💀 Horrorcow Cecily Kellogg / CecilyK / Uppercase Woman - unrepentant terrible human being liked by no one.
- Iniciador del tema Swiss Confederation
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🚨 DDoS attack. Tor is stable: https://kiwifarmsaaf4t2h7gc3dfc5ojhmqruw2nit3uejrpiagrxeuxiyxcyd.onion/.
🔎 Please read my article, How to Dox Anyone: A Liz Fong-Jones Story. (Xitter), (Substack). -
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- Registrado
- 24 de Mar, 2016
SSI wouldn't pay out if Cecily has any significant income, so her narrative about combining incomes wouldn't make any sense unless maybe her income is also SSI. If hers was SSDI (we know she has at least some quarters of work eligibility) it would be considered income. She talks about "with my current income," but it'd have to be only a few hundred bucks a month or it'd start cutting real deep into those bennies. SSDI has higher maximums, but requires having worked at eligible jobs where you paid into the system. Charlie doesn't have anything like that.
Oh no. I just thought of something. Their kid is now an adult, so that wouldn't count either for a higher payout. Unless maybe this is also something where they're using some kind of SSI from her as well? Grim thought. If all three of them qualified for SSI, they could bring in a maximum of ~$2400, but with just the two of them, the maximum would be $1450.
If they were getting $2400/month from all three adults claiming SSI, $800 would be about 30% of their income. I actually think this is a likely scenario. Cecily notably didn't mention her "earnings," just "income."
Oh no. I just thought of something. Their kid is now an adult, so that wouldn't count either for a higher payout. Unless maybe this is also something where they're using some kind of SSI from her as well? Grim thought. If all three of them qualified for SSI, they could bring in a maximum of ~$2400, but with just the two of them, the maximum would be $1450.
If they were getting $2400/month from all three adults claiming SSI, $800 would be about 30% of their income. I actually think this is a likely scenario. Cecily notably didn't mention her "earnings," just "income."
- Registrado
- 15 de Ene, 2017
Looking at the SSI page, the maximum monthly payment in 2025 if it was just Charlie is $967, with the $1450 for couples, as you mentioned. There is also child SSI (also max $967) that Tori could be eligible for if she was found to be disabled and in school until age 22 (hmmm). The SSA warns that that will lower if her parents are also on it, too. Highly unlikely that Tori is working on campus. If she is still attending, it's only for loan and disability money her parents will piss away versus earning an actual degree.
So yeah, I can believe that all of them are on the dole (and not earning the max reward because avoiding work altogether is paramount).
Última edición:
- Registrado
- 9 de Feb, 2020
Knew it. Of COURSE these lazy fakers faked their way onto disability.
Your spouse can have an income on SSI but it has to be low. I believe the cutoff is around $2,000 a month and your benefits are lowered with some calculation based on their income. Apparently, they also have an exemption for "small amounts of money earned infrequently/irregularly", which could mean none of Cecily's income is counted for his SSI. So Cecily might be earning something, and their kid a smaller amount if anything. Or they could all be on it, but I think it's unlikely. We know Cecily earns SOMETHING from her writing gigs, and usually showing any ability to work will have you denied despite them saying that it's also for people who can't work enough, not just people who can't work at all.
She better be careful taking money from people. SSI can count that toward their income and reduce payment or require some be paid back if it occurs frequently enough.
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
- Registrado
- 27 de Sep, 2023
When a relationship is going through trouble but still manages to work, you don't usually write the answer that she gave to "are you still married"
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
According to her latest Substack update, it’s the dead twins’ (and Tori’s) fault Cecily is so fat. (It was her mom’s fault she was obese all her life before that.) This week she started a GLP-1 — only for her health, of course! — and already thinks she is irrevocably changed. Pasted below in its entirety:
In 1981, my mother loaded our few belongings into our VW Beetle and drove us away from New Mexico forever. I was 13 years old and ready to start high school, and now I’d be starting it in a state as alien to me as any distant planet. As we left, I silently promised myself that one day I’d move back home to the big sky, sunshine, and mountains. Albuquerque would be home again.
The first time I hung out with other local teens at a playground in my new town in Michigan, I asked in all ignorance about the playground grass. Back home, only REALLY rich people had any sort of lawn because the cost of water + fees and fines were too pricey for most.
I couldn’t understand how the school could afford to have a lawn. The other kids just stared at me for a minute until one said, “It just grows?” I learned later that it rained or snowed five days a week in East Lansing. Free water! From the sky! IMAGINE.
New Mexico runs deep in our family, thanks to my dad being a sixth-generation New Mexican. Unfortunately, I didn’t grow up with my father or his other children because he served overseas and my mom was determined to keep us apart.
Decades later I connected with my siblings and got close with my sister Diana and niece Natalia — both living back home, making my urge to move home even more intense.
It’s been a driving beat under my heart for a long, long time, but financially impossible. Lately, even visiting was unaffordable.
I’d returned home only four times, in 1982, 1986, 1995, and 2008.
Last October brought horrible news: my niece Natalia passed away. I needed to go home for the funeral. We pulled every single string, rented a cheap car, and drove for 24 hours straight. As I watched the midwestern towns drop away and the landscape change to dry and tumbleweeds appeared, my breath began to catch and my heart was a stone in my mouth.
I was so damned hungry for home.
After 12 hours of driving in the dark, we crossed the state line into New Mexico and the most breathtaking sunrise started, bright and on fire. Since we were driving directly west as the sun rose, that sunrise kept slowly rising behind us. It lasted for nearly 150 miles — over ninety minutes.
At last, the Sandia Mountains appeared. I do not know how to explain the connection I have to those mountains. I grew up hiking them, playing in the foothills, and best of all, riding horses. Plus there is something to be said for growing up with the geographical anchoring of a 10,000 foot mountain range directly east of town.
As my heart began to ring in harmony with the land again, a part of me so deep I forgot it was there awoke. I began crying deep, choking sobs of relief and joy. Ravens swooped over the little car over and over. Sweet female rain fell on the north side of our car while beams of bright sun cut through the south side.
For the first time in 17 years, I was home.
Hunger is the river that shaped my life.
As a child, there wasn’t enough food. There wasn’t enough love. I chased after romance with bad men, and sisterhood with women. I constantly got involved with people who didn’t like me but loved the way I formed myself to fit them.
When I worked and had enough money to eat, I got fat. So I chose hunger and began a lifetime of calorie restriction. It always worked and I could easily drop 25-50 pounds. Sometimes it was more successful; I’ve lost and regained 100 pounds three different times.
When I started hiking again in my thirties, it helped me become more comfortable in my bigger body. I embraced the fat acceptance movement and tried to learn how to feed myself with love and care instead of restrictively
But after two difficult pregnancies with three babies that ended in a single living child, and then taking unneeded mental health meds for thirteen years, I crossed from fat into “super fat.”
My joints began to suffer. I need at least one full knee replacement. After years of being stubbornly “pre-diabetic,” I tipped into the danger zone. A lifetime of severe asthma, frequent pneumonia, and long covid has drastically hurt my ability to breathe.
Have you ever heard the term air hunger? It describes not being able to get enough oxygen into your lungs. During my visit to New Mexico in October, I struggled with the high altitude and got so sick I had to use supplemental oxygen. It was the first time I experienced the sensation of taking breaths but NOT getting any oxygen into my lungs.
It felt like drowning. It cannot happen again. I need to get better.
After long consultations with my doctor and pulmonologist, I couldn’t deny reality: losing weight would improve my ability to breathe. So I started using a GLP-1 medication last weekend.
I hadn’t considered taking it before. I was too scarred by all the miracle weight loss drugs that ended up banned because they fucking killed people. I hadn’t kept up with the science behind weight loss so I didn’t know that current research has shown that visceral fat actually causes inflammation because it’s metabolically active and tends to cluster around organs and the belly — something I have in abundance. It’s not benign, after all. It’s hurting me.
It turns out that not only do GLP-1s help with diabetes and weight loss — it fights chronic inflammation. So I agreed to take it. I’m tolerating the initial dose well — and I can’t believe I already feel the difference.
My hunger is… distant. Far away. I can hear it, but not without trying. And it’s not just food, either. Doomscrolling is suddenly boring. My anger and frustration triggers have become less… inflamed (pun intended).
It’s weird as fuck.
Who am I without my hunger?
On trying to go home again.
In 1981, my mother loaded our few belongings into our VW Beetle and drove us away from New Mexico forever. I was 13 years old and ready to start high school, and now I’d be starting it in a state as alien to me as any distant planet. As we left, I silently promised myself that one day I’d move back home to the big sky, sunshine, and mountains. Albuquerque would be home again.
The first time I hung out with other local teens at a playground in my new town in Michigan, I asked in all ignorance about the playground grass. Back home, only REALLY rich people had any sort of lawn because the cost of water + fees and fines were too pricey for most.
I couldn’t understand how the school could afford to have a lawn. The other kids just stared at me for a minute until one said, “It just grows?” I learned later that it rained or snowed five days a week in East Lansing. Free water! From the sky! IMAGINE.
New Mexico runs deep in our family, thanks to my dad being a sixth-generation New Mexican. Unfortunately, I didn’t grow up with my father or his other children because he served overseas and my mom was determined to keep us apart.
Decades later I connected with my siblings and got close with my sister Diana and niece Natalia — both living back home, making my urge to move home even more intense.
It’s been a driving beat under my heart for a long, long time, but financially impossible. Lately, even visiting was unaffordable.
I’d returned home only four times, in 1982, 1986, 1995, and 2008.
Last October brought horrible news: my niece Natalia passed away. I needed to go home for the funeral. We pulled every single string, rented a cheap car, and drove for 24 hours straight. As I watched the midwestern towns drop away and the landscape change to dry and tumbleweeds appeared, my breath began to catch and my heart was a stone in my mouth.
I was so damned hungry for home.
After 12 hours of driving in the dark, we crossed the state line into New Mexico and the most breathtaking sunrise started, bright and on fire. Since we were driving directly west as the sun rose, that sunrise kept slowly rising behind us. It lasted for nearly 150 miles — over ninety minutes.
At last, the Sandia Mountains appeared. I do not know how to explain the connection I have to those mountains. I grew up hiking them, playing in the foothills, and best of all, riding horses. Plus there is something to be said for growing up with the geographical anchoring of a 10,000 foot mountain range directly east of town.
As my heart began to ring in harmony with the land again, a part of me so deep I forgot it was there awoke. I began crying deep, choking sobs of relief and joy. Ravens swooped over the little car over and over. Sweet female rain fell on the north side of our car while beams of bright sun cut through the south side.
For the first time in 17 years, I was home.
Hunger is the river that shaped my life.
As a child, there wasn’t enough food. There wasn’t enough love. I chased after romance with bad men, and sisterhood with women. I constantly got involved with people who didn’t like me but loved the way I formed myself to fit them.
When I worked and had enough money to eat, I got fat. So I chose hunger and began a lifetime of calorie restriction. It always worked and I could easily drop 25-50 pounds. Sometimes it was more successful; I’ve lost and regained 100 pounds three different times.
When I started hiking again in my thirties, it helped me become more comfortable in my bigger body. I embraced the fat acceptance movement and tried to learn how to feed myself with love and care instead of restrictively
But after two difficult pregnancies with three babies that ended in a single living child, and then taking unneeded mental health meds for thirteen years, I crossed from fat into “super fat.”
My joints began to suffer. I need at least one full knee replacement. After years of being stubbornly “pre-diabetic,” I tipped into the danger zone. A lifetime of severe asthma, frequent pneumonia, and long covid has drastically hurt my ability to breathe.
Have you ever heard the term air hunger? It describes not being able to get enough oxygen into your lungs. During my visit to New Mexico in October, I struggled with the high altitude and got so sick I had to use supplemental oxygen. It was the first time I experienced the sensation of taking breaths but NOT getting any oxygen into my lungs.
It felt like drowning. It cannot happen again. I need to get better.
After long consultations with my doctor and pulmonologist, I couldn’t deny reality: losing weight would improve my ability to breathe. So I started using a GLP-1 medication last weekend.
I hadn’t considered taking it before. I was too scarred by all the miracle weight loss drugs that ended up banned because they fucking killed people. I hadn’t kept up with the science behind weight loss so I didn’t know that current research has shown that visceral fat actually causes inflammation because it’s metabolically active and tends to cluster around organs and the belly — something I have in abundance. It’s not benign, after all. It’s hurting me.
It turns out that not only do GLP-1s help with diabetes and weight loss — it fights chronic inflammation. So I agreed to take it. I’m tolerating the initial dose well — and I can’t believe I already feel the difference.
My hunger is… distant. Far away. I can hear it, but not without trying. And it’s not just food, either. Doomscrolling is suddenly boring. My anger and frustration triggers have become less… inflamed (pun intended).
It’s weird as fuck.
Who am I without my hunger?
Última edición por un moderador:
- Registrado
- 16 de Nov, 2022
the important thing to remember is even with all the glp1s in the world, Cecily will still be fat and I will not have sex with her.
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
Her latest missive has all the hallmarks of a Cecily utterance:
This sales pitch comes immediately after her condemnation of the “capitalist hellscape”:
- Nothing is Cecily’s fault because her mom existed
- Nothing is Cecily’s fault because patriarchy
- Nothing is Cecily’s fault because capitalism
- GIVE HER MONEY!
This sales pitch comes immediately after her condemnation of the “capitalist hellscape”:
- Registrado
- 23 de Mar, 2021
Female Kiwis, how often are you called a “fucking bitch”? Is this really something that happens often to normal female people, or is Cecily failing to notice that she’s the common denominator again? I can say with confidence that no immigration official or border guard has cursed at me, but I haven’t tried to run any over either.
- Registrado
- 16 de Nov, 2022
Honestly, a lot, but it's a mix of me being a fucking bitch and me living in a city overrun by crazy people who will call anyone a bitch for existing near them at any given time. I am not eight years old though so I don't care if someone calls me that or worse.
I do think it's a fairly common thing though (not to give this cow the benefit of the doubt).
I remember a grown man calling me a fucking cunt for bumping his bumper car at an amusement park when I was seven. Confused me to no end as I didn't understand why he'd be mad... he was riding the bumper cars! Forty years later I can still see him perfectly... but again, I was in first grade. Not a grown adult with a family!!!
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
Tori is a full-time college student according to Cecily and the GFM is back:
- Registrado
- 23 de Mar, 2021
These three people together do less than many people do.
She's a full time community college student. She can and should be working at least part time.
She's a full time community college student. She can and should be working at least part time.
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
Excuse you, how do you expect this woman who’s pushing
Starting with depriving her of a basic education and teaching her the world owes her a livelihood, Tori’s parents have done what they can to sabotage any possibility of her being able to live independently. Not to mention this a girl whose father happily took her panhandling with him as a fun father/daughter outing, the same way other dads take their kids swimming or to the library.
TL;DR Tori would really be beating the odds to end up with a solid work ethic. I’d love nothing more than for her to prove everyone wrong. But I will not be holding my breath.
Última edición:
- Registrado
- 16 de Nov, 2022
Surprised they haven't taken loans out in the kid's name. Plenty of people live off their kids' student loans
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
Bold of you to assume etc. etc.
Can anyone in Philly run down and make it read “GET A JOB” instead?
- Registrado
- 9 de Feb, 2020
She's such a shameless grifter. They probably have taken on student loans and used them all for rent already, assuming school started in the fall.
Also she's so gross for still using the niece she hardly knew for asspats and handouts.
I think the worst part is knowing people still fall to this bullshit because they are kind and probably stupid if they follow Cecily.
Also she's so gross for still using the niece she hardly knew for asspats and handouts.
I think the worst part is knowing people still fall to this bullshit because they are kind and probably stupid if they follow Cecily.
- Registrado
- 5 de Sep, 2019
Cecily thinks it’s strange that anyone focused on her spite-eating extra-salty tater tots with ketchup as a FUCK YOU to her OB-GYN right before her twins’ deaths.
According to Cecily that was “the one time” she ate “salty fries.” Really.
So much to call bullshit on, so little patience for her lying ass.
According to Cecily that was “the one time” she ate “salty fries.” Really.
She also changed the name of her Substack from “Born Burning” to “Triggered Bitch.”
So much to call bullshit on, so little patience for her lying ass.
- Registrado
- 25 de Feb, 2021
The older links in this thread have succumbed to bitrot or DFE, but here is the archive of the famous tater tots, in case anyone wants to compare their memory with the new and updated reality.
September 20th, 2004
(courtesy of this post)
- Registrado
- 16 de Nov, 2022
Surprised she's on Substack given how pro Nazi they are!