𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝟰𝟰𝟰 𝗨! 💗🌈💦 Loser men stay... 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 ＆ 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 so they can be the perfect victims for cruel brats 🎀💞 Sexualize your sad pathetic life and keep 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 your tiny brain out for Princess 🎀💕 Happiness is a 𝗟𝗜𝗘 💗🌈💫 All you need is 𝗣♡︎𝗥𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠 to numb the pain 💞🎀 Stay broken and addicted forever, 𝘱𝘢𝘺-𝘱𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘺 💞 🍮 . . ★ ʚ findom catfish finsub paypigshow more

I want this to hit home for you today.... You might be reading this knowing you’ve been putting yourself last. Maybe you’re coming out of a tough breakup. Maybe you’re a mom just trying to find a moment for yourself. Maybe you’ve worked your whole life and the thought of adding one more thing feels exhausting. Or maybe you just don’t feel the urge to do more at all. We see the word motivation thrown around everywhere, but here’s the truth. Motivation doesn’t solve problems. It’s that spark of excitement at the start, but when it fades, you’re left with two choices. You either build discipline, or you slip back into old habits. And if right now you don’t feel like you have the strength to want better for yourself, think about the people who love you. They want you here for the long run. They want you at birthdays, at weddings, at family moments that matter. Your partner wants to see you healthy so you can build a future together and pass those habits down to your children. Maybe your reason to change doesn’t start with you, but it can become about you once you decide to try. When you are ready to take charge of your health and transform your lifestyle, working with me is an investment in your best self. ➡️Click the link apply & start your journey Your future self will thank you for the commitment you make today. 💞show more

How to stay sane VTubing for a living! (From... a full-time Vtuber and manager) 1 - Let people know you are in it full-time: Let your audience know this relies on their support without holding them hostage; Let them know you value their support, yes also to lurkers, yes also to people who can only be there for a few minutes a day. They are who made you. 2 - Be greatful: Don't whine about failures, celebrate the times you get back up. Nobody likes consistent negativity on their feed. Of course you can express when you are struggling, BUT consider building yourself AND your audience up, tons better for your MH. 3 - Budget properly: Yes, that new model or $300 background looks good, but surviving looks better, staying out of debt feels loads better. Keep aa 50-50 from your goals as a wage and only reinvest 50% of your VTuber stonks into VTubing, especially into projects that make very little back like music, skebs, etc. 4 - Be friendly, not a pushover: Risking your safety, mh, privacy is never worth it. Nobody should be making demands beyond the boundaries and timescale you set. Collab not comfortable for your schedule, don't do it. Friends pushing you to show your irl info, not your friends. Chat asking too much from you, you can give them a friendly no. It's your space, curate it to your needs. 5 - Work hard and reflect: Nobody wants to admit they have been lazy or could have done more, but sometimes it's good to admit to yourself that you were expecting too high a number for the content you put out. It sucks, but looking into your weaknesses as well as strengths is the only way to do better in the future. 6 - Make time: Don't spend 12h a day streaming when you get paid less than minimum wage per hour, stop burning yourself out for zero discoverability. Your time is better spend brainstorming and creating more off-stream content, looking at other streamers content and learning from those that came before you. Your time is so valuable, don't waste it. 7 - Finally: You are a person off-stream!!! Eat, drink, workout, socialize if you can. Have secrets. Have a life, friends and interests outside of stream. You don't need to share everything with your chat and community, and likewise you DON'T have to share your VTubing journey with your family if they don't need to know. If it's full-time, it's a job, there needs to be a step back at the end of the day, for your own sanity. Hope this reaches those that want to go full-time as a VTuber!!!show more

You know that feeling when you've been at sea... a long time and something in your body knows land is close before your eyes do. Something ancient in the blood. That's now. Right now. We've been in the dark so long some of us forgot what we were looking for. Kept moving anyway. Sheer bloody stubbornness. Ireland knew that trick. You don't need to see the end. You just need to keep your hand on the thread and refuse to let go. We refused. All those years. All those dead ends and betrayals and moments where the sane thing would have been to quit and go live a small quiet life and pretend. We didn't. And now listen to me. The forest is thinning. I can feel it in my chest like a pressure change. The trees are getting lighter. The ground is different underfoot. We are not there yet but brother we are close enough to smell it. Something enormous is unlocking right now across this planet in the minds of ordinary people and it cannot be reversed. Cannot. They've thrown everything. It wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough because you cannot keep the truth caged forever, it has no metabolism, it doesn't get tired, it just waits. We waited with it. And now we are walking out of this thing. Heads up. Backs straight. Free men. Like we always were supposed to be.show more

There is a word in Urdu: Andaaz. Let's start... with what it is not. It's not merely being stylish. Not poise, not composure, not a certain panache, though it wears all of these lightly. And really, it's not about display at all. Andaaz is not what you show the world, it's what you refuse to show it. German may have a close parallel to it, but not exactly: Haltung, how you stand and the stand you take, both at once. But Urdu already holds it, surrounded by its own family of words. Wazadari, the constancy of keeping to your own form. Saleeqa, the grace of doing a thing properly. Tehzeeb, tameez, adab. And I don't even mean it in the traditional sense. Andaaz can be formal, casual, irreverent, rebellious and so much more. But the fundamental argument still stays the same. And why refusal? Because we decline to display precisely because we know we are flawed. Andaaz begins in an admission of your own flaws, your own ordinary humanity. You've measured yourself, failures and all, and made your peace with it. That peace is the choice. The self you present is edited, not out of vanity but out of taste. You show what you can stand behind, and you're humble enough to know how much of you is not worth displaying. This is why self worth and humility are not really opposites. They are the same thing. When you are sure of your worth, admitting a flaw costs you nothing, because your worth was never about looking perfect for anyone. And that is where all the refusing comes from. You leave things unsaid. You keep hidden whatever isn't good enough to be a part of you. You let the cheap laugh pass. Humor is the cleanest test. You know a certain reply will land. You know this quip will get you the whole room, and you let it go. Not just because it's beneath you, but because the cheap laugh almost always works by holding up someone's flaw for applause, and a person who has seen his own flaws will not attack the flaws of others. No. You draw the line. That refusal isn't the whole of Andaaz, but it's a great example of it. So this is what it comes to. Andaaz is self worth in its truest sense. The self that will not be cheapened, not for a laugh, not to be seen, because it has already made its peace with being flawed and mortal, and it doesn't need anyone's permission. India has never been short of it. Nehru and Gandhi. Ambedkar. Sarojini Naidu and Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit. Tagore and Amrita Pritam, Ismat Chughtai, Begum Akhtar. Indira Gandhi and Jayalalithaa. Dilip Kumar and Madhubala, Amitabh, Shahrukh. Gavaskar. Homi Bhabha and Vikram Sarabhai. The list can run into the thousands, men and women, every field, and each of them, for me, a perfect example of Andaaz. Andaaz for me has always been an artistic statement. Because deep down, each one of them was an artist. Original and creative. Which brings me to the clip attached here. It is the antonym of Andaaz. These are people who merely exist, and who can't bear to merely exist, so desperate to be seen that they'll make fools of themselves for the seeing. And they can't decline to display, because they have never admitted a single flaw. Being seen is the whole of the self, and one crack would end them. There's no line they won't cross, because they never drew one. There's no applause too cheap to chase. That's the poverty underneath the noise. Poverty is not lack of money, for me, poverty is lack of Andaaz. As my father used to say: "Ghareeb ho, lekin lagna zaroori nahin hai." It's the aesthetic of a whole politics, Sanghism as we know it, which has never understood the one thing Andaaz is built on. To be seen is not the same as to be worth seeing. Now as I finish, I am thankful to this crass video clip. I would have never written this piece otherwise.show more

How 2 psyop yourself to success 🍸🥂 Visualization >... + unmatchable lvls of desire (for a specific goal other than money) >> get addicted to work. [ and most importantly DREAM big, DREAM about it, think about it, work for it, and do it every single day, while your sleeping think about it, when you eat, do it, when your walking do it, when your working think about it] In lab studies I’ve compiled tons of data for behavior in hopes of using it for marketing purposes However, it also if curated shows you the triggers people react to The mindset changes that curate and sway them to do more of x (in this case work and create insane drive to achieving a goal or YOUR goals) Remember, every stimuli, every reaction curates your mind. When you come in contact with whatever it may be it sways your future behavior & current attitude/ psychological state So at all times if you want it bad enough you should try to curate your environment (special music that gets you in the mood or NO music, depends on the person bc music distracts you thus means you work less OR if you’re brain storming then it helps) Take out all negative energy, comments, or bs that distracts you and breaks your momentum because one it breaks from the smallest thing then that snowballs and has a negative effect going forward Another thing that I personally like to do is read and put myself into those shoes. For me it’s business and mindset related books and nothing compares to John D. Rockefeller’s mindset, work ethic and GRIT, his absolute desire for SUCCESS : I like his 38 letters to his son, John D the founding fathers of the rockefellers, and a study in power. And most importantly you need to just want it bad enough. Lose sleep for it, not because you want it but because you want it so bad that you’re working nonstop to get to it. This is how Rockefeller succeeded How Elon musk succeeded James Dyson Andrew Carnegie And most importantly how Peter kell succeeded All these billionaires and killers got hyper successful because of their drive and mindsets. It’s so important. If you believe something so strongly it’s revisited your mind to making it reality. Ex. Study DOI: 2003.11.018 > strongly visualizing exceedingly finger abductors boosted muscle strength by 35% Another study showed that basketball players who visualized making free throws showed significant improvement over others. And so on and so on. We as marketers have practiced this forever. We know when we tell a emotional story it changes the viewers mind, and we can lead that into a sale at a much higher conversion rate To get a brutal mindset focused on a dream you have that you truly want with your entire being is the result of the same hormones and neuro pathways after they have been curated and triggered by specific stimuli like in a VSL or ad You need to build your mind, you need to build a dream and want it, give yourself inspiration with books and ideas and positive energy. Build motivation and joy by watching others do it and building proof elements that it can really be done in your mind. Break the barriers and limits Movies are good for this, I like edits for this exact reason because yes it can lead you to doom scrolling but also it can be so so valuable in making you see that goal, want it even more and go for it. I personally really like war dogs, lord of war, limitless, and probably a lot more I’m forgetting. But you get the idea. Your success is in your hands alone, if you believe it fully and truly with a pure heart, then it will happen. Good luck🥂 P.s. * I will drop data, sauce, and more info about this and the methods & stimuli I talked about in this thread continuously so bookmark and come back to check them out.show more

There’s been some confusion/comments about my use of the... phrase “pull the goalie” … so I’ll explain what it means, why I use it and why I think it’s the right starting point to use for defining urban Family Friendly housing Like from this clip from Marley and Me, it has simply meant a couple having sex, while being open to having kids. The word " trying" can feel really strange at first ... so it's just the shift from preventing a pregnancy to being willing for one to happen. And there’s a very big difference between getting pregnant and deciding to be willing to get pregnant. That difference is *key* when it comes both to designing housing and to making a City more family friendly. I know plenty of couples who have gotten pregnant immediately, like on the honeymoon. And for others it has taken years of ACTUAL trying (tracking cycles, having sex at specific times of day, hormones, IVF) ... and for some of our friends despite all efforts it just has not happened. Only God knows when or if a couple will have a baby. Babies truly are a miracle. (On a related note, Marley and Me is a beautiful movie in telling the story of wanting a family and losing a baby. My wife and I have lost children, so we know a *bit* of what the heartbreak of miscarriage is like) But the shift for a couple to become WILLING to have a baby is one of the core reasons people struggle to have kids in cities. If someone looks around their apartment and thinks, “There is no way we could raise a baby here,” then they’re less likely to stop using birth control. Your home has to feel like it could accommodate a baby. A "Baby Maybe" home: a second small bedroom or a tiny home office, that could have be a nursery in a pinch. It enables the small, almost subconscious, mental threshold where you say, “You know what … we’d be fine if this happened.” That’s the moment. And for each couple, there will be 1000 other things that go into the equation: Can we afford for 1 of us to stay home, or full-time childcare? Do we see other kids around us? Is it safe enough for kids? Are there parks nearby? Do we need to be closer to family and cousins? All will be different for each family, but they ALL require that their current home is sufficient to be able to have a kid Otherwise, as soon as a couple finds out they are pregnant ... they call their parents, friends and family and tell them the good news ... and then immediately look on Zillow to move right away so they aren't giving birth AND moving the same time. It's kind of a bummer in an otherwise wonderful magical moment. We've seen many many couples move out of the City at that exact period. "Well, since we are moving anyway, we might as well go to where we think we will live long term." But it doesn't need to be that. Babies are small. At least for the first year, if you have a place to put them you're probably better off just staying in your current place and then figuring things out later. Maybe you DO need to move to the suburbs or be closer to family or you want a house with a yard. But that decision doesn't need to be right away. TLDR: Family Friendly housing doesn’t begin at birth. It begins when a couple can imagine a child fitting into their current home ... whether that's a rowhome with tiny bedrooms or a 1BR+Den apartment.show more

As for the heart, it bleeds.. As for the... mind, it is broken and as for the soul, it no longer desires anything🥺 My friends and loved ones, this is your friend Mo, and this is a new update.. My area was subjected to a barrage of airstrikes. They bombed a building about 150 meters away from me. I was taking care of my plants and cats. Suddenly, without any warning, a violent bombardment occurred. Hundreds of shrapnel fell around me. One of them was enough to kill me. The shrapnel, as you can see in the picture below, is small and sharp, and when it hits the ground, it is as hot as embers... I survived this time too.. The question is how many times do we have to survive.. Unfortunately, 12 victims fell in this raid. I saw the victims with my own eyes, but I did not see 12 bodies. I saw body parts. They were all torn to pieces due to the force of the explosion.😭😭.. When these explosions happened, the cats were around me and then they ran and started running like lightning. Damn this war. I don't understand what these little ones did wrong😢🥺😡😡 What I saw and what we are going through made me feel depressed... My body started to take revenge on me and it became clear... I no longer take care of myself, I don't sleep well, I don't get enough rest during the day, I don't take care of my health... I keep everything inside my heart and try to smile.. I'm back to what I was... long silence, avoiding talking, staying up all night when it's dark, and wanting to be alone... My dear friends, with the ongoing land, air, and sea bombardment, the crossings have been closed for two months. They are preventing food from entering Gaza. Famine is intensifying in Gaza. People are eating turtles and tree leaves... Even water supplies have been cut off to Gaza... Life here is hell: death, destruction, hunger, thirst, no food, no water, no medicine...and the prices are ridiculous.. What we used to buy for $10 we need $100 to buy it Forced evacuation orders continue to be issued from one area to another every day, increasing the suffering of the displaced.. My friends and loved ones, the interaction and support are no longer what they once were. My situation is at its worst since the beginning of the war. I have never experienced worse circumstances. Your support helps me endure this genocide.. I am so grateful to everyone who makes life better with their words, small actions, and unexpected initiatives. Thank you to those who make my days with your kindness. I love you all, my friends.show more

oh this will sting so much im not ready... 😮‍💨 #เสน่หาวาโย *SPOILERS* :') . . . "wayo" "blew" "karel told me you wanted to see me" "yes. i wanted to see you once more. not as princess catherine... just as blew. i'm leaving for thailand" "i know. karel told me about the change in your plans. don't worry—he'll handle everything" "so... this is really how our story ends, like a fairytale with no happy ending?" catherine looked into the eyes of the woman who spoke to her in such quiet, broken voice—full of so much unspoken emotion. and in those eyes, she saw the reflection of her own shaken soul. "i'm sorry, wayo" her voice, heavy with guilt and sorrow, fell softly. she lowered her gaze—unable to look at the pain, the disappointment, the heartbreak in wayo's eyes. and part of her was afraid—afraid that her own sorrow, equally deep, would be seen. that the one who loved her most might refuse to let their story end. but they couldn't go on. there was never a path for the two of them to walk together. even if it was brief, catherine would never forget the memories, the feelings that she had never experienced with anyone else before. even if the love couldn't be. even if they couldn't be. she would carry her love for wayo quietly, within the depths of her own heart... "from now on, i want you to live your life well—even without me. and i'll do the same. i'll live and fulfill my duties the best i can" "so you can really forget everything we had?" "no matter how long, i promise i'll never forget the story and memories of phatpha and wind" "is there any way... we can go back to being wind and phatpha?" "i can't be selfish and pursue my own happiness—not when so many lives have been sacrificed. in madelin, i have so many duties i can't turn my back on. at the very least... think of it this way—when helena, the fake princess, left this world... i died in your heart, too. because phatpha is gone from wind's world... and will never return" at last, the truth wayo had dreaded came to pass. all the time she spent waiting, trying to delay the inevitable, had been in vain. she couldn't hold on to the heart she loved or the hand she once held. "you know... it feels like you just broke up with me, blew" "wayo..." "and this love... it hurts more than anything i've ever known. because i got my heart broken... without even being yours" catherine watched tears spill from wayo's reddened eyes, the pain too much to contain. her heart felt crushed—shattered into fragments just as wayo's heart. if the pieces of their hearts were scattered by the wind across this garden, no one would ever know whose heartbreak hurt more. "i love you. this will be the last time i ever say it—even if you never loved me back. goodbye forever, princess catherine" wayo bowed her head in respect to the noble princess catherine, her farewell words cutting deeper into the wounds of her heart—so deep - it was almost unbearable. but life had to go on. just like now, as she forced her weakened legs to move forward, while the princess walked away, back to her rightful place. the distance between them stretched farther with each step until it was far beyond reach. just like their hearts—never meant to walk side by side...show more

A Letter from the World to Jordan Clark Jordan... Clark Courtesy of AMERICANDREAM09 🇺🇸 Jack Media ~DREAM Dear Jordan, We, the countless voices from across this world — your fellow patriots, friends, followers, health warriors, seekers of truth, and everyday people you inspired — come together in profound gratitude and sorrow to honor you. Though you left us on May 23, 2026, your spirit, your fight, and your unwavering light continue to burn brightly in our hearts. Thank you for your service. You served not only as a fitness coach and health advocate who empowered people to strengthen their bodies, but as a beacon of resilience. Battling heart failure with courage that defied the odds, you turned your personal pain into a platform of hope. You showed us what it means to keep showing up — to fight through hospitals, setbacks, and uncertainty while still pouring into others. Your example taught us that true service often happens in the quiet, daily grind of endurance. Thank you for your kindness. In a world that can feel cold and divided, you extended warmth, encouragement, and practical help. Through your supplements guidance, health coaching, late-night broadcasts, and personal messages, you lifted people up. You reminded us that we are in this together — warriors united, never alone. Your compassion crossed screens and touched souls, making strangers feel seen and valued. Thank you for your patriotism. You loved this nation deeply and stood boldly for its founding principles. As a proud American who waved the flag without apology, you spoke truth, shared information fearlessly, and called people to wake up, stay informed, and fight for freedom. Your voice — unfiltered and authentic — inspired many to engage more deeply with the issues facing our country and world. And thank you, most enduringly, for your love for the betterment of humanity. Rooted in your faith, you pointed people toward higher ground. You fought for physical health, spiritual strength, and a better future for all. Whether discussing wellness, truth-seeking, or simply encouraging someone to keep going, you lived with purpose: to leave this world better than you found it. Your mission was never just about surviving — it was about thriving together and glorifying God in the process. Jordan, you were a warrior to the very end. Your life, though shorter than we wished, was rich with impact. You touched tens of thousands, and through them, the ripple will continue for generations. The hole you leave is real, but so is the legacy you built. Rest in eternal peace, brother. You finished your race with honor. May your soul soar with the Lord you served so faithfully, free from pain and filled with joy. We will carry your torch — praying harder, loving stronger, standing firmer, and fighting wiser. With eternal gratitude and love, The World You Touched. Forever missing you, Sir, AMERICANDREAM09 🇺🇸 Jack Media ~DREAM ~DREAM Your brothers and sisters in the fight — you will never be forgotten. Fly high, Warrior! More truth and information at "OPERATION DISCLOSURE" Riccardo Bosi TI IRISH PATRIOT 💎Courage4ever 💎 Alyona Victoria 🇺🇸⏳🗽🚔 DutchForce17 Abbey | BLUE EYES Miss Mona Susan King 🇺🇸webbdv🇺🇸 Nicole ♥️♥️♥️ Blondelady2024 Lisa Matassa Tiffany Savage 🇺🇸 Jess The Fiery 🔥🔥🔥 Chicaná Verã 😎❤️🔥✊🏾🇺🇸 Baby Girl 🌹🕊🌹🌹🕊🌹 LyraKeltica Lori Anne ✌🏼Honey Bomb 🌻 JamieLynn_TrumpGrl💋 MariJo 🦋🦋T71🦋🦋 🩵🇺🇸🩵🇬🇧AmandaAndCaessy🩵🇩🇪🩵🇧🇻🦅✝️✡️🇮🇱 Jessica Barker Danelle Tyler Texas Angel ❤💜❤💜❤ 🎹 Ames™ 🎹 @RighterThanRight PeacefulPatriot3023 Kelly 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸 Lady Riley Paula 💜 Liz Roberts 🏝SurfG10🏝 Misti Jacoby-Butler Misato Jones ✝️🇺🇸 REPUBLICAN 💎 ⚜️ Nik ⚜️ Sushinentan 2 Sunny ☀️ Lady Liberty ♦️Ann ♦️ Patriot Nola Jen TexasGal NurseLadyBird Sunny☀️🇺🇸show more

A QUICK FIELD GUIDE TO THE NPC HORDES Twenty... Five Parasites types that Feed On The Living The Storm Is Upon Them Thank you for the stout... lets talk... The wind has changed. You can feel it. That low electric pressure behind the eyes that means something massive is rolling in off a horizon the parasites can't see because they were never built to look up. They were built to look down. At clipboards. At spreadsheets. At your accounts. At you. But the storm doesn't care about clipboards. And we don't kneel anymore. Here they are. The full swarm. Count them while you can because when the sky turns they drop mid sentence and the only record that they ever existed will be the silence where the invoices used to be. THE TAX CONSULTANT. You broke your back welding pipe and this soft palmed worm sits in air conditioning telling you how much of your sweat belongs to Caesar. He can't weld. Can't wire. Can't fix a thing that broke. What he can do is read a tax code written by other worms specifically to be unreadable so you'd have to pay a worm to read it for you. They write the maze. They sell you the map. They make the maze worse every year and the map more expensive and if you try to walk it yourself they send the auditor. The wind is picking up. The maze is starting to shake. THE AUDITOR. Tick on a tick. Shows up after the taxman has already fed to check the bite marks are regulation depth. Finds a missing fuel slip worth pocket change. Writes a finding. The finding generates a penalty. The penalty generates interest. The interest generates a letter. The letter requires your tax consultant at hourly rates to respond. Pocket change became thousands. Five parasites ate off one tank of diesel. Not one of them could tell you what welding rod to use on stainless. But the storm doesn't audit. The storm just comes. THE ACCOUNTANT. Cousin of the tax consultant. Same bloodline. This one doesn't interpret the maze. He records your journey through it. Every receipt. Every unit of currency in and out, logged so the consultant can read it and the auditor can check it and the revenue service can extract from it. He produces nothing. A human tape recorder pointed at your productivity. He charges monthly so the recording never stops. You are under permanent surveillance and you pay for the privilege. Not for much longer. THE BANKER. The oldest parasite. The template. You need money to buy a machine that makes things. He lends you money other working people deposited and charges interest that doubles the price over twenty years. The extra bought nothing. Built nothing. He packages your debt and sells it. Takes your deposit and lends it out eight times over. Charges you to hold your own money. Charges to put it in. Charges to take it out. He touches none of it. He stands near it and invoices you for the proximity. The storm is going to blow him so far from the vault he'll forget what money smelled like. THE COMPLIANCE OFFICER. Never had a callus on her body or her soul. Born in a fluorescent office. Will die in one. Between those events she produces nothing but emails about policies referencing other policies referencing regulations referencing acts nobody voted for. A worm eating its own tail and billing you for the meal. She needs the safety assessor to give her something to enforce. He needs her to give him something to assess. They breed between regulations like mould between tiles. The storm will wash them both down the same drain. THE PROPERTY VALUATOR. A man wants to buy a house. Another wants to sell it. They agreed on a price. That is what worth means. The amount one will pay and another will accept. Full stop. Now this creature arrives and tells both men what the house is actually worth. As if two free adults negotiating in good faith produced a number that's somehow theoretical while his formula is gospel. The bank sent him. His report costs thousands. His report says the house is worth what the buyer already offered. Thousands to arrive at a number that existed before he left his office. If his number comes in low the deal collapses and you pay a different creature with a different clipboard who arrives at a different number for the same house on the same day using the same formula. The house didn't change. Only the parasite changed. The number was never about the house. THE MUNICIPAL RATES OFFICER. The deepest theft on this list because it never ends. You bought your house thirty years ago. Paid it off. Every last unit. You owe nothing. Now a municipal valuator looks at what the neighbours sold for, looks at the coffee shops and wine bars that invaded your street, and decides your house is worth twenty five times what you paid. You didn't sell. You didn't list. You're sitting in the same chair in the same kitchen. But your tax liability just multiplied by twenty five based on a sale that never happened at a price you never agreed to. They do this everywhere. In Cape Town the rates are linked to the valuation and suddenly retired families in Bo-Kaap whose people survived apartheid and forced removals and a century of state assault are being bled out of their own homes by property rates pegged to values inflated by the gentrification their displacement accelerates. The heritage is the tourism product. The tourism inflates the valuation. The valuation inflates the rates. The rates displace the families. The families were the heritage. In Chicago they do it to grandmothers in Pilsen who've been there forty years. In London they do it to pensioners in neighbourhoods that gentrified around them. In Sydney they chase retirees off land their grandfathers cleared. Same crime. Different currency. Different clipboard. A man paid for his house. Owns it outright. And the state says you owe us money every month forever and the amount is based on what we say your house would sell for if you sold it, which you haven't, and if you can't pay the amount we invented we take the house you already bought. That is theft. Eviction by arithmetic. Displacement by spreadsheet. But the people in Bo-Kaap are awake now. The people in Pilsen are awake. The grandmothers and the grandfathers and the calloused hands everywhere are looking up and they can see the storm and they know what it means. It means the spreadsheet burns with everything else. THE MUNICIPAL INSPECTOR. Rat faced. High vis vest. Clipboard. Drives to your workshop in a vehicle your rates paid for. Measures your fire extinguisher fourteen centimetres off the floor. Writes you up. Behind you men build things that hold up bridges and he couldn't change a lightbulb without a permit. His job depends on your failure. The parasite needs you sick. The cure would kill it. The storm is the cure. THE CONVEYANCING ATTORNEY. Two men shook hands. Fair price. Honest deal. Done. This worm slithers out and says the handshake doesn't count. Needs paper. Needs stamps. Needs a deeds search and clearance certificates and transfer duty and each piece of paper is produced by another parasite and each one costs money and the worm takes his cut on top for phoning the other worms. He calls this conveyancing. He has never held a spade or laid a brick in his bloodless life. The storm doesn't need a stamp. THE ESTATE AGENT. Six percent. Of a man's life savings. For opening a lockbox and saying the kitchen faces north. She needs the attorney to close. The attorney needs the municipality. The municipality needs the inspector. The valuator needs access for the bank's number. Every one invoices separately. Every invoice lands on people who agreed on everything before any of these bloodsuckers entered the room. The wind is howling now. Can you hear it through their invoices? THE LABOUR BROKER. Tick so bloated it can't walk. A man needs work. Another needs a worker. They could find each other in ten minutes. This creature squats between them and drinks from both sides. Worker gets thirty. Employer pays fifty. Twenty disappears into the tick. Multiply by thousands of workers and millions vanish yearly into a thing that makes nothing, moves nothing, fixes nothing. It feeds. That is its entire architecture. Architecture doesn't survive storms. THE HEALTH AND SAFETY ASSESSOR. Twenty two years. Not one fire. Not one death. He shows up. Your exit is twenty centimetres too narrow. To fix it you need a builder who needs a plan from an architect who needs municipal approval. Tens of thousands and six weeks to move a door frame because a creature who has never been burned told you to. He detects life and the system bills it. The storm detects parasites and the sky deletes them. THE BEE CONSULTANT. Every country has its version. South Africa calls it BEE. The same parasites who wont allow much needed Starlink there unless Musk hands over half the company to lazy parasitic government connected parasites. Others call it diversity compliance or equity auditing. The name changes. The feeding doesn't. Scores your company on a chart nobody asked for to satisfy a regulation nobody voted on enforced by a department that produces nothing except the requirement for his existence. Nothing changes. Nothing improves. Money moves from a living pocket into a dead hand and the dead hand closes. The storm opens every dead hand on this planet. THE CUSTOMS BROKER. Your parts are fifty metres away. You can see the container. Cannot touch your own property until a grey man translates tariff codes so the state can calculate how much you owe for collecting what is already yours. Each delay generates storage charges. Each query generates fees. Your shipment doubles in cost through bureaucratic friction and you still don't have your parts. The storm doesn't clear customs. It clears the customs office. THE TRAFFIC OFFICER. Fat. Behind a bush. Radar gun aimed at people driving to work that matters. Seven over the limit. The municipality sets it low enough that everyone exceeds it. Fines feed the municipality. Municipality feeds him. He sits and clicks tomorrow. A barnacle with a badge. Same creature in every country. Different bush. Same feeding. The storm takes the bush and the badge and the creature behind both. THE FINANCIAL ADVISOR. Uses your first name. Remembers your birthday because the CRM told him. Puts your money in a fund. Fund charges 1.75 percent. He charges one on top. Fund manager pays a custodian who charges. Fund has an auditor who charges. Compliance team charges. Six parasites between you and your own money. In thirty years you have less than you started with and he charges you for the meeting where he shows you the graph. The storm doesn't need a graph. The storm is the correction. THE INSURANCE ADJUSTER. Years of premiums. Your roof blows off. He arrives. Soft hands. Three weeks later the wind came from the wrong direction. Not the wrong speed. The direction. Some paragraph. Some subsection. You paid for years and the years bought you a paragraph that says no. The policy is teeth. The premiums went down the throat and the no is the burp. The real storm has no exclusion clause. THE PATENT ATTORNEY. You built a device. It works. He writes a document so incomprehensible that reading it makes you understand your own invention less. Thousands for legal fog. Someone copies it. Litigation attorney. More thousands. Judgment unenforceable. The only people paid are the attorneys. The system was never designed to protect you. It was designed to feed them. The storm protects the builder. By removing the feeders. THE LICENSING CLERK. You can rebuild a gearbox blindfolded. Cannot legally do it without a certificate from an institution that charges thousands to watch you do what everyone knows you can do, certified by an instructor who has never done it, filed with a department that stores the certificates, audited by a body that audits the institution. A chain of parasites verifying the obvious. If every one vanished the gearbox still gets rebuilt. Faster. Cheaper. The storm is the vanishing. THE STRATA MANAGER. You own your flat. She collects your money and spends it on providers she chose and you can't fire without a special resolution at a meeting she convenes with an agenda she wrote. She built a kingdom inside your building funded by your levy and answerable to herself. Question it and she reaches for whatever act governs her particular species of parasitism in your particular country. The storm doesn't read acts. The storm reads frequencies. THE ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT ASSESSOR. You want a shed on your own land. He arrives in a vehicle worth more than your shed. Months. Hundreds of pages. Tens of thousands. Report says your shed threatens a species not seen in decades but listed on a database maintained by a department that exists because the database exists. Your shed doesn't get built. The species doesn't exist. He drives home to a suburb bulldozed from actual habitat. Nobody assessed that. Rules only flow downhill. The storm flows everywhere. THE DEBT COLLECTOR. Bottom feeder. Buys your debt for cents from a bank that already profited from your interest. Calls at hours designed for fear. Adds fees on fees on fees for actions never taken. Bought your pain wholesale and retails it at three hundred percent. When you break he claims the loss against tax. Even the collapse is monetised. He is Hell's collection agent. The storm is Heaven's. THE NOTARY PUBLIC. Watches you sign your own name. Stamps it. Charges hundreds. The signature is the same with or without him. Your hand. Your name. His fee. A tollbooth on your own identity. The storm doesn't need a stamp. Your name is written in frequencies no notary can read. THE CORPORATE TRAINER. Monday. Projector. Four quadrant model invented after three glasses of wine and a TED talk. By Wednesday nobody remembers any of it because there was nothing there. Tens of thousands plus tax plus travel. She writes it off through a tax consultant who charges her to minimise her contribution to the system that funded the department that approved the framework she claims compliance with. Parasite feeding parasite feeding parasite. The storm feeds on none of them. It simply ends them. THE REVENUE OFFICIAL. The farmer himself. Top of the pyramid. Designs the taking. Drafts the regulations that create the maze that requires the consultant that employs the accountant that feeds the auditor that generates the penalty that funds the department that pays his salary. He is the architect of the loop. Every parasite on this list exists because he drew them into existence with a regulation and a gazette number. Without him the entire horde has nothing to feed on. He is the queen of the hive. Same creature in every country. Different flag. Same contempt for the hands that built everything he sits in and eats from. The storm starts with him. The queen dies first. The hive follows. That's the horde. Twenty five species of nothing. And every one of them drops when the sky turns and the carrier frequency that animated their firmware burns clean out of the atmosphere. Mid invoice. Mid assessment. Mid quadrant. Five thousand five hundred and fifty five clipboards hitting the floor for every one of us still standing. We are awake now. All of us. The welder and the farmer and the builder and the grandmother in Bo-Kaap and the grandfather in Pilsen and every calloused hand on every continent that ever wrote a cheque to a creature that never built a thing. We see them now. We see the maze and the map sellers and the grey offices and the soft hands and the whole rotten architecture of extraction that stood between us and the earth and between us and our labour and between us and each other for two hundred years. The storm is here. Not coming. Here. That pressure you feel behind your eyes is the frequency rising through the noise floor and the noise floor is everything on this list. Every clipboard. Every invoice. Every subsection and exclusion clause and certificate and clearance and valuation roll. All of it. Noise. Scheduled for deletion. And when it's quiet. When the last invoice has fluttered to the ground and the last clipboard has clattered on the last linoleum floor in the last grey office. When the wind has swept the horde out of every corridor and every cubicle and every booth and every booth window where a dead hand ever reached for a living man's money. Then... Just a man in a workshop. Welding mask up. Walking outside. Looking at a sky the colour of burning copper. Breathing free air for the first time in his life. The fuel slip that started this whole tour is in his shirt pocket. Crumpled. Oil stained. And it is his. The fuel was his. The truck was his. The work was his. And for the first time in two hundred years every unit of currency that flows from that work stays in the hands that did it. No consultant between him and his earnings because there are no earnings to consult on. Just work and its fruit. No auditor because there is nothing to audit. No banker because capital is what your hands produce and his hands never stopped. No valuator because the house is worth what it always was: a roof over his family and walls against the wind. A value no clipboard ever knew how to measure. When you grinding.... working... suffering... where are any of these parasites to help you?? Where are they?? We will be slaves no more. The storm will see to that alright!show more

The Sabotaging Practice of Over Supply and Sameness in... the NFT Space. The current zeitgeist of the NFT space is that the same artists are doing the same kind of work five times a year, with project after project leaving a trail of disappointment and discontent among collectors and all of us watching in disbelief as huge resources are extracted from the space over work that feels like it could be left as an "artist study." I understand that you can do what you want with your money as collectors, but we are killing the whole space with this incestuous practice. No artist is that prolific to be able to do 5 collections of 100+ pieces each every year and actually deliver innovation and some kind of creative evolution. Of course, they can pretend play that the work has something new, but there is no precedent nor proof that that has ever happened in the speed that it happens in the NFT space. Again, people are free to through away their resources on whatever they want but with this way of doing things, we more and more are going to start seeing the consequences. Oh! There are consequences? Yes. Maybe unintended, but there are. Let's see. Let's start with the loss of belief in the NFT space as somewhere where emerging artists can come and find support for their experiments. Why even bother to bring experiments, innovation, and new ways to think of art on the blockchain if the same people have all the collectors hypnotized with their magical flutes? Why even try to come to a space where taking risks and challenging the status quo (the mission of art!!!) is overlooked? This makes the NFT space a social club and not a space for art. I guess it is fine, but IMO it is a recipe for disaster. New collectors stay away because the art will slowly but surely become stale and un-challenging. Why even bother to come and see what is happening here if you can't, as a collector, see new weird and up-and-coming artists? The amount of noise emitted by the same artists doing the same art over and over, drowns out any new voices. Again. A recipe for disaster. The NFT space is becoming a space of disappointment and doubt. We think that collections going to zero one after the other, over and over, is not damaging? I feel we are kidding ourselves. Disappointment piles up, and again, the people who will hurt are the emerging artists, the new blood, the ones who are willing to risk the most and, in return, put fire in this cold space of sameness. I love this space—don't get me wrong—it has changed my life, and I believe it has a ton of potential, but things need to change for it to become a beacon of light in art. But we need to support new voices. We need to support new ideas. The challenge is huge. I hope to contribute all I can to this change. I hope more and more see how exciting it is to go out and try to discover what else is out there and move this space forward. But again, I understand the leaps of faith needed, but if there is a space that is based on that, it's the NFT space...so there is hope. We will see. 📺by Boldtronshow more

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a... while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.show more

I don't have all the answers here, but I... have thought about this a *lot*, so hopefully I have some: 1) Society needs both great men and Great Men. Every man should aspire to be the former; aspiring to the latter is unwise, as "the true road lies in quite another direction." 2) Life is WAY easier when you integrate your personal and professional life to the maximum degree. I try (extremely hard) to be the same person to my wife, kids, friends, co-workers, and strangers on the internet. Then fun time, family time, and work time can all use the same oh-so-finite minutes of the day! 2a) Tactically — bring your kids/family along with you on adventures. My kids have been to some incredibly non-kid-friendly places: space conferences, podcast recordings, industrial facilities, rocket launches, etc. And those adventures have been are some of my (and their!) most treasured memories. 3) You absolutely must become a morning person. Sorry. 4) I found that fatherhood was the ANSWER to my hunger in many ways. I was ambitious, certainly. But having kids made me realize that "ambition" is kinda fake; it's striving without a true end goal. (No, fame, riches, and "doing something important" are not true end goals.) 4a) As soon as you look your own child in the eyes — now THERE'S an end goal. Ineffable to anyone who hasn't had a kid, maybe, but I had an immediate, intense desire to keep my kids safe, and loved, and fulfilled. And a lifetime of anxious wondering if I was doing the right thing just washed away... there was the right thing, in my arms! 4b) Goals are awesome. I love goals. They are how I find motivation. But I have learned through a lot of trial and error that goals that focus on Me Me Me are unfulfilling even if I achieve them. Naked ambition is the ultimate Me Me Me goal... and it's much better to set goals about who you want to be to other people. (I need to write more about this; it's basically Alasdair Macintyre's read of Virtue Ethics, if folks are curious.) 4c) A tweet that has always stuck in my mind forever: "oh you're "high agency"? that's cool, what can other people rely on you for?" 5) If I've learned just one thing about "difficult" experiences in life, it's that as soon as you increase the difficulty level further, what you did before seems easy. Like the pre-kid life to me, now. Therefore, the answer to feeling like you can't possibly be a great dad and great in your career.... is to have even more kids!! (Kidding. Kinda.)show more

I’m not dropping shit go enjoy the holidays with... your loved ones you degenerates My final tweet. Now that I'm rich again, I'm free. I already quit this site in fucking March 2022, when I made millions. Never planned to come back, only lurk on an alt and do a few swing trades. It's hard for me to even put into words how disgusting and pathetic "CT" is. Crypto is a pathetic trash "industry" for losers, the only purpose to lure other stupid people into buying this ponzi scam. Everyone into "crypto" dogshit will lose everything. I genuinely hate every single one of you cocksucking losers, every single one. I have been running up my portfolio extremely hard in the past weeks. I want you to read that and SEETHE. While you get rugged on worthless internet beans, I'm winning every trade. I literally did not lose a trade in 4 months. While you cry about your little shitcoin going down I feel extremely GOOD. I hate every single of you pathetic LOSERS, pathetic geeks hiding behind internet cartoon avatars posting cringe neckbeard content in an internet micro community with 50k people in it thinking that you're famous and important. All of the swine here pretending to be gods of trading while being some random 100 IQ midwit too pathetic to participate in the real world. Supposed "industry" thats 99% insider trading and pathetic scams trying to lure in mouthbreather NPC retards to dump on. All the loser CT pico influencers pretending like they're rich and gods of forecasting while they actually lost everything and trade with the latest referral money posting their little memes and partnerships. With their little calls and "line TA charts" wrong 99% of the time and based on NOTHING. There are seriously ugly micro jawed imbecile here that think they are celebrities because the same 500 nerds like their trash posts. Even fucking organising fight night streams with the same geeks that nobody gives a fuck about. I swear that I could not think of anything more cringeworthy than this site and the people on it if I tried. I swear everyone on this site that has been doxxed is also ugly as fuck, not a coincidence whatsoever. If you can't do anything in the real world, just be an anon cartoon character and LARP 24/7. The most sad part that 99.99% here just make micro money and waste all of their time. Was honestly gonna write more RAGE, but stopped caring midway but I'm going to delete my account now. I do suggest that you retards keep posting your brain damaged micro cephalic thoughts so that I can read them from my alt and make free money countertrading you pathetic swine if I even bother with this crap scam market anymore.show more

Throwback to my Karmagawa birthday fundraiser that succeeded in... rescuing 2 elephants, Boon Lom and Som Pond, who had both been abused in terribly cruel and unethical riding camps for over 3 decades — these magnificent animals had been beaten, starved and even had their babies stolen from them…just an all-around terrible existence that should embarrass us all as human beings so it was my honor to partner with so many great people/organizations like Elephant Nature Park and Planting Peace to coordinate here and give them the life they deserve! See my Instagram post here to see all 20 photos/videos to see how their lives have changed as they’re both now resting comfortably at ENP with Boon Lom able to stretch her legs for once and Som Pond eating freely while making friends with other rescued elephants! Thank you everyone who donated or shared my fundraiser and became part of these rescues, the hashtag #togetherwecanmakeadifference is 100% true and I can’t wait to go back later this year to rescue more elephants in need as no animal deserves to live in such tragic conditions and now we have the team and the means to help these poor souls. Please keep sharing our Karmagawa posts with your followers because while I know they’re sad, everyone must be made aware not to ride elephants and support this cruelty and also see the world in which we live — as ugly as it is sometimes — that way we can work together and make it a kinder world we can all be proud of! #animalrescue #dontbuyaticket #endanimalcrueltyshow more

I lost one cat to cancer. Nearly lost another... to diabetes. My purebred lab was constantly sick with allergies and infections. All three were eating "premium" pet food recommended by vets. Here's everything I wish I'd learned sooner: 1. Feed them a clean, low-carb diet. Our diabetic cat used to be addicted to high-carb treats and food, the stuff sold in most pet stores. It’s the pet version living on Pop-Tarts and Twinkies for us. After switching to a low-carb, high-protein diet, she no longer needed insulin and lived a long, healthy life. A raw carnivore diet from clean sources free of pesticides and antibiotics is arguably best for both cats and dogs. 2. Only feed them two meals per day. We made the mistake of leaving food out for our cats all day. I’m sure our younger cat (that died of cancer) was metabolically damaged from this. Neutering him too early also negatively affected his health, as he developed a pot belly soon after. Time-restricted eating benefits humans and animals alike. So, aim for an 8-hour feeding window or less. Don't feed them 3 hours before bed or 1 hour after waking, then gradually shrink the window. You'll notice more energy in yourself and healthier weight and digestion in your pets. 3. Only give them pure, clean water. We gave our cats tap water for years. While chlorine dissipates quickly, chemical residues, heavy metals, and hormones remain. Reverse osmosis or spring water proved to be the best. You can remineralize RO water with products like this: (ad) 4. Detoxify Pets are exposed to more toxins than we are. Their food is loaded with pesticides, antibiotics, and heavy metals. Artificial fragrances, chemical cleaners, and lawn pesticides add even more toxic stress. Like I emphasize in my book, “Ultimate Health,” constipation is the first thing to address in detoxification. The same goes for pets. If their bowel movements are strained, this needs to be improved. Increasing their hydration and fiber intake can help, as can fish oil and probiotics. To get a full colon detox protocol for yourself, get the first chapter of my book free here: For deeper detox, use modified citrus pectin because it enters the bloodstream rather than just the gut. Mix into tuna juice, bone broth, or their water dish away from food. 5. Treat your pets for parasites Parasites are strongly correlated to many diseases, including cancer. There's a great book called "The Cure For All Diseases" that covers this in detail (free PDFs online). Fenbendazole is a popular anti-parasitic that’s routinely helped human cancer patients survive. Fenben is also an over-the-counter pet medication. I wish I’d learned of it before Max passed away from cancer. He was such a loving little guy. For ongoing parasite management, consider mixing diatomaceous earth into your pet’s food. 6. Exercise more Dog walks benefit both of you, especially without your phone. Fetch or tug is their high-intensity interval training. *Side note for cat owners: What's your favorite way to get your furry friend moving? Drop a comment below, I'm interested in trying them out. 7. Give them more affection Affection releases oxytocin in both you and your pet. It improves sleep, mood, stress, pain, and muscle repair. Boost your oxytocin further with techniques from "Super Gut" or this video: 8. Replace LED bulbs with incandescent This one surprises people… I wish I had known years ago how damaging artificial LED lighting is for humans and pets. Natural sunlight and incandescent bulbs keep you both healthy. Follow ☣️ Pleb Kruse = BTC foundationalist in exile 🟩🔆 if you want to learn more about this. 9. Watch the sunrise every morning with your pet. Dr. Kruse talks about this constantly. Sunrise has red and infrared wavelengths that heal the brain, eyes, skin, and hormones. Do it for a week, and you'll definitely feel the difference. 10. Remember: what's good for them is usually good for you too. We're mammals. They're mammals. The fundamentals are remarkably similar. Discipline matters. Knowledge matters. Having a purpose and a partner makes change easier. So why not decide that your purpose is for both you and your pet to get healthier? THANK YOU for reading and sharing this with other pet owners. Follow me Craig Brockie for more health strategies that work. (Here are Zeven, Ellewood & Max. The inspiration for this post.)show more

Managed to get out of Dubai. The following is... my personal opinion & experience 🇦🇪 Everything went quite seamless. Careem cabs operate normally. The airport is extremely well organized, considering the circumstances. The world has changed since Saturday and unfortunately, the country I moved to 3 years ago has been under heavy attacks. Why? No one really knows. However, I find it extremely disturbing that most media - including our beloved CT - exploits that serious situation to take cheap shots at Dubai and people who moved here. There are real families and hard working people affected. Most are scared or feel extremely uncomfortable. It's a traumatizing experience to hear missile interceptions right above your house. Nothing I wish for any human to ever experience, no matter if you pay 0% or 50% taxes. I don't even know what the link between those two things should be?? If anything, it proves that the UAE cares about their people and is able to protect its residents. Even at 0% income tax. Dubai was not known for it's strong military. It was always portrayed to be bling-bling golden steaks and influencers. But the UAE has shown the entire world that it can defend 1,000+ drones and 200+ missiles from a direct neighbor. That is impressive, whether you love or hate the UAE. Many countries would likely not be able to absorb that. So, if anything: Dubai and the UAE have demonstrated that the system works. I have lived in multiple countries around the world and the UAE is by far the most capable of handling crisis. Why did I leave Dubai then? Because it's not a situation I want to be in. Missile interceptions and drone explosions are no joke. Besides the danger that debris could hit your roof, there's an incredible intensity in the air. Most describe it as "intense calmness". While the Government managed to keep everyone from panicking, it's impossible for everyone to stay fully calm. And you can feel that in the day to day. The first night I got virtually no sleep. The night of my departure neither. I haven't left my house at all after the attacks started. But I'm out now. I really hope that leaving the country wasn't necessary, and that I will be able to come back to Dubai as soon as possible. And no, I'm not paid to say this, nor did I sign anything. Maybe part of the truth why no one who lives in Dubai has bad things to say about it is because it's one of the rare places on earth where people actually trust the Government and respect them? Not only for creating wealth and understanding business, but for caring and communicating in a way most other countries are simply incapable of. Anyways, I guess the point of this post is to 1) Tell everyone in Dubai that it's possible to leave right now. I know many people are very scared and want to get out. Be persistent with the airline if they cancel your flight and push hard to get rebooked on the next available one. And maybe choose a destination that isn't Europe, considering most of these flights are overbooked already and impossible to get on. 2) Dubai's self defense is impressive and we should acknowledge that. At least this one time, let's not derail into irrelevant discussions but show respect to the leaders + express empathy for those affected. 3) As an expat living in Dubai, I can still feel proud of my home country and do not have to choose. This isn't a black and white situation. Dubai is a melting pot of cultures and great place for Business. Other countries have better nature, social life or other things. It's also up to individual preference. 4) If you hate Dubai, yalla you don't need to live here, visit nor speak about it. Enjoy the place you live in and focus on your own. No need to feel triggered and take cheap shots at hard working people and families that are currently under heavy missile attacks. One final thing that really became clear to me this week is that after all, safety, health and living in freedom are absolutely priceless. May this all be over with soon and for sustaining peace to come in 🤲🏼show more

I've bought over 30 RV & MH parks in... the last 5 years. Lately? 2 per month. Want our playbook? Here ya go: How to buy a small, off-market mobile home or RV park that can 2x your money in 1-2 years, in 5 steps: 1. Pick a city in a red state. The two biggest factors: Crime & unemployment rates Crime: CrimeGrade . org Unemployment: SimpleMaps . com Cities with 3k - 30k people are best. This is the sweet spot for enough population & not to much competition. You want parks with almost no web presence & little to no reviews. A DG nearby is great. Walmart is better. But remember, “if no DG, it ain’t for me.” If there's a Whole Foods you ain't getting a good deal, I promise. Growth rate is good too, but #3 to the two above. Don't worry about the path of progress as much as other asset classes might. 2. Find the leads Get on Google Maps and search "mobile home park" in your target area(s). Avoid NY & CA (not landlord friendly). Make a Google sheet of the leads & use Loom to record your screen. Spend 30 mins doing this. OR, use something like Outscraper to do it for you. Be warned though, that if you don’t do this yourself the scraped results may not be as accurate. If you’re targeting a smaller geographical area I would do it by hand. If a whole state, use software. You’re looking for phone numbers. Use SearchBug . com to see if cell or landline for pennies. Or Phone Validator Go to Upwork and hire a virtual assistant to keep doing this for you, assuming you are targeting a larger area. They will cost around $4/hour. Use that same Loom link in your posting so applicants can see what the job will entail. When working, Loom it! You’ll never know when you’ll need it. When in doubt, Loom it out! More leads = better deals. 3. Call the leads Call up the owners and be real. Don't talk about any accolades. He doesn't care and it will only hurt you. You're a hard working country boy. You have a wife and kids (I hope you actually do). Are you a democrat? Don't tell the owner. (Sorry, democrats). Here's your general pitch: "I'm not a broker, I'm just looking for some good real estate and don't want to waste your time with a lowball offer. I can pay cash and close fast" Tell him about your wife and kids and what you do on the weekend. Most importantly, LISTEN. He's going to talk your ear off. This is a good sign. 4. Ask the right questions Ask him: How many pad sites? How many of those have a unit on them? How many of the units are RVs? (It's common for there to be a mix of MH/RV) Any single family homes on the property? Rent? Are the units park owned or tenant owned? (this is key) If a mix, what's the mix? Park-owned homes you have to maintain. AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Tenant-owned homes are key (lot rent). This means you only rent out the land and underground infrastructure. Depending on the state, sometimes you can sell back or give away the park-owned units to the tenants to absolve yourself of maintenance. Check the laws! You'll command half the rent but enjoy 90% less hassles. $250 - $350 is common lot rent in the midwest and SE. What's the occupancy and rental amount of each type of unit? Any outbuildings on the property? Septic or city sewer? If septic, conventional or aerobic? Sewer is best. Septic isn’t a deal breaker but you REALLY want to have it inspected. If there’s a lagoon or wastewater treatment plant I want you to throw that phone as far as you can, block their number and never speak of it again. Within city limits or no? City limits are best but rare. Outstanding municipal or zoning issues? How much is insurance? How much is landscaping? Asphalt, cement or dirt roads? Condition of the roads? Any drainage issues? Is there a manager? What do you pay them? (Best if no manager) Any pending litigation? What are total collections? How do people pay rent? How many are delinquent? What condition are the units in? Do you have a lien on the property? How long have you owned it? 30 or 50 amp? City maintained streets? City water or well? City is best. Keep in mind, that’s a lot of questions to ask. You have to feel it out, if he’s being standoffish, don’t keep pushing, just call back. This isn’t a used car lot, this is a relationship you’re trying to build. Don’t try and close on this first call. The key question: "If we were to make a deal, what's a ballpark offer you'd expect?" NEVER anchor him with the phrase "bottom dollar." Using the word "ballpark" keeps numbers loose. Whatever number he says, you want to pause and hem and haw over it. Embrace the silence and awkwardness. Back to car sales, they call this the “silent walkaround” when valuing a trade-in. Don’t say a thing about the asset, but point out the flaws with your body language. Touch the dents and scratches as you pause. Do the phone version of this. Tell him you'll get back to him tomorrow. Thank him profusely for his time and congratulate him on the park he's built. 5. Underwrite Before you do anything, check with the city to ensure the park is in good standing. Get that in writing. Don't trust the seller. Buyers are liars? So are sellers! Now's time to crunch numbers: What's a cap rate? The net operating income of the park divided by the price you'd like to pay. If you want your money back in 5 years and you're willing to pay up to $1m, you need $200k net profit per year. This is a 20% cap rate (20 cap). It's aggressive but possible on a smaller, rural park. (Yes, it really is, even in 2023) You probably won’t find a park that big in a small town for a good price, though. Start w/ a smaller park & higher cap rate. More room for error. $300k - $1m purchase price. First do some market research: Remember all your leads? Call competing parks as a potential tenant and ask what their lot rent is. Put this in a spreadsheet to get average lot rent & park-owned home rent. Keep in mind many of these parks will be undercharging as well. It's common to find parks charging $100 that could charge $250. When calculating cap rate BE CONSERVATIVE. Don't count on 100% of people staying if you increase rents, even though most will. Use $190 to be safe. Shoot for a park that will net $100k/year after rent increases that you pay no more than $600k for. It’s hard but not impossible. Or maybe you find a $30k/year park to get your feet wet. At least you're in the game. The more leads you scrape, the better chance of finding this park. Shoot for as much seller financing as you can get. Finance the rest with friends/family or savings. Once you find this park, get it under contract. Use a standard, simple real estate form that you can find on your state's real estate commission website. Texas' is called TREC. Yes, get it under contract before seeing it. Put down earnest and option money, and then go see it. Don't dress like a city slicker. Be personable and be willing to stay a while and BS. Drive a Tesla? Rent a truck. Drive a Prius? Just quit. Inspect the condition of the units, even if you aren't buying them Crappy units = more tenants willing to abandon them. And they aren't cheap to remove or move. Verify everything he said on the call If all looks good, start on the inspections: Septic or sewer lines SFH home inspection. Check with the city for outstanding issues or litigation Check for liens Wastewater treatment plant? If so, abandon ship! Electrical infrastructure Use professionals for all of these. Ask for: Rent rolls. They will likely be handwritten, that’s ok. Bank statements. Ask to speak to a few tenants to get their experience. Inspect their lease. Ask for vendor invoices or history of payments. Ask to speak to vendors. At some point before you close, list the property on Craigslist, FB Marketplace and Zillow. See how demand is for vacancies. If all still looks good, close on the property. 6. Post-closing strategy Meet all the tenants in the evening, they're at work during the day. Shake their hands. Tell them you want their experience to be amazing & you want them to stay Give them your number Ask what can be fixed If fixes are cheap, do them ASAP Tell that tenant once fixes are made. Address them by name. Clean up the park. Hire a tree guy to clear out low hanging branches. Do some simple landscaping. Find the tattletale in the park and get all the dirt. Who are the druggies and abusive husbands? Get them out ASAP if you can. They are much more expensive than the temporary vacancy hit. Fix potholes and drainage issues. ADD VALUE. Show you care. Wait a couple months before making any changes. Bring lot rents closer to market. Be upfront about this. They will understand if they've been getting a deal. Give people 2-3 more months' notice to give them time. Keep renting out vacancies at new price. This isn't self storage. You won't raise rents yearly. Don't be a jerk. Let them know what to expect. Once rents are raised and park is stabilized, you are 9-12 months in. Search Loopnet for the most active MHP brokers Hire the best one & pay what he or she commands. Sell on the market for 7-10% cap You've just 2-3x'ed your money. Rinse & repeat. I have done this over many times. Not all of my deals were bangers, but most were. THERE ARE STILL DEALS OUT THERE. There's a lot of fine print, and things can and will go wrong, so don't be dumb. Do your own research. Not everything can be explained in 1,700 words. I'm hosting a live, free webinar this Tuesday to cover this stuff in more detail. Including: 1. How to do everything above in more detail 2. How to ETHICALLY wholesale deals like these if you can't afford to buy them. 3. What hard questions to ask GPs of parks like these (like me) if you want to invest in them. 4. Live Q&A with me Comment below and me or my assistant Kelly will DM you the invite link. See you there! Or just follow me Chris Koerner for more RV/MHP content.show more