Wait, is this for real? Trump spent $60 million of our taxpayer funds to host a UFC fight and then is selling UFC coin to line his family’s pockets. The Trump corruption swamp is a mile deep. https://t.co/jUtLu4cTaz
Viola Fletcher, the last living witness of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, has passed away at 111. Her legacy of strength and survival will never be forgotten. 🕊️🙏🏾
EXCLUSIVE: A commercial airline pilot filed safety reports after nearly being blinded by lights from Donald Trump's UFC structure when flying into Washington, D.C.'s Reagan airport.
My latest with @MeidasTouch: https://t.co/ntul2SkOSH
To everyone so eager to cancel someone for a tattoo they got at age 22, a drunk text, a selfie they took in the middle of a mental health crisis:
Show us your laptop.
Show us your iCloud.
Open your entire digital life to your worst enemy. No context. No filter. No explanation.
You won’t.
You won’t because you know what I know. Any one of us, frozen at our worst moment, photographed in our lowest hour, looks like a monster. Looks like a stranger. Looks like someone who deserves to be cast out.
That is not who we are.
My mom and baby sister were killed in a car accident when I was just a kid. Cancer took my brother Beau, my best friend and my rock. I battled alcoholism. I battled addiction. I chose the coward’s way out more times than I can count.
For years I believed the defining chapters of my life were written by tragedy, loss, and shame.
I no longer believe that.
Pain can shape us. Loss can humble us. Failures can leave scars that never fully fade. But none of them have the authority to define us.
And it sure as hell ain’t the critic that counts.
That authority belongs to us alone-the person in the arena.
Every setback presents a choice. Play the victim, or cut the bullshit and take ownership for who we become next.
Life does not determine our character. It reveals it.
Again and again we are asked the same question. When shit happens, what next?
We are not defined by what happened to us. We are not defined by the worst photo, the worst text, the worst tattoo, the worst night. We are defined by the person we choose to become. And by the courage to choose that person, every single day.
So before you reach for the gavel - show us your laptop.
You won’t.
The whole world saw mine. And I am still here. Still becoming. Still choosing. Still standing.
That is the only definition that matters.
Trump lies constantly and he is desperate for the Iran war to be over. So desperate that he’s giving Iran 20 times the money Obama did, and getting nothing in return, except an open strait that Iran will charge a “maintenance fee” to all ships. Well done, bozo
Hunter Biden on his father pardoning him:
He chose me over his legacy, because no matter what you say, that's going to be one of the first things written about him.
He chose me over his political legacy.
And that's how much my dad loves me.