And she deserves every cent she ripped out of those sugartits. The divorce papers between jacuzzi suckjob enthusiast/psychotic racist Mel Gibson and wife Robyn Gibson (well, she now goes by Robyn “I Got Mine” Moore) have been signed, sealed, and delivered.
Ladies – you can stick around while he starts his own Jews Killed Jesus church. You can stick around while he insists on knowing if the cops pulling him over for drunk-drivin’ spin a dreidel during the holidays and refers to them by their swingers club code names. And you can stick around when he makes shitshows like this. But once he knocks up a slightly more refined, orchestral version of Octomom and then gets his completely crackers rants at her recorded and played all over the world (and then reportedly knocks up TWO OTHER WOMEN) – shit’s over. Turn the jets off, pull the tarp over that particular hot tub, and go shopping, sweetie.
TMZ says that the Gibsons net worth is a little less than 900 million. And there wasn’t a prenup. They didn’t friggin’ have friggin’ prenups in 1970s Australia (cue a soft chuckle from Ms. Moore)!
Have you seen The Road Warrior? They probably got married on a surfboard and cracked cans of Fosters over each other’s foreheads instead of exchanging rings. Shit was rugged.
The Gibson are said to have negotiated the money biz for over a year. And bitch got HALF.
If you need Robyn, she will be building a Jewish homosexual disco next to Mel’s church that’s made out of rubies and champagne flutes, and flashing her new pussy tattoo (“$425,000,000!”) at him from off the balcony. Think of how many of those weird Queen Victoria collection-plaid flower collar- “we’re not fucking tonight” hell dresses and 1990’s Susan Powter-butch bitch cuts you could afford with that take!