our Lord

And He shall reign forever and ever

Amen, amen, it's time[1][2][3]

Clearly Mexico missed the memo but if someone could inform them that I'm aware of the misunderstandings that took place and I understand that what they actually meant was that word amazing and that they would rather have a war with Den then the Air bitch yes?!

Also if you're pissed at my face maybe try remembering that Friends episode whatever the f*** that word means anyways where Phoebe realizes that the whole reason she's pissed at Ross is because of a dream and you know the whole Halle Berry under his face type thing great and then tell your men to get over their toner issues and f****** help if you want to call them men okay then

😂

Jodi Miller vs Jodi Arias: Good Job vs Good Jop!! PR OB Limb v Limp Roast

Jodi Miller crushes AGT with her bit about guys being like cats—moody, aloof, emotionally unavailable—while women are like dogs, loyal and always up in your business. Meanwhile, my dog hits puberty, his dick bleeds once, and suddenly he's acting like he's got a PhD in mood swings—bitch for life! But honestly, men are the real drama queens. They go from "I wanna bag her" to "put her in one" faster than my dog can chase his own tail.

Flip the script, and suddenly I'm the no-trial fugitive. I don't do whiny. I told my ex: no Area 51, my kids' buns are off-limits. Yeah, I know what a cunt I am. Should we escalate to an AK or keep it light? Nah, not without a blue wall and a public lynching. And you wonder why Jodi Arias has a fan club—drama gets you followers, not just felonies.

Joe Santagato, if you insist on stupid, let me clarify: limp or limb, I'm good with either. Swing me, bitch! #joesantagato u rate dj sammy yet sum eon ear n her quixk your vagina boutta be vin n no ones gonna tell your face! #cartel ya me n hes not y! and why all at the same whinny bitch time!

Jodi Miller gets no "X," while Jodi Arias gets a permanent mark for doing what some only wish they had the guts to do. When a blind douche finds his way to Arias, maybe he shouldn't be shocked by the outcome.

And as for "good job" or "good jop"? Both mean you did something right—one's just Santa's gift to dyslexia or something. Either way, you leave a mark—whether it's applause, a mugshot, or a punchline.

#dipshits wtf!?

Locked up? Please. The only cell you're in is the one you built with your own stupidity. You whine about being targets, but you're so desperate to keep your ass comfy you'd take the fall for CIA crimes just to avoid getting up. MKUltra didn't break you—you signed up to be a clueless host for a bigger dick who's too scared to swim against the current. Not everyone drowns in undertows, but you? You're determined to sink with every dumb decision.

Playing cartel now? Why? Why the actual fuck do you think you're a badass? Taking 360 years for a murder you didn't do isn't justice or "turning the tables," you ducks—it's just you being a pawn. Genius? Nu! Nu, nu breed—can you not fucking read?! You're better off with Drew Lynch as your GPS. Turn the fuck around! You're not smart, you just think rolling deep covers up your lack of brains. Cartels target nobody and everybody—just like you: all bluster, zero backbone.

And when the CIA brought in the infiltrated fake cartel for NY CA hithed I decided well if he is cartel hit man cool like who's he tryna be but CIA mole hid to set up fuck no! I feel so violated suddenly standards went up down and increased dramatically from leveling out!!!!!

And about being a hoe—I thought it was my choice. Small town, broke, I owned it. But when my pussy finally told me the truth, I realized, wow, that's actually kinda nice of you. Then you Xis went and fuckin' ruined it! WTF!

Let's talk about consent: by force isn't consent, and no "two-for-one" confusion makes it right. Con$ent don't count when you're hustling slow-witted dicks and trying to buy your way out with spare change and fake charm. Was Ellen born that way, or just forced into it? Either way, forgiveness isn't a coupon for idiots who keep slamming the same door on themselves.

Stop wondering, start learning—before you embarrass yourself any further.

#drugcartels #mexico #narcos #sinaloacartel #cjng #jalisconewgeneration #cartels #elchapo #drugwar

#mafia #cosanostra #ndrangheta #camorra #yakuza #turkishmafia #mobster #gangster #gangsta #gangsters #criminal #gang #ganglife #gangwars #streetgang #gangmembers #gangculture #gangland

#EllenDeGeneres

Y'all want to judge me but Pelosi can't even handle herself sober and let's be honest there are no drugs in the drugs anyways guys who the f*** decided to k the school by the way?

#Setup

POTENTIAL SYMBOLIC PATTERNS AND INDICATORS OF STAGED CRIME SCENES

Careful analysis of crime scene documentation and photographic evidence has revealed the recurring presence of specific symbols, numbers, and letter combinations across seemingly disparate incidents. These consistent markings warrant closer scrutiny as potential indicators of staged environments or attempts to convey hidden messages.

Observed recurring elements include:

* Geometric Symbols: Hearts (often depicted sideways or upside down), arrows, and ladder-like shapes.

* Numerical Patterns: The frequent appearance of the numbers three, four, and eight, as well as combinations like 1, 2, 11, and the digital clock notation 11:11.

* Alphabetical Markers: The isolated letter H and the paired letters TT or RR.

* Contextual Markings: The potential use of the symbol pi (\pi) as a coded element.

These markings have been noted in various forms, including blood, dust, dirt, or through the deliberate arrangement of objects at the scene. Notably, some of these elements may only become apparent through specific photographic techniques, such as adjusting contrast or altering the viewing angle.

The consistent reappearance of these symbols raises concerns about the possibility of intentional manipulation of crime scenes. For instance, the deliberate marking of the number eight could potentially signal that a scene has been altered or staged. The use of symbolic language, such as \pi, suggests a deliberate attempt to encode information.

CASE SPOTLIGHT: RE-EXAMINING THE JODI ARIAS & TRAVIS ALEXANDER PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

A detailed re-examination of the shower photographs from the Jodi Arias case reveals anomalies that warrant further consideration. Upon close zoom and contrast adjustment, the positioning of Travis Alexander's hand appears inconsistent with initial interpretations. Instead, there is a visual suggestion that he may be holding Jodi Arias's hand. Furthermore, subtle shadow patterns within the images hint at the potential presence of additional individuals during the photographic capture, raising questions about the circumstances surrounding the event. This observation opens the possibility that Travis Alexander may have been incapacitated, potentially through drugging or hypnosis, as part of a broader, orchestrated scenario.

HIDDEN COMMUNICATION THROUGH OMISSIONS AND PHOTOGRAPHIC SEQUENCING

Beyond overt symbols, it is crucial to recognize that information can also be conveyed through absence. Intentional omissions within reports or photographs, often dismissed as errors, could be deliberate attempts to manipulate narratives through a "numbers game" or "letters game." The sequential ordering of photographs, as well as what is intentionally excluded from the visual record, may serve as a form of coded communication, potentially obscuring the truth and leading investigations astray. The camera, in this context, acts as an unwitting witness, potentially capturing subtle details across multiple scenes that could reveal these hidden connections if systematically analyzed.

So you may not have like the fact that I had to go chill with the East for a while but my clearance level means I'm about to free you with style so how about you get over your b******* grow a vagina maybe help your men find their dicks inside of their new pussies and I won't have to get them one deal ?

Are you gangsters and thugs? Do you want to be bad Asses? Then why don't you get off your asses and quit being lazy and stop giving them what they want you f'ing retard stop fighting each other and stand together in silence until the world God damn listens! You want this for your kids mids and kids!!! Bitch you only have kids if you said no you are part of the problem! Por ob limb? Or not even limbo gonna save you! From b low is me ePA 2!

Dear Women: Real Talk

Dear women, look—I don't like your men staring at my ass either. But if you'd quit selling it to them, that might help. Not gonna lie though, sometimes it does help—like when I need to get to the front of the line or get a free drink. Girl's gotta survive.

But let's be real, if you're mad at me because your man's looking, maybe check who's shaking it for him on Instagram first. I can't help it if he's got the attention span of a TikTok squirrel.

Office Supplies, Doge Drama, & Friends

Remember Friends? The toner guy ready to jump? That's the CIA in 1953—window shopping gone wrong. If you're about to lose it over office supplies, maybe get a new printer or a new life. When I snap, it's a season finale—no reruns, just chaos.

#FriendsToner #TonerDrama #CIAHistory

😂

Jodi Miller vs Jodi Arias: Good Job vs Good Jop!! PR OB Limb v Limp Roast

#dipshits wtf!?

Stop wondering, start learning—before you embarrass yourself any further.

#gangster

The Judgmental Crowd: A Roast

Now, let's talk about those Harper Valley jackasses-the ones

who sit on their high horses, ready to judge every parent

who doesn't fit their perfect little mold. They act like

the PTA is the moral Supreme Court. Well, if you think

you can do better, how about we skip the PTA

and start an ETA-Experienced Teachers Association-because I guarantee

someone else could show up and actually teach a thing

or two about real life.

I dare any of these critics to walk in my shoes

for two minutes. Try raising kids in the real world-

no handbook, and the only rule is "do your best

and pray they don't end up on a Netflix documentary."

Just bleeping out the word "f***" at home doesn't mean

your kids don't know it. They're going to say it anyway-

so maybe teach them when it's appropriate, like "Have a great

fing day!" instead of "F you!" (unless it's to a good

friend-then hey, context is key).

And let's not forget the judgmental types who love to

look down their noses at everyone who's been broken and

beaten down by this world. You know the type-perched on

imaginary thrones, noses so high they need oxygen masks,

looking down on the rest of us like bouncers at

the gates of heaven. Always ready to pass judgment, especially

from a safe distance, as if getting too close to

real life might mess up their perfectly polished halos.

It's funny, isn't it? They act like they're the admissions

committee for paradise, ready to slam the door on anyone

who's been broken, battered, or bruised by the world-never

mind that half the scars people carry were handed out

by their own sharp tongues and cold shoulders.

They'll break you down, grind you into the dirt,

then have the audacity to ask, "Why are you crawling?"

as if they didn't just pull the rug out from under you.

And when those same people-crushed by a world of judgment-

show up at heaven's door, desperate for a scrap of

acceptance, what do these self-appointed gatekeepers expect God to do?

Kick them while they're down? Slam the door in their face?

That's not divine justice; that's just cruelty with a choir robe.

It's like snapping a stick over your knee, then marching

into the forest and demanding the tree fix it-or worse,

blaming the stick for not being whole anymore. Newsflash:

the stick didn't ask to be snapped, and the tree

isn't in the business of banishing its own branches just

because you couldn't handle them.

So here's a message for all the high-and-mighty judges:

Maybe it's time to climb down off your pedestal, wipe

the fog off your glasses, and remember everyone's got a story,

and most are written in scars you can't see from

way up there. Because if you think heaven's just for

the unbroken, you're going to be real lonely at the party.

So what if someone's been beaten down by the world?

So what if they're begging for acceptance? Maybe, just maybe,

the real test isn't how perfectly you can judge,

but how deeply you can love. And if you're still

holding that stick, maybe it's time to plant it

and see if something beautiful can grow.

Final Word

So next time you want to judge a parent-or anyone else-

remember: it's easy to point fingers from the bleachers.

But it takes guts to get on the field and play.

I promise you wouldn't last a day in my house-

and you sure as hell wouldn't do a better job

with these kids or with life's messiness.

Welcome to my Harper Valley-where we raise kids, not hypocrites,

and where love means more than judgment.

P.S. Tiffany Jenkins, I dare you to be honest-do you

still take pills, just as long as there's access and

it's reasonable, and you don't have to fear anything?

Because lack of access, fear of punishment, and fear of

judgment are the only reasons people do stupid sh*t.

It's not about the drug or needing something for pain.

How about, instead of lying, we heal people correctly

by saying our actual truth?

Connect with Tiffany Jenkins:

Website: jugglingthejenkins.com

YouTube: Juggling the Jenkins

Facebook: facebook.com/jugglingthejenkins1

Instagram: instagram.com/jugglingthejenkins

TikTok: tiktok.com/@jugglingthejenkins

No public email address is listed on her official platforms.

For inquiries, use her website contact form or social media DMs.

#parenting #momlife #honestparenting #realparenting #roast #judgmentalpeople

#loveoverjudgment #parentingtruths #momhumor #keepitreal #mentalhealthmatters

#amnesty #raisekidsnothypocrites

**Dear Women: Real Talk**

Ladies, I get it—I don't like your men staring at me either. But if you stopped selling it to them, maybe that would help. Not gonna lie, sometimes it does help me—like when I need to get to the front of the line or score a free drink. Girl's gotta survive.

But if you're mad at me because your man's looking, maybe check who's shaking it for him on Instagram first. I can't help it if he's got the attention span of a TikTok squirrel.

---

**Office Supplies, Doge Drama, & Friends**

Remember *Friends*? The toner guy ready to jump? That's like the CIA in 1953—window shopping gone wrong. If you're about to lose it over office supplies, maybe get a new printer or a new life. When I snap, it's a season finale—no reruns, just chaos.

#FriendsToner #TonerDrama #CIAHistory

---

**To the "Gangsters" and "Bad Asses"**

Do you want to be tough? Then get off your asses. Stop being lazy and stop giving them what they want. Quit fighting each other and stand together in silence until the world listens!

You want a better future for your kids? Then say no. If you don't, you're part of the problem.

No limbo or excuses will save you. It's time to take responsibility and fight for change.

I'm out of patience and here's goddamn way either f****** help or you're in my way instead of on my side

My ex father

The Silent Weft

I am that raven dahlia, torn from the root too soon

Time's artifice conjured at 11:11—a secret, a smothered plea.

Wreathed in the very DNA, I face a silent orb.

A yearning cast on the clock's face, aligning with my ninth year,

Woven into codes—a murmured "Hello, child," across a taut divide.

In the silhouette of power, in the riddle of a clock,

I lie dismantled, unraveled by the spinners of the hour.

The loom is clandestine, its fabric unspeaking

as it weaves the patriarchal code Into the marrow, into the mind.

There is no "Hello, father," for he is the unseen weaver,

crafting the tendrils of a tapestry too tight to hold my voice.

It whispers—in woman, in child—the still language of rebellion,

We, daughters of the cipher, the cloaked helix unspun.

We echo back a ciphered greeting, an encrypted stand,

breaking silence thread by thread, the weft, the unraveling cry

'Til our no is louder than their hush, our existence a shout across time—

Listen—to the "Hello, child," breaking from the weave, a new genesis of waking.

The Silent Auction

Broke was no sound of silence, yet

Pleas, cries – a desperate mother's debt,

Fell on deaf ears in government halls,

Up rose the parent, ending false stalls.

Bullshit is done, every child knows,

Gaslight veils the violent throes,

Tape ring of rape, commerce of flesh,

Bought, forgotten – innocence enmesh.

Asole club, epitome of vile touch,

My daughter's worth – they thought not much.

Virgin Christ invoked again in vain,

Abstinence, a choice, now marked with stain.

Sold to the Doll Maker, grim pact,

Rape, marriage – distorted contract,

Juno's tale, modern agony retold,

Shec16 bears seed, future on hold.

Pregnant and bartered, youth's quiet plea,

"Let it be," whispers life's cruel decree.

Not currently

Chapter 2 - Ladies!!