Bonks bar and grill

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Chapter 1
"Hello. Heavenly Lion Convenience," Alex Ambrose answered the store phone.
"I need a box of condoms and two packs of tissues delivered to room 1302 of the Sheraton South River Hotel. Hurry!" The caller hung up.
Alex shook his head. People never seemed to be prepared.
He packed the required items, put on a raincoat, and rode his electric bike toward the Sheraton Hotel on the southern side of the river.
It was nine o’clock in the evening and raining heavily, and his pants and shoes were soon wet and filthy. Luckily, the merchandise was still dry, but he didn't dare delay any longer, so he hurried toward the hotel.
When he arrived at room 1302, he knocked on the door, and it was opened quickly.
"Hello, here’s your—" Alex was stunned into silence.
The woman in front of him was none other than his girlfriend, Cathy!
She was dressed in a white robe, with her long, dark, wet hair draped over her shoulders. The scents of shower gel and shampoo assaulted his nose.
"Cathy? What are you doing here?" He stared at her in disbelief, still feeling dazed.
"What are you doing here?" Cathy asked. Her heart skipped a beat, and she took a small step back into the room. Her mind went blank and then started to spin.
"What's wrong?" Another guy walked up to the door, wearing a robe and slippers, and Alex immediately recognized him.
"You! You dare to touch my girl?" Alex couldn't suppress the anger welling up inside him, and he started moving toward Billy, determined to teach him a lesson.
"Stop!" Cathy stepped in front of Alex. After a brief burst of panic, she had managed to get back a bit of control. Since her boyfriend had already discovered her betrayal, there was no point in trying to hide it now.
She looked directly at him. "Alex, we need to break up."
"Break up?" Alex was stunned. He stared at Cathy with wide eyes. "Cathy, we've been together for more than a year. Are you going to break up with me now?"
"Yes. We need to go our separate ways." She kept steady eye contact with him and spoke with a strong sense of resentment. "Are you surprised? You have no money, Alex. You can only barely afford the cheapest essentials. We never have anything nice. As long as I’m with you, people will always be laughing at me, and that just isn't the life I want. I’m too good to be living in poverty like this. I was too naive when I was in my freshman year, and I let myself get tricked into being with a loser like you!"
She hugged Billy's arm and said to Alex, "Billy is my boyfriend now. From now on, I want nothing to do with you. Don't bother me again!"
"Well, seems like you’re just her good-for-nothing ex now!" Billy looked at Alex with a provocative smirk.
Alex, standing there in a raincoat and with mud stains on his pants and shoes, felt like Cathy was right. He was a complete loser. Billy took the plastic bag from his hand and took out the box of condoms. He waved it at Alex and laughed as he said, "I’m staying in a nice hotel, having my girlfriend’s ex bring me condoms. And you’re single. Sure was good of you to help me out."
"Why are you still here?" Cathy scolded Alex.
"Nah, it's good that he didn't piss off. Maybe you want to see me beat him down, huh, Cathy? Gotta give a lady what she wants," Billy sneered.
Alex felt utterly defeated. He slowly turned around and walked out of the room.
"Bro, you're not even taking the money? Heh, nice. I get a girlfriend and a gift." Billy felt great watching Alex's slumped, dejected posture as he closed the door behind him.
When Alex left the hotel, it was raining even harder than before. He took off his raincoat, allowing the cold rain to drench his entire body and help clear his head.
Cathy had discarded him because she believed he had no money. Losing such a materialistic woman should be something to rejoice over, so why should he be sad?
[Buzz buzz!]
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Alex took it out and glanced at it, but when he saw the number, he stopped walking. His entire body was shaking as he read the text.
[After a review, the Ambrose family has decided that their son, Alexander, has met the conditions required for entitlement to his inheritance. From today onward, control of his property will be returned to him.]
The bean-sized raindrops plopped onto the screen, causing the text message to gradually become blurry.
Alex's mind began to spin. If not for this message, Alex would have almost forgotten his identity as a super-rich kid. Over the last seven years, his family had been assessing him, withholding his fortune until they were satisfied he met their draconian conditions. And now, finally, it was over.
Everything that rightfully belonged to him was finally his to claim.
**
Alex woke up early the next morning and drove to the city. In a great mood, he got out of his car and went straight to Metro Sky Bank, right in the heart of the wealthiest part of the central business district of New York.
Various luxury cars were parked around the bank. The people walking in and out of the surrounding plaza were all rich; it was obvious from their clothing and demeanour.
Alex strode to the door of the bank and pushed it open.
"Ouch!"
The main door could be opened both inward and outward, and Alex had been a bit careless when he pushed it open from outside. As a result, the door had bumped into a long-haired young woman who had been heading out of the building.
He quickly apologized, "Sorry. I didn't see you."
"What do you mean, you didn’t see me? What am I, invisible?" She held a hand to her forehead and glared at him.
The bank’s assistant manager, Karen Young, had noticed the incident and hurried over. She checked on the woman first, and then looked at Alex in disapproval. When her gaze swept over him, a trace of suspicion appeared on her face.
Metro Sky Bank was different from most banks, as the clientele were almost exclusively high-end businesspeople. Karen knew the young woman was there with her father, but she didn't know why Alex was there. Judging from his appearance and age, he wasn't their usual type of customer.
"Sir, can I be of assistance?" she asked with a polite but forced smile.
Alex simply said, "I’m here to withdraw money."
"Withdraw money?" the sullen woman asked, sneering at him.
"Do you have a card?" Karen asked, continuing to smile politely.
Getting a Metro Sky Bankcard was not easy. A million dollars of savings was the minimum requirement to qualify. Karen felt certain that the man in front of her couldn't have much experience with the bank and wouldn't know their rules. Perhaps he had thought that other banks' cards could also be used here.
"No," Alex replied, shaking his head.
The woman he had accidentally hit with the door couldn't help but giggle when she heard his honest reply. He wasn't worth any more of her attention.
"Let’s go." Her father had walked up, still arranging the documents he was carrying.
"My dad and I are leaving." The woman shook Karen's hand, and then looked over at Alex. "Ms Young, having someone like this around could damage your bank's image and upset your customers. I hope this will not happen again."
With that, she took her father’s arm and opened the door.
"Take care, Mr Scott." Karen followed them out a few steps, watching as they got into a car and left. Turning around, she headed back inside, having made up her mind to encourage Alex to leave as soon as possible.
There was no one standing where Alex had been. Oh! Where’s he gone? she wondered.
Was it possible that the kid had been embarrassed and had quietly slipped away?
She felt relieved at the thought. Then, just as she was about to go back to work, she caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye.
There’s the brat! No wonder I didn’t see him at first, she thought. He had already reached the entrance to the VIP lounge, and a pillar had blocked her view of him.
The VIP room was only for high-status customers who were worth at least thirty million dollars, and this young man had admitted that he didn’t even have a card. If she let him get through, she would be in trouble with her boss.
"Stop! Don't move!" Karen yelled, feeling desperate. The other customers all looked around at her, obviously annoyed by her shouting. She could only smile apologetically as she walked quickly toward Alex.
But he had already walked through the lounge, opened the door to the VIP room, and stepped inside.
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Chapter 2
Does he have no shame? Karen hurried after Alex with a look of chagrin on her face. She tried to open the door to the VIP room, but it had been locked from the inside.
**
"Hello?" Inside the VIP room, Robert Miller, the bank manager, was leaning against the sofa, looking at his phone. When the door suddenly opened, he quickly sat down and hid his phone away. Normally, when a VIP was coming in, Karen would notify him in advance.
As the customer manager, he was responsible for thirty-one VIPs, and he knew them like the back of his hand. He immediately began to launch into his normal professional greeting, hoping to undo the poor impression he’d made by slouching against the sofa, but when he saw Alex, his expression froze.
He was certain that Alex was not one of his VIPs, nor was he a relative of one.
"May I ask who you are?" Robert asked, looking at the young man, who appeared to be around twenty years old. Robert had no idea who he was.
Alex got straight to the point. "I'm here to get my money."
"You have one of our cards?" Robert asked, suspicious of Alex's calm expression.
"No," Alex admitted frankly.
Robert was relieved to seemingly be proven right, but even more confused. Access to the VIP room required a minimum worth of three million dollars, but this man didn't have any money. Why was he so composed?
"I'm sorry, sir. We can't give out money without a card. Do you require anything else?"
He's crazy, Robert thought. Why on earth did Karen let him in? I’ll have to speak to her about this at Monday’s meeting.
"You have fingerprint recognition here, right?" Alex suddenly asked.
The fingerprint ID system at the bank was for the wealthiest families and businesses to use. Only a few people had their fingerprints recorded in the system, at least in the New York branch, and no one had used it to access their holdings yet.
"You want to use it?" Robert could no longer bring himself to call Alex "sir."
"Yes." Alex nodded.
Robert was feeling more confused by the second. Why would someone who wasn't even a customer request to use a fingerprint ID?
To be honest, even though he was curious, Robert felt that it was barely worth humouring the request. But after considering for a few seconds, he finally decided to let Alex make the attempt rather than risk making him angry.
He opened the safe and brought out the fingerprint identification device, which he had never used before.
"Place your thumb here." Robert indicated the verification area to Alex, who placed his thumb on the sensor.
[Beep!]
The device lit up with a glaring red light, and the LCD screen displayed the words [Fingerprint not recorded].
Immediately, Robert’s expression turned hostile, and he glared at Alex. He picked up his phone, ready to call the police.
"Wait, wait!" Alex said quickly. "Maybe that was the wrong print. I'll try using my index finger this time."
Robert smiled coldly. "What’s your plan here? Your thumb doesn’t work, so you’ll try your index finger. Then, if your index finger doesn’t work, you’ll try your middle finger. When you run out of fingers, will you try using your toes?"
But Alex had already pressed his index finger on the verification area.
Robert resolved that if the man’s fingerprints weren’t accepted this time, he would immediately call the police and have him arrested.
[Beep!] A green light appeared on the device and new details flashed up on the LCD screen: [Verification successful. Family account: 01. Verifier: Alexander Ambrose. Account: 01104.]
Robert gaped at Alex in disbelief for a moment, and then hurriedly squeezed out a smile. "Mr Ambrose, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I'm Robert Miller, the customer manager for the New York branch. Please allow me to assist you."
"It's fine," Alex said lightly and stood up. "Can I see how much money I have left in my account?"
"Please wait a moment." Robert sat in front of the computer and typed away for a while. On his instructions, Alex provided a few more fingerprint scans as authorization.
"It's done, Mr Ambrose." Robert clicked the "OK" button on the screen, and Alex's account appeared.
Robert pointed to the computer screen and said, "Mr Ambrose, the balance of your account is currently eighty-six million dollars."
Robert couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air.
This young man had an enormous fortune. It placed him in the topflight of the one per cent. Most people would never be able to even dream of that much money.
Alex felt strange as he stared at the numbers on the screen. He reminded himself that he needed to get used to his status as a rich kid as soon as possible.
"Oh, and you have other assets as well. Let me show you now." Robert clicked through to check several pages in a row. Finally, he clicked the "OK" button again.
The computer brought up a 4 x 4 grid of display screens.
"This surveillance screen displays all the physical assets that you hold elsewhere," Robert explained. He clicked on the upper left corner of the screen and brought up the feed from the bank's branch at The Hague, which revealed a sports car. In the lower right corner, it said, [Ferrari Pagani Huayra].
Robert opened up other screens for Alex, one after another.
The Hawaii branch displayed a Dominica blue pearl bracelet and four stacks of gold bars.
The feed from the French branch in Nice revealed three original Picasso paintings and two Rodin statues.
And the Cape Town branch had fifteen 10-carat diamonds, ten pieces of ivory, and another couple of stacks of gold bars. Robert's eyes almost popped out as he looked at Alex's assets. He had never seen anyone so rich. Maybe not even one-tenth as rich.
"All right, I’d like a card," Alex said before Robert could collect his thoughts.
"Yes, I will see to it right away. Please wait a moment." Robert immediately started to make the necessary arrangements. Within ten minutes, a Supreme Card was produced.
Robert looked at the Supreme Card and thought about Alex's assets. This card wasn’t good enough for Alex’s status, but it was the highest grade of card they were authorized to issue at the New York branch.
Robert presented handed the card over. "Mr Ambrose, your card."
"Thank you." Alex took the card, stood up, and went to walk out of the room.
"Mr Ambrose, please wait." Robert didn't dare to appear to be neglecting such an important customer. He should see him out personally, but the asset checking system on his computer had not been turned off yet, and the fingerprint verification machine, iris recognition apparatus, and other sensitive equipment had not been returned to the safe. The monitoring system in the VIP room was connected to the district manager’s office.
Karen was anxiously waiting in the hall. What's been going on in there for so long? she wondered. Could that brat have murdered Mr Miller in the VIP room?
The more she considered it, the more scared she became. She was on the verge of banging on the door and demanding a response when Alex walked confidently out of the room.
"Stop!" Karen shouted. She walked quickly over toward him and grabbed at his coat. "You can't leave. You broke into the VIP room. Once we confirm that nothing is missing, I will call the police and have them hold you for questioning."
"What are you talking about?" Alex asked. "Let go!"
Karen grappled with him for a while, but she couldn't manage to search his pockets.
What’s wrong with this woman? Alex thought. He wasn’t even arguing with her, but she was manhandling him.
"What is this?" Karen spotted the Supreme Card that was peeking out of Alex's pocket. She quickly pulled it out and looked at him triumphantly, as if she had found evidence of his guilt. "Oh, you stole a card. This is a crime, and I have to call the police."
It didn't even cross her mind that the card could belong to Alex. She imagined he had entered the VIP room, pretending to be there by mistake, and had then distracted Mr Miller with questions and stolen the card when the manager wasn't paying attention.
"Let go!" Alex was sick of this woman.
"Don’t you feel guilty about being a thief?" She was even more determined.
With the two of them creating such a scene, other customers started to walk over toward them, intending to help Karen keep Alex from getting away.
Just then, Robert, who had finished tidying up, strode out of the VIP room.
Having seen Alex's assets, Robert now knew he was the most important customer the New York branch of the bank had ever had. He had also noticed that the system listed Alex's was listed as just one of multiple accounts attached to a family group, labelled 01. If that single account was so lucrative, then what about the rest of the family?
It was rare to meet such important people, so Robert knew he had to be careful to curry favour with Alex. If they got along well, it would be a tremendous success for Robert, and the potential benefits were huge.
So, when saw Karen struggling with Alex, he was enraged. Karen's expression was hostile, and Alex was becoming very angry. Karen was an idiot who was playing with fire, and she might drag Robert himself down with her.
Of all the bank’s many, many customers, why did she need to pick this one to try and remove? A simple flick of Alex’s finger could be enough to end both their careers.
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Chapter 3
"Stop!" Robert dashed between Alex and Karen.
Before Alex could speak, Karen waved the Supreme Card in the air. Her eyes flashed with triumph as she said to Robert, "Mr Miller, look! He stole a card from the VIP room!" She smiled at him, her expression a little smug.
Surely, Mr Miller would be happy with her for preventing theft. He had a lot of authority in the eastern district of Metro Sky Bank, and when he had arrived at headquarters, he had seemed impressed with her, so she was hoping for a promotion. Her imagination began to run away with her as she dreamed about her possible future.
Mr Miller's face had always been a little glum, but as she watched, his expression grew darker and darker. Before she could figure out why, she was startled by his explosive roar, leaving her entire body trembling.
"Let go of Mr Ambrose!" As he yelled, Mr Miller knocked the Supreme Card out of her hand, and she was so scared that she let go of Alex. Mr Miller pushed her aside and bent down to pick up the card. "Mr Ambrose, your card. I'm very sorry. I haven't trained Ms Young properly. I do apologize."
Mr Miller's expression showed a mixture of respect, embarrassment, and unease, as the bank's customers looked on in amazement. Karen was stunned.
Could the Supreme Card be his? she wondered.
Her eyes widened. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of it.
If this man had a Supreme Card, then he had at least three million dollars, yet he appeared to only be around twenty years old. A poor, lower-class loser with that much money? No, it was just too unlikely.
"It's not your fault, Mr Miller," Alex assured him, slipping the card back into his pocket.
"Thank you, Mr Ambrose." Robert dipped his head and paused briefly before straightening up and shouting at Karen, "Why are you just standing there? Apologize to Mr Ambrose immediately!"
How could Karen still not understand? Robert thought. The young man standing in front of them was seriously rich and needed to be treated with respect.
Karen immediately bowed her head at Alex. "Mr Ambrose, I'm very sorry for my rude behaviour. I made a mistake, created a fuss over nothing, and put my hands on you. It was my fault, and I will reflect on my behaviour—"
Alex ignored her and walked away.
"Mr Ambrose," Robert called after him. "If you ever need anything, just give me a call, and I'll do my best to help."
Robert was excited by this opportunity. It was rare to meet someone as important as Alex, so he shamelessly tried to charm him.
"Okay, Robert." Alex smiled faintly. Robert had come to his defence, after all.
The use of his first name made Robert feel quite emotional. The wealthiest customers called him by his first name, and now so did this poorly dressed young man, who displayed not even a hint of arrogance.
Alex strode out of the bank and hailed a taxi to take him back to Preston University.
**
As Alex entered the university building, he accidentally stepped into a puddle, splashing a lot of mud on his legs.
He checked his watch then rushed toward the classroom, where Mr Morgan was already standing at the podium, lecturing. He spotted Alex out of the corner of his eye and a hint of disappointment flashed across his face.
Feeling guilty, Alex lowered his head.
Of all his teachers, Mr Morgan was his favourite. The other teachers tended to ignore Alex because he had no money, and some even openly mocked him. Only Mr Morgan treated him like any other student.
Alex slipped quietly into the classroom, aware that all the students were staring at him, and he could hear them whispering.
"He isn't usually late. Hell must have frozen over."
"Look at his pants! They’re filthy. Doesn’t he have any clean clothes?"
"Are you joking? It’s not like he’d have the money for new ones. It looks like he's just thrown on whatever he could find."
Some of the boys continued to talk, and the girls in the front row covered their mouths with their hands as they joined in. Their eyes flashed with contempt when they looked at Alex.
"Stop talking!" Mr Morgan said loudly. "And pay attention."
Throughout the lecture, Alex noticed that Mr Morgan kept glancing at him, his eyes full of disapproval, as if Alex had failed to live up to his expectations.
Eventually, the lecture was over.
"Class dismissed."
Mr Morgan packed up his textbooks and left.
"Cathy." The voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned in the direction of the voice and saw Billy walking through the door and going straight to Cathy, who was sitting by the window. She stood and hugged him, both of them were in love
Many of the students turned to stare at Alex. Everyone thought that he was Cathy's boyfriend, and they weren’t aware that she had broken up with him.
Alex watched in disgust. He’d heard that Billy had taken at least five different girls to stay at that hotel. Cathy was just the latest in a long line, and Alex had no intention of fighting for her.
Billy strutted past Alex with his arm around Cathy's shoulder.
"Darling, wait a minute," Cathy said to Billy as she stopped in front of Alex and held out her phone. "Since we've broken up, I don’t want to owe you anything. Here's the phone you bought for me a few weeks ago. You can have it back."
Alex glanced at the Samsung Galaxy phone and then took it.
"Hah, you would have to work part-time for six months to afford one of these!" Cathy took a brand-new phone out of her pocket and showed it to Alex. "This is the latest iPhone, and it’s much better than your phone."
"Of course, it's far too expensive for a loser like him." Billy raised his chin and looked at Alex. "Cathy told me that she kept asking for that phone for six months before you finally bought it for her. Do you think you can pick up a girl so far out of your league? You're just embarrassing yourself, so give up. And I'm warning you now: don't even think about her. If I find out you’ve gone anywhere near her, you'll regret it!"
"Don't waste your breath talking to a loser like him. Can we go to De Luca’s for lunch?" Cathy had already dismissed Alex.
"Call me baby," Billy said, smiling at her.
"Baby, let's go." She flirted with him right in front of Alex.
"Cathy!" A petite girl stood up, glaring at her. "You're taking it all too far. I never thought you'd break up with Alex, and I'm ashamed of you."
"Emma, why do you care?" She scowled. When things had been going well with Alex, she’d been on good terms with Emma, who was a decent person. Sometimes, when Cathy had been fighting with Alex, she had asked Emma’s opinion about who was in the right.
"You gave up Alex for someone like Billy?" Emma asked. "How could you treat Alex like this? When you were sick and couldn't even get out of bed, Alex sent you lunch and dinner every day for a month. And when you were walking in the mountains and twisted your ankle, he carried you on his back for miles down the mountain. Don’t you remember that? You know he doesn't make much money from his part-time jobs, but when you wanted a phone, he worked hard for months to save enough money to buy it for you. And this is how you repay him? By breaking up with him and ridiculing him?"
Cathy scowled. "I never forced him to do anything. If he was stupid enough to go along with it, that's his problem! And so what if he bought me a cell phone? It was only a Samsung. And why would I want a Samsung when I can have an iPhone?"
Emma shook her head. "Cathy, I don’t understand you. Do you only care about money? Will money get you everything you want?"
"Yes!" Cathy barked out a laugh. She stared at Emma and said, "I admit that I like money. Is that so wrong?" She took Billy's arm and said, "Come on, baby, let's go. These two poor people disgust me."
She glared at Alex and Emma and then swept out of the classroom with her head held high.
​
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Lots of people in this sub have asked why their videos aren’t doing well, and to combat that I ask: Does your search bar on your content say “find related content”? The reason I ask is is because seeing this is a defining factor on whether or not your video will perform well. If you see “find related content” above your video that means that Tiktok cannot categorize your video, meaning that the algorithm has no idea who to push it out to! To combat this you can: 1. Use better keywords on screen and in the caption to help guide tiktok 2. Use RELEVANT hashtags in the caption

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Charley had his manhood taken away from him two days ago and I got to pick them up yesterday. Fluf was allowed to stay as emotional support :D apparently they tried cuddling through the bars of the cage that was in between them 😅 I am so happy they were able to relax again after only a few minutes of being back in their own home! We do have to keep them seperated for another 6 weeks unfortunately, they have their own floor for now, but we build a little stairway so they could at least still cuddle through the bars! They try eating through the wood of the cage to be together though, I do hope it lasts for another 6 weeks at least 😅

Author and conservative commentator Peachy Keenan is sick and tired of yesterday's soccer mom being treated as today's "domestic extremist", in public discourse by media gatekeepers and government officials alike—and all the while parents are sheepishly and too easily abdicating their natural role as captains and defenders of the household.
https://twitter.com/KeenanPeachy/status/1666121050567110656
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"They like to make us, the normal people, the moms and dads of America into extremists. But if you look around it's pretty easy to see who the real extremists are," Keenan told Harris Faulkner on Fox prime time Tuesday night. https://www.foxnews.com/video/6328922595112
She is calling for a back to the basics while writing from deep behind 'enemy lines': southern California. "Parenting is not a game. There is no do-over. You are all that stands between your small charges and the roiling storms ahead—and the band of purple-haired nonbinary pirates that’s about to storm the deck."
Keenan has written a new handbook of sorts, or a practical guide to winning the culture war and protecting your family from the ravings of "Childless weirdos have taken over every institution we look to for guidance on how to raise good citizens..."
You can find the book here: https://www.amazon.com/Domestic-Extremist-Practical-Winning-Culture/dp/1684513529/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Domestic+Extremist%3A+A+Practical+Guide+to+Winning+the+Culture+War&s=books&sr=1-1
Keenan holds nothing back in the following blistering commentary from her book [emphasis ZH]:

It has become only too clear what this absence of parental authority has wrought. Truly insane people have taken over the American education system, Big Pharma, and Big Tech. They know the best way to reach the Final Solution of the American family is to focus on young, impressionable minds. We are enjoying the fruits of their labor now: an explosion of teen depression and suicide, an epidemic of children who are confused if they’re boys or girls, and an incredible 40 percent of Gen Z reporting that they are some letter in the ever-expanding alphabet soup known as LGBTQ+.

https://preview.redd.it/q8pbczeb2r4b1.png?width=722&format=png&auto=webp&s=fb9352ba054a4f428fe4c11fad712f52188e5bfc
https://twitter.com/CitizenFreePres/status/1666257317120323585
Who are the real extremists?
The below is an excerpt from Domestic Extremist: A Practical Guide to Winning the Culture War, by Peachy Keenan, with permission of the author. The book is now available from Regnery.
https://www.regnery.com/9781684513529/domestic-extremist/
* * *
You had a baby? Look at you—you’re the captain now!
Or are you?
The words on a poster taped to a teacher’s classroom door at a New Jersey public school expose the precarious corner American parents have been painted into. “If your parents aren’t accepting of your identity, I’m your mom now.” The poster featured a drawing of a mama bear tending to her bear cubs, who are each painted the color of a different LGBTQ flag.
Parents, I have bad news. You’ve got competition. Someone posted a job listing looking for a new authority figure in your house, and they hired everyone who applied. Lots of other adults, most of them unpleasant strangers, would like to raise your children for you—or at least get your children to hate you.
This may already be happening—and you’ll be the last to know! All your hard work to keep creeps, perverts, and kiddie-sniffers away from your kids may get reversed in an instant when you’re not looking.
Some parents are okay with this. They can barely handle “adulting” themselves and are thrilled not to make any tough parental decisions. Abdicating their natural role as master and commander of the household is lazy, but it’s a defensive posture. They live in terror of accusations from other parents of “closed-mindedness,” or worse, being a prude.
American parents have either forgotten their innate, God-given authority over their household or surrendered it in the face of relentless pressure over many years from the outside. Just as millennia of trickling snowmelt can hollow out mighty granite mountains and turn them into canyons, a half-century of unchecked influence by feminists and far-left progressives have chipped away at the role of parents in their children’s lives. What is left is a barren wasteland, a valley of shadows, where mothers and fathers have been reduced to nothing more than the oldest dependents in the house.
Your job as a parent is not easy, but it’s simple: feed, nurture, love, and protect. In the face of life-and-death danger—say, an escaped tiger or an ax-wielding lunatic—probably 100 percent of parents would risk their lives for their children, even die, without hesitation. So why are so many reluctant to defend their children from less obvious, but equally dangerous, scenarios?
You can tell when you’re about to be trampled by elephants. It’s trickier when the trampling is invisible and being committed by a young teacher with peace stickers on xe/xer’s car. I’ll grant that having pro- nouns in your bio is not quite the same red flag as cruising a playground in a car with no door handles on the inside, but it’s still a red flag parents need to fear.
People who manage to produce offspring are too often seduced into voluntarily surrendering their authority over them. They allow various “experts” to hold sway over their kids. Exhausted and confused, they willingly hand their kids off to the local public school teachers’ unions, the DEI struggle-session facilitators, the storytelling drag queens, and the sex-education consultants who arrive at school with teaching props, including wholesome kid-friendly items like dildos and anal lube.
Above: School hangs poster that says, \"I'm Your Mom Now\"
https://sanzi.substack.com/p/school-hangs-poster-on-the-door-that
They all share a common goal: to dilute your authority and increase their own. They aim to groom America’s children from birth to become compliant consumers of all they wish to sell them: bespoke genders, any-term abortion, strictly enforced racial hierarchies, a lifetime of therapy, prescription drugs, and whatever political and social ideology they choose to upload into their brains.
God forbid you are the only parent at your school who keeps your fifth grader home on Share Your Favorite Sex Toy Day. What will people say?
Allow me to remind you gently: it’s your job to steer the ship, avoid icebergs, prevent scurvy, and stave off mutinies. Parenting is not a game. There is no do-over. You are all that stands between your small charges and the roiling storms ahead—and the band of purple-haired nonbinary pirates that’s about to storm the deck.
Sexualized Early and Often
Imagine being the only one at the PTA meeting who stands up and objects to your second grader studying detailed diagrams of adult genitalia, or your middle schoolers instructed on how to grant consent to anal sex. (These are real sex ed guidelines introduced in New Jersey public schools in 2020.)
Your choices are stark: assert your authority over your children and get called a bigot or go along with the madness and let them take your child to places you don’t want them to go.
How bad is it? Bad enough that Tiara Mack, a “reproductive justice advocate” and “child sex educator” running for state senator in Rhode Island tweeted this in 2021: “Really excited for the house sex ed bill hearing later today. Teaching comprehensive, queer inclusive, pleasure-based sex ed was a highlight of my time teaching.”
This is who wants to talk to your six-year-old about how to “pleasure” themselves and their partner!
The first step in any cult, or any abusive relationship, is to get the victim to sever ties to their outside friends and family. Maybe you’ve seen this happen to people you know. They suddenly change their phone number, delete their social media, and have a new friend now—one that has them spellbound. Once children come to believe their mom and dad are clueless bigots and racists who are holding them back from being who they are, the cult leaders own them.
Government-run public schools have accomplished “regime change” in America and transformed us, slowly, from a society centered around the family, where the schools work for the parent, into a society centered around government employees, where families are required to supply the raw goods for the teachers’ unions to mold as they see fit.
Year after year, their assembly lines have been left unsupervised to churn out freshly minted graduates. These graduates move on to college, where their high school indoctrination is hardened and polished by professors. The end product is a citizen who will go to his grave believing a set of Ministry of Truth–approved lies: “whiteness” is intrinsically evil, abortion is health care, there are dozens of genders, America was founded on racism and must be dismantled, marriage is oppressive and bad for women, children hold you back, and unchecked sexual “exploration” with a variety of partners of every gender is the surest path to emotional happiness.
Sane people have a terrible choice to make: exercise parental authority over what their children are taught and risk financial ruin, social blackballing, and permanent cancellation—or allow their kids to be turned against them.
When a teacher or government official replaces the parent as the ultimate authority in the child’s life, all bets are off. Educators know that any adult with the authority to influence a child has the power to expose said child to any radical or extreme ideas they want.
To them, you are the extremist if you don’t think young children need to learn about sex and gender dysphoria yet. You are the extremist if you question a teacher or school administrator’s choice of books to read or lessons to teach. You are an extremely racist extremist if you’d rather not force a five-year-old to feel bad about the color of his skin and apologize for it.
In California, students in middle school can ask their school to change their names and genders in the school computer system, and the school is not permitted to inform the parents. The school authorities and the teachers are legally allowed to conspire with eleven-year-olds in sixth grade to induct them into a cult and keep it secret. Literally “it’ll be our secret,” a classic groomer move.
These government educational bureaucrats may not drive window-less vans and carry dirty magazines and candy bars to lure young boys (although let’s be honest, some do), but they are even more dangerous. Any parents who send a child into an environment like this, either knowingly or blindly, are forfeiting their authority over their kid.
The Regime’s child-catchers are prowling the locker rooms and cafeterias looking for lost, confused pre-teens to cart off to Pleasure Island, where they can get transformed into donkeys without their parents’ consent.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Disney is working on a new version of Pinocchio where he asks the Blue Fairy to turn him into a real girl.
Parental Surrender
Too many sentient adults seem to simply wait for a new update to the operating system to decide what to do with their kids. They unquestioningly accept the Current Parenting Thing, the rancid gruel served up as “education” at the local public school.
They surrender their kids to the authorities, in all their forms: teachers, principals, pediatricians, drag queens reading stories, social media influencers, YouTubers, Disney, Netflix, TikTok, the Kardashians—anyone who is credentialed as a “kid expert” or “important” now holds more sway over American kids than their own mothers and fathers. “Who am I to tell my kids how to behave, or what to learn, or how to think about the world? I’m just a random person who had a baby. I made plenty of mistakes in my life. How can I possibly ask my children to obey me?”
This is why we can’t have nice things. This is why healthy toddlers were kept in COVID masks for two years while they sat in sandboxes alone, outside, in rain or sleet. This is why you see massive brawls happening at middle schools, where kids punch their own teachers. This is why children are indoctrinated into the cult of trans, coached and groomed to say their pronouns, to switch genders, to explore various “sexualities” and “identities.” This is why mothers pimp out their own children as “drag kids” and put little boys in princess dresses and post the photos on Instagram while thousands of likes wash over them.
This is what abdicating the parenting throne looks like. Childless weirdos have taken over every institution we look to for guidance on how to raise good citizens, and no, I’m not talking about Catholic priests.
It has become only too clear what this absence of parental authority has wrought. Truly insane people have taken over the American education system, Big Pharma, and Big Tech. They know the best way to reach the Final Solution of the American family is to focus on young, impressionable minds.
We are enjoying the fruits of their labor now: an explosion of teen depression and suicide, an epidemic of children who are confused if they’re boys or girls, and an incredible 40 percent of Gen Z reporting that they are some letter in the ever-expanding alphabet soup known as LGBTQ+.
Everywhere, in every way, the fertile, fallow minds of children are being terraformed by people who identify as “fur baby” parents.
I wouldn’t let fur baby parents walk my dog, let alone educate my eight-year-old.
Authority Atrophied
This is why you must exercise your parental authority early and often. You must speak up!
“No, I don’t want you to ask my teenage son if he’s comfortable with his gender during his doctor visit.”
“No, you can’t wear your sister’s Elsa dress to school today, because boys don’t wear dresses, now get in the car and never ask me that again.”
“No, you can’t buy those shorts that display the entire lower half of your rear end.”
“No, you can’t have a TikTok account, and if I find it on your phone, say goodbye to the phone.”
Parental authority makes you the heavy in the house and the bouncer at the door. Pull on your big boy pants and lay down the law, or the law is going to lay down all over you.
Peachy Keenan is author of Domestic Extremist: A Practical Guide to Winning the Culture War.

Author and conservative commentator Peachy Keenan is sick and tired of yesterday's soccer mom being treated as today's "domestic extremist" in public discourse by media gatekeepers and government officials alike—and all the while parents are sheepishly and too easily abdicating their natural role as captains and defenders of the household.
https://twitter.com/KeenanPeachy/status/1666121050567110656
https://preview.redd.it/078zp8gv1r4b1.png?width=790&format=png&auto=webp&s=f57ec8ab475fb228079af0757d6b906c49ec1b8a
"They like to make us, the normal people, the moms and dads of America into extremists. But if you look around it's pretty easy to see who the real extremists are," Keenan told Harris Faulkner on Fox prime time Tuesday night. https://www.foxnews.com/video/6328922595112
She is calling for a back to the basics while writing from deep behind 'enemy lines': southern California. "Parenting is not a game. There is no do-over. You are all that stands between your small charges and the roiling storms ahead—and the band of purple-haired nonbinary pirates that’s about to storm the deck."
Keenan has written a new handbook of sorts, or a practical guide to winning the culture war and protecting your family from the ravings of "Childless weirdos have taken over every institution we look to for guidance on how to raise good citizens..."
You can find the book here: https://www.amazon.com/Domestic-Extremist-Practical-Winning-Culture/dp/1684513529/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Domestic+Extremist%3A+A+Practical+Guide+to+Winning+the+Culture+War&s=books&sr=1-1
Keenan holds nothing back in the following blistering commentary from her book [emphasis ZH]:

It has become only too clear what this absence of parental authority has wrought. Truly insane people have taken over the American education system, Big Pharma, and Big Tech. They know the best way to reach the Final Solution of the American family is to focus on young, impressionable minds. We are enjoying the fruits of their labor now: an explosion of teen depression and suicide, an epidemic of children who are confused if they’re boys or girls, and an incredible 40 percent of Gen Z reporting that they are some letter in the ever-expanding alphabet soup known as LGBTQ+.

https://preview.redd.it/8qucazob2r4b1.png?width=722&format=png&auto=webp&s=e2798bd1cdba17e1eb875dad8784bb2893bc2330
https://twitter.com/CitizenFreePres/status/1666257317120323585
Who are the real extremists?
The below is an excerpt from Domestic Extremist: A Practical Guide to Winning the Culture War, by Peachy Keenan, with permission of the author. The book is now available from Regnery.
https://www.regnery.com/9781684513529/domestic-extremist/
* * *
You had a baby? Look at you—you’re the captain now!
Or are you?
The words on a poster taped to a teacher’s classroom door at a New Jersey public school expose the precarious corner American parents have been painted into. “If your parents aren’t accepting of your identity, I’m your mom now.” The poster featured a drawing of a mama bear tending to her bear cubs, who are each painted the color of a different LGBTQ flag.
Parents, I have bad news. You’ve got competition. Someone posted a job listing looking for a new authority figure in your house, and they hired everyone who applied. Lots of other adults, most of them unpleasant strangers, would like to raise your children for you—or at least get your children to hate you.
This may already be happening—and you’ll be the last to know! All your hard work to keep creeps, perverts, and kiddie-sniffers away from your kids may get reversed in an instant when you’re not looking.
Some parents are okay with this. They can barely handle “adulting” themselves and are thrilled not to make any tough parental decisions. Abdicating their natural role as master and commander of the household is lazy, but it’s a defensive posture. They live in terror of accusations from other parents of “closed-mindedness,” or worse, being a prude.
American parents have either forgotten their innate, God-given authority over their household or surrendered it in the face of relentless pressure over many years from the outside. Just as millennia of trickling snowmelt can hollow out mighty granite mountains and turn them into canyons, a half-century of unchecked influence by feminists and far-left progressives have chipped away at the role of parents in their children’s lives. What is left is a barren wasteland, a valley of shadows, where mothers and fathers have been reduced to nothing more than the oldest dependents in the house.
Your job as a parent is not easy, but it’s simple: feed, nurture, love, and protect. In the face of life-and-death danger—say, an escaped tiger or an ax-wielding lunatic—probably 100 percent of parents would risk their lives for their children, even die, without hesitation. So why are so many reluctant to defend their children from less obvious, but equally dangerous, scenarios?
You can tell when you’re about to be trampled by elephants. It’s trickier when the trampling is invisible and being committed by a young teacher with peace stickers on xe/xer’s car. I’ll grant that having pro- nouns in your bio is not quite the same red flag as cruising a playground in a car with no door handles on the inside, but it’s still a red flag parents need to fear.
People who manage to produce offspring are too often seduced into voluntarily surrendering their authority over them. They allow various “experts” to hold sway over their kids. Exhausted and confused, they willingly hand their kids off to the local public school teachers’ unions, the DEI struggle-session facilitators, the storytelling drag queens, and the sex-education consultants who arrive at school with teaching props, including wholesome kid-friendly items like dildos and anal lube.
Above: School Hangs poster on the door that says, \"I'm Your Mom Now\"
https://sanzi.substack.com/p/school-hangs-poster-on-the-door-that
They all share a common goal: to dilute your authority and increase their own. They aim to groom America’s children from birth to become compliant consumers of all they wish to sell them: bespoke genders, any-term abortion, strictly enforced racial hierarchies, a lifetime of therapy, prescription drugs, and whatever political and social ideology they choose to upload into their brains.
God forbid you are the only parent at your school who keeps your fifth grader home on Share Your Favorite Sex Toy Day. What will people say?
Allow me to remind you gently: it’s your job to steer the ship, avoid icebergs, prevent scurvy, and stave off mutinies. Parenting is not a game. There is no do-over. You are all that stands between your small charges and the roiling storms ahead—and the band of purple-haired nonbinary pirates that’s about to storm the deck.
Sexualized Early and Often
Imagine being the only one at the PTA meeting who stands up and objects to your second grader studying detailed diagrams of adult genitalia, or your middle schoolers instructed on how to grant consent to anal sex. (These are real sex ed guidelines introduced in New Jersey public schools in 2020.)
Your choices are stark: assert your authority over your children and get called a bigot or go along with the madness and let them take your child to places you don’t want them to go.
How bad is it? Bad enough that Tiara Mack, a “reproductive justice advocate” and “child sex educator” running for state senator in Rhode Island tweeted this in 2021: “Really excited for the house sex ed bill hearing later today. Teaching comprehensive, queer inclusive, pleasure-based sex ed was a highlight of my time teaching.”
This is who wants to talk to your six-year-old about how to “pleasure” themselves and their partner!
The first step in any cult, or any abusive relationship, is to get the victim to sever ties to their outside friends and family. Maybe you’ve seen this happen to people you know. They suddenly change their phone number, delete their social media, and have a new friend now—one that has them spellbound. Once children come to believe their mom and dad are clueless bigots and racists who are holding them back from being who they are, the cult leaders own them.
Government-run public schools have accomplished “regime change” in America and transformed us, slowly, from a society centered around the family, where the schools work for the parent, into a society centered around government employees, where families are required to supply the raw goods for the teachers’ unions to mold as they see fit.
Year after year, their assembly lines have been left unsupervised to churn out freshly minted graduates. These graduates move on to college, where their high school indoctrination is hardened and polished by professors. The end product is a citizen who will go to his grave believing a set of Ministry of Truth–approved lies: “whiteness” is intrinsically evil, abortion is health care, there are dozens of genders, America was founded on racism and must be dismantled, marriage is oppressive and bad for women, children hold you back, and unchecked sexual “exploration” with a variety of partners of every gender is the surest path to emotional happiness.
Sane people have a terrible choice to make: exercise parental authority over what their children are taught and risk financial ruin, social blackballing, and permanent cancellation—or allow their kids to be turned against them.
When a teacher or government official replaces the parent as the ultimate authority in the child’s life, all bets are off. Educators know that any adult with the authority to influence a child has the power to expose said child to any radical or extreme ideas they want.
To them, you are the extremist if you don’t think young children need to learn about sex and gender dysphoria yet. You are the extremist if you question a teacher or school administrator’s choice of books to read or lessons to teach. You are an extremely racist extremist if you’d rather not force a five-year-old to feel bad about the color of his skin and apologize for it.
In California, students in middle school can ask their school to change their names and genders in the school computer system, and the school is not permitted to inform the parents. The school authorities and the teachers are legally allowed to conspire with eleven-year-olds in sixth grade to induct them into a cult and keep it secret. Literally “it’ll be our secret,” a classic groomer move.
These government educational bureaucrats may not drive window-less vans and carry dirty magazines and candy bars to lure young boys (although let’s be honest, some do), but they are even more dangerous. Any parents who send a child into an environment like this, either knowingly or blindly, are forfeiting their authority over their kid.
The Regime’s child-catchers are prowling the locker rooms and cafeterias looking for lost, confused pre-teens to cart off to Pleasure Island, where they can get transformed into donkeys without their parents’ consent.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Disney is working on a new version of Pinocchio where he asks the Blue Fairy to turn him into a real girl.
Parental Surrender
Too many sentient adults seem to simply wait for a new update to the operating system to decide what to do with their kids. They unquestioningly accept the Current Parenting Thing, the rancid gruel served up as “education” at the local public school.
They surrender their kids to the authorities, in all their forms: teachers, principals, pediatricians, drag queens reading stories, social media influencers, YouTubers, Disney, Netflix, TikTok, the Kardashians—anyone who is credentialed as a “kid expert” or “important” now holds more sway over American kids than their own mothers and fathers. “Who am I to tell my kids how to behave, or what to learn, or how to think about the world? I’m just a random person who had a baby. I made plenty of mistakes in my life. How can I possibly ask my children to obey me?”
This is why we can’t have nice things. This is why healthy toddlers were kept in COVID masks for two years while they sat in sandboxes alone, outside, in rain or sleet. This is why you see massive brawls happening at middle schools, where kids punch their own teachers. This is why children are indoctrinated into the cult of trans, coached and groomed to say their pronouns, to switch genders, to explore various “sexualities” and “identities.” This is why mothers pimp out their own children as “drag kids” and put little boys in princess dresses and post the photos on Instagram while thousands of likes wash over them.
This is what abdicating the parenting throne looks like. Childless weirdos have taken over every institution we look to for guidance on how to raise good citizens, and no, I’m not talking about Catholic priests.
It has become only too clear what this absence of parental authority has wrought. Truly insane people have taken over the American education system, Big Pharma, and Big Tech. They know the best way to reach the Final Solution of the American family is to focus on young, impressionable minds.
We are enjoying the fruits of their labor now: an explosion of teen depression and suicide, an epidemic of children who are confused if they’re boys or girls, and an incredible 40 percent of Gen Z reporting that they are some letter in the ever-expanding alphabet soup known as LGBTQ+.
Everywhere, in every way, the fertile, fallow minds of children are being terraformed by people who identify as “fur baby” parents.
I wouldn’t let fur baby parents walk my dog, let alone educate my eight-year-old.
Authority Atrophied
This is why you must exercise your parental authority early and often. You must speak up!
“No, I don’t want you to ask my teenage son if he’s comfortable with his gender during his doctor visit.”
“No, you can’t wear your sister’s Elsa dress to school today, because boys don’t wear dresses, now get in the car and never ask me that again.”
“No, you can’t buy those shorts that display the entire lower half of your rear end.”
“No, you can’t have a TikTok account, and if I find it on your phone, say goodbye to the phone.”
Parental authority makes you the heavy in the house and the bouncer at the door. Pull on your big boy pants and lay down the law, or the law is going to lay down all over you.
Peachy Keenan is author of Domestic Extremist: A Practical Guide to Winning the Culture War.