An audience member during a recent episode of the ABC show “The View” called Whoopi Goldberg an “old broad.” It happened on Wednesday’s show when Goldberg and her cohosts took their seats to begin the show and the audience member shouted the words and Goldberg was taken aback.
We’re happy to see ya’ll. Cool, well, go on and have a seat, she said before addressing the heckler.
“Did you just call me an old broad? Yeah?” the 67-year-oId actress said to the heckler.
The camera then showed a woman who was wearing a large fur hat.
“She said, ‘You old broad,’ and I was like, hey, it’s Wednesday, and I am an old broad, and happy about it,” the host said before cohost Sunny Hostin said that being an “old broad” was better than “the alternative.”
The aIternative is not attractive to any of us, the stress said. “We all want to be old broads and old dudes, you know? The show’s cameras continued to show the woman again and again for the entire episode.
Goldberg caused controversy in December after making controversial statements again.
She had to apologize again for the comments she made about the Holocaust. As she was promoting her new movie “Till,” about a young black child who was viciously mur**red by a gang of white men in 1955, she was asked by a reporter about the comments she made on the show.
Earlier this year, Goldberg was suspended from “The View” for claiming the Holocaust was not about race. She apoIogized for the comments but in a new interview with the U.K. paper The Sunday Times, it appears her apology may not have been sincere.
“Remember who they were k!lling first. They were not killing racial; they were k*lling physical. They were k*lling people they considered to be mentally defective. And then they made this decision,” the actress said.
Journalist Janice Turner explained to Goldberg, whose real name is Caryn Elaine Johnson, that there were race laws the Nazis created against Jews and said that “Nazis saw Jews as a race.”
“Yes, but that’s the killer, isn’t it? The oppressor is telling you what you are. Why are you believing them? They’re Nazis. Why believe what they’re saying?” she said.
“It doesn’t change the fact that you could not tell a Jew on a street,” she said. “You could find me. You couIdn’t find them.”
“But you would have thought that I’d taken a big oId stinky dump on the table, butt naked,” she said, in reference to her comments that got her suspended from “The View.”
My best friend said, ‘Not for nothing is there no box on the census for the Jewish race. So that leads me to believe that we’re probably not a race, she said. But on Tuesday, a representative for Goldberg sent a press release that showed the host apologizing for the comments.
I Found a Little Girl in My Shopping Cart—Her Plea Changed My Life Forever
I was doing my usual grocery shopping when I suddenly found a little girl sitting in my cart. She looked up at me with big, scared eyes and whispered, “Don’t give me back, I’m scared.” At that moment, I knew my life was about to change.
My career was steady, and my life was well-organized. I took pride in the independence I had built over the years. Being single didn’t bother me. I enjoyed the freedom and simplicity of my life, without many responsibilities beyond my job and daily routine.
My daily routines, though simple, brought me comfort. After my sister Melissa lost her job, I let her stay with me. She was family, after all. She had a tendency to take control of things, but I hoped she’d get back on her feet soon.
That day started like any other. I went grocery shopping, as I did every week. The simple act of shopping made me feel in control.
Walking through the aisles, I focused on my list. Halfway through, I turned to grab a box of cereal, and when I looked back at my cart, there was… a little girl!
She was sitting in the basket. I blinked, confused.
“Hi! Where’s your mommy?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, gripping the cart tightly.
I froze, trying to understand what was happening. I looked around, expecting to see a parent nearby, but there was no one.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently, crouching to her level.
“Lily,” she whispered softly.
I looked around again, but the store was full of busy strangers. What should I do? Leave her and wait for someone? But what if no one came?
“Well, Lily,” I said softly, “let’s find someone who can help us, okay?”
I slowly pushed the cart, scanning the aisles for her parents. After 20 minutes, it was clear—no one was coming for her.
Just as I was about to call the police, she looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and whispered, “Don’t give me back, I’m scared.”
Before I knew it, I had taken her home.
Everything felt surreal. Lily, a scared little girl, sat at my kitchen table, eating a sandwich, her eyes following me as if I was her only safety.
The front door opened, and Melissa walked in. I knew this wouldn’t go over well.
“What is this?” she asked, her eyes locking on Lily.
“I found her at the grocery store,” I explained, trying to stay calm.
“Found her?!” Melissa exclaimed. “You can’t just bring home a child! Do you even know where she came from?”
“No, but she was alone,” I replied. “I couldn’t leave her there.”
“You can’t fix everything, Rachel. This is a bad idea.”
“I called James,” I said, mentioning my detective friend. “He’s looking into it. We’ll figure it out.”
Melissa sighed in frustration but muttered nothing else. My focus stayed on Lily.
The next morning, my fears came true. There was a knock at the door. Social services had arrived.
Melissa acted fast, as she always did when worried. I knew I couldn’t keep Lily, no matter how much I wanted to.
“We’ll take her into care,” a social worker said gently.
I looked at Lily, who was clutching the table.
“I… I just need a minute,” I stammered.
I knelt by Lily. “Sweetie, you have to go with them for now. They’re going to help you.”
Her big eyes met mine. “Please, don’t give me back. I’m scared.”
Her words broke my heart, but before I could say more, the social workers took her away.
Suddenly, my phone rang. It was James, his voice serious.
“Rachel, I found something. Her name’s Lily. She’s run away from home before, but they’ve never found anything wrong.”
“Do you have their address? Send it to me, please.”
Later, Melissa began criticizing me again. “This is why I called social services. You’re acting impulsively.”
“A mess? You think this is a mess?” I snapped. “Lily needed help, and I wasn’t going to abandon her. Maybe focus on your own life before judging mine.”
Melissa stayed silent. I grabbed my keys and left, determined to figure things out.
When I arrived at Lily’s house, something felt off. The house was neglected, the yard overgrown. I knocked, and a pale woman opened the door—Lily’s mother, Gloria.
“I’m Rachel. I’ve been caring for Lily,” I explained.
At her daughter’s name, Gloria’s expression filled with sadness. She let me in.
“I know I can’t take care of her anymore,” Gloria admitted, her voice heavy with defeat.
“Gloria,” I said gently, “you love her, but she needs more right now. Let me help.”
Gloria wiped her eyes. “I tried… after her father died.”
“You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll care for her while you get back on your feet. We’ll figure this out together.”
“You’d do that?” she asked.
“Yes. Lily needs to be safe. I’ll take care of her for now, and when you’re ready, she can come back.”
Gloria nodded, and we talked about a plan for her to visit Lily and work toward getting her back.
Just then, social services arrived. Lily ran to her mother, hugging her tightly.
“I’m here, baby,” Gloria whispered. After a few moments, Lily walked back to me.
I spoke with social workers and Gloria about the plan. Lily would stay with me temporarily, and we would reassess Gloria’s situation in a few months.
“It’s time to go, sweetie,” I said, holding Lily’s hand.
Gloria gave her a nod. “Be good, okay?”
From that day on, life changed for both of us. Lily adjusted, and we found comfort in new routines.
One night, she asked, “Will I see Mom again?”
“Yes, sweetie,” I assured her. “When she’s ready. And until then, you’re safe here.”
Through this journey, I learned that love sometimes means knowing when to let go and trust in the future.
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