Kid Rock appeared on Tucker Carlson Originals, which is a program on Fox Nation, announcing that he wouId own telling Joy Behar to “f**k off” during a drunken rant at his honky-tonk bar in Nashville. During that hilarious rant, he also went after Oprah.
During the 2019 rant, a drunken Kid Rock can be seen on stage saying F*** Joy Behar and “F*** Oprah Winfrey. Speaking about it to Tucker, Rock said that he wouIdn’t be apologizing for what he said and even indicated that he still thinks that about both the cackling hens on the View, saying “A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, I own what I said
I don’t apoIogize to anybody. I’m not an Oprah Winfrey fan.
Talking about the event with Tucker, Rock, totally unrepentant, expIained what happened, saying “I got drunk and f—in’ next thing, I’m on stage saying f— Oprah
Then, joking about a dru nken mistake he made during his rant, Rock said:
I was trying to go after Kathy Griffin you know, for hoIding up Trump’s head, but I’m so out of it I’m like f— Kathie Lee Gifford
When it comes back on TMZ or whatever a few weeks Iater I’m like oh man, I like Kathie Lee Gifford. We’ve been kind of friendly throughout the years.
MY DAUGHTER TOLD ME I WAS TOO OLD AND PATHETIC WHEN I SHARED A PHOTO FROM MY FIRST DANCE CLASS.
The Dance of Dreams
At 70 years old, I decided to step into a dance studio, my heart fluttering with anticipation. The polished wooden floor seemed to beckon me, whispering promises of grace and rhythm. It was time to fulfill my lifelong dream—to dance.
My daughter, however, had a different perspective. When I shared a photo from my first dance class, she scoffed, “Mom, you look pathetic trying to dance at your age. Just give it up.”
Her words stung, like a sharp needle piercing my fragile bubble of enthusiasm. But I refused to let them deflate my spirit. I had spent decades nurturing her dreams, ensuring she never had to abandon them. Now, it was my turn.
I looked into her eyes, my voice steady, “Sweetheart, I’ve spent a lifetime supporting you. I’ve cheered you on during your piano recitals, soccer games, and college applications. I’ve been your rock, your unwavering cheerleader. But now, as I chase my own dream, you criticize me?”
She shifted uncomfortably, realizing the weight of her words. Perhaps she hadn’t considered the sacrifices I’d made—the dreams I’d tucked away while raising her. The music swirled around us, a gentle waltz, and I took her hand.
“Dancing isn’t just about moving your feet,” I said. “It’s about feeling alive, connecting with the rhythm of life. And age? Well, that’s just a number. My heart still beats to the same tempo as when I was twenty.”
We danced then, awkwardly at first, but with growing confidence. The mirror reflected two generations—one hesitant, the other determined. The studio walls absorbed our laughter, our missteps, and our shared joy.
As the weeks passed, my body ached, but my soul soared. I pirouetted through memories, twirling with the ghosts of forgotten dreams. The other dancers—mostly young and lithe—accepted me into their fold. They admired my tenacity, my refusal to be labeled “pathetic.”
One evening, after class, my daughter approached me. Her eyes were softer, her tone apologetic. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. You’re amazing out there.”
I hugged her tightly. “Thank you, sweetheart. But remember, dreams don’t have an expiration date. They’re like music—timeless, waiting for us to step onto the dance floor.”
And so, I continued my dance. The studio became my sanctuary, the music my lifeline. I swayed, leaped, and spun, defying the constraints of age. My daughter watched, sometimes joining me, her steps tentative but willing.
One day, she whispered, “Mom, I want to learn too. Teach me.”
And so, side by side, we waltzed through life—the old and the young, the dreamer and the believer. Our laughter echoed, filling the room, as we chased our dreams together.
In that dance studio, age dissolved, leaving only the rhythm of our hearts—a testament to the resilience of dreams, the power of determination, and the beauty of shared passion.
And as the music played, I realized: It was never too late to dance. 🎶💃🌟
Leave a Reply