My Name is Mark I'm 39 I'm Very Strong But Sweet Teddy Bear I'm Bisexual I Love Going to Auto Racing Events Getting Dirty Riding Four Wheelers I Have Autism
I wrote from my own personal experiences with addiction and people in my own family who battle this disease it affects everyone and everything around it it can take the sweetest and loving person or people and change them into someone you never knew keep fighting you are loved
the majority of people may hate “the new cast” and that’s ok too, but I had some of the best times of my life with these guys and they deserve all the love in the world
I love you Zack, Poopies, Jasper ,Darkshark and Manaka (wish he was there)
im so glad it was with you #noregrets #jackass #letuscook
In 1997, actor John C. McGinley’s son, Max, was born with Down syndrome. Shortly after, John's talent agent pulled him aside to deliver what was framed as practical advice: Do not talk about this publicly. Keep it quiet. People will stop hiring you.
For some, that might have sounded like reasonable career preservation. Protect the livelihood, avoid the spotlight, and pretend nothing had changed.
John’s response was immediate. He fired the agent.
Then, he did the exact opposite of what he had been told. He brought Max everywhere. Red carpets, talk shows, film sets, and public events. Wherever John went, Max was right beside him. At a time when society still largely preferred to keep individuals with developmental disabilities out of sight, John made a different choice. He made his son visible. Openly, proudly, and entirely without apology.
What began as a father's protective instinct grew into decades of fierce advocacy. John became one of the country's most recognizable voices for Down syndrome awareness. He spoke at global conferences, testified before Congress, and fought hard for employment law reforms that created real opportunities for people with disabilities to work, earn, and live independently.
During this journey, a reporter asked John a question that revealed far more about society's biases than it did about Max. The reporter asked if John ever wished his son were normal.
John didn't hesitate. He replied that Max was normal. The question wasn't. It was a blunt rejection of the idea that a person’s worth is measured by how well they fit into a narrow, conventional box.
Decades have passed since that conversation. Max is now 27 years old. He works, navigates his community, and lives an independent life filled with possibilities that the critics in 1997 never could have imagined for him.
Reflecting on their journey, John often says that Max never limited his life. He expanded it. Through his son, he learned what love, patience, and true commitment require.
The world signaled early on that it would have preferred Max to remain hidden in the shadows. John spent nearly three decades ensuring that the world looked Max right in the eye. Some fathers protect their children by shielding them from the world. Others protect them by refusing to let the world look away.
True inclusion begins when we stop treating differences as deficits. Max didn't need to change to fit into the world.
The world needed to change to make room for Max.
John Cena on supporting his older brother when he came out as Gay.
"I have two choices. I can disown him as a human being... or he can be my brother."
Cena kept his brother's secret for 10 years until he was ready to tell the family, and stood by his side the entire way.
Pure class. 💯
Happy Father's Day, all you Dad's!! It's been a wonderfully busy "Father's Day" here with the @CornettePups. @TheJimCornette is in heaven. Hope you all had a great day! 🐾🐾
#NASCAR... Samantha Busch posted this two-minute tribute video this morning, honoring Kyle Busch on Father's Day with the following message:
This still doesn't feel real at all. I was up all night thinking about what today should have looked like for Kyle and the kids. The Father’s Day cards that were already made sitting in a drawer with no one to give them to. Trying to figure out how to navigate a day that should be filled with so much joy for them.
He was the dad who never missed a chance to be silly, race the kids around the neighborhood, wrap them in his arms, or stay up a little longer for one more book, one more question, one more moment.
Nothing made him prouder than being Brexton and Lennix’s dad.
Watching these memories hurts more than I can explain, but they also remind me how lucky we were to have him.
Kyle, the kids, and I miss you every second of every day. Our hearts ache for you, but it’s more than that. Your absence is something we physically feel. Our bodies hurt from missing you, from reaching for someone who isn’t there, from loving someone we can’t hold anymore.
I will keep telling your stories, sharing your laughs, and making sure Brexton and Lennix always know just how deeply they were loved by their dad.
Happy Father’s Day. We love you and miss you more than words can say.