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Close call... Someone called the elevator while I was jerking in it 😆 #gayexhib #gaypublic #exhib #teamexhib #jerkanywhere #jerkinpublic #publicexhib #publicbator #publicjerk #publicwank #publicfun #publicfreaks #riskybate #exposedgay #exposedinpublic #gaybear #gaychub #jerkoff

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When I posted this, got lot of hate. Someone exposed them all for me bro 😎 Came across a video where the caption described her as a “Maharashtrian Muslim,” while the background played the very famous Bappa’s aarti. Initially, it genuinely made me happy and proud to see what I thought was a Maharashtrian Muslim embracing a Hindu devotional tradition. It felt like a beautiful example of people coming together. Then I read the caption: “Learnt this BANGER when I was 5.” I asked her in the comments a simple question: would you be okay if I called your duas a “rhyme”? And why not simply call an aarti an “aarti”? An honest secular person could have simply said: “Yes, it is a devotional aarti. I should have called it an aarti, especially if the word ‘banger’ comes across as disrespectful to Hindus.” Instead, I was called an “andhbhakt.” I was then told that I could call Bollywood songs like “Shukranallah” a “banger” too. That comparison is the entire issue. A Hindu devotional aarti was being equated with a Bollywood romantic song. So I asked a very straightforward question: would you be equally comfortable if I called an Islamic naat or dua a “banger”? Instead of answering, she continued to refuse to call the devotional song what it actually is: an aarti. At one point, she even insisted that it was “just a Bollywood song.” That is when I called out what I saw as religious ego and hypocrisy. What followed were derogatory sexual remarks directed at me. And this is where the so-called “secularism” and “feminism” suddenly disappear. A genuinely secular person should be able to respect another community’s religious terminology without feeling threatened by it. Calling an aarti an “aarti” costs absolutely nothing. Imagine Hindus repeatedly calling naats or duas something else and then attacking Muslims for objecting. Would that be considered respectful or secular? What disappoints me even more is seeing Hindus applaud this kind of behaviour simply because someone appears to be embracing a Hindu cultural tradition, while ignoring the basic respect that should accompany it. Respecting another religion does not mean abandoning the dignity of your own. And if standing up for my faith and asking that a Hindu devotional aarti be called an aarti makes me an “andhbhakt,” then honestly, I don’t mind being one. Mulle and their quam ke chadarmod
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When I posted this, got lot of hate. Someone exposed them all for me bro 😎 Came across a video where the caption described her as a “Maharashtrian Muslim,” while the background played the very famous Bappa’s aarti. Initially, it genuinely made me happy and proud to see what I thought was a Maharashtrian Muslim embracing a Hindu devotional tradition. It felt like a beautiful example of people coming together. Then I read the caption: “Learnt this BANGER when I was 5.” I asked her in the comments a simple question: would you be okay if I called your duas a “rhyme”? And why not simply call an aarti an “aarti”? An honest secular person could have simply said: “Yes, it is a devotional aarti. I should have called it an aarti, especially if the word ‘banger’ comes across as disrespectful to Hindus.” Instead, I was called an “andhbhakt.” I was then told that I could call Bollywood songs like “Shukranallah” a “banger” too. That comparison is the entire issue. A Hindu devotional aarti was being equated with a Bollywood romantic song. So I asked a very straightforward question: would you be equally comfortable if I called an Islamic naat or dua a “banger”? Instead of answering, she continued to refuse to call the devotional song what it actually is: an aarti. At one point, she even insisted that it was “just a Bollywood song.” That is when I called out what I saw as religious ego and hypocrisy. What followed were derogatory sexual remarks directed at me. And this is where the so-called “secularism” and “feminism” suddenly disappear. A genuinely secular person should be able to respect another community’s religious terminology without feeling threatened by it. Calling an aarti an “aarti” costs absolutely nothing. Imagine Hindus repeatedly calling naats or duas something else and then attacking Muslims for objecting. Would that be considered respectful or secular? What disappoints me even more is seeing Hindus applaud this kind of behaviour simply because someone appears to be embracing a Hindu cultural tradition, while ignoring the basic respect that should accompany it. Respecting another religion does not mean abandoning the dignity of your own. And if standing up for my faith and asking that a Hindu devotional aarti be called an aarti makes me an “andhbhakt,” then honestly, I don’t mind being one. Mulle and their quam ke chadarmod

Comman Man

44,990 görüntüleme • 8 gün önce

Yesterday I was moving into a new apartment, and I had some help from a couple of guys who do moving work. I first noticed something when I went to pick them up at Home Depot. While talking to the older man, he received a call and answered, “Yes, commander, I’ll call you back.” I ignored it at first. Fast forward to when we got home and started loading and moving stuff. Another call came in from the same “commander,” this time on speaker. The moment I heard the voice, I knew something was wrong, and the man didn’t realize it. On the phone, they were asking him for $2,000, saying the girl he was supposed to marry next week was sick and needed money for treatment, even though she’s supposedly a military nurse according to her profile. I signaled him and muted the call. I told him to ask for the commander’s name, and he did. The guy said his name was “Marthin” and then “Martinez” 😂. I took the phone and said something, and the scammer immediately hung up when he heard my accent. A few minutes later, he called again, asking why the man had handed the phone to someone else and claiming it was against their “security rules.” I took the phone again and cursed him out. I told the man to block them, which he did. Then he showed me many more messages he’d been receiving. The man was already far gone into the scam. I’m glad I was able to stop him from being scammed. These people really work hard for their money, really hard. I told him it’s better to get a new phone line.

13.14 Shoot Your Gun 🫧

670,408 görüntüleme • 10 ay önce

On the 13th of Sept, someone transferred 180k for an iPhone Xs 256GB. After acknowledging his receipt, he called, and I told him we don't have it but will ask colleagues and let him know. I asked my friend, and he told me 190k. I begged him to leave it at 180k because that is what the guy deposited (check frame 2 for reference). When he sent the phone from Kano to Jos, then I noticed it was an Xs Max. Seeing that the guy was in a hurry and didn't want to disappoint, I called him and told him what happened and said if he wants the Max, he can take it at no additional cost. I was willing to settle the difference because it was his first time buying from us. I packaged it with a new premium charger because all our used phones are sent packaged in our branded box with a charger, and I sent it to him in Abuja. He later messaged that he has received the phone and truly appreciates it. After months of not receiving any complaints from him, it clearly indicates that he has received a fully functioning phone. It is in our policy that if you find anything faulty within one week, you can return it to us and either ask for a replacement or refund. What this means is that the cost of bringing it from Kano to Jos, the packaging and charger, and the delivery to Abuja are all a loss to me. But I didn't mind because at least I have satisfied him. Nine weeks later, while I was in Kano, I saw a call from an unknown number. When I picked up, he said it was him. He told me that the camera has started giving him problems. I told him it has been months since you bought it, but you can take it to any repair store and tell me how much you spent, and I will pay. He asked if I know anyone, and I sent him someone's number. The guy didn't pick; he texted and informed me and later called me. I told him to go to anyone he trusts and let me know the amount he spent. A few days later, I was stranded between Kaduna and Abuja on my trip from Kano to Abuja because my car engine failed. He called, and I didn't pick; I don't even know his number. Later in the night, I received his messages on WhatsApp with a threat that he will make a video to tarnish the image of my business. Someone I was willing to help after months of buying a USED device from me is threatening me. I said he should go ahead because I can't entertain him anymore. In conclusion, a trade that I incurred a loss from is what some people are trying to justify as a scam. The beautiful part is I have made trades with hundreds of people here, and I would love two more people to come out and present a case in which they are still using a device I sold to them that is faulty and they contacted me for a replacement or refund, and I didn't do it instantly. "The hypocrite will always look for faults" - Ghazali. Those that are looking for a fault in me can justify something as woke as this; it doesn't matter. This is my own side and will no longer entertain him anymore. For those that believe in me without hearing from me, thank you so much.

Rayyan Tilde

855,596 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce

What happened in Syria wasn't a topic of academic curiosity for me. It was war. It was an injustice. It was something imposed on us. I was in Aleppo right at the beginning of the war. And when you’re there, on the ground, with your own eyes, you can’t pretend it’s theoretical. You see something raw and unfiltered unfold before you. But then, you turn on the TV. You flip to Al Jazeera or CNN. And what you hear doesn’t just contradict what you saw, it often inverts it. We're not talking about minor framing differences; we're talking about 180-degree turns in the narrative. At first, I was naive. I thought, “Maybe they just don’t know. Maybe these journalists genuinely aren’t aware of what’s going on.” So I tried to help. I contacted CNN—yes, CNN. One of their journalists was in Damascus at the time and even called me to ask about a protest in Aleppo. I told her everything I saw, in detail. And then later that night, I read her report. It was a gut punch. What she published wasn’t just a slightly distorted version—it was a fabrication. It bore no resemblance to what I had described. That’s when I started asking the hard question: Is this ignorance or is it deliberate? That was the beginning of a transformation. I created a Facebook group called Syria Now: News and Analysis—this was before “Syriana Analysis” came into being. At first, it was activism, nothing more. Young, fired up, and emotional, we were just trying to shout above the noise, to counter the overwhelming tidal wave of mainstream disinformation. It wasn’t always rigorous; it was often sensational, sometimes reactive. But it was necessary. With time, though, I had to make a choice: stay an activist, or evolve. I chose the latter. I dove deep into leaked memos, CIA documents, DIA reports. I read. A lot. And not just headlines. I talked to professors. I talked to mentors. But soon, I realized something unsettling: many so-called scholars and experts were prisoners of their own books. They knew Syria only through secondhand accounts, through texts often written with specific agendas, funded by institutions with specific interests. I saw the problem in academia up close. I remember one professor—my MA supervisor—telling me with certainty that what was happening in Syria was a democratic revolution. Meanwhile, what I saw with my own eyes told a different story. That disconnect pushed me into what I’d call a phase of rebellion against mainstream academia, against TV experts, against think tanks funded by foreign governments who had skin in the Syrian game. Eventually, I decided that if I wanted the truth to be told, I’d have to do it myself. So I kept reporting. I kept analyzing. I created Syriana Analysis, and over the years, I’ve published over a thousand videos. Some people call me biased. Sure, I have a point of view. Everyone does. But my opinions are anchored in experience and evidence—not wishful thinking or institutional mandates. People aren’t stupid. They see patterns. When you’ve been following someone for years, and that person keeps getting it right—not because they read the stars, but because they understand the regional context, the historical background, the sequence of cause and effect—you begin to listen more closely. When I say, “If this happens, then this will follow,” and then it does, people take note. And that’s how credibility is built—not overnight, but though years of consistency. The irony is that while many think tank analysts and media commentators are working with budgets and backers, I’m just a guy on YouTube, funded by the people who watch me. And yet, here we are. People now call me an “expert.” It still feels strange. That was never the plan. My dream—once upon a time—was to become a diplomat. I wanted to represent Syria at the United Nations. I wanted to serve as an ambassador. I believed in dialogue, in negotiation, in statecraft. But that dream didn’t survive the war. And that’s okay. I don’t regret where I’ve landed. This wasn’t the path I imagined, but in a way, it’s the path that chose me. I may not be wearing a suit in a diplomatic chamber, but I am representing the real Syria—just not in the way I expected.

Kevork Almassian

15,874 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce

15 years. That’s how long it has been since I saw my oldest son Christopher. 15 years since I heard his voice, saw him laugh or held him close. And today, July 24th, 2023 marks that date. That’s a long time to be separated from someone you love. Our son was called home unexpectedly 15 years ago today, and we miss him so much. He died in an automobile accident. It was the worst day of my life. But things have changed over the years. We have experienced the comfort that only God can give. I just baptized both of his daughters, Stella and Lucy. They are both beautiful young ladies now, following the Lord. This is a video that was part of a project we did 10 years ago titled, “Hope For Hurting Hearts”. It was only 5 years earlier that Christopher had gone home to Heaven. The pain was still raw, the void large, the emotions rising to the surface. It’s honest and at the same time, hopeful. In this video I say of the day we heard the worst news a parent could ever hear “Strangely in this dark place, God was there and I sensed His presence.” That is still true today. My hope is that for the Christian, death is not the end. I will see my son Christopher again. Maybe you have recently lost a loved one, and you don’t know how you will cope. God will be there for you too. Just call out to Him. Psalm 34:18 says that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted: He rescues those whose spirits are crushed”. I have put this and many other passages to the test and found them all to be true. Thank for this great hope. Besides, we never really lose loved ones who have died in faith. You can’t lose someone if you know where they are.

Greg Laurie

169,219 görüntüleme • 3 yıl önce

NORMALIZING INTIFADA AT THE MET MUSEUM Yesterday, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art I went to see the Raphael Exhibition and spend time learning together about one of history’s true masters his relationship with Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, and the process that shaped him into such a prolific artist. Overall, it was an incredible experience and something I’m grateful to have shared with my kids. BUT before entering, the employee checking our tickets was wearing a keffiyeh. I believe in free speech absolutely, and I’m not saying she doesn’t have the right to wear it. My issue is different: when you’re representing a major public institution while on the job, I believe employees should remain politically neutral. And for the record, I would feel the exact same way if someone was wearing overt pro-Israel political messaging while working there. As we walked in, I made a comment asking if there was a Hamas exhibit at the museum. She immediately threatened to call security and began screaming at me, unfortunately I didn’t capture that part on video because I was genuinely shocked by how quickly the situation escalated. She called me a racist. I reject that completely. Opposing Hamas and the ideology it represents is not racism. We moved on and still had a beautiful day at the museum, but the interaction stayed with me especially because my children witnessed the entire exchange. It led to an important conversation with them afterward about free speech, public conduct, politics, and why people sometimes feel compelled to speak up. The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Urban Warrior

32,361 görüntüleme • 4 ay önce

Oates Ritthichai (Oates Ritthichai) Thai prominent Emmy-nominated journalist in NYC shared his story about meeting Jungkook at calvinklein NYFW (PART2) “Jungkook was chatting with Calvin Klein’s director, who praised and thanked him for everything he’s done for the brand, saying how much they appreciated him being there. Jungkook politely replied, “Thank you, thank you.” Then, I saw he was about to walk in my direction -- and I was the closest one. I stayed as calm as I could and called out his name, “Jungkook.” He walked right past and directly in front of my camera. The shot was so clear -- like, unbelievably clear. I could even see his three moles. When I checked the footage afterward, I realized how close I was. His skin was flawless, smooth, poreless -- perfectly typical skin of Koreans, fragrant and handsome. Jungkook was just so sweet and bright, always smiling. As soon as Jungkook sat down, the lights dimmed and the show began. That’s how you know who the true VIP is -- the one whose presence signals the start of the show as the lights dimmed. And honestly, when Jungkook came in, the media went wild, like cockroaches scattering everywhere (not meant in a rude way -- I’m media too), running in every direction to grab any angle of him they could. From what I noticed, and I could be wrong but only about 3 or 4 people actually got good shots of him that day. I was one of them, and I felt so proud. He sat for a little while, then everyone knew that the show was about to start -- it lasted about 30 minutes. When it ended, I wrapped up my shots. Then, his security guards came and escorted Jungkook out immediately. That was it, no more chance to get more pictures. He went down the elevator, waved goodbye, and left. Honestly, I’ve been covering fashion week for 13-14 years now, and Jungkook is on the same level as Justin Bieber. It’s really that hard to get near him. Practically unapproachable. So, the fact that I got that close made me feel incredibly happy and proud. I just want to tell everyone how glad I am that I did my job well and captured the content that made everyone excited and thrilled. Personally, I’m really proud. The moment I shared with him lasted just a split second, and we sat in the same space for less than half an hour. But that memory will last forever.” JUNGKOOK AT FASHION WEEK #JUNGKOOKxCALVINKLEIN #JUNGKOOKxNYFW #NYFW #정국 #JUNGKOOK

TEAM JUNGKOOK TH

423,201 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce

THIKA ROAD ACCIDENT. This evening along Thika Road, just before the Roysambu Roundabout, as I was coming from Githurai, I came across a group of boda boda riders who had stopped by the roadside. I stopped to find out what was happening, only to discover that a fellow boda boda rider and his passenger had been involved in a serious accident. I was told that the accident had happened about two hours earlier, and the critically injured victims were still waiting for an ambulance. The riders had been calling different ambulance services, but unfortunately, they were not getting help. I personally called five ambulance services from nearby private hospitals and private ambulance providers, but all of them declined to respond. One of them asked for KShs 15,000 before dispatching an ambulance. Even a traffic police officer who was at the scene had reportedly made several attempts to get an ambulance, but there was still no response. The rider was bleeding badly and his condition was deteriorating. I had no choice but to request a matatu to first transport him to hospital as we continued looking for an ambulance. After few minutes, I called SHA Emergency Ambulance Services thats the EMS ambulances and I sincerely appreciate their response. The moment I called, they responded and dispatched an ambulance to the scene. The ambulance arrived, rescued the passenger and took them to hospital for further treatment. This is a wake-up call. In an emergency, every minute counts. Critically injured Kenyans should not have to wait for hours because an ambulance is unavailable or because they cannot immediately raise money for emergency transport. I therefore call upon the Ministry of Health to consider developing a clear policy requiring private ambulance providers to respond to genuine emergencies without demanding upfront payment before dispatch. Emergencies are unpredictable, and no one should lose their life simply because they cannot raise money quickly enough. I also call upon private hospitals and healthcare providers to prioritise the life, health and wellbeing of patients before money. Healthcare is a calling, and while hospitals and ambulance services have operational costs, we must find a way to ensure that financial considerations do not delay lifesaving emergency care. We should never monetise human life. I also call upon county heath care workers especially the nurses to resume duty to continue saving lives as their union continue negotiating for their demands. Today it was a stranger on Thika Road. Tomorrow, it could be any one of us or someone we love. A delayed ambulance can mean a lost life. In an emergency, every second counts. Let us act before it is too late. Once again, thank you to SHA Emergency Ambulance Services for responding promptly when I called. Your quick intervention made a difference.

Geoffrey Mosiria

16,704 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

I flew my drone through Austin while riding in a Tesla Cybercab. No driver. No steering wheel. No pedals. Nobody up front. I got in, set my temperature, pressed one button, and the car took me where I wanted to go. That’s it. The closest thing I can compare it to is an elevator. You don’t get into an elevator and think about who’s operating it. You press a button. The doors close. You arrive. Cybercab felt exactly like that… except it was moving me through Austin. And after experiencing it, I keep coming back to one thought... How does Uber compete with this long term? An Uber is still built around a human driver. You’re getting into somebody else’s car. Their music. Their smell. Their temperature. Their mood. Their driving style. Maybe they want to talk. Maybe they’re on the phone. Maybe they miss a turn. Maybe you just want to sit there quietly and get where you’re going. Cybercab removes all of that. The car pulls up. The doors open. You get in. Set the cabin the way you want it. Press Start Ride. And go. No awkward small talk. No tipping. No wondering who is picking you up. No driver needing to earn enough $ money from the trip. No business model built around constantly finding, paying, and managing millions of human drivers. Uber’s biggest asset today is its driver network. But in a world where the driver disappears… what happens to that advantage? Tesla builds the vehicle. Tesla builds the autonomy. Tesla controls the software. Tesla controls the app. Tesla can operate the network. And Cybercab itself was designed from day one around the passenger instead of around somebody sitting behind a steering wheel. That is a completely different model. Uber connects you with someone willing to drive you. Tesla is trying to make the driver unnecessary. Those are not the same game. And once Cybercabs become abundant, I'm talking in the millions, I think calling a stranger to come pick you up in their personal car is going to start feeling incredibly old-fashioned. That was the biggest thing I took away from riding Cybercab. It was how quickly every other ride-hailing company stopped feeling futuristic. After a few minutes, it just felt normal. And once transportation becomes that simple, I have a hard time seeing why anyone would choose anything else...

Teslaconomics

62,250 görüntüleme • 18 gün önce

Sarah Wayne Callies opens up about being humiliated by a group of male coworkers while shooting the final season of ‘Prison Break’, as producers and directors stood by. Sarah Wayne Callies: We were sitting around one day, we were shooting a scene, and there was this p*rn video that was going around called 2 Chics 1 Cup that I've never seen. But we were sitting around a table, and the guys started texting it to each other and watching it and laughing. And I don't give a fuck, you know what I mean? Like, do whatever you want to do. We weren't shooting; they were setting up a shot. And then they started saying, "Oh Kelly's, that looks like you, that's you." And they went on this whole like, it was a fascinating dynamic in retrospect because every one of them individually, was a friend. But they became a wolf pack, like, immediately. And I'm looking around, I'm the only girl, right? Like, this was... Jon Bernthal: Wow. Sarah Wayne Callies: What, 2008? Jon Bernthal: Yeah. Sarah Wayne Callies: Yeah, it would have been 2008. Um, 'cause I'd just had the baby. and I was like, "No, seriously, knock it off. I don't like being called a shit-eating wh*re." and they doubled down. And one of the people at that table at the time was a very, very close friend. And I was looking over, going, "He's got the most power of anybody in this room. All he's got to do is say..." Jon Bernthal: "Shut that shit down." Sarah Wayne Callies: "...Hey, leave her alone." Yeah. That's all it would have taken. Like, no grandstanding, no fist fights, no nothing. Just, fucking leave her alone. Nothing. And I got to a point where I was like, well, I'm not going to cry. So, I'm not going to say anything. And I mean, producers, directors, 1st ADs all standing around, all seeing this, all hearing this. And I was like, "Hmm." It was a moment, and this happens as a woman walking through the world when all of a sudden you're like, "Oh, I'm way more vulnerable than I realized I was." And just emotionally, like no one was going to hurt me. But my fucking feelings were hurt! You know what I mean? I was like, "Oh, I thought we were friends." But if you can sit here and call me a shit-eating wh*re over my objections in the workplace, maybe I've misjudged this situation.

Emmy🧡

1,395,102 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce