He didn’t exactly poo poo the idea … Kobe Bryant is keeping an open mind when it comes to the Lakers draft plans … saying he’d be cool with the team taking another Ball brother … “if it’ll help win.” Kobe was leaving ABC Studios in New…
The time is nearly here, good people of the Internet.
Your patience is about to pay off.
The questions will finally end and the rumors will cease to exist for much longer…
… because Kylie Jenner is about to reveal that she's pregnant!!!!!!
Granted, we've been fooled before – most notably by the way the family drew out its Kardashian Christmas card reveal – but what other conclusion can be drawn from the following promo?
It was released by E! and it teases a very special, two-part, two-night episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
It will be an episode "“full of Kardashian surprises," the teaser states, adding:
“Because when it comes to making announcements, the family’s got news so big we need Sunday and Monday just to cover it."
In the 40-second preview, we see Kourtney Kardashian, Kim Kardashian and Kris Jenner reacting to some apparently quite shocking news from someone off-camera.
Khloe also cannot believe her eyes and/or ears:
We also see Kylie on FaceTime, seemingly lying in bed…and definitely excited over something.
Jenner, of course, has been pregnant for months. And the Internet has known about it for months.
Yet she hasn't uttered a word about the child growing inside of her womb yet. Moreover, she's barely been seen in public or on social media.
What's she been waiting for, many have asked and wondered? Is she ashamed of being pregnant? Ashamed of her baby bump?
Might she be ashamed of baby daddy Travis Scott, who recently blew off questions about the pregnancy?
Again, no one really knows. Because neither Kylie nor any family member has said anything on the topic.
The 20-year-old reality star has been MIA from the reality show of late and didn’t appear in the family’s Christmas card, as previously mentioned.
Could this upcoming FaceTime session tell us more? We'll need to tune in and find out!
(For the known record, Khloe Kardashian is also pregnant.
And she recently said she would reveal the gender of her child on a future episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. So, indeed, many surprises are in store!)
Do you agree that the Kylie reveal is finally happening?
Watch below and then chime in!
Sen. Richard Burr is all set to grill James Comey, and he’s keenly aware the testimony before his Senate committee could be the biggest national viewing party since the Super Bowl. We got the Intel Committee chairman as he was leaving his office on…
Let’s be real: Leslie Knope is a true American hero.
You may have seen some of her work on Parks and Recreation, one of the best sitcoms of all time, or perhaps you just know of her excellent work for the actual Parks and Recreation department in Pawnee, Indiana.
But if you’re not familiar with her, then just know that she wrote a letter to all of America today, discussing our new president, Donald Trump.
And the letter is probably the most comforting, most magical thing we’ve read all week.
Amidst the confusion, and despair, and disbelief, it was suggested to me by a very close friend of mine (I won’t say her name, to protect her identity) (Ann. It was Ann) that perhaps a few people would enjoy hearing my thoughts on this election.
So I sat down at my computer, cleared my head, and opened a document. Then I started crying.
So I had some hot chocolate, and my close friend (Ann) rubbed my back for a while, and I got myself together, and sat down. And started crying.
Then more Ann comforting me, and more hot chocolate, and back and forth like that for about six hours or so, the chain of hot-chocolate-and-back-rubs only interrupted briefly when I had to run to the store for more hot chocolate packets (“Just give me all of them, all the boxes,” I remember saying, through tears, to a very scared stockroom boy) and now I am ready to go.
When I was in fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Kolphner taught us a social studies lesson.
The seventeen students in our class were introduced to two fictional candidates: a smart if slightly bookish-looking cartoon tortoise named Greenie, and a cool-looking jaguar named Speedy.
Rick Dissellio read a speech from Speedy, in which he promised that if elected he would end school early, have extra recess, and provide endless lunches of chocolate pizzandy. (A local Pawnee delicacy at the time — deep fried pizza where the crust was candy bars.)
Then I read a speech from Greenie, who promised to go slow and steady, think about the problems of our school, and try her best to solve them in a way that would benefit most people. Then Mrs. Kolphner had us vote on who should be Class President.
I think you know where this is going.
Except you don’t, because before we voted, Greg Laresque asked if he could nominate a third candidate, and Mrs. Kolphner said “Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone –” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed.
And before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagen-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”
After class I was inconsolable. Once all the other kids left, Mrs. Kolphner came over and put her arm around me. She told me I had done a great job advocating for Greenie the Tortoise.
Through tears I remember saying, “How good, exactly?” and she said “Very very good,” and I said “Good enough to –?” and she sighed and went to her desk to get one of the silver stars she gave out to kids who did a good job on something, and as I tearfully added it to my Silver Star Diary she asked what upset me the most.
“Greenie was the better candidate,” I said. “Greenie should have won.”
“I suppose that was the point of the lesson,” I said.
“Oh no,” she said. “The point of the lesson is: people are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”
Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.” That is perhaps a pithier and better way to get my point across, than that long anecdote about Mrs. Kolphner.
Should I just erase all of that and start with this? Whatever.
I’m pot-committed now, and is there extra caffeine in that hot chocolate? Because my head feels like a spaceship.
The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them.
It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex.
Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.”
My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept.
(Tom told me it was a horrible deal, but I didn’t care, in that moment.)
My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to Acceptance. And here’s what I stand on that:
No. I do not accept it.
I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the President. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in.
I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-facism.
I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that.
Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story.
I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos.
We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad.
And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.
And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls.
On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up.
We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes, or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him).
(Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, super-ego!)
Our President-Elect is everything you should abhor, and fear, in a male role model.
He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard.
It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.
You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon.
So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds.
You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble.
You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you, and when the time comes you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.
He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future.
Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his.
We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.
Now find your team, and get to work.
See what we mean? A true American hero.
We really, really needed one of those.