Kyle Rittenhouse Registers a Lien Against Whoopi Goldberg’s Malibu Home for $22 Million

Kyle Rittenhouse Registers a Lien Against Whoopi Goldberg’s Malibu Home for $22 Million


When Kyle Rittenhouse settled his case against Whoopi Goldberg, she agreed to two things: $22 million is cash and a public apology. Unfortunately, neither of those things happened.

“It’s been more than a year,” said Rittenhouse’s attorney Joe Barron, “We don’t see her coming up with it anytime soon, so we’ve registered a lein with the State of California on her mansion in Weinstein Commons in Malibu.”

The lien will force a sale of the home if Goldberg doesn’t come up with the money. Realtor.com says the home is worth somewhere around $37 million. It has seven bedrooms and 4 baths, plus indoor and outdoor racquetball courts.

If Goldberg pays the debt plus interest and penalties she’ll be able to keep the house, otherwise she’ll be forced to take her private belongings and leave.

We sent ALLOD Correspondent Skip Tetheludah to Malibu to get a general idea of the sellability of the mansion and to see if he could sneak a word with Ms. Goldberg. Unfortunately, the neighborhood listed doesn’t actually exist in Malibu.

“It’s most likely a misinformation campaign and cover by a shell corporation to cover up the pedophile ring and human trafficking organization run by meth cooks in the basement,” said Skip, who hasn’t been taking his medication, “I’ve already approached the area with an assault rifle and several magazines but again, there’s just literally nothing there.”

Golberg has long been accused of mixing it up with the global cabal. Hopefully, Kyle Rittenhouse can expose it once he owns the place. God Bless America.

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THEY THINK I’M JUST A “COWGIRL BARBIE”—BUT I RUN THIS WHOLE DAMN RANCH I don’t usually get riled up about strangers, but today? I damn near snapped. It started at the feed store. I was picking up mineral blocks and fencing wire, wearing my usual—mud-caked boots, faded jeans, and yeah, my long blonde braid tucked under a beat-up ball cap. The guy at the counter gave me this look like I was lost. Asked if I needed directions to the gift shop. I said, “Nah, just here to buy the same stuff I’ve been buying every week for ten years.” He laughed. Laughed. Then he asked if my “husband” would be loading the truck. I told him my husband left five years ago and the cows didn’t seem to care. I run 240 acres on my own. Fix broken water lines, birth calves at 2 a.m., haul hay like it’s nothing. But people still see the blonde hair and the woman part and just… assume. Even my neighbors treat me like I’m playing rancher. Roy, the guy across the creek, keeps “checking in” on my fences like I didn’t graduate top of my ag science class. He’ll say things like, “Don’t overwork yourself, sweetheart.” Meanwhile, I patched his busted water line last winter in the middle of a snowstorm. I try to let it roll off, but it builds up. You get tired of proving yourself twice just to be seen as half capable. Then today, after all that, I got home and found a letter nailed to my barn door. No stamp. No return name. Just a folded-up note that said one thing: “I know what you did with the west pasture.”⬇️

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