Kathy Griffin: The New Face of Terrorism. Chic Hag of “Comedy”?



Friends, I am absolutely shaking and weeping as I write this.  That horrible, horrible hate-filled vessel Kathy Griffin should be executed.  I cannot believe the audacity of these so-called “comedians” and “actors” — what if I had held up the decapitated head of one of my daughters?  What if I had used the head of black TRASH Michelle and Barack “PigLips” Obama?  Oh I’d be crucified and nailed to a cross on the spot!

But oh no, friends.  Because it’s chic to make fun of President Trump this lady gets a free pass for advocating the MURDER and BEHEADING of a sitting President?  What in the world is happening to this country?  President Trump is a humble man who inherited garbage from overspending blacks who had no regard for this country.  He is doing the best he can to protect us ALL.

My youngest daughter, Sonnia was so disturbed by the image that she had to be excused from dinner and has not returned since.  We raise our children and protect them from immodesty and violence only to have this garbage shoved in our faces on the nightly news? No sir and no ma’am!  Not in MY household.

Take a moment and form a circle with your family and have a discussion about why the mainstream media cannot force it’s lies and deception on us.  We must take a stand.  We must believe in the LORD and follow his timeline.  It absolutely crushes my heart to think about poor Barron and Melania and the anguish they must feel seeing such vulgarity.  I became so short of breath I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

I personally hope she is convicted and sentenced to death for war crimes and treason.  Clean up the TRASH, America!  We are better than this!

In personal health and restoration news, I am in the throes of sore throat pain.  I have gargled with ylang-ylang water mixed with lemon juice, honey, and a teaspoon of baking soda.  As we do not believe in modern medicine, I rely on Guatemalan home remedies passed down through my family or sometimes I make my own.  I ask for your prayers for my swift healing.  Pain is the rejuvenation.  Pain is the healing.

As we move into summer let us be carefree with our hearts.  Let us sing and rejoice openly.  Let us not bathe in evil thoughts and shower in negativity.  I challenge you to BE THE LIGHT.

My husband said he will return my phone by week’s end.  Without him by my side to protect and guide me I truly would be lost without a compass.  Marriage is forever.  I wish you all the blessings.




19 thoughts on “Kathy Griffin: The New Face of Terrorism. Chic Hag of “Comedy”?

  1. Jenn, people hung burning effigies of Barack Obama. No sympathy for snowflakes who are upset about beheaded Twitler. COVFEFE. 😂😂😂


  2. You wish death on people on a daily basis, what gives you the right to start whining now you complete idiot. You think your husband being controlling of you is a healthy thing for your daughters to grow up around. Get your head out of your arse and look in the mirror lady…As Trump says…Covfefe…which in Russian means…JENN IS A TWAT…Thank Putin for that one sunshine!


  3. Jennifer

    The sooner Sonnia, Brandine and Earlene realise that Trump is a Douchelord the safer they will be.

    Guatemalan Remedies?

    As in 100 European Spanish from Spain Caucasian?

    If not shut your massive pussy that could be fisted because it is slutty

    If Mayan why the fuck do you care as you are a Klanwhore

    I am pleased you do not rely on Modern Medicine

    The sooner you die the better


  4. Treason?!

    Are you flushing your meds?

    Donald is humble?

    Ultimate proof you are a Lunatic

    With no Alibi

    OMG The Cow said Moo


  5. IF AMERICA IS CLEANING UP THE TRASH YOU BETTER FUCKING HIDE 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 Do you understand this stupid ass shit you spew is visible to the whole world?!… I’ll bet your kids are hating life!!!!! What a twat waffle. 😂😂


  6. I serve a risen Savior
    He’s in the world today.
    I know that He is living,
    Whatever men may say.
    I see His hand of mercy;
    I hear His voice of cheer;
    And just the time I need Him
    He’s always near.
    He lives, He lives, Christ Jesus lives today!
    He walks with me and talks with me along life’s narrow way.
    He lives, He lives, salvation to impart!
    You ask me how I know He lives?
    He lives within my heart.

    In all the world around me
    I see His loving care,
    And though my heart grows weary,
    I never will despair;
    I know that He is leading,
    Through all the stormy blast;
    The day of His appearing
    Will come at last.

    Rejoice, rejoice, O Christian,
    Lift up your voice and sing
    Eternal hallelujahs
    To Jesus Christ the King!
    The Hope of all who seek Him,
    The Help of all who find,
    None other is so loving,
    So good and kind.


  7. Jenn

    You should google how many Mayan women married to a converted from Judaism to Christianity man supporting Donald Covfeve Trump

    Just you and Irving?

    You are a Racist Cunt

    I bet you are a twat on parents evening

    Jenn:: Hey I don’t wan’t Sonnia to sit near that negro child

    Teacher: WTF

    Jenn: I’ll Homeschool

    Teacher: Yeah fuck off biatch


      1. Do I detect a little sarcasm there, Covfefe? “She” blocked me on Twitter, and why they haven’t deleted her current account is beyond me. Figured I’d just continue to ‘poke the bear’ while I can.


  8. Soames took his leave. All the way down to Reading he debated
    whether he should tell Fleur of that boy’s father’s death. It did
    not alter the situation except that he would be independent now, and
    only have his mother’s opposition to encounter. He would come into a
    lot of money, no doubt, and perhaps the house–the house built for
    Irene and himself–the house whose architect had wrought his domestic
    ruin. His daughter–mistress of that house! That would be poetic
    justice! Soames uttered a little mirthless laugh. He had designed
    that house to re-establish his failing union, meant it for the seat
    of his descendants, if he could have induced Irene to give him one!
    Her son and Fleur! Their children would be, in some sort, offspring
    of the union between himself and her!

    The theatricality in that thought was repulsive to his sober sense.
    And yet–it would be the easiest and wealthiest way out of the
    impasse, now that Jolyon was gone. The juncture of two Forsyte
    fortunes had a kind of conservative charm. And she–Irene-would be
    linked to him once more. Nonsense! Absurd! He put the notion from
    his head.

    On arriving home he heard the click of billiard-balls, and through
    the window saw young Mont sprawling over the table. Fleur, with her
    cue akimbo, was watching with a smile. How pretty she looked! No
    wonder that young fellow was out of his mind about her. A title–
    land! There was little enough in land, these days; perhaps less in a
    title. The old Forsytes had always had a kind of contempt for
    titles, rather remote and artificial things–not worth the money they
    cost, and having to do with the Court. They had all had that feeling
    in differing measure–Soames remembered. Swithin, indeed, in his
    most expansive days had once attended a Levee. He had come away
    saying he shouldn’t go again–“all that small fry.” It was suspected
    that he had looked too big in knee-breeches. Soames remembered how
    his own mother had wished to be presented because of the fashionable
    nature of the performance, and how his father had put his foot down
    with unwonted decision. What did she want with that peacocking–
    wasting time and money; there was nothing in it!

    The instinct which had made and kept the English Commons the chief
    power in the State, a feeling that their own world was good enough
    and a little better than any other because it was their world, had
    kept the old Forsytes singularly free of “flummery,” as Nicholas had
    been wont to call it when he had the gout. Soames’ generation, more
    self-conscious and ironical, had been saved by a sense of Swithin in
    knee-breeches. While the third and the fourth generation, as it
    seemed to him, laughed at everything.

    However, there was no harm in the young fellow’s being heir to a
    title and estate–a thing one couldn’t help. He entered quietly, as
    Mont missed his shot. He noted the young man’s eyes, fixed on Fleur
    bending over in her turn; and the adoration in them almost touched


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