Joan Jett’s Daughter: A Conspiracy Theory Crafted by Mischievous Squirrels (Probably)
The Nutty Origins of the Theory
Let’s address the acorn in the room: Joan Jett, the undisputed Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll, has no human children. But according to a fringe group of conspiracy theorists (and a particularly chatty oak tree), she’s secretly raising a daughter in a treehouse guarded by squirrels. Why? Because the internet said so, and also, squirrels are terrible at keeping secrets. Rumor has it the theory began when someone spotted a squirrel nibbling a guitar-shaped acorn near Joan’s tour bus. Coincidence? Absolutely. But where’s the fun in that?
Evidence? Sure, Why Not
The “proof” is as flimsy as a bird’s nest in a hurricane, but let’s humor the squirrels:
- A blurry TikTok video of a raccoon wearing a leather jacket (allegedly the “daughter’s stylist”).
- An Instagram poll where 92% of respondents voted “Yes, squirrels would 100% start a rock dynasty.”
- A cryptic message spelled in sunflower seeds outside Joan’s home: “SHE LIVES. ALSO, FEED US.”
Some claim the squirrels orchestrated this to distract humanity from their real goal: hoarding all the world’s guitar picks. Others insist it’s a PR stunt for Joan’s upcoming collab with Alvin and the Chipmunks. Either way, if you see a squirrel air-drumming to “Bad Reputation,” run. They’re probably drafting their next theory.
“But I Saw It on the Internet!”: How Joan Jett’s Daughter Became Fake News’ Rock ‘n’ Roll Cousin
Let’s address the rhinestone-studded elephant in the room: Joan Jett does not have a daughter. But try telling that to the internet, where a single misclick can birth a whole new human. Sometime between 2017 and the rise of TikTok conspiracy theories, the Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll somehow “adopted” a fictional offspring—let’s call her Tabitha Jett—who exists solely in the fever dreams of Facebook mom groups and Reddit threads titled “Wait, REALLY??”. How did this happen? Picture a game of telephone, but instead of whispers, it’s memes. Instead of logic, it’s someone’s cousin’s friend’s hairdresser who “swears they saw her at a Chili’s in Tulsa.”
Anatomy of a Rumor: The Tabitha Jett Chronicles
- Origin Story: A blurry concert photo + a fan’s Instagram caption (“Joan’s daughter???”) + 4chan’s love of chaos.
- Evidence: A 2018 tweet claiming Tabitha fronted a all-mime punk band (you read that right).
- Peak Absurdity: A ChatGPT-generated biography stating Tabitha invented the “air leather jacket.”
By 2023, Tabitha had her own fake Spotify playlist, a conspiracy subreddit debating her “secret influence” on Gen Z garage rock, and an Etsy store selling “Joan Jett’s Daughter’s Cousin’s Ex-Boyfriend’s Band” merch. Joan herself, ever the icon, responded to the rumor mill with a deadpan “I’d make a cool mom, but my cats are enough.” Meanwhile, Tabitha Jett evolved into fake news’ answer to a B-side track: objectively not real, weirdly beloved, and proof that the internet will always choose drama over facts. Rock on?
If Joan Jett *Did* Have a Daughter, She’d Be the Universe’s Most Interesting Toddler
Rockstar Habits Start at 18 Months
Picture this: a tiny human in a leather onesie, wielding a toy guitar like it’s a battle axe, and screaming “I LOVE NAP TIME!” with the same intensity as a sold-out arena chorus. Joan Jett’s hypothetical mini-me wouldn’t just reject the apple juice you offered—she’d demand a sippy cup full of “cherry bomb”-flavored electrolyte water. Her daily routine? Smashing banana slices like drum solos, refusing to wear anything without studs, and starting mosh pits in the ball pit. Pediatricians would diagnose her with “too much swagger” and prescribe glitter naps.
Her Playground Antics Would Break the Internet
- Nap negotiations: “Five more minutes of chaos…or I’ll cover the dog in temporary tattoos.”
- Snack demands: Goldfish crackers? Too mainstream. She’d trade them for “stage-worthy” kale chips (then immediately throw them at a pigeon).
- Social circle: Her first word? “Bandmates.” Her stuffed animals are her roadies, and the family cat is her skeptical manager.
Bedtime? More Like *Headline* Time
Every night would be a rock opera. Lullabies? Nah. She’d shred a ukulele cover of “Bad Reputation” while standing atop a precarious tower of board books. Sleep training would involve crowd-surfing off the crib rails and demanding a “quiet riot” of exactly 11 minutes before passing out mid-riff. The tooth fairy? She’d charge *them* a glitter tax. Joan Jett’s kid wouldn’t just rebel against bedtime—she’d unionize the toddlers and stage a naptime walkout.