u/SaltPaleontologist28

July 20th, 2026
San Antonio, Texas
Breaking Wind News

There’s something rotten in DC, and it’s not just the stinking corpse of completely deceased Senator Mitch McConnell who has been turtling up in an ICU bed that should be given to living patients.

After years of allegations from numerous sources who wished to remain off the record, Academy Award winning Actor Leslie Nielsen’s niece revealed in a candid interview with Yahoo Finance that the rumors wafting around Capitol Hill are indeed true- the Senator from Texas, Ted Cruz, sleeps inside of a coffin full of farts.

“Uncle Leslie was always pulling our finger- I mean leg about everything, but nothing got him going more than talking about how Senator Cruz slept inside a coffin full of farts.” Nielsen’s niece revealed further details that corroborated the whispered complaints from Cruz’s colleagues, often seen giving Cruz a wide berth as he walks stiff-legged down the halls of the Senate, in what some claim are aggressive cropdusting maneuvers.

“It’s as if he [Senator Cruz] rage farts every time I’m riding the elevator with him after another one of his time-wasting, grandstanding attempts to repeal Obamacare doesn’t make it past committee,” said a recently elected junior Senator.” “I don’t think Ted Cruz is even trying to hold his farts in- it’s like he’s given up entirely on displaying any kind of decency at this point. Mark my words, it’s people like Ted Cruz that trigger the complete breakdown of respect for the American people,” said another Senator.

Still, despite truly overpowering- and sulfuric smelling evidence, many people in Washington feared the clap back from Senator Cruz’s bowels should they come forward and publicly shame him on the Senate floor. What is becoming apparent though is perhaps nobody, not even his biggest supporter, Donald J Trump, has any idea that Cruz’s issue with uncontrolled flatulence has been pervasive, permeating, systemic, and most importantly… deliberate. With Leslie Nielsen’s revelation that Senator Ted Cruz sleeps inside a coffin full of farts, one can only imagine what other kinds of antisocial behavior has been kept under a tight lid.

Hi All, I have been NC with my mother who has Borderline Personality Disorder, has whatever that disorder is where she concocts insane lies like having an affair with OJ Simpson- that lie aged well - abused me in every way you can imagine including s*xually, and destroys everything in her path.

Thank you for being on my side, because the few extended family members that still talk to her have no idea what she did, and I’m tired of their Facebook messages asking me why I don’t say happy birthday to her.

You might ask me why I am protecting her- I’m not- she doesn’t deserve that. I am protecting myself because they all know she’s a crazy lying moon bat, and I am afraid if I tell them my reasons, they will think I’m just like her. I mean… who would imagine a mother m*listed her own daughter?

Thanks for reminding me it’s ok to not care about what my relatives think.

This is a message for those living in the large metropolitan areas that have been dealing with Flock for a while and are already aware of the police state takeover.

Small town, Any town, USA is under attack too, and they are gathering 5, 10, 20 citizens going to their city council meetings and posting it on Instagram. Please take a moment to like their post and share. You don’t have to watch it all the way through- we’ve all heard it before, but they need to be heard, and their city councils might pay more attention to their residents if there are thousands of likes and shares.

Maybe it wasn’t. But my child brain learned to prioritize the things to remember to keep me prepared for danger, and the neutral or positive things in a fog.

Once I was too old to be physically abused, I started drinking to keep the flashbacks away, and once I quit drinking, the level of cortisol, adrenaline, and whatever stress hormones and chemicals coursing through my body and brain became too much to bear, and now I have an autoimmune disease. My own immune system attacks itself.

I don’t care how immature this sounds- it’s not fair.

I am confident that I am an intelligent, logical human being, able to collect data, identify trends, and synthesize information for other important things like my relationships, career, future, health, my surroundings, etc.

I realized that I failed miserably when it came to doing any of this when it came to my parents.

Here are some of the facts that lead me to my realization:

1. Ever since I can remember, my father never let an opportunity pass to whine to ME about how he had to sell his pool table and his MG roadster because I was unwanted. My father’s cult religion did not allow birth control.

2. My parents used to laugh and tell everyone including my younger brothers I had no name when I was born. They said they had the name Eric picked out for a son. They were sure I was a boy. That’s absolutely rich, considering I was born in 1972, so “normal” pregnancies did not require an ultrasound. They said I had no name for three days until the hospital said they could not release me until I was named. They think it’s funny to say my maternal grandparents were in the hospital room, and they told my grandmother to name me. I have a very common name, and it was the first name suggested.

3. My parents would say it over and over and over that I was an accident, and my younger brothers were planned. My brothers would mock me.

4. When I was ten years old, I opened a gift on my birthday. It was the sterling silver charm bracelet that had been given to my mother on her tenth birthday. I was excited, because I had always thought it was pretty. One of the charms was a tag that said “Happy Birthday.” My mother said, “I had your birth day engraved on it too!” I looked and said, “Mom, my birthday is wrong!” My dad grabs it and starts belly laughing. He says, “she wasn’t born in 1970!” My mother said, “oh, you’re right, I forget,” and starts laughing too. Ten year old me is sad and I said, “it’s not funny!” My dad stopped laughing and did his usual, chastising me for being “dramatic.”

5. Before my middle brother was old enough to start training to be a pro baseball player (eye roll) he’d watch baseball games and use that opportunity to say, “if you had been a boy, we’d have you in Little League,” and it was said in the most disappointed tone.

6. I struggled with math (diagnosed in college with dyscalculia- I am good at certain types of math, but challenged with others) and he would say, “If you were a boy, you’d understand.”

7. Always… my father reminding me how if I was a boy, I’d be more useful.

8. My mother constantly calling me a “worthless girl.”

I didn’t realize it then. I failed to make it all fit together.

I think I am going to toss that charm bracelet into the sea next time I’m there.

I have two sons. I am wholly content to have two boys, and thrilled and honored that they were mine to raise for a season and mine to love unconditionally until the last breath leaves my body and if either decides to have kids, and one was a girl, I wouldn’t let it touch her precious little wrist. I’ll buy her a new one.

Thanks for reading.

My parents are certifiably insane, and my father thinks the “rapture” is predictable with his precise and constantly re-adjusted calculations as certain events come to pass, and the rapture didn’t happen, or like his most recent certain prediction that the rapture was coming three days before Kamala Harris is elected.

For those of you not familiar, some Christian’s believe that an Angel will sound a trumpet, and in the blink of an eye, believers will be “raptured” or meet Jesus in the air.

I am no longer religious, and I would like to say I am not posting this to mock anyone’s belief system or faith.

This is about how a few years ago, he emailed me a copy of the last will and testament of my father and mother and to inform me that I will not receive any money or heirlooms if they die a natural death because I was not a believer in the rapture, but I get EVERYTHING if the rapture comes, since I will be left behind. I laughed, of course, but because I was always more mature than them, I responded that is ok, I expected nothing, and thanked him for letting me know.

The funny part is he replied, “Great! You understand why. I will call you Saturday.”

Umm… ok. He never calls unless he needs a favor. He’s never called just to talk to me or his grandkids.

So he calls and asks if I will be the executor of their will, since I’m a “neutral party” since I’m not getting anything, and I’m “more responsible than your brothers.”

By this point in my life (2023) I was already NC with my mother, and my father and I never talked unless the conversation benefitted him, and I had learned not to even engage, so I said, “Oh, I was not expecting that request. I’m very flattered, but I think I’m going to pass on this opportunity.”

Below is the part of the will where I am mentioned, for your reading pleasure and amusement:

“In the event that C, S, D and D leave this earth together, the following shall be done with all equity of property and cash going directly to L (ME) and is totally her decision about disposal.”

I’ve been NC with my mother for almost 5 years now, but only officially went NC with my father two weeks ago.

One of the main reasons why I went NC with my father is because he knew she was a liar, he KNEW her lies were INSANE, but yet, any time I rightfully stood up for myself and said her accusations were false, he’d shove me against a wall or push me back into a chair, full of rage, spittle fling onto my face screaming, “Are you calling your mother a liar?!”

Well, of course my natural instinct was to protect myself from a perceived threat, so I would retract my accusation. So, even though I learned to value honesty, especially within myself, I was “the liar” in the family.

Let me tell you just two completely batshit crazy and elaborate lies my mother told:

She told people, including her cousins that she was having an affair with OJ Simpson. That lie aged well. This lie was circulating when I was 10-12 years old (early to mid 1980’s). I asked her cousin about it recently, just to confirm I remembered correctly since my mother was always telling me she was leaving my father to marry OJ and she said (paraphrased) that my mother was a huge liar for as long as anyone can remember, and my grandparents never held her accountable. She also said how uncomfortable my mother made “the cousins” feel when she said, “OJ loves my Afro perm,” while fluffing her perm with a pic. Mind you, my mother is thoroughly Caucasian. My mother’s cousin said she proceeded to describe in thoroughly inappropriate and unwanted detail how “OJ can’t keep his hands off of me, his hands go everywhere.”

The second huge lie was one she tried to keep secret from family, but I found out in the most uncomfortable way.

I was a new mother, so like 28 or so, and she kept insisting I have lunch with her friends. So there I was, politely speaking with women I did not know, and one of her friends addressed me from across the table, so everyone heard. She said, “Your mom is such a blessing! I’m getting a tummy tuck and I was going to have to hire a nurse, but now I have your mom, the trauma nurse!” WHAT?

I was speechless, but even if I could have said something, I don’t know what I would have said in that moment. I went home. I was tormented. I called my friend who really was a nurse and asked her to confirm what I knew felt right- I needed to tell her friend the truth, because that was major surgery that required expert post-surgery care. I was filled with rage that I was in this situation, but this woman needed to know the truth.

I found the woman’s number in my mother’s address book and called. The woman blurted out, “Why would you lie like that about Susan?” There it was again. I’m being called the liar. I did not back down. The woman said my mother would meet her and “the girls” for lunch in her scrubs, and had a beeper, often leaving lunch early because a major trauma had come in and she was on call. Susan isn’t her real name either. It’s Marge, but one day she gave herself a new name.

Anyhow, my father called me later that day, asking me why I would be so cruel to my mother, trying to destroy her relationships with her new group of friends. I wanted to make sure he was aware my mother was passing herself off as a trauma nurse, and he said, “I know! Haven’t you seen the nurse uniform?” I said I had no choice! It’s a felony to impersonate a health care provider once you attempt to act in that capacity. I asked him if he even cared that the woman could die from complications! He said, “Why can’t you just butt out of it, I don’t want to get into it!”

I brought up OJ Simpson. He just laughed.

I am sure she has some terrible frontal lobe damage, or was born this way, but that is not an excuse to do what she did to me, and it damn sure should not be unaddressed when it becomes dangerous.

I grew up in a clown house orphanage with adults who had no business having offspring.

Did anyone else have parents who tell absolutely BONKERS lies like this?

I have not spoken to my mother in several years, and it has been two years since I spoke to my father. There was no real blowout fight. Just over the course of the 13 years after I moved out of state (at which time my father shook my hand goodbye) the interactions became less frequent. They started posting “Happy Birthday” or “Merry Christmas” on Facebook, and that was it. They stopped picking up the phone when my kids called them- my kids are adults now, and they just recently told me my parents haven’t answered the phone in years.

I went through therapy, stopped self-medicating with alcohol, and just rode out the terrible nightmares and got help for PTSD. My mother abused me in every way- yes, in every way, and my father enabled her. He knew about it. I asked him why he allowed it, and his answer was, “I am your mother’s rock. Anything she did doesn’t matter. The Lord is coming to rapture your mother and I and the Lord forgives us.”

I accept that I was raised in an emotional orphanage. I accept they will not change, because in their minds, they have done nothing wrong. I cannot change that. I can only change myself. I am not obligated to keep this to myself, and l have the right to tell them that I choose to end my part of the relationship and why.

I have left out the more painful details. I just wanted to put the last few words of my goodbye letter to my father out into the universe.

Also, I just want to say that despite my alcohol abuse, my kids and I have always had a good relationship. My son said recently, “Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about your drinking and why you were doing it. You were always there for me, and I should have been there for you.” My kids are happy and they know they are loved unconditionally by me. They never shrank in fear from my voice or hand. They were never abandoned. They seek my advice. They are adventurous and confident, kind, slow to anger and quick to forgive, and as adults, they are best friends.

So I won. I am alive and happy and sober, and I really, really like the adults my kids are becoming. I did a good job raising them because whenever I wasn’t sure what to do, I did the opposite of what my parents did. My kids know they are loved fiercely and without conditions. I won.

I drafted a goodbye letter last Christmas. I decided that if, on my 54th birthday I still wanted to send the letter with no changes, then I would hit send. I just did about an hour ago, and I feel a tremendous sense of peace. So happy birthday to me, and here is the close to the letter:

“I won’t speak for my brothers, but you should do some self reflection. 3 out of 3 of your children struggle with substance abuse, which tends to mean they experienced childhood trauma. Thankfully, I fight for my sobriety every day, because I stopped using alcohol to drown out the nightmares I had from childhood, and got help. NONE of your kids talk to each other, and last time I spoke with D- he went no contact with you both. You will NEVER sit at a table with all of your children and grandchildren around you.  You both did that. It’s on you both. You made us compete for your love, and it has blown up in your faces. I hope you are good with that.

Yes. I love you both. But just because I love you both does not mean I have to like you, or harm myself any further trying to be loved by you. 

This is hard for me, but I know this is not going to be hard for you. In fact, I know with 100% certainty your eyes are not welling up with tears reading this. You will go about your day and the remaining days that you have on this earth not giving me another thought, and I am ok with that. I finally accept that, and I am ok with it.

No need to reply. I am blocking your email, and your phone, so I won’t see it. I am breaking the chain. It ends here. Right now. “