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#CanMNT Alphonso Davies began the open portion of training doing light running with his independent specialist trainer 🇩🇪Matthias Blankenburg. Jesse Marsch said Davies would hit his “max velocity” today. We’ll see if Davies plays on Sunday in LA. #FIFAWorldCup2026

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Har Journalist

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After six years of forced absence, Thomas had only one hope left: to find his dog. The day he was taken away in handcuffs at thirty-six years old, Max, his Golden Retriever, was barking desperately behind the door. Throughout all those years of detention, the memory of his loyal companion haunted him. Was he still alive? Was anyone taking care of him? Did Max think he had been abandoned? Upon his release, holding a crumpled old photograph in his hand, Thomas searched all over the city. Volunteers kept telling him that after six years, finding his dog was an impossible dream. Yet, in a weathered shelter, an elderly lady named Beatrice recognized the golden coat in the photo. She told him that a solitary man named Arthur had taken the dog in five years earlier. He lived in the old quarter, near a large maple tree. Thomas’s heart pounded furiously as he finally stood before that wooden fence. Lying in the grass, his muzzle whitened by old age but his coat still brilliantly golden, was his retriever. The moment the wind carried Thomas's scent across the yard, the dog's ear twitched. He raised his head, locking his dark, soulful eyes directly into Thomas's. In that suspended, breathtaking instant, six years of silence and agonizing uncertainty completely vanished. Suddenly, Max scrambled to his feet. His tail began to wag frantically, and he ran toward Thomas with every ounce of strength left in his aging body. Overwhelmed by emotion, Thomas collapsed to his knees. In a deeply moving release of six years of pain, Max threw himself against his master's chest. Thomas clung to him tightly, weeping without restraint, tears flowing freely as the dog affectionately licked his face in pure, unconditional devotion. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking embrace of raw love and relief—Max had never, ever forgotten him. A white-haired man stepped out onto the porch, a gentle smile resting on his lips. It was Arthur. He confessed that from the moment he welcomed Max into his home, he knew the dog was waiting for someone. Every single evening, the retriever would sit by the window, intently watching the street. Arthur's late wife used to tell him that an animal's love never fades. That was why he had kept the name Max on the collar. Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur opened the gate to return the faithful companion: "At my age, I have learned that you must know when to let go of what is meant to be free. This dog has spent his whole life waiting for you. I am not losing him; I am returning him to his true story." They shared a cup of tea, speaking gently of the years that had passed, before Thomas set off on his journey with Max by his side. Today, Max sleeps peacefully at the foot of Thomas's bed in their small apartment. Every morning, placing a hand on that soft golden fur serves as a tender reminder that time can never erase true loyalty. If you ever feel like you have lost everything, remember that no passage of time is too long for genuine love, and there will always be generous souls in this world to keep hope alive.
0:19

After six years of forced absence, Thomas had only one hope left: to find his dog. The day he was taken away in handcuffs at thirty-six years old, Max, his Golden Retriever, was barking desperately behind the door. Throughout all those years of detention, the memory of his loyal companion haunted him. Was he still alive? Was anyone taking care of him? Did Max think he had been abandoned? Upon his release, holding a crumpled old photograph in his hand, Thomas searched all over the city. Volunteers kept telling him that after six years, finding his dog was an impossible dream. Yet, in a weathered shelter, an elderly lady named Beatrice recognized the golden coat in the photo. She told him that a solitary man named Arthur had taken the dog in five years earlier. He lived in the old quarter, near a large maple tree. Thomas’s heart pounded furiously as he finally stood before that wooden fence. Lying in the grass, his muzzle whitened by old age but his coat still brilliantly golden, was his retriever. The moment the wind carried Thomas's scent across the yard, the dog's ear twitched. He raised his head, locking his dark, soulful eyes directly into Thomas's. In that suspended, breathtaking instant, six years of silence and agonizing uncertainty completely vanished. Suddenly, Max scrambled to his feet. His tail began to wag frantically, and he ran toward Thomas with every ounce of strength left in his aging body. Overwhelmed by emotion, Thomas collapsed to his knees. In a deeply moving release of six years of pain, Max threw himself against his master's chest. Thomas clung to him tightly, weeping without restraint, tears flowing freely as the dog affectionately licked his face in pure, unconditional devotion. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking embrace of raw love and relief—Max had never, ever forgotten him. A white-haired man stepped out onto the porch, a gentle smile resting on his lips. It was Arthur. He confessed that from the moment he welcomed Max into his home, he knew the dog was waiting for someone. Every single evening, the retriever would sit by the window, intently watching the street. Arthur's late wife used to tell him that an animal's love never fades. That was why he had kept the name Max on the collar. Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur opened the gate to return the faithful companion: "At my age, I have learned that you must know when to let go of what is meant to be free. This dog has spent his whole life waiting for you. I am not losing him; I am returning him to his true story." They shared a cup of tea, speaking gently of the years that had passed, before Thomas set off on his journey with Max by his side. Today, Max sleeps peacefully at the foot of Thomas's bed in their small apartment. Every morning, placing a hand on that soft golden fur serves as a tender reminder that time can never erase true loyalty. If you ever feel like you have lost everything, remember that no passage of time is too long for genuine love, and there will always be generous souls in this world to keep hope alive.

Gabriele Corno

16,335 Aufrufe • vor 17 Tagen

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 Every Thursday after school, Lily had only one request for her mother: a detour to the county shelter. No ice cream, no toys. She only wanted twenty minutes on the concrete floor outside Max’s kennel, holding the book she had borrowed that morning. Max was invisible to the other visitors. He didn't jump against the wire mesh or wag his tail to get attention; he stayed frozen on his blanket at the back of the run, with the resigned look of someone waiting for yet another disappointment. The volunteers described him as a gentle dog, but paralyzed by a deep fear that drove people to choose "easier" pups. Lily, however, never saw him as broken. She would sit cross-legged on the cold floor, open the pages, and begin to read in that clear whisper children use when talking to their secret world. Behind her, her mother would clutch the car keys, holding back tears, already knowing the question that would come during the drive home. The answer was always the same: their apartment did not allow animals. Lily had stopped arguing by now, simply asking, "Can we still come see him until someone adopts him?" That Thursday, something changed. As Lily slowly turned a page and whispered, "Dear Max..." as if the fable were written just for him, a hush fell around them. Even a shelter worker stopped to watch. "The little bear found a friend," the girl read. Max lifted his head. He stood up hesitantly, his legs trembling slightly, but the melody of that voice drew him in. Lily didn't reach out her hand, nor did she call him. She just kept reading, offering him the one thing the dog truly needed: time. By the time Max reached the gate, Lily’s whisper had grown even softer. The dog lowered his muzzle toward the open book, sniffed the page, and rested his head against it. Lily held her breath, then smiled with the absolute certainty of someone who knows they have been chosen. Her mother covered her mouth with her hand. The worker turned away to hide his emotion. From that day on, no one ever called Max "too scared" again. They understood that it only took a little girl and a story to give a forgotten dog back the hope of having a place in this world.
0:13

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 Every Thursday after school, Lily had only one request for her mother: a detour to the county shelter. No ice cream, no toys. She only wanted twenty minutes on the concrete floor outside Max’s kennel, holding the book she had borrowed that morning. Max was invisible to the other visitors. He didn't jump against the wire mesh or wag his tail to get attention; he stayed frozen on his blanket at the back of the run, with the resigned look of someone waiting for yet another disappointment. The volunteers described him as a gentle dog, but paralyzed by a deep fear that drove people to choose "easier" pups. Lily, however, never saw him as broken. She would sit cross-legged on the cold floor, open the pages, and begin to read in that clear whisper children use when talking to their secret world. Behind her, her mother would clutch the car keys, holding back tears, already knowing the question that would come during the drive home. The answer was always the same: their apartment did not allow animals. Lily had stopped arguing by now, simply asking, "Can we still come see him until someone adopts him?" That Thursday, something changed. As Lily slowly turned a page and whispered, "Dear Max..." as if the fable were written just for him, a hush fell around them. Even a shelter worker stopped to watch. "The little bear found a friend," the girl read. Max lifted his head. He stood up hesitantly, his legs trembling slightly, but the melody of that voice drew him in. Lily didn't reach out her hand, nor did she call him. She just kept reading, offering him the one thing the dog truly needed: time. By the time Max reached the gate, Lily’s whisper had grown even softer. The dog lowered his muzzle toward the open book, sniffed the page, and rested his head against it. Lily held her breath, then smiled with the absolute certainty of someone who knows they have been chosen. Her mother covered her mouth with her hand. The worker turned away to hide his emotion. From that day on, no one ever called Max "too scared" again. They understood that it only took a little girl and a story to give a forgotten dog back the hope of having a place in this world.

Gabriele Corno

12,779 Aufrufe • vor 12 Tagen

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝒊𝒕 𝑷𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺⛑️ 𝐺𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙~𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 2 😇🙏 After a botched summer assignment to a new collegiate league in Texarkana, TX that saw Grant Scholzen sleeping in his car and no host family provided as promised, Grant came home and waited patiently for a summer league call. The MGF Marshalls (who by the way is one of the best run orgs in the country, more on that in a future post!) called and in his 1st game and 2nd AB with a 1-2 count in a left on left matchup with the shadows in play, Grant took a 92 mph FB off the shoulder and into the right side of his face. The only time in 5 years w/o a face shield on his helmet, it’s the only time he’s been hit above the shoulder. Was watching the game on live stream, and it was hard to tell where it actually hit him? Grant immediately started walking to the dugout and I couldn’t figure out why he was doing that, because he should be either staying at home plate gathering his bearings or going to 1B. What you don’t see is the catcher and pitcher who are close friends of Grant’s growing up facing each other in HS and teammates throughout their CBA summer/fall travel ball experiences, looking on with what just happened? The pitcher and catcher who I’m close with as well, are in shock and the pitcher then walks into the opposing dugout to see if Grant is okay? Grant was okay, but he wasn’t okay?! That helpless feeling again when you’re not there and your son has something almost tragic happen?! I was calling friends who I knew were at the game and they said he had ice on his cheek in the dugout. After the game Grant was going to drive 4 hours home and get home at 3am to attend his cousin’s church service to listen to him speak at his 2 year church missionary farewell. He got home late as I said and woke up yesterday with his face extremely swollen and his eye already black, so we saw his uncle at church, who is a pediatric dentist and he scheduled a CT Scan with an oral surgeon buddy. Grant went in this morning for the scan and to our surprise, NO broken bones. Thank you to the countless people who text and reached out with worry and wanting updates. The baseball circle is small, but big at the same time and is a comforter! Once again his mother Heidi was working overtime to protect her kids, just like my daughter’s car accident 3 weeks ago. When it rains it pours! #SwarmingBees 🐝
0:18

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝒊𝒕 𝑷𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺⛑️ 𝐺𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙~𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 2 😇🙏 After a botched summer assignment to a new collegiate league in Texarkana, TX that saw Grant Scholzen sleeping in his car and no host family provided as promised, Grant came home and waited patiently for a summer league call. The MGF Marshalls (who by the way is one of the best run orgs in the country, more on that in a future post!) called and in his 1st game and 2nd AB with a 1-2 count in a left on left matchup with the shadows in play, Grant took a 92 mph FB off the shoulder and into the right side of his face. The only time in 5 years w/o a face shield on his helmet, it’s the only time he’s been hit above the shoulder. Was watching the game on live stream, and it was hard to tell where it actually hit him? Grant immediately started walking to the dugout and I couldn’t figure out why he was doing that, because he should be either staying at home plate gathering his bearings or going to 1B. What you don’t see is the catcher and pitcher who are close friends of Grant’s growing up facing each other in HS and teammates throughout their CBA summer/fall travel ball experiences, looking on with what just happened? The pitcher and catcher who I’m close with as well, are in shock and the pitcher then walks into the opposing dugout to see if Grant is okay? Grant was okay, but he wasn’t okay?! That helpless feeling again when you’re not there and your son has something almost tragic happen?! I was calling friends who I knew were at the game and they said he had ice on his cheek in the dugout. After the game Grant was going to drive 4 hours home and get home at 3am to attend his cousin’s church service to listen to him speak at his 2 year church missionary farewell. He got home late as I said and woke up yesterday with his face extremely swollen and his eye already black, so we saw his uncle at church, who is a pediatric dentist and he scheduled a CT Scan with an oral surgeon buddy. Grant went in this morning for the scan and to our surprise, NO broken bones. Thank you to the countless people who text and reached out with worry and wanting updates. The baseball circle is small, but big at the same time and is a comforter! Once again his mother Heidi was working overtime to protect her kids, just like my daughter’s car accident 3 weeks ago. When it rains it pours! #SwarmingBees 🐝

𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐳𝐞𝐧

82,230 Aufrufe • vor 2 Jahren

C Easton Carmichael (Oklahoma Baseball) is one of the top college catchers in this year's Draft. Started from the get-go as a Freshman and hit .306/.346/.482 with 18 XBH and 48 RBIs. Proceeded to enjoy an outstanding Sophomore campaign to the tune of a .366/.406/.563 slash line with 31 XBH, 64 RBIs and 12 SB. Carmichael was then an All-Star and All-League selection in the Cape League after hitting .299/.372/.496 with 10 2B, 5 HR and 23 RBIs across 36 games. Prototypical catcher's frame at 6'1" and 200-lbs with strength throughout. Slightly crouched stance in the box with a high handset and the bat held horizontally above his back shoulder. Hands drift a little bit in his load, leg lift leads into a normal stride. Does a nice job of getting into his back hip. Average bat speed. Carmichael has an aggressive approach and digs into the box ready to hit. He uses the entire field and has a tick above-average bat-to-ball skills. Has shown the ability to drive the baseball into either gap. Could stand to tighten up his swing decisions a bit; chased at a 35% clip and was particularly susceptible to secondaries down and away. Present barrel skills. Would say his hit tool is a 50 right now, though it's probably closer to a 55. It's more extra-base hit and gap-to-gap power than it is HR power for Carmichael right now, but he has shown he can generate quality contact. Posted a Max EV of 109.5 during the spring and 104.2 on the Cape. If he can pull the ball in the air more (had an Air Pull% of just 20.8 in '24), it could lead to an increase in power production. 50 raw, it plays more like 45 in-game. It's been encouraging to see the progress Carmichael has made defensively. Has gotten better at corralling balls in the dirt and his transfers have gotten quicker. Best part of Carmichael's defensive skillset is his receiving. Soft and quiet, consistently works down to up and has a knack for stealing strikes. Doesn't stab at the baseball. Average arm strength, continuing to shore up his footwork will only help as it pertains to controlling the running game and delivering accurate throws down to bases. A nice cherry on top to Carmichael's profile is that he's far from a clogger on the bases. By no means a burner, but he'll pick his spots to steal a bag. Carmichael has an intriguing toolset and profiles as a 2nd-4th round pick this July. (📽️: Oklahoma Baseball)
0:15

C Easton Carmichael (Oklahoma Baseball) is one of the top college catchers in this year's Draft. Started from the get-go as a Freshman and hit .306/.346/.482 with 18 XBH and 48 RBIs. Proceeded to enjoy an outstanding Sophomore campaign to the tune of a .366/.406/.563 slash line with 31 XBH, 64 RBIs and 12 SB. Carmichael was then an All-Star and All-League selection in the Cape League after hitting .299/.372/.496 with 10 2B, 5 HR and 23 RBIs across 36 games. Prototypical catcher's frame at 6'1" and 200-lbs with strength throughout. Slightly crouched stance in the box with a high handset and the bat held horizontally above his back shoulder. Hands drift a little bit in his load, leg lift leads into a normal stride. Does a nice job of getting into his back hip. Average bat speed. Carmichael has an aggressive approach and digs into the box ready to hit. He uses the entire field and has a tick above-average bat-to-ball skills. Has shown the ability to drive the baseball into either gap. Could stand to tighten up his swing decisions a bit; chased at a 35% clip and was particularly susceptible to secondaries down and away. Present barrel skills. Would say his hit tool is a 50 right now, though it's probably closer to a 55. It's more extra-base hit and gap-to-gap power than it is HR power for Carmichael right now, but he has shown he can generate quality contact. Posted a Max EV of 109.5 during the spring and 104.2 on the Cape. If he can pull the ball in the air more (had an Air Pull% of just 20.8 in '24), it could lead to an increase in power production. 50 raw, it plays more like 45 in-game. It's been encouraging to see the progress Carmichael has made defensively. Has gotten better at corralling balls in the dirt and his transfers have gotten quicker. Best part of Carmichael's defensive skillset is his receiving. Soft and quiet, consistently works down to up and has a knack for stealing strikes. Doesn't stab at the baseball. Average arm strength, continuing to shore up his footwork will only help as it pertains to controlling the running game and delivering accurate throws down to bases. A nice cherry on top to Carmichael's profile is that he's far from a clogger on the bases. By no means a burner, but he'll pick his spots to steal a bag. Carmichael has an intriguing toolset and profiles as a 2nd-4th round pick this July. (📽️: Oklahoma Baseball)

Peter Flaherty III

32,357 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 In the quiet corners of the shelter, every animal carries a silent heartbreak. Rex, a one-year-old Doberman, arrived as a ghost of a dog. Rescued from a brutal dogfighting ring, his emaciated body was covered in physical scars, but the deepest wounds were invisible. In his dark eyes, there wasn't even fear anymore, only the icy emptiness of total surrender. He spent his first three days pressed against the corner of his kennel, refusing food, trembling in absolute silence, wanting nothing more than to disappear from the human world. Facing his fading strength, the shelter staff made a desperate, final attempt. They placed him in the same kennel as Bella, a twelve-year-old German Shepherd. Bella was completely blind and had been abandoned by her owners years before. Visitors always passed her by, ignoring her age and disability. Yet, Bella possessed an extraordinary, quiet wisdom and an infinite capacity for love. That night, Thomas, a shelter worker, couldn’t sleep. Haunted by worry, he returned to the facility in the dead of night. Walking down the dark hallway, he expected the worst. Instead, what he witnessed through the bars would remain engraved in his heart forever. Rex was still in his corner, shivering from trauma. Bella was sitting right next to him. She couldn't see him, but her soul could hear his pain. With measured, gentle steps, the blind old dog approached the broken warrior. She performed a gesture of breathtaking tenderness, she delicately rested her heavy head upon his muscular, tense shoulders. She didn't move. She just offered her silent, unconditional presence. At her touch, Rex froze, waiting for the familiar blow. But only warmth came. Slowly, the trembling stopped. His breathing softened. For the first time, Rex opened his eyes without panic. He looked at this old dog who demanded nothing, judged nothing, and expected nothing. His guard fell. By morning, the scene was deeply moving. The clip captures this fragile beginning, the Doberman lying down, his heavy head resting gently on Bella's paws, his eyes still carrying a profound, lingering sadness, while Bella stays close, absorbing his sorrow. From that night on, a miracle unfolded. Rex began to eat, running in the yard and regaining his majestic stature. Bella, once overlooked and passive, found a beautiful new purpose. She blossomed, guiding him with her calm spirit while he became her protector. They were inseparable. Their bond touched a couple who visited the shelter. Seeing them together, the woman wiped away a tear and said, "We are taking both. It is impossible to separate such a friendship." Today, Rex and Bella live in a home with a vast green garden. Rex runs free with vibrant energy, while Bella rests peacefully in the sun, comforted by the sounds of her boy. Their story proves that true love needs neither sight nor words. It only requires being there for one another, spreading light into the darkest corners of the soul.
0:19

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 In the quiet corners of the shelter, every animal carries a silent heartbreak. Rex, a one-year-old Doberman, arrived as a ghost of a dog. Rescued from a brutal dogfighting ring, his emaciated body was covered in physical scars, but the deepest wounds were invisible. In his dark eyes, there wasn't even fear anymore, only the icy emptiness of total surrender. He spent his first three days pressed against the corner of his kennel, refusing food, trembling in absolute silence, wanting nothing more than to disappear from the human world. Facing his fading strength, the shelter staff made a desperate, final attempt. They placed him in the same kennel as Bella, a twelve-year-old German Shepherd. Bella was completely blind and had been abandoned by her owners years before. Visitors always passed her by, ignoring her age and disability. Yet, Bella possessed an extraordinary, quiet wisdom and an infinite capacity for love. That night, Thomas, a shelter worker, couldn’t sleep. Haunted by worry, he returned to the facility in the dead of night. Walking down the dark hallway, he expected the worst. Instead, what he witnessed through the bars would remain engraved in his heart forever. Rex was still in his corner, shivering from trauma. Bella was sitting right next to him. She couldn't see him, but her soul could hear his pain. With measured, gentle steps, the blind old dog approached the broken warrior. She performed a gesture of breathtaking tenderness, she delicately rested her heavy head upon his muscular, tense shoulders. She didn't move. She just offered her silent, unconditional presence. At her touch, Rex froze, waiting for the familiar blow. But only warmth came. Slowly, the trembling stopped. His breathing softened. For the first time, Rex opened his eyes without panic. He looked at this old dog who demanded nothing, judged nothing, and expected nothing. His guard fell. By morning, the scene was deeply moving. The clip captures this fragile beginning, the Doberman lying down, his heavy head resting gently on Bella's paws, his eyes still carrying a profound, lingering sadness, while Bella stays close, absorbing his sorrow. From that night on, a miracle unfolded. Rex began to eat, running in the yard and regaining his majestic stature. Bella, once overlooked and passive, found a beautiful new purpose. She blossomed, guiding him with her calm spirit while he became her protector. They were inseparable. Their bond touched a couple who visited the shelter. Seeing them together, the woman wiped away a tear and said, "We are taking both. It is impossible to separate such a friendship." Today, Rex and Bella live in a home with a vast green garden. Rex runs free with vibrant energy, while Bella rests peacefully in the sun, comforted by the sounds of her boy. Their story proves that true love needs neither sight nor words. It only requires being there for one another, spreading light into the darkest corners of the soul.

Gabriele Corno

14,349 Aufrufe • vor 14 Tagen

On a conference call to promote American Century Championship golf tournament, Kyle Lowry was asked if he saw any Villanova traits from ‘Nova Knicks in Game 4. Lowry: “(When) Josh Hart missed that layup & Wemby got fouled, if you looked at Jalen Brunson, he went straight to Josh & he said, 'Don’t worry about it, we’ll be OK.' "And I think that’s the one thing that us, Villanova (players)…we all understand the grit and the grind but we all understand (the importance of) having a great positive attitude and that’s what (head coach) Jay (Wright) taught us; have a good attitude.... no matter what (happens)… you’ll figure it out out. (Hart) misses a layup, Wemby gets fouled. Jalen was right there to pick him up and he said, ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll be arlight.' And ya’ll seen what happened (the rest of the game). That’s just the type of attitude, the type of resilience that Nova brings…I just think (the Nova Knicks) just brought a different type of process and winnng culture for the Knicks." Lowry finished 38th in last year's American Century Championship, which is set for July 8-12 with coverage on NBC/Peacock, Friday–Sunday, July 10-12. He’s looking forward to this year’s tournament. When asked about his plans for next NBA season, Lowry said he doesn't know yet what he’ll do. "We’ll see. I like playing golf so I don’t know what’s next....I've gotta get my game right so I don’t know what’s going to happen (but) I need better odds (than his current odds for the American Century)," Lowry said, lightheartedly.
0:11

On a conference call to promote American Century Championship golf tournament, Kyle Lowry was asked if he saw any Villanova traits from ‘Nova Knicks in Game 4. Lowry: “(When) Josh Hart missed that layup & Wemby got fouled, if you looked at Jalen Brunson, he went straight to Josh & he said, 'Don’t worry about it, we’ll be OK.' "And I think that’s the one thing that us, Villanova (players)…we all understand the grit and the grind but we all understand (the importance of) having a great positive attitude and that’s what (head coach) Jay (Wright) taught us; have a good attitude.... no matter what (happens)… you’ll figure it out out. (Hart) misses a layup, Wemby gets fouled. Jalen was right there to pick him up and he said, ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll be arlight.' And ya’ll seen what happened (the rest of the game). That’s just the type of attitude, the type of resilience that Nova brings…I just think (the Nova Knicks) just brought a different type of process and winnng culture for the Knicks." Lowry finished 38th in last year's American Century Championship, which is set for July 8-12 with coverage on NBC/Peacock, Friday–Sunday, July 10-12. He’s looking forward to this year’s tournament. When asked about his plans for next NBA season, Lowry said he doesn't know yet what he’ll do. "We’ll see. I like playing golf so I don’t know what’s next....I've gotta get my game right so I don’t know what’s going to happen (but) I need better odds (than his current odds for the American Century)," Lowry said, lightheartedly.

Ian Begley

179,765 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

🇺🇸 He ran toward the burning World Trade Center to save his sister. A fire truck became his coffin on the morning of 9/11. His name was Michael Weinberg. He was 34. A firefighter with Engine 1, Ladder 24, in Manhattan. September 11, 2001. He was off duty. Standing in the clubhouse at Forest Park Golf Course in Queens. Waiting to start a round. Then someone said a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Weinberg’s sister, Patricia, worked in the second tower. He didn’t finish his coffee. He didn’t call anyone first. He ran. Traffic choked every road leading into Manhattan. He abandoned his own car in Long Island City. He climbed onto a passing emergency vehicle instead. A stranger’s truck. Whatever got him there fastest. He reached his firehouse. He geared up. He headed toward the towers with the rest of his company. His sister was still inside. He didn’t know if she had made it out yet. She had. He didn’t. Weinberg took shelter beneath a fire truck when the South Tower came down. A captain was with him. So was Chaplain Mychal Judge, the department’s beloved chaplain, already gone by then himself. None of them made it out from under that truck. Weinberg became one of 343 New York City firefighters lost that single morning. His father, Morty, had been a firefighter for fifteen years himself. “I knew he was gone immediately,” he said. There was no ambiguity in his voice. Just the certainty of a father who understood exactly what his son had run toward. Five years later, neighbors in Maspeth still spoke about him like he might walk through the door. The golf clubs he never picked back up. The car he left running in Long Island City. The sister who made it out because, for one single morning, nothing mattered to him more than getting to her. He never got the chance to see that she had. A man who left a golf course mid-swing and ran directly into the worst morning in American history, because somewhere inside a burning building was someone he loved. He didn’t hesitate once. Not when the plane hit. Not when traffic stopped him. Not when a truck full of strangers was the only way through. Michael Weinberg made his choice in the time it takes to put down a golf club. The city he ran toward never got the chance to thank him properly. His name is etched into a wall of nearly three thousand others now, one line among so many, but behind every single one of them is a story just like his. A man who chose his sister over his own safety, in the space of a single phone call he never even needed to place. Rest easy, Michael.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ 🇺🇸💔🙏
0:11

🇺🇸 He ran toward the burning World Trade Center to save his sister. A fire truck became his coffin on the morning of 9/11. His name was Michael Weinberg. He was 34. A firefighter with Engine 1, Ladder 24, in Manhattan. September 11, 2001. He was off duty. Standing in the clubhouse at Forest Park Golf Course in Queens. Waiting to start a round. Then someone said a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Weinberg’s sister, Patricia, worked in the second tower. He didn’t finish his coffee. He didn’t call anyone first. He ran. Traffic choked every road leading into Manhattan. He abandoned his own car in Long Island City. He climbed onto a passing emergency vehicle instead. A stranger’s truck. Whatever got him there fastest. He reached his firehouse. He geared up. He headed toward the towers with the rest of his company. His sister was still inside. He didn’t know if she had made it out yet. She had. He didn’t. Weinberg took shelter beneath a fire truck when the South Tower came down. A captain was with him. So was Chaplain Mychal Judge, the department’s beloved chaplain, already gone by then himself. None of them made it out from under that truck. Weinberg became one of 343 New York City firefighters lost that single morning. His father, Morty, had been a firefighter for fifteen years himself. “I knew he was gone immediately,” he said. There was no ambiguity in his voice. Just the certainty of a father who understood exactly what his son had run toward. Five years later, neighbors in Maspeth still spoke about him like he might walk through the door. The golf clubs he never picked back up. The car he left running in Long Island City. The sister who made it out because, for one single morning, nothing mattered to him more than getting to her. He never got the chance to see that she had. A man who left a golf course mid-swing and ran directly into the worst morning in American history, because somewhere inside a burning building was someone he loved. He didn’t hesitate once. Not when the plane hit. Not when traffic stopped him. Not when a truck full of strangers was the only way through. Michael Weinberg made his choice in the time it takes to put down a golf club. The city he ran toward never got the chance to thank him properly. His name is etched into a wall of nearly three thousand others now, one line among so many, but behind every single one of them is a story just like his. A man who chose his sister over his own safety, in the space of a single phone call he never even needed to place. Rest easy, Michael.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ 🇺🇸💔🙏

Trump Girl

34,667 Aufrufe • vor 26 Tagen

Has anyone had a mystical experience in a temple before? You don’t need to share details (if not comfortable), but curious if it still happens. Kirtland Temple Mysticism: 1. The wind A sound like a rushing wind filled the house. The whole congregation stood up at once, moved by something none of them could see. Men began speaking in tongues. Then George A. Smith told them what he was looking at. The temple was full of angels. 2. The horseman Roger Orton said he saw an angel on a horse of fire with a flaming sword in his hand. Five more rode behind him. They circled the temple and held the line against whatever was trying to get in. He was not the prophet. He was one of the seventy. He said it out loud and men wrote it down. 3. The four words Edward Partridge wrote in his journal the day it happened. Many spoke in tongues. Some saw visions. Frederick Williams saw an angel. Then he went back and squeezed four more words in above the line. Or rather the Savior. 4. The neighbor Heber Kimball described the angel at the dedication the way you would describe a man who came to your door. Tall. Black eyes. White hair. A robe down near the ankles. Sandals on his feet. Sent to accept the house. That is not how people invent myths. That is how people report. 5. Easter, 1836 Easter Sunday. Passover week. Two men pulled the veil shut and prayed in silence. Christ stood on the breastwork of the pulpit and said the house was accepted. Then Moses. Then Elias. Then Elijah, in the same season Jewish families the world over were setting a place for him and opening the door. 6. Fifteen weeks People talk about the Kirtland Pentecost like it was one night. It was fifteen weeks. January 21 to May 1, 1836. Tongues, prophecy, fire on their heads, angels in the aisles, and the Lord himself.
0:15

Has anyone had a mystical experience in a temple before? You don’t need to share details (if not comfortable), but curious if it still happens. Kirtland Temple Mysticism: 1. The wind A sound like a rushing wind filled the house. The whole congregation stood up at once, moved by something none of them could see. Men began speaking in tongues. Then George A. Smith told them what he was looking at. The temple was full of angels. 2. The horseman Roger Orton said he saw an angel on a horse of fire with a flaming sword in his hand. Five more rode behind him. They circled the temple and held the line against whatever was trying to get in. He was not the prophet. He was one of the seventy. He said it out loud and men wrote it down. 3. The four words Edward Partridge wrote in his journal the day it happened. Many spoke in tongues. Some saw visions. Frederick Williams saw an angel. Then he went back and squeezed four more words in above the line. Or rather the Savior. 4. The neighbor Heber Kimball described the angel at the dedication the way you would describe a man who came to your door. Tall. Black eyes. White hair. A robe down near the ankles. Sandals on his feet. Sent to accept the house. That is not how people invent myths. That is how people report. 5. Easter, 1836 Easter Sunday. Passover week. Two men pulled the veil shut and prayed in silence. Christ stood on the breastwork of the pulpit and said the house was accepted. Then Moses. Then Elias. Then Elijah, in the same season Jewish families the world over were setting a place for him and opening the door. 6. Fifteen weeks People talk about the Kirtland Pentecost like it was one night. It was fifteen weeks. January 21 to May 1, 1836. Tongues, prophecy, fire on their heads, angels in the aisles, and the Lord himself.

Kirk Rollins

24,341 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

Visiting Venice changed Claude Monet's life By 1908, he had spent forty years teaching the world to see light. He was 68, in poor health, and losing faith in his own work. He had just abandoned his water lily paintings, discouraged after a trusted advisor questioned whether anyone would even want them. The man who had founded Impressionism, whose 1873 canvas "Impression, Sunrise" had given the entire movement its name, was convinced his best days were behind him... His wife, Alice, suggested a trip to Venice. Monet resisted. The city had been painted to death by Canaletto, Turner, and Whistler, and he had always insisted, "I will not go to Venice." It was, he said, "too beautiful to be painted." He went. And the moment he arrived, standing before the light on the water, he exclaimed: "It is too beautiful to be painted! It is untranslatable!" Within days he could not stop working. He fell into a fierce daily rhythm, painting the Doge's Palace, the churches, and the palazzos along the Grand Canal at the same hours each day, chasing the shimmer of Venetian air on stone and water. In just over two months he began 37 canvases. His wife wrote home that she was overjoyed to see him so impassioned again, doing beautiful work, and something other than "those same old water lilies." In a letter to a friend, Monet wrote: "My enthusiasm for Venice continues to grow, and it saddens me that the moment is coming when I must leave this unique light." He never returned. His beloved Alice died a few years later, and for a long time he could not bring himself to finish the Venice canvases. But when he did, and when they were finally shown in Paris in 1912, they were a triumph. And the trip had given him back something he thought he had lost: the discouraged old man who had walked away from his water lilies went home and took them up again, and spent his final years creating the enormous, luminous Nymphéas, the paintings the world now loves most. Sometimes the thing that revives us is an unexpected encounter with beauty we almost talked ourselves out of. He nearly didn't go. It turned out to be the doorway to his greatest work...
0:13

Visiting Venice changed Claude Monet's life By 1908, he had spent forty years teaching the world to see light. He was 68, in poor health, and losing faith in his own work. He had just abandoned his water lily paintings, discouraged after a trusted advisor questioned whether anyone would even want them. The man who had founded Impressionism, whose 1873 canvas "Impression, Sunrise" had given the entire movement its name, was convinced his best days were behind him... His wife, Alice, suggested a trip to Venice. Monet resisted. The city had been painted to death by Canaletto, Turner, and Whistler, and he had always insisted, "I will not go to Venice." It was, he said, "too beautiful to be painted." He went. And the moment he arrived, standing before the light on the water, he exclaimed: "It is too beautiful to be painted! It is untranslatable!" Within days he could not stop working. He fell into a fierce daily rhythm, painting the Doge's Palace, the churches, and the palazzos along the Grand Canal at the same hours each day, chasing the shimmer of Venetian air on stone and water. In just over two months he began 37 canvases. His wife wrote home that she was overjoyed to see him so impassioned again, doing beautiful work, and something other than "those same old water lilies." In a letter to a friend, Monet wrote: "My enthusiasm for Venice continues to grow, and it saddens me that the moment is coming when I must leave this unique light." He never returned. His beloved Alice died a few years later, and for a long time he could not bring himself to finish the Venice canvases. But when he did, and when they were finally shown in Paris in 1912, they were a triumph. And the trip had given him back something he thought he had lost: the discouraged old man who had walked away from his water lilies went home and took them up again, and spent his final years creating the enormous, luminous Nymphéas, the paintings the world now loves most. Sometimes the thing that revives us is an unexpected encounter with beauty we almost talked ourselves out of. He nearly didn't go. It turned out to be the doorway to his greatest work...

James Lucas

38,281 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

The newly adopted dog never stopped looking back the entire way, as if desperately trying to remind his new family that his blind brother had been left behind, completely alone, and that they had to turn around. It had all begun when a couple, Thomas and his wife, decided to adopt a dog. Their home was spacious, their garden was lush, and their hearts were entirely open to welcoming a new life. As they stepped into the animal shelter, a volunteer guided them toward the enclosures. There, in a large space, lay two magnificent black Labradors, curled up and pressed tightly against each other. One possessed bright, intelligent eyes. "That's Leo," the volunteer explained. Beside him, his brother’s gaze was fixed and vacant. "And this is Toby. He has been blind since birth. He has never seen the world, but he senses it entirely through his brother. They were born together and have never been apart." Leo was gently leaning against Toby, touching him to reassure him. Deeply moved by Leo's noble, protective spirit, the couple decided to adopt him. They filled out the paperwork, at first misinterpreting the anxious, heartbreaking glances the dog kept casting toward the brother he was leaving behind. Once settled on the back seat of the car, Leo sat in absolute, heavy silence. His head was tilted backward, his eyes fixed on the shelter as it slowly faded into the distance. His tail did not wag even once. Looking at him through the rearview mirror, the painful reality suddenly struck the wife: Toby hadn't just lost his eyes—he had lost his guide, his comfort, his entire universe. "Thomas," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "We left Toby." Thomas caught her eye in the mirror. His expression mirrored her heartbreak. "I know. I was thinking about it too." Without a second thought, they turned the car around. Thirty minutes later, they walked back through the doors of the shelter. Seeing them return specifically for Toby, the volunteer's eyes welled with deep emotion. Back in the enclosure, the poor blind dog was wandering hesitantly, completely disoriented and lost without his brother. But the moment Toby was brought to the car, pure magic happened. The two brothers instantly pressed themselves against one another, Toby resting his head on Leo’s back, finally safe, finally at peace. At home, Leo immediately stepped into his role as his brother’s devoted, gentle guide. He would nudge him softly with his muzzle to show him the way, wait patiently for him in the garden, and watch over him while he slept. Guided by this deeply reassuring presence, Toby slowly gained confidence, learning to explore his new world with absolute serenity. Today, those two Labradors fill their home with an undeniable light. What seemed like an impulsive decision turned out to be the most beautiful choice of their lives. Leo showed them the true meaning of loyalty and absolute devotion, while Toby reminds them every single day that you can feel the beauty of the world without ever having to see it. Sometimes, turning back really is the only way to move forward in the right direction.
0:17

The newly adopted dog never stopped looking back the entire way, as if desperately trying to remind his new family that his blind brother had been left behind, completely alone, and that they had to turn around. It had all begun when a couple, Thomas and his wife, decided to adopt a dog. Their home was spacious, their garden was lush, and their hearts were entirely open to welcoming a new life. As they stepped into the animal shelter, a volunteer guided them toward the enclosures. There, in a large space, lay two magnificent black Labradors, curled up and pressed tightly against each other. One possessed bright, intelligent eyes. "That's Leo," the volunteer explained. Beside him, his brother’s gaze was fixed and vacant. "And this is Toby. He has been blind since birth. He has never seen the world, but he senses it entirely through his brother. They were born together and have never been apart." Leo was gently leaning against Toby, touching him to reassure him. Deeply moved by Leo's noble, protective spirit, the couple decided to adopt him. They filled out the paperwork, at first misinterpreting the anxious, heartbreaking glances the dog kept casting toward the brother he was leaving behind. Once settled on the back seat of the car, Leo sat in absolute, heavy silence. His head was tilted backward, his eyes fixed on the shelter as it slowly faded into the distance. His tail did not wag even once. Looking at him through the rearview mirror, the painful reality suddenly struck the wife: Toby hadn't just lost his eyes—he had lost his guide, his comfort, his entire universe. "Thomas," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "We left Toby." Thomas caught her eye in the mirror. His expression mirrored her heartbreak. "I know. I was thinking about it too." Without a second thought, they turned the car around. Thirty minutes later, they walked back through the doors of the shelter. Seeing them return specifically for Toby, the volunteer's eyes welled with deep emotion. Back in the enclosure, the poor blind dog was wandering hesitantly, completely disoriented and lost without his brother. But the moment Toby was brought to the car, pure magic happened. The two brothers instantly pressed themselves against one another, Toby resting his head on Leo’s back, finally safe, finally at peace. At home, Leo immediately stepped into his role as his brother’s devoted, gentle guide. He would nudge him softly with his muzzle to show him the way, wait patiently for him in the garden, and watch over him while he slept. Guided by this deeply reassuring presence, Toby slowly gained confidence, learning to explore his new world with absolute serenity. Today, those two Labradors fill their home with an undeniable light. What seemed like an impulsive decision turned out to be the most beautiful choice of their lives. Leo showed them the true meaning of loyalty and absolute devotion, while Toby reminds them every single day that you can feel the beauty of the world without ever having to see it. Sometimes, turning back really is the only way to move forward in the right direction.

Gabriele Corno

710,378 Aufrufe • vor 19 Tagen

In the same speech, Putin has also stated that Russia is always open to serious negotiations. However, those who refuse to negotiate should know, the longer they wait, the harder it will be reach an agreement with us. This statement too was dismissed, as Ukraine was just given, what they thought, a bottomless carte blanche of military aid and an assurance by Boris Johnson, that the West will stand with Ukraine for as long as it takes. And look where we are today. Zelensky and his handlers have been begging for a ceasefire, accusing Russia of refusal to negotiate, when Putin, on numerous occasions, stated that there will be no ceasefire, unless the core issues of the conflict are addressed and serious proposals for a long lasting peace are on the table. I've said this many times before, and I will say this again, the biggest mistake that all the Western politicians and analytics make is dismissing what Putin says. He never just throws words around. I personally don't always agree with what he says, but I always listen carefully. If any of those people would have actually listened to Putin, at least starting from his prolific 2007 Munich speech, we would be living in a peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship with Europe and Ukraine today.
0:11

In the same speech, Putin has also stated that Russia is always open to serious negotiations. However, those who refuse to negotiate should know, the longer they wait, the harder it will be reach an agreement with us. This statement too was dismissed, as Ukraine was just given, what they thought, a bottomless carte blanche of military aid and an assurance by Boris Johnson, that the West will stand with Ukraine for as long as it takes. And look where we are today. Zelensky and his handlers have been begging for a ceasefire, accusing Russia of refusal to negotiate, when Putin, on numerous occasions, stated that there will be no ceasefire, unless the core issues of the conflict are addressed and serious proposals for a long lasting peace are on the table. I've said this many times before, and I will say this again, the biggest mistake that all the Western politicians and analytics make is dismissing what Putin says. He never just throws words around. I personally don't always agree with what he says, but I always listen carefully. If any of those people would have actually listened to Putin, at least starting from his prolific 2007 Munich speech, we would be living in a peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship with Europe and Ukraine today.

Olga Bazova

15,047 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

In the spring of 2023, Kansas farmer Dale Henderson was repairing fence posts along the eastern edge of his property near Russell County when his German Shepherd, Max, came trotting out of the tree line carrying something in his mouth. Another rock. Max had been doing this for weeks. He'd vanish into the woodland sometimes for hours, and return with dark, heavy stones clutched in his jaws. He'd drop them at Dale's feet like offerings, tail wagging, waiting for praise. These rocks were different. They were heavier than they should be. Covered in a smooth black crust that didn't match anything Dale had seen in forty years of working this land. When he held them close, they smelled like iron-metal left out in the rain. By early April, Dale had a collection of nineteen stones piled on his porch. His wife, Ellen, wanted him to throw them out. Dale couldn't explain why, but something told him to keep them. On April 14th, he loaded twelve of the specimens into his truck and drove ninety miles to the geology department at Kansas State University in Manhattan. Professor James Chen picked up the first stone, turned it over in his hands, and his expression changed. "Where exactly did you find these?" "I didn't," Dale said. "My dog did." Professor Chen ran the first round of tests that afternoon. Density measurements. Magnetic response. X-ray fluorescence. Dale paced for two hours. His neighbor, Roy Perkins, called during the wait. Roy owned the adjacent 160 acres. He'd found similar stones scattered across his fields after spring plowing. Dale told him to bring them to the university. Professor Chen emerged holding a printout of analysis results. "Mr. Henderson, these aren't rocks. They're meteorites. And based on the composition, they're from the same fall event. Probably thousands of years old." "I need to see where your dog has been finding them." The geology team arrived at Dale's farm three days later with ground-penetrating radar, metal detectors, and magnetometers. They started in the woodland where Max had been hunting. Within hours, they'd identified over sixty additional specimens buried in the soil. Beneath Dale Henderson's 200-acre farm lay the remnants of an ancient meteorite shower— thousands of fragments from a single asteroid that broke apart in the atmosphere and scattered across what is now central Kansas, likely between 10,000 and 20,000 years ago. Subsequent surveys revealed the strewn field extended across Dale's entire property and onto Roy Perkins's land as well. It was one of the largest and richest meteorite fields ever discovered in North America. The meteorites were pallasites—an extremely rare type containing crystalline olivine embedded in an iron-nickel matrix. They also showed unusually high concentrations of platinum-group metals: iridium, palladium, and rhodium. The scientific value was immense. The commercial value was almost incomprehensible. Museums began calling within a week of the announcement. The Smithsonian. The American Museum of Natural History. Private collectors from Europe and Asia. A single 4.2-kilogram specimen from Dale's north field sold at auction in September 2023 for $892,000. Dale Henderson's farm, became the site of one of the most significant meteorite recoveries in American history. The total estimated value of recoverable specimens across both properties exceeded $47 million. Dale and Roy formed a partnership. They hired a professional excavation team to conduct systematic recovery while preserving the scientific integrity of the site. The University of Kansas was granted research access in exchange for authentication and documentation services. Dale kept farming. He said he wasn't going to let space rocks change who he was. But he did build a new barn. And a new house. And set up college funds for all seven of his grandchildren. Max, the German Shepherd who started it all, became a minor celebrity. A geology magazine ran a feature calling him "the most valuable dog in America
0:18

In the spring of 2023, Kansas farmer Dale Henderson was repairing fence posts along the eastern edge of his property near Russell County when his German Shepherd, Max, came trotting out of the tree line carrying something in his mouth. Another rock. Max had been doing this for weeks. He'd vanish into the woodland sometimes for hours, and return with dark, heavy stones clutched in his jaws. He'd drop them at Dale's feet like offerings, tail wagging, waiting for praise. These rocks were different. They were heavier than they should be. Covered in a smooth black crust that didn't match anything Dale had seen in forty years of working this land. When he held them close, they smelled like iron-metal left out in the rain. By early April, Dale had a collection of nineteen stones piled on his porch. His wife, Ellen, wanted him to throw them out. Dale couldn't explain why, but something told him to keep them. On April 14th, he loaded twelve of the specimens into his truck and drove ninety miles to the geology department at Kansas State University in Manhattan. Professor James Chen picked up the first stone, turned it over in his hands, and his expression changed. "Where exactly did you find these?" "I didn't," Dale said. "My dog did." Professor Chen ran the first round of tests that afternoon. Density measurements. Magnetic response. X-ray fluorescence. Dale paced for two hours. His neighbor, Roy Perkins, called during the wait. Roy owned the adjacent 160 acres. He'd found similar stones scattered across his fields after spring plowing. Dale told him to bring them to the university. Professor Chen emerged holding a printout of analysis results. "Mr. Henderson, these aren't rocks. They're meteorites. And based on the composition, they're from the same fall event. Probably thousands of years old." "I need to see where your dog has been finding them." The geology team arrived at Dale's farm three days later with ground-penetrating radar, metal detectors, and magnetometers. They started in the woodland where Max had been hunting. Within hours, they'd identified over sixty additional specimens buried in the soil. Beneath Dale Henderson's 200-acre farm lay the remnants of an ancient meteorite shower— thousands of fragments from a single asteroid that broke apart in the atmosphere and scattered across what is now central Kansas, likely between 10,000 and 20,000 years ago. Subsequent surveys revealed the strewn field extended across Dale's entire property and onto Roy Perkins's land as well. It was one of the largest and richest meteorite fields ever discovered in North America. The meteorites were pallasites—an extremely rare type containing crystalline olivine embedded in an iron-nickel matrix. They also showed unusually high concentrations of platinum-group metals: iridium, palladium, and rhodium. The scientific value was immense. The commercial value was almost incomprehensible. Museums began calling within a week of the announcement. The Smithsonian. The American Museum of Natural History. Private collectors from Europe and Asia. A single 4.2-kilogram specimen from Dale's north field sold at auction in September 2023 for $892,000. Dale Henderson's farm, became the site of one of the most significant meteorite recoveries in American history. The total estimated value of recoverable specimens across both properties exceeded $47 million. Dale and Roy formed a partnership. They hired a professional excavation team to conduct systematic recovery while preserving the scientific integrity of the site. The University of Kansas was granted research access in exchange for authentication and documentation services. Dale kept farming. He said he wasn't going to let space rocks change who he was. But he did build a new barn. And a new house. And set up college funds for all seven of his grandchildren. Max, the German Shepherd who started it all, became a minor celebrity. A geology magazine ran a feature calling him "the most valuable dog in America

G-PA

278,187 Aufrufe • vor 7 Monaten

Namaste, Ma'am...Aapko 1 story sunata hoon.... In the summer of 1980, a distraught 7th grade boy stood in the courtyard of a modest house in Mylapore, watching his father toss his cricket bat down a deep well. A fast bouncer had shattered the boy's spectacles during a local match & his father, a renowned Sanskrit logician, was terrified for his son's sight. "Your cricket days are done," his father declared, handing him a violin. "If you want to master precision, master this." The boy did not throw a tantrum. He directed his focus toward the strings, training until he was performing alongside musical legends, even taking direct corrections from Bharat Ratna M.S. Subbulakshmi. 5 yrs later, he suffered another blow: he failed to clear the IIT-JEE examination. He did not give up. He enrolled in a regional engineering college, quietly mastering computer science logic gates. He eventually worked his way into IIT Madras as a postgrad researcher, earned a PhD, joined as a prof & eventually became the Director of the very institute that had once turned him away. By 2011, while the world was building consumer mobile apps, this prof was looking at a hidden national vulnerability: every radar, fighter jet, banking server & defense system in India was running on foreign-designed microprocessors. He had a single question in his mind: "We can test that a foreign chip does what we WANT it to do. But can we guarantee it does not do something we DO NOT want it to do when a war starts?" He proposed building a completely indigenous, industrial-grade microprocessor from scratch. Global tech giants insisted it could not be done w/o billions of dollars in infrastructure & massive foreign patents. He did not care. Working out of cramped labs on long shifts, he & his team adopted the open source RISC-V instruction set. They hand-coded logic gates, mapped silicon layouts & verified billions of instruction cycles. In July 2018, a tiny 16mm² piece of silicon codenamed Risecreek arrived back at the lab. The team wired it up, flipped the switch & watched a flickering monitor as the Linux operating system booted on 100% Indian-designed silicon for the 1st time in history. Today, his SHAKTI processor architecture powers everything from defense communications to space grade controllers built in collaboration with ISRO. That young boy whose father threw his cricket bat down a well... The student who missed the JEE list in 1985... The violinist who turned down the official IIT Director's mansion to stay in his family home & protect his late father's Sanskrit library... His name is Prof. Veezhinathan Kamakoti.
0:19

Namaste, Ma'am...Aapko 1 story sunata hoon.... In the summer of 1980, a distraught 7th grade boy stood in the courtyard of a modest house in Mylapore, watching his father toss his cricket bat down a deep well. A fast bouncer had shattered the boy's spectacles during a local match & his father, a renowned Sanskrit logician, was terrified for his son's sight. "Your cricket days are done," his father declared, handing him a violin. "If you want to master precision, master this." The boy did not throw a tantrum. He directed his focus toward the strings, training until he was performing alongside musical legends, even taking direct corrections from Bharat Ratna M.S. Subbulakshmi. 5 yrs later, he suffered another blow: he failed to clear the IIT-JEE examination. He did not give up. He enrolled in a regional engineering college, quietly mastering computer science logic gates. He eventually worked his way into IIT Madras as a postgrad researcher, earned a PhD, joined as a prof & eventually became the Director of the very institute that had once turned him away. By 2011, while the world was building consumer mobile apps, this prof was looking at a hidden national vulnerability: every radar, fighter jet, banking server & defense system in India was running on foreign-designed microprocessors. He had a single question in his mind: "We can test that a foreign chip does what we WANT it to do. But can we guarantee it does not do something we DO NOT want it to do when a war starts?" He proposed building a completely indigenous, industrial-grade microprocessor from scratch. Global tech giants insisted it could not be done w/o billions of dollars in infrastructure & massive foreign patents. He did not care. Working out of cramped labs on long shifts, he & his team adopted the open source RISC-V instruction set. They hand-coded logic gates, mapped silicon layouts & verified billions of instruction cycles. In July 2018, a tiny 16mm² piece of silicon codenamed Risecreek arrived back at the lab. The team wired it up, flipped the switch & watched a flickering monitor as the Linux operating system booted on 100% Indian-designed silicon for the 1st time in history. Today, his SHAKTI processor architecture powers everything from defense communications to space grade controllers built in collaboration with ISRO. That young boy whose father threw his cricket bat down a well... The student who missed the JEE list in 1985... The violinist who turned down the official IIT Director's mansion to stay in his family home & protect his late father's Sanskrit library... His name is Prof. Veezhinathan Kamakoti.

Parimal

470,815 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

#ZimElection2023 CHAMISA RAN HIS CAMPAIGN LIKE AN INDEPENDENT CANDIDATE WITH NO STRUCTURES AND EXPECTED TO WIN AND BECOME PRESIDENT WITH NO MAJORITY IN PARLIAMENT This is what Nelson Chamisa said on 21 June 2023 about the strategic thrust of the campaign of his CCC in the 2023 harmonised general election held last week: "our [CCC] campaign is going to be basically a presidential... our [CCC] focus is not to be in parliament but to be in government. We [as MDC opposition] have been in parliament for a long time, that's not our [CCC] station of choice at the moment". The fact that Chamisa thought he could win the presidential election even if, or regardless of whether, his CCC won a majority in Parliament, explains his crushing defeat. An election in Zimbabwe is defined in terms of section 4 of the Electoral Act which provides that: election” means— (a) the election of a member of Parliament; or (b) an election to the office of President; or (c) an election for the purposes of the Rural District Councils Act [Chapter 29:13] or the Urban Councils Act [Chapter 29:15]; as the case may be. These three elections used to be held separately before they were harmonised for the first time in the 2008 election in terms of section 38 of the Act. It is odd and even irrational, and it defies the logic of the harmonised general election for any political party that seeks power to govern the country as a whole to only target – as did Chamisa in the 2023 harmonised general election held last week –winning only one of the three elections, just the presidential election. It is foolhardy for a political party to say its strategy and focus is only to win the presidential election, without basing that strategy and focus on winning the local authority and parliamentary elections, as well. Such a strategy, if it can be called a strategy, renders the presidential candidate no different from an independent presidential candidate who contests for the presidency without the advantage of the structures of a political party. Simply put, a presidential candidate in Zimbabwe cannot win a presidential election if the candidate does not have a campaign strategy that is based on his or her political party winning a majority of wards in the local authority election, and a majority of constituencies in the parliamentary election. If it’s an independent presidential candidate, then he or she must have ground structures of one sort or another, or forget it. Chamisa contested the presidential election as if he was an independent candidate, and he boasted about it, without relying on his CCC and without any ground structures. In the circumstances, just how or why did Chamisa expect to win the presidential election by effectively running as an independent candidate? Which structures did Chamisa expect to use, or did he in fact use to campaign for the presidency in every street and every village, across the length and breadth of the country? Since by his own admission, as quoted above and reflected on the attached video clip, Chamisa was clearly not relying on his CCC to win the presidency. This begs the question: by not relying on CCC structures, and by not having alternative ground structures in the streets and in villages, did Chamisa think that ZanuPF members and supports would vote for him, as an act of God, perhaps? Was Chamisa's presidential election campaign, for him an article of faith, in other words was it about his belief that God had chosen him, and that he would win regardless of whether or not CCC won a majority in the local authority and parliamentary elections? Where did Chamisa and his supporters in Zimbabwe and among the legions of his fans in America and Europe think he would get the necessary number of polling agents to monitor the voting and vote counting at the country’s 12,374 polling stations, and to secure the 12,374 V11s from those polling stations, given the fact that he actually ran for the presidency as an independent candidate, expecting to be supported less by his own CCC party and more by the members and supporters of ZanuPF? Does this kind of strategy make sense to anyone on earth? And, does that strategy make sense to Nerves Mumba and his Sadc Election Observation Mission or to any other foreign election observation mission that was in Zimbabwe last week like, say for example, the European Union Observer Mission or any of the several observer missions from the United States that were in Zimbabwe to observe the elections? How did the various foreign election observer missions and Chamisa’s social media supporters expect him to win the presidential election, not only where and when his CCC party was losing the local authority and parliamentary elections but, and critically, where Chamisa himself did not believe that the local authority and parliamentary elections were important or necessary for him to win the presidency? The fact that the loquacious, belligerent and inflammatory foreign election observer missions that are peddling falsehoods about the elections, and Chamisa’s social media supporters who claim with no evidence that Chamisa won, did not raise a finger against the results of the local and parliamentary elections that were declared at 1970 wards and 209 constituencies well ahead of the declaration of the result for the presidential election on 26 August, clearly means that there was no problem with two of the three elections that make up Zimbabwe’s harmonised general election. Only after the declaration of the presidential election result on 26 August did all hell break loose. It must be asked, again, how did anyone expect Chamisa to win a presidential election whose campaign was – as per Chamisa’s deliberate strategy – organised and pursued as if it was the presidential campaign of an independent candidate? Chamisa’s presidential election campaign was not based on the CCC parliamentary election campaign or on CCC’s structural capacity on the ground, strangely, it was based on the expectation that ZanuPF members and supporters would vote for Chamisa. Why on earth did anyone expect ZanuPF members and supporters to vote for someone whose base is ever singing cacophonic noise that ZanuPF must go, and hurling insults at the incumbent party, its officials and its supporters? What kind of politics is that? You are contemptuous of ZanuPF and anyone associated with it, but you expect ZanuPF members and supporters to vote for you. This expectation does not compute, certainly not in electoral politics. As things turned out, ZanuPF members and supporters who are registered voters voted for their party candidates in all the three elections: local authority election, the parliamentary election and the presidential election. As a result, in the parliamentary election, CCC won just 73 constituency seats. There's just no way that CCC's 73 constituency seats in the National Assembly would have boosted Chamisa to win the presidency. No ways. In Zimbabwe's first harmonised general election in 2008, Morgan Tsvangirai did well in the first round of the presidential election primarily if not only because the two MDC formations used their round structures to win a majority in Parliament with a combined strength of 110 constituency seats, while ZanuPF garnered 99 seats and an independent got one seat. This was the first time since independence in 1980 that the opposition commanded the majority in Parliament. So, clearly, in 2008 Tsvangirai was propelled by the solid parliamentary performance of the MDC formations. The same structural dynamic was conspicuously absent for Chamisa in the just ended harmonised general election. Chamisa ran a solo presidential election campaign and, predictably, it went horribly wrong. The fact that CCC did not field local authority candidates in 90 wards made a bad situation worse for Chamisa, and it was further compounded by the fact that CCC did not have ground structures to harness and harvest from the loose and unreliable protest vote, especially in the wards and constituencies outside CCC strongholds, which in fact used to be MDC strongholds in the days of Morgan Tsvangirai!
0:11

#ZimElection2023 CHAMISA RAN HIS CAMPAIGN LIKE AN INDEPENDENT CANDIDATE WITH NO STRUCTURES AND EXPECTED TO WIN AND BECOME PRESIDENT WITH NO MAJORITY IN PARLIAMENT This is what Nelson Chamisa said on 21 June 2023 about the strategic thrust of the campaign of his CCC in the 2023 harmonised general election held last week: "our [CCC] campaign is going to be basically a presidential... our [CCC] focus is not to be in parliament but to be in government. We [as MDC opposition] have been in parliament for a long time, that's not our [CCC] station of choice at the moment". The fact that Chamisa thought he could win the presidential election even if, or regardless of whether, his CCC won a majority in Parliament, explains his crushing defeat. An election in Zimbabwe is defined in terms of section 4 of the Electoral Act which provides that: election” means— (a) the election of a member of Parliament; or (b) an election to the office of President; or (c) an election for the purposes of the Rural District Councils Act [Chapter 29:13] or the Urban Councils Act [Chapter 29:15]; as the case may be. These three elections used to be held separately before they were harmonised for the first time in the 2008 election in terms of section 38 of the Act. It is odd and even irrational, and it defies the logic of the harmonised general election for any political party that seeks power to govern the country as a whole to only target – as did Chamisa in the 2023 harmonised general election held last week –winning only one of the three elections, just the presidential election. It is foolhardy for a political party to say its strategy and focus is only to win the presidential election, without basing that strategy and focus on winning the local authority and parliamentary elections, as well. Such a strategy, if it can be called a strategy, renders the presidential candidate no different from an independent presidential candidate who contests for the presidency without the advantage of the structures of a political party. Simply put, a presidential candidate in Zimbabwe cannot win a presidential election if the candidate does not have a campaign strategy that is based on his or her political party winning a majority of wards in the local authority election, and a majority of constituencies in the parliamentary election. If it’s an independent presidential candidate, then he or she must have ground structures of one sort or another, or forget it. Chamisa contested the presidential election as if he was an independent candidate, and he boasted about it, without relying on his CCC and without any ground structures. In the circumstances, just how or why did Chamisa expect to win the presidential election by effectively running as an independent candidate? Which structures did Chamisa expect to use, or did he in fact use to campaign for the presidency in every street and every village, across the length and breadth of the country? Since by his own admission, as quoted above and reflected on the attached video clip, Chamisa was clearly not relying on his CCC to win the presidency. This begs the question: by not relying on CCC structures, and by not having alternative ground structures in the streets and in villages, did Chamisa think that ZanuPF members and supports would vote for him, as an act of God, perhaps? Was Chamisa's presidential election campaign, for him an article of faith, in other words was it about his belief that God had chosen him, and that he would win regardless of whether or not CCC won a majority in the local authority and parliamentary elections? Where did Chamisa and his supporters in Zimbabwe and among the legions of his fans in America and Europe think he would get the necessary number of polling agents to monitor the voting and vote counting at the country’s 12,374 polling stations, and to secure the 12,374 V11s from those polling stations, given the fact that he actually ran for the presidency as an independent candidate, expecting to be supported less by his own CCC party and more by the members and supporters of ZanuPF? Does this kind of strategy make sense to anyone on earth? And, does that strategy make sense to Nerves Mumba and his Sadc Election Observation Mission or to any other foreign election observation mission that was in Zimbabwe last week like, say for example, the European Union Observer Mission or any of the several observer missions from the United States that were in Zimbabwe to observe the elections? How did the various foreign election observer missions and Chamisa’s social media supporters expect him to win the presidential election, not only where and when his CCC party was losing the local authority and parliamentary elections but, and critically, where Chamisa himself did not believe that the local authority and parliamentary elections were important or necessary for him to win the presidency? The fact that the loquacious, belligerent and inflammatory foreign election observer missions that are peddling falsehoods about the elections, and Chamisa’s social media supporters who claim with no evidence that Chamisa won, did not raise a finger against the results of the local and parliamentary elections that were declared at 1970 wards and 209 constituencies well ahead of the declaration of the result for the presidential election on 26 August, clearly means that there was no problem with two of the three elections that make up Zimbabwe’s harmonised general election. Only after the declaration of the presidential election result on 26 August did all hell break loose. It must be asked, again, how did anyone expect Chamisa to win a presidential election whose campaign was – as per Chamisa’s deliberate strategy – organised and pursued as if it was the presidential campaign of an independent candidate? Chamisa’s presidential election campaign was not based on the CCC parliamentary election campaign or on CCC’s structural capacity on the ground, strangely, it was based on the expectation that ZanuPF members and supporters would vote for Chamisa. Why on earth did anyone expect ZanuPF members and supporters to vote for someone whose base is ever singing cacophonic noise that ZanuPF must go, and hurling insults at the incumbent party, its officials and its supporters? What kind of politics is that? You are contemptuous of ZanuPF and anyone associated with it, but you expect ZanuPF members and supporters to vote for you. This expectation does not compute, certainly not in electoral politics. As things turned out, ZanuPF members and supporters who are registered voters voted for their party candidates in all the three elections: local authority election, the parliamentary election and the presidential election. As a result, in the parliamentary election, CCC won just 73 constituency seats. There's just no way that CCC's 73 constituency seats in the National Assembly would have boosted Chamisa to win the presidency. No ways. In Zimbabwe's first harmonised general election in 2008, Morgan Tsvangirai did well in the first round of the presidential election primarily if not only because the two MDC formations used their round structures to win a majority in Parliament with a combined strength of 110 constituency seats, while ZanuPF garnered 99 seats and an independent got one seat. This was the first time since independence in 1980 that the opposition commanded the majority in Parliament. So, clearly, in 2008 Tsvangirai was propelled by the solid parliamentary performance of the MDC formations. The same structural dynamic was conspicuously absent for Chamisa in the just ended harmonised general election. Chamisa ran a solo presidential election campaign and, predictably, it went horribly wrong. The fact that CCC did not field local authority candidates in 90 wards made a bad situation worse for Chamisa, and it was further compounded by the fact that CCC did not have ground structures to harness and harvest from the loose and unreliable protest vote, especially in the wards and constituencies outside CCC strongholds, which in fact used to be MDC strongholds in the days of Morgan Tsvangirai!

Prof Jonathan Moyo

98,261 Aufrufe • vor 3 Jahren

"The Royal Guard is known for standing still through anything. Crowds can shout, cameras can flash, children can wave inches from his face, and he doesn't react. On a crowded afternoon outside St. James's Palace, 7-year-old Liam had been waiting for hours to see the soldiers in their bright red coats and tall black hats. His mother had promised him he would finally see them up close. One moment he was holding her hand. The next moment, he was swallowed by a wall of strangers. Panic hit fast. He turned in circles, calling out, but all he saw were coats and moving legs. Tears blurred his vision as he pushed through the crowd looking for someone safe. That was when he saw the guard. The soldier stood perfectly still inside his sentry box, eyes forward, posture locked. Liam ran straight toward him and grabbed the edge of the red coat. "Please, please," the boy cried. Every rule says the guard doesn't react to tourists. Training says no sudden movement, no emotional response, no break in discipline. The soldier looked down. He saw shaking hands and a child who was truly terrified. A small clock inside the box showed 1:59 PM. Relief was scheduled for 2:00 PM. "Stay right here. Do not move," the guard said quietly, barely shifting his stance. "I'm helping you in one minute." For sixty long seconds, Liam stood pressed against the uniform, breathing hard. The guard didn't step away. He didn't raise his voice. He simply waited for the change of post. At exactly 2:00 PM, the next sentry marched into position. The formal exchange lasted only a moment. As soon as he was officially relieved, the soldier stepped out of the box and dropped to one knee. "Hey, look at me," he said gently. "You're okay." The boy tried to speak but the words fell apart. "Are you safe here?" the guard asked softly. Liam shook his head and finally whispered, "I can't find my mum." The guard opened his arms without hesitation. The child leaned into him, gripping the heavy wool coat as if it were the only solid thing left in the world. "We're going to find her," the soldier said in a calm, steady voice. "You're not alone." Police officers in the area quickly began searching through the crowd. Within minutes, a frantic mother broke through the line, calling her son's name. She pulled him close, thanking the guard through tears. The soldier simply nodded once and stepped back into position as if nothing had happened. A few seconds later, he was standing still again, eyes forward, while the crowd carried on like always
0:14

"The Royal Guard is known for standing still through anything. Crowds can shout, cameras can flash, children can wave inches from his face, and he doesn't react. On a crowded afternoon outside St. James's Palace, 7-year-old Liam had been waiting for hours to see the soldiers in their bright red coats and tall black hats. His mother had promised him he would finally see them up close. One moment he was holding her hand. The next moment, he was swallowed by a wall of strangers. Panic hit fast. He turned in circles, calling out, but all he saw were coats and moving legs. Tears blurred his vision as he pushed through the crowd looking for someone safe. That was when he saw the guard. The soldier stood perfectly still inside his sentry box, eyes forward, posture locked. Liam ran straight toward him and grabbed the edge of the red coat. "Please, please," the boy cried. Every rule says the guard doesn't react to tourists. Training says no sudden movement, no emotional response, no break in discipline. The soldier looked down. He saw shaking hands and a child who was truly terrified. A small clock inside the box showed 1:59 PM. Relief was scheduled for 2:00 PM. "Stay right here. Do not move," the guard said quietly, barely shifting his stance. "I'm helping you in one minute." For sixty long seconds, Liam stood pressed against the uniform, breathing hard. The guard didn't step away. He didn't raise his voice. He simply waited for the change of post. At exactly 2:00 PM, the next sentry marched into position. The formal exchange lasted only a moment. As soon as he was officially relieved, the soldier stepped out of the box and dropped to one knee. "Hey, look at me," he said gently. "You're okay." The boy tried to speak but the words fell apart. "Are you safe here?" the guard asked softly. Liam shook his head and finally whispered, "I can't find my mum." The guard opened his arms without hesitation. The child leaned into him, gripping the heavy wool coat as if it were the only solid thing left in the world. "We're going to find her," the soldier said in a calm, steady voice. "You're not alone." Police officers in the area quickly began searching through the crowd. Within minutes, a frantic mother broke through the line, calling her son's name. She pulled him close, thanking the guard through tears. The soldier simply nodded once and stepped back into position as if nothing had happened. A few seconds later, he was standing still again, eyes forward, while the crowd carried on like always

Crazy Moments

2,001,279 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

this is a tribute post to share the legacy of an artist whose work has changed my life and inspires me everyday, Jun Seba aka Nujabes. Born February 7, 1974, Nujabes was a music producer & DJ from Tokyo, Japan. He came from a family of music lovers and his father’s admiration for jazz served as an inspiration to Seba at a young age. He pursued his education at a Fine Arts school and the people in his life influenced him to explore the vast wonders of what music really is. In a 2003 interview with Sound & Recording Magazine, Seba said… “I started making tracks because I wanted to hear music that sampled the old soul and jazz I liked.” Nujabes in his early years discovered Hip-Hop and was enamored by the art of DJ-ing and breakdancing. Hip-Hop culture was being brought to life in the USA, but its influence seeped across the world and it started to gain popularity in Japan at the time as well. Seba went on to become a crucial figure in Japan’s underground Hip-Hop scene as a DJ, co-creating a label called ‘Hydeout Productions’. His love for music stemmed beyond just creating it. He had his own record store, which he spoke about in the aforementioned 2003 interview. “I recently started up a record store, Tribe, which I see as an extension of Hydeout Productions. Everything at the store is stuff I went and bought overseas myself, and my hope is for people to come in, listen to old records at their leisure, and hopefully feel inspired by those records to make good tracks themselves. That’s another thing I would like to cherish doing in the future—creating those sorts of encouraging environment” This was a genuine testament to the pure love Nujabes had for music and the community that is built as a result. This passion is what fueled the masterpieces we listen to today and it is the reason for him revolutionizing Hip-Hop production. One of his greatest achievements, in my opinion, was his contribution to the soundtrack of ‘Samurai Champloo’ alongside Fat Jon. This soundtrack set Nujabes on center stage. With a fusion of traditional Japanese musical influences, everything he learned as a student of Hip-Hop, and his early love for Jazz music, Nujabes created a new soundscape which set the tone for this acclaimed show, but also epitomized his brilliance as a musician. At a recent Nujabes tribute performance, longtime collaborator and a friend of Nujabes, Fat Jon, said a few words about him… “Our friendship went beyond music. And so yeah, we had fun making music, but we had more fun just doing regular shit in life… Nujabes as a person, separated from the music, he was a cool person.” You can tell everyone that has worked with or around Nujabes has a deep, unwavering admiration for him as a musician, but also as a person and a friend. Although his contributions to the soundtrack shot Nujabes to fame, his discography of solo music is what cemented his legacy as a pioneer of modern music. From his debut ‘Metaphorical Music’, to his most critically acclaimed work ‘Modal Soul’, Nujabes was able to create entire soundscapes by blending all the different things that made him love music in the first place. It would be a disservice to not mention his friends and frequent collaborators who had invaluable contributions to his work. Shing02, Uyama Hiroto, Cise Starr & Akin (CYNE), Substantial, Haruka Nakamura, and many more. (I’d love to give recommendations to people who want to dive into their work after seeing this!) Nujabes music heavily centered around jazz and soul samples intertwined with his intricate drum patterns and tranquil instrumentation. He fostered an atmosphere of serenity with his melodies than touched the hearts of millions around the world. From ethereal tracks like “Horizon” and “Counting Stars” to his Luv(Sic) series, Nujabes created art that transcended the preconceptions of what music’s impact is. if you made it this far, thank you for reading. i have no more characters left lol
0:13

this is a tribute post to share the legacy of an artist whose work has changed my life and inspires me everyday, Jun Seba aka Nujabes. Born February 7, 1974, Nujabes was a music producer & DJ from Tokyo, Japan. He came from a family of music lovers and his father’s admiration for jazz served as an inspiration to Seba at a young age. He pursued his education at a Fine Arts school and the people in his life influenced him to explore the vast wonders of what music really is. In a 2003 interview with Sound & Recording Magazine, Seba said… “I started making tracks because I wanted to hear music that sampled the old soul and jazz I liked.” Nujabes in his early years discovered Hip-Hop and was enamored by the art of DJ-ing and breakdancing. Hip-Hop culture was being brought to life in the USA, but its influence seeped across the world and it started to gain popularity in Japan at the time as well. Seba went on to become a crucial figure in Japan’s underground Hip-Hop scene as a DJ, co-creating a label called ‘Hydeout Productions’. His love for music stemmed beyond just creating it. He had his own record store, which he spoke about in the aforementioned 2003 interview. “I recently started up a record store, Tribe, which I see as an extension of Hydeout Productions. Everything at the store is stuff I went and bought overseas myself, and my hope is for people to come in, listen to old records at their leisure, and hopefully feel inspired by those records to make good tracks themselves. That’s another thing I would like to cherish doing in the future—creating those sorts of encouraging environment” This was a genuine testament to the pure love Nujabes had for music and the community that is built as a result. This passion is what fueled the masterpieces we listen to today and it is the reason for him revolutionizing Hip-Hop production. One of his greatest achievements, in my opinion, was his contribution to the soundtrack of ‘Samurai Champloo’ alongside Fat Jon. This soundtrack set Nujabes on center stage. With a fusion of traditional Japanese musical influences, everything he learned as a student of Hip-Hop, and his early love for Jazz music, Nujabes created a new soundscape which set the tone for this acclaimed show, but also epitomized his brilliance as a musician. At a recent Nujabes tribute performance, longtime collaborator and a friend of Nujabes, Fat Jon, said a few words about him… “Our friendship went beyond music. And so yeah, we had fun making music, but we had more fun just doing regular shit in life… Nujabes as a person, separated from the music, he was a cool person.” You can tell everyone that has worked with or around Nujabes has a deep, unwavering admiration for him as a musician, but also as a person and a friend. Although his contributions to the soundtrack shot Nujabes to fame, his discography of solo music is what cemented his legacy as a pioneer of modern music. From his debut ‘Metaphorical Music’, to his most critically acclaimed work ‘Modal Soul’, Nujabes was able to create entire soundscapes by blending all the different things that made him love music in the first place. It would be a disservice to not mention his friends and frequent collaborators who had invaluable contributions to his work. Shing02, Uyama Hiroto, Cise Starr & Akin (CYNE), Substantial, Haruka Nakamura, and many more. (I’d love to give recommendations to people who want to dive into their work after seeing this!) Nujabes music heavily centered around jazz and soul samples intertwined with his intricate drum patterns and tranquil instrumentation. He fostered an atmosphere of serenity with his melodies than touched the hearts of millions around the world. From ethereal tracks like “Horizon” and “Counting Stars” to his Luv(Sic) series, Nujabes created art that transcended the preconceptions of what music’s impact is. if you made it this far, thank you for reading. i have no more characters left lol

SK⚡️

333,474 Aufrufe • vor 2 Jahren

This morning I drove into ABC place Waiyaki way as I needed to do some shopping, as I got out of the car I heard someone shout “Baba, Baba” I turned around and a young man straight away came and hugged me. He looked and me said Baba do you remember me, it took me at least two mins but I realised who he was. This goes back some 20 or more years ago when I was a frequent customer or should I say furniture at a place called Tropicana or Gypsy’s in Westlands this boy was a teenager and together with his very very young two siblings would be there selling njugu or asking for handouts. I recall asking him why would they be doing this late past midnight and he said so they could help their mother and also try get money for fees. I did not realise what I did then, but I began helping him with frees for many years and these boys would take care of my car and even of me when I would walk out very late in the night. They had became a part of that area and the security of Gypsy would even allow them to do this extra work as I would tell them these boys aren’t the usual chokoras who will steal. They would watch over customers cars and I would support them. As time passed I grew out of that life and moved on and we never met again, even the place closed down but my nickname as most of my closest childhood friends, the waiters and everyone who I associated with still remained BABA and to date they call me BABA, and why? because I “USED” to be a die hard Raila Odinga supporter 😂😂😂. The boy told me he looked for me for a long time as he always wanted to thank me and finally we met today as he was getting to work , he told me he sent his family back to Kisumu where he helped his little brothers to complete their education and believe it or not today he is a head chef at the Seven Grill & Lounge ABC place. Good people see how hard work, honesty and focus pays. This is my boy Victor and today I am an extremely proud man.
0:10

This morning I drove into ABC place Waiyaki way as I needed to do some shopping, as I got out of the car I heard someone shout “Baba, Baba” I turned around and a young man straight away came and hugged me. He looked and me said Baba do you remember me, it took me at least two mins but I realised who he was. This goes back some 20 or more years ago when I was a frequent customer or should I say furniture at a place called Tropicana or Gypsy’s in Westlands this boy was a teenager and together with his very very young two siblings would be there selling njugu or asking for handouts. I recall asking him why would they be doing this late past midnight and he said so they could help their mother and also try get money for fees. I did not realise what I did then, but I began helping him with frees for many years and these boys would take care of my car and even of me when I would walk out very late in the night. They had became a part of that area and the security of Gypsy would even allow them to do this extra work as I would tell them these boys aren’t the usual chokoras who will steal. They would watch over customers cars and I would support them. As time passed I grew out of that life and moved on and we never met again, even the place closed down but my nickname as most of my closest childhood friends, the waiters and everyone who I associated with still remained BABA and to date they call me BABA, and why? because I “USED” to be a die hard Raila Odinga supporter 😂😂😂. The boy told me he looked for me for a long time as he always wanted to thank me and finally we met today as he was getting to work , he told me he sent his family back to Kisumu where he helped his little brothers to complete their education and believe it or not today he is a head chef at the Seven Grill & Lounge ABC place. Good people see how hard work, honesty and focus pays. This is my boy Victor and today I am an extremely proud man.

Alfayaz 11

214,313 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

First of all you strap to bench “106kg” which I don’t even need for 140kg, so from the look of things we can tell who the “lil boy” is Second, there is no aspect of fitness you are better than me at, Be it lifting, running, calisthenics, and educating etc You lot seem to have this weird mentality that sh*tting on people’s work and mocking their form makes you look like the better and smarter one, all for what? getting clients?, you do fitness to fill your pockets(that’s if you have people dumb enough to trust you as a trainer with your chaotic training methods) , I do fitness to shine light on the industry and create opportunities for people who want to enter the industry(I have videos to back my claim) You are not worth the back and forth “PAUL BLISS” cos clearly if it wasn’t for me no one would have paused to see who that is, buh I just had to use this opportunity to make somethings clear, if you want to be a fitness influencer face your front and do your work, and if you must, correct people in a respectful way and not try to make them look stupid. Learn from blaakbaki weightlossmessiah iJosh🃏 etc Cos you clearly need some training “lil boy” I go finish the rest for video inside give you Sia. Oh and before I forget, I am one of the best in this industry, and there is nothing you can do about it. Peace ✌️
0:45

First of all you strap to bench “106kg” which I don’t even need for 140kg, so from the look of things we can tell who the “lil boy” is Second, there is no aspect of fitness you are better than me at, Be it lifting, running, calisthenics, and educating etc You lot seem to have this weird mentality that sh*tting on people’s work and mocking their form makes you look like the better and smarter one, all for what? getting clients?, you do fitness to fill your pockets(that’s if you have people dumb enough to trust you as a trainer with your chaotic training methods) , I do fitness to shine light on the industry and create opportunities for people who want to enter the industry(I have videos to back my claim) You are not worth the back and forth “PAUL BLISS” cos clearly if it wasn’t for me no one would have paused to see who that is, buh I just had to use this opportunity to make somethings clear, if you want to be a fitness influencer face your front and do your work, and if you must, correct people in a respectful way and not try to make them look stupid. Learn from blaakbaki weightlossmessiah iJosh🃏 etc Cos you clearly need some training “lil boy” I go finish the rest for video inside give you Sia. Oh and before I forget, I am one of the best in this industry, and there is nothing you can do about it. Peace ✌️

Raj Explores 🇬🇭⚡️🇳🇬

60,385 Aufrufe • vor 24 Tagen