Naomi says if she wasn't pregnant, she would have returned to WWE to kick Drew McIntyre's a..
Naomi's Fiery Warning: Pregnancy Won't Stop Her WWE Comeback Fire
In the electrifying world of WWE, where rivalries ignite faster than a Claymore Kick, Naomi has dropped a bombshell that has fans buzzing. The former Women's World Champion, currently sidelined by her pregnancy, unleashed a tweet that's pure gold. "Who can volunteer as tribute to carry my baby a few days so I can beat Drew's a**," she posted on X, targeting none other than the Scottish Warrior himself, Drew McIntyre.
This bold declaration came hot on the heels of SmackDown's chaotic main event. McIntyre, fresh off a brutal victory over Jimmy Uso—Naomi's husband—took to social media with a sly jab. He captioned a photo of the post-match carnage with Naomi's signature catchphrase: "Proceed. With. Caution." It was a clear nod to the Glow, turning her own words into ammunition against her family.
Naomi's response wasn't just witty; it was a reminder of why she's a force in WWE. Pregnant and glowing, she's still got that edge that made her a two-time champion. Her tweet, laced with humor and heat, quickly went viral, racking up thousands of likes and retweets. Fans adore this blend of motherhood and mayhem—it's Naomi at her unfiltered best.
Drew McIntyre, never one to back down, fired back with brutal precision. "You know I love you, but I really hope that baby ain’t a b**ch like his daddy," he replied, escalating the feud into personal territory. The dig at Jimmy Uso and their unborn child crossed lines, drawing immediate backlash from the WWE Universe. Social media erupted, with hashtags like #StandWithNaomi trending worldwide.
Naomi didn't flinch. She clapped back swiftly, calling out McIntyre's assumption about her baby's gender. "His? How you know it’s not a girl a**hole!? 20 years from now when my baby drag you out of your nursing home bed don’t call me for help 😂," she wrote. It's classic Naomi—fierce, funny, and forward-thinking, planting seeds for a future storyline that could span generations.
This exchange isn't isolated; it's rooted in months of WWE drama. Back in August, Naomi made headlines on Raw with an emotional announcement. After cashing in her Women's Money in the Bank briefcase at Evolution to claim the Women's World Championship, she had to vacate it due to her pregnancy. The moment, shared with tears and her father in the ring, was a poignant blend of triumph and transition.
Jimmy Uso's return to SmackDown added fuel to the fire. Suspecting McIntyre of orchestrating a backstage attack on Jacob Fatu, Jimmy ambushed the Scottish Psychopath during a promo. What followed was a No DQ brawl that spilled into the crowd, with chairs flying and tables shattering. McIntyre emerged victorious, but not without drawing the ire of the entire Uso household.
Cody Rhodes, the Undisputed WWE Champion, got caught in the crossfire too. Rushing to Jimmy's aid, he chased McIntyre off—only for the heel to return and Claymore Cody through the announce table. It was a statement of dominance, positioning McIntyre as the top threat heading into Saturday Night's Main Event. But Naomi's involvement? That's the wildcard no one saw coming.
WWE's women's division has evolved dramatically since Naomi's early days. Once part of the groundbreaking Team B.A.D. with Tamina and Sasha Banks, she's reinvented herself multiple times. Her heel turn earlier this year, revealed as Jade Cargill's mystery attacker, shocked fans and put Cargill on the shelf for months. That intensity carried into her title run, proving Naomi's star power endures.
Pregnancy hasn't dimmed her shine; it's amplified it. At 38, Naomi is embracing this new chapter with Jimmy, her partner of over a decade. The couple, married since 2019, has faced WWE's highs and lows together—from walkouts in 2022 to triumphant returns. This baby news feels like a full-circle moment, blending personal joy with professional legacy.
McIntyre's villainous arc is peaking at the perfect time. The former World Heavyweight Champion has leaned into his "Scottish Psychopath" persona, alienating allies and stacking bodies. His taunts at Jimmy echo past feuds, like his brutal history with Seth Rollins. But dragging in Naomi? That's bold, even for Drew, and it risks turning the audience fully against him.
Fan reactions online are a mix of laughter and loyalty. On Reddit's r/SquaredCircle, users hailed Naomi's tweet as "iconic," with one commenting, "She's pregnant, not retired—WWE better book that return match." Others speculated on dream scenarios: Naomi vs. McIntyre in a mixed-tag with Jimmy and Cargill. The energy is palpable; this feud has legs.
WWE creative seems poised to capitalize. With Naomi out until post-baby—likely mid-2026—teasing her return could build massive hype. Imagine a vignette series: baby bumps turning into battle plans, with Naomi training lightly while vowing vengeance. It fits WWE's storytelling, where real-life milestones fuel on-screen sagas.
Jimmy Uso's role can't be understated. As one-half of The Usos, he's a tag-team legend, but his solo pushes have been electric. This McIntyre rivalry gives him a chance to shine individually, especially with Jey Uso thriving elsewhere. Family unity is the Uso ethos, and Naomi's voice from the sidelines strengthens that bond.
Broader implications ripple through WWE's landscape. The women's division, stacked with talents like Tiffany Stratton and Jade Cargill, awaits Naomi's comeback. Her vacated title sparked a tournament, crowning a new champ at WrestleMania 41. Returning as a mother-warrior? That narrative could redefine babyface resilience.
McIntyre's dig also highlights WWE's edgier tone under Triple H. Gone are the sanitized scripts; now, personal shots fly freely, echoing Attitude Era grit. It's risky—backlash is real—but it drives engagement. Naomi's pregnancy reveal in August was handled with sensitivity, focusing on empowerment rather than exploitation.
Social media's role in modern wrestling can't be overstated. X (formerly Twitter) is the new battleground, where stars like Naomi and McIntyre trade barbs in real-time. Her 1.2 million followers ensure every post lands like a Rear View. This feud proves wrestlers aren't just in-ring athletes; they're digital provocateurs too.
Looking ahead, Saturday Night's Main Event looms large. McIntyre vs. Cody for the Undisputed Championship could headline, with Jimmy lurking for revenge. If Naomi appears via video package, issuing another warning? Ratings would soar. Her pregnancy hiatus is temporary; the Glow is eternal.
Critics might call this storyline insensitive, but Naomi owns it with grace. By joking about "volunteers" for her baby, she flips the script on vulnerability. It's empowering, showing motherhood as strength, not weakness—a message resonating with fans worldwide.
As WWE hurtles toward 2026, Naomi's promise hangs in the air. If not for the baby, she'd storm back to "kick Drew's a**" without hesitation. When she does return, expect fireworks: a mother's fury, unleashed in the ring. Until then, her tweets keep the flame alive, proving legends never fade—they just glow brighter.
Breaking: Arkansas Activist Kerri Rollo Faces Mounting Consequences After Vandalizing Charlie Kirk Memorial
In the quiet town of Bentonville, Arkansas, a shocking act of vandalism has unraveled into a cascade of personal downfall for local activist Kerri Rollo. On September 16, 2025, just days after conservative firebrand Charlie Kirk's assassination, Rollo and her sister Kaylee were caught on video defacing a memorial at the Benton County Courthouse.
The makeshift tribute—candles, flowers, and signs honoring Kirk's legacy—was methodically destroyed. Rollo, 23, ripped posters, kicked over candles, and shouted obscenities, declaring Kirk "lived as he died—promoting violence." Her defiant middle finger to the camera captured the raw contempt.
This wasn't mere mischief; it was a bold statement from a self-proclaimed leftist at Arkansas Tech University. The video went viral, amassing millions of views and igniting outrage across social media platforms like X, where conservatives decried it as desecration.
Benton County Sheriff's Office acted swiftly. By September 18, both sisters were arrested on charges of first-degree criminal mischief, a misdemeanor punishable by up to one year in jail and fines. Kaylee, 22, faced an additional count of obstructing governmental operations.
The courthouse steps, once a site of solemn vigil, became a symbol of division. Justice of the Peace Joseph Bollinger condemned the act as "contempt and deliberate intolerance," vowing that such hatred wouldn't silence conservative voices.
As the story spread, Rollo's personal life imploded. Her employer, Bella's Table restaurant in nearby Bella Vista, fired her amid customer backlash. The eatery issued a statement distancing itself, emphasizing that her actions contradicted their community values.
Eviction followed suit. Reports confirmed Rollo was ousted from her Jonquilla Way residence, leaving her homeless and desperate. Local outlets like 5NEWS detailed how the swift public shaming accelerated her isolation.
In a twist of irony, Rollo turned to crowdfunding. A GoFundMe titled "FIGHT AGAINST F4CISM" launched on September 22, seeking $22,000 for legal fees. She claimed doxxing and First Amendment violations, pleading, "My sibling was fired—this is unconstitutional."
Donations trickled in, but sympathy was scarce. By late September, the campaign raised over $14,000, yet conservative donors trolled with mocking messages, turning it into a digital pile-on rather than a lifeline.
Social media amplified the schadenfreude. X users like @nicksortor posted, "A BIG can of FAFO has been opened," racking up 50,000 likes. Memes portrayed Rollo as the poster child for "actions have consequences."
Charlie Kirk's death on September 10 at Utah Valley University—gunned down during a speech—had already polarized the nation. Memorials nationwide became flashpoints, with similar vandalism in Phoenix drawing arrests.
Rollo's backstory emerged: a vocal activist with a prior drug paraphernalia charge in early September. Her non-binary identity (using "they" pronouns) fueled narratives of radicalism, though supporters argued she was targeted for free speech.
Legal proceedings dragged into October. Bond hearings set Kerri's at $15,000; she requested a public defender. Kaylee's was $7,500, with private counsel. Court dates loomed, promising more scrutiny.
By mid-October, the GoFundMe stalled at around $27,000, per X updates. Leftist backers contributed, but the overall tone remained hostile, with comments like "Enjoy your karma" dominating.
Bentonville's response was resolute. Sheriff Shawn Holloway declared, "We take vandalism of community memorials very seriously." The site was cleared, but the incident scarred the town's progressive-conservative divide.
Nationally, it sparked debates on cancel culture's double edge. Conservatives celebrated the fallout as justice; liberals decried it as mob rule, echoing Rollo's claims of harassment.
As November dawned, Rollo's pleas grew frantic. X posts showed her soliciting direct aid, but responses were cold. One viral thread mocked, "From vandal to victim—classic lib playbook."
The saga underscores America's deepening rifts. Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, championed youth conservatism; his murder by a suspected leftist amplified fears of escalating violence.
Rollo's defenders dwindled. Even progressive circles distanced themselves, wary of endorsing property destruction amid grief. Her university remained silent, avoiding entanglement.
Financially ruined, Rollo faces mounting bills: legal, relocation, survival. Without steady support, her future hangs precarious, a stark contrast to her bold courthouse stand.
Critics argue this is poetic justice. "You don't trash a memorial and expect hugs," tweeted @IsabellaMDeLuca, garnering thousands of agreements.
Yet, a sliver of empathy persists. Some ask if the punishment fits—job loss and eviction for a misdemeanor? It raises questions on proportionality in polarized times.
Arkansas Tech, where Rollo studied, saw petitions for her expulsion, though none succeeded. Campus life for her, if any remains, is untenable.
The Benton County Courthouse now stands as a cautionary tale. Fresh memorials are guarded; vigils proceed with caution, honoring Kirk's unyielding spirit.
Rollo's story, from viral villain to virtual beggar, serves as a modern parable. In an era of instant infamy, one rash act can dismantle a life built over years.
As of November 4, 2025, no resolution in sight. Court outcomes pending, Rollo navigates homelessness and scorn. Her online cries echo unanswered.
This episode reminds us: grief is sacred, actions echo eternally. In Bentonville's shadow, the weight of consequences presses heavy, a sobering lesson for all.
