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I loved gently petting my oiled, small, sensitive dick until I couldn't take it anymore & exploded Full 9:53 long vid on Phub: 37 yrs #phimosis #smalldick #smallpenis #littledick #hairlessdick #uncircumcised #tightforeskin #foreskin #cumshot #orgasm

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NSFW#phimosis#smalldick#smallpenis#littledick#hairlessdick#uncircumcised#tightforeskin#foreskin#cumshot#orgasm
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I couldn't upload the full sketch on here as it's too long so the rest is on my YouTube channel. Here's a section from Emily Maitlis interviewing the new Green Party MP Hannah Spencer & her take on the war in Iran & how the Greens would tackle it. YT 🔗 ⬇️

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PP: "I never thought about becoming the lead of the family. As my mom and dad love each other so much and they are always together, my dad was having trouble accepting it. There was a possibility that my mom would pass-doctor couldn't say precisely on the probability but very high risk, and her condition was declining day by day. My dad walked to me and said, that if she passes, he would like everything to remain the same and for him not to work anymore. What he does everyday is for his wife. If she no long exists, he then doesn't want to do anything anymore. I would have to be the positive energy for and holds up everyone in my family. I have an elder sister who's quite sensitive. I'm sensitive myself. But since I'm the only son, it's like I have to hold up everyone and move forward to pass through this together. I had to talk everyone out to base on the present fact and don't just yet be preemptive. We had to take care and help each other out. We also talked about something that we never mentioned, such as available assets. My mom and dad look after my assets so now I know how much I have and responsibilities. What I have learned from this is uncertainty." #TheCloudxPPKrit_Whatsgoingon #ppkritt
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PP: "I never thought about becoming the lead of the family. As my mom and dad love each other so much and they are always together, my dad was having trouble accepting it. There was a possibility that my mom would pass-doctor couldn't say precisely on the probability but very high risk, and her condition was declining day by day. My dad walked to me and said, that if she passes, he would like everything to remain the same and for him not to work anymore. What he does everyday is for his wife. If she no long exists, he then doesn't want to do anything anymore. I would have to be the positive energy for and holds up everyone in my family. I have an elder sister who's quite sensitive. I'm sensitive myself. But since I'm the only son, it's like I have to hold up everyone and move forward to pass through this together. I had to talk everyone out to base on the present fact and don't just yet be preemptive. We had to take care and help each other out. We also talked about something that we never mentioned, such as available assets. My mom and dad look after my assets so now I know how much I have and responsibilities. What I have learned from this is uncertainty." #TheCloudxPPKrit_Whatsgoingon #ppkritt

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This was my FIRST time on a mini ex. My good buddy flew into TN & laughed at me the whole time. Worth a watch with sound on. To answer the question: If I were getting into this “grading driveways” as a side hustle gig, I’d rent a mini ex from a local rental place first (they’re everywhere). Practice on your driveway or in your backyard first. One thing I learned with ZERO experience operating these 6 yrs ago: the best way to learn to use them is to just… “get in the seat and do it”. Practice until you’re comfortable, then throw some “I grade driveways and spread gravel. Free estimates” on FB Marketplace. Call the gravel/stone yard, ask how much to deliver per load, add a couple hundred bucks to that per load when you price a job. Go price a few jobs from leads. Rent the size mini ex you need. Probably will need a Cat 303 size for small jobs. And just do it. First few of them you may underprice, or it may take you twice as long as it normally would. But the fact is…practice makes perfect. With each new opportunity you’ll get better and better at it. I would not invest a ton in equipment right off the bat. I’d rent it until enough jobs come in that will fund the purchase of a small mini ex or skid steer.
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This is Wendy Guevara’s full confession during the final Confessionário of the LUX TOUR in Mexico. “I really want to share something I’ve never talked about before. I did everything to please a man I thought loved me. I knew he didn’t love me, but I kept telling myself, ‘There are still more mornings. I think one day he’ll fall in love with me.’ To start with, I bought him a brand-new truck, I bought things and paid for love, I even put down the down payment on a house. I would give him 100,000, 200,000 pesos in cash, like an idiot. And I would take him to strip clubs to watch women, and I would even touch those women and pay for their services for him. He would tell me, ‘Touch her and do this,’ and I didn’t like it. I don’t like women, I mean, my sexuality is very well defined. So, honestly, I don’t think it’s fair that I gave so much and, in return, got nothing but shit. And I hate having to live like a stolen motorcycle, always hidden. Hidden like a stolen motorcycle. And that can’t continue anymore, damn it! The truth is, I want to tell all women that we have to be badass. Love yourselves, value yourselves. Seriously, because, girl… you can always find a better and bigger dick.”
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This is Apollo. This story still stings. I returned from a tour in Iraq in early 2015. My wife was pregnant with our first son. I knew I would not be going anywhere for several months, unless there was a dire need. We decided the time was right to get a dog to add to our growing family. I don't remember how we found Apollo. We got him from the shelter, but I don't know if Dolly saw him online or if we just stumbled across him. I was struck by his amazing eyes. I'd had an Australian Shepherd before and I knew it was a breed that I loved. He hopped right in my car. Dolly even took the back seat so I could sit next to my new best friend. Together, we brought him to his new home. What a great dog he was. We immediately became tied at the hip. I took him for walks, runs, and hikes off leash. I put in the time to train him; we would walk to the bakery or the butcher shop (at the time, we lived the town life), tell him to sit outside, and he would be there on the sidewalk still sitting here when we came out. It was wonderful having such a happy and well-trained dog. Everybody loved him. They'd never seen a dog with eyes like his. I'm sure he loved all the attention too. My first concern came with my newborn son. He did not do as well with children as I would have liked. At times, he gave him a sideways glance that I didn't like. I kept an eye on him as best I could when he was around my son, but he had given me no reason not to trust him, so I didn't worry much. He was wonderful in every other way. Then, suddenly, he wasn't. We had a notary over to collect signatures from us so we could close on a refinance of our home. After sitting at our dining room table for about an hour, signing papers, the notary rose to leave. Apollo, who had been sitting at my feet, must have been startled by the sudden movement. Like a bolt of lightning, he bit. Just once, but it was a shock. The notary was a real mensch. He didn't get angry. He showed humanity. He knew that we would never have had Apollo unrestrained if we had had any idea that he would do something like that. If only everyone was so understanding as he. But fear crept into my heart that there was something about my dog that was not compatible with the family life that we had. We kept Apollo on a shorter leash after that, both figuratively and literally. The off leash hikes were a thing of the past, but we hoped this would prove to be just a one-off anomaly. It wasn't. A month and a half later, just days out from another deployment, I was sitting in my living room talking to a very good friend, a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the USMC (who, as an aside, donated $1,000 to our GiveSendGo campaign to #SaveLucy, thank you 🙏). Apollo was familiar with him already, so I was off my guard, and didn't notice Apollo giving him the stinkeye until it was too late. Apollo lunged and bit. He immediately backed off, but the horrid realization came to me at that moment that my fears were true. My options were limited on the eve of a deployment. To socialize Apollo and train this behavior out of him would take time. I didn't have time. We also didn't have family in the area and Dolly was pregnant again. I couldn't leave my pregnant wife alone for the duration of my tour with a dog who had shown a tendency to bite. I couldn't turn a blind eye to the sideways look he occasionally gave my infant son. Not anymore. I made the devastating decision to rehome him. On what I knew would be our final ride together, he hopped right into the front seat and looked at me, tongue dangling out of his mouth in a happy, sloppy pant, his nub of a tail bobbing up and down, wondering what wonderful adventure daddy was taking him on this time. I'm sure he was confident it was going to be a great time no matter what. It felt like betrayal to me. When we reached the shelter, he faithfully followed me in. We sat in a corner. He leaned against my legs and I stroked his head one final time. It felt like we sat there forever, but I didn't mind. I would have been happy for time to stop, to stay in that moment, just me and my dog, stripped of all externalities, for eternity. But time didn't stop. At length, the door opened and a lady entered. Apollo pressed in against my shins. His 40 pound weight felt heavy. Crushing. I gave him one last embrace, then closed my eyes. "That's a good boy," I whispered, though I couldn't bring myself to look. "I'll always love you." She took Apollo and led him through the door, never for me to see him again. Even today, when I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his warm body pressing against mine, trusting me to keep him safe. That was as hard a thing as I've ever done in my life. It was a no-kill shelter, but I played things close to the chest. I did not tell them the worst details. I only mentioned my fear of possible aggression against my child while I was deployed. I did not want to jeopardize Apollo's chance at another opportunity. For months, I kept checking the shelter's website for information about him, but I never saw an update. I do not know what became of him, sadly. I got back home and Dolly asked me where Apollo was. I don't remember if I said anything. I was numb. I hadn't told her where I was going or what I was doing. I had not wanted anything to change my mind. I knew my heart wasn't in it, but I wasn't going to be stopped. It was the right thing to do for my wife, son, and community. Her tears flowed when she realized what I had done. She also loved Apollo. I went to lay on the bed upstairs and be alone. Just weeks later, in a mudhole in the desert, I met my sweet Lucy and my heart began to heal. Saving her from that war zone helped me deal with the lingering guilt I felt about Apollo. I continue to feel the sting of that experience. I wouldn't change what I did though. I love dogs. I will always stand up for dogs when they are mistreated. I will adopt unwanted dogs when I am able. A great measure of a man is how he treats dogs. I aim to always pass that test. But I will always defend human life. Only humans are made in the image of God. I hope and pray that God has a place for dogs when this life is over, but humans He created with souls destined for glory. "You have never talked to a mere mortal," CS Lewis explained. "Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors." I completely agree. I love dogs. They have no guile in them, no duplicity. A dog will not tell you a lie. I like them better than I like people, often. But I cannot choose a dog over a life that was uniquely created to glorify the Almighty (Isaiah 43:7). I will always protect human life. That is why I served. That is why I deployed several times. To protect people, even when they didn't realize they needed protecting. I failed once. I received a report about a plot to blow up a bomb in Beirut. I got it out with all the speed and precision I could, but it got bogged down by the sideshow of the editing process for hours. I got distracted and didn't follow up on it aggressively. In the end, I'm sure the bureaucrats in their cubicles transliterated the names correctly. I'm sure they crossed every T and dotted every I. But at a price. A devastating price. I woke up the next morning to read in the news that a bomb had gone off in Beirut. It was carried out by the people my report said would carry it out. It took place in the exact locale I said it would take place. 43 people dead. Hundreds wounded. Families shattered. I didn't know these people, but my heart sank. Human life is sacred. I will always work to defend it. If I can save a few dogs along the way, great. That is also the Lord's work. But I will never keep a dog that is a danger to my neighbors. Whatever their sins, their harassment, libel, and cunning deceits, they are made in the image of God with souls destined for eternity. Lucy, my 11-year-old dog that survived ISIS, is no danger to my them. I know it in my very bones. The Mountains Have Eyes said that the DA told him I was not a responsible dog owner when he called to inquire about Lucy. This viewpoint is informed by a false impression given to her by our gossipy, well-connected neighbors, not by the facts. 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This is Apollo. This story still stings. I returned from a tour in Iraq in early 2015. My wife was pregnant with our first son. I knew I would not be going anywhere for several months, unless there was a dire need. We decided the time was right to get a dog to add to our growing family. I don't remember how we found Apollo. We got him from the shelter, but I don't know if Dolly saw him online or if we just stumbled across him. I was struck by his amazing eyes. I'd had an Australian Shepherd before and I knew it was a breed that I loved. He hopped right in my car. Dolly even took the back seat so I could sit next to my new best friend. Together, we brought him to his new home. What a great dog he was. We immediately became tied at the hip. I took him for walks, runs, and hikes off leash. I put in the time to train him; we would walk to the bakery or the butcher shop (at the time, we lived the town life), tell him to sit outside, and he would be there on the sidewalk still sitting here when we came out. It was wonderful having such a happy and well-trained dog. Everybody loved him. They'd never seen a dog with eyes like his. I'm sure he loved all the attention too. My first concern came with my newborn son. He did not do as well with children as I would have liked. At times, he gave him a sideways glance that I didn't like. I kept an eye on him as best I could when he was around my son, but he had given me no reason not to trust him, so I didn't worry much. He was wonderful in every other way. Then, suddenly, he wasn't. We had a notary over to collect signatures from us so we could close on a refinance of our home. After sitting at our dining room table for about an hour, signing papers, the notary rose to leave. Apollo, who had been sitting at my feet, must have been startled by the sudden movement. Like a bolt of lightning, he bit. Just once, but it was a shock. The notary was a real mensch. He didn't get angry. He showed humanity. He knew that we would never have had Apollo unrestrained if we had had any idea that he would do something like that. If only everyone was so understanding as he. But fear crept into my heart that there was something about my dog that was not compatible with the family life that we had. We kept Apollo on a shorter leash after that, both figuratively and literally. The off leash hikes were a thing of the past, but we hoped this would prove to be just a one-off anomaly. It wasn't. A month and a half later, just days out from another deployment, I was sitting in my living room talking to a very good friend, a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the USMC (who, as an aside, donated $1,000 to our GiveSendGo campaign to #SaveLucy, thank you 🙏). Apollo was familiar with him already, so I was off my guard, and didn't notice Apollo giving him the stinkeye until it was too late. Apollo lunged and bit. He immediately backed off, but the horrid realization came to me at that moment that my fears were true. My options were limited on the eve of a deployment. To socialize Apollo and train this behavior out of him would take time. I didn't have time. We also didn't have family in the area and Dolly was pregnant again. I couldn't leave my pregnant wife alone for the duration of my tour with a dog who had shown a tendency to bite. I couldn't turn a blind eye to the sideways look he occasionally gave my infant son. Not anymore. I made the devastating decision to rehome him. On what I knew would be our final ride together, he hopped right into the front seat and looked at me, tongue dangling out of his mouth in a happy, sloppy pant, his nub of a tail bobbing up and down, wondering what wonderful adventure daddy was taking him on this time. I'm sure he was confident it was going to be a great time no matter what. It felt like betrayal to me. When we reached the shelter, he faithfully followed me in. We sat in a corner. He leaned against my legs and I stroked his head one final time. It felt like we sat there forever, but I didn't mind. I would have been happy for time to stop, to stay in that moment, just me and my dog, stripped of all externalities, for eternity. But time didn't stop. At length, the door opened and a lady entered. Apollo pressed in against my shins. His 40 pound weight felt heavy. Crushing. I gave him one last embrace, then closed my eyes. "That's a good boy," I whispered, though I couldn't bring myself to look. "I'll always love you." She took Apollo and led him through the door, never for me to see him again. Even today, when I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his warm body pressing against mine, trusting me to keep him safe. That was as hard a thing as I've ever done in my life. It was a no-kill shelter, but I played things close to the chest. I did not tell them the worst details. I only mentioned my fear of possible aggression against my child while I was deployed. I did not want to jeopardize Apollo's chance at another opportunity. For months, I kept checking the shelter's website for information about him, but I never saw an update. I do not know what became of him, sadly. I got back home and Dolly asked me where Apollo was. I don't remember if I said anything. I was numb. I hadn't told her where I was going or what I was doing. I had not wanted anything to change my mind. I knew my heart wasn't in it, but I wasn't going to be stopped. It was the right thing to do for my wife, son, and community. Her tears flowed when she realized what I had done. She also loved Apollo. I went to lay on the bed upstairs and be alone. Just weeks later, in a mudhole in the desert, I met my sweet Lucy and my heart began to heal. Saving her from that war zone helped me deal with the lingering guilt I felt about Apollo. I continue to feel the sting of that experience. I wouldn't change what I did though. I love dogs. I will always stand up for dogs when they are mistreated. I will adopt unwanted dogs when I am able. A great measure of a man is how he treats dogs. I aim to always pass that test. But I will always defend human life. Only humans are made in the image of God. I hope and pray that God has a place for dogs when this life is over, but humans He created with souls destined for glory. "You have never talked to a mere mortal," CS Lewis explained. "Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors." I completely agree. I love dogs. They have no guile in them, no duplicity. A dog will not tell you a lie. I like them better than I like people, often. But I cannot choose a dog over a life that was uniquely created to glorify the Almighty (Isaiah 43:7). I will always protect human life. That is why I served. That is why I deployed several times. To protect people, even when they didn't realize they needed protecting. I failed once. I received a report about a plot to blow up a bomb in Beirut. I got it out with all the speed and precision I could, but it got bogged down by the sideshow of the editing process for hours. I got distracted and didn't follow up on it aggressively. In the end, I'm sure the bureaucrats in their cubicles transliterated the names correctly. I'm sure they crossed every T and dotted every I. But at a price. A devastating price. I woke up the next morning to read in the news that a bomb had gone off in Beirut. It was carried out by the people my report said would carry it out. It took place in the exact locale I said it would take place. 43 people dead. Hundreds wounded. Families shattered. I didn't know these people, but my heart sank. Human life is sacred. I will always work to defend it. If I can save a few dogs along the way, great. That is also the Lord's work. But I will never keep a dog that is a danger to my neighbors. Whatever their sins, their harassment, libel, and cunning deceits, they are made in the image of God with souls destined for eternity. Lucy, my 11-year-old dog that survived ISIS, is no danger to my them. I know it in my very bones. The Mountains Have Eyes said that the DA told him I was not a responsible dog owner when he called to inquire about Lucy. This viewpoint is informed by a false impression given to her by our gossipy, well-connected neighbors, not by the facts. I want to tell her about Apollo. Dolly Spice- Jones 🌱🎵 Leisha

Brendan M. Jones 🇺🇸

15,769 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

I just got the sad news that my Grandma Roz passed away at the age of 94. A Brownsville native, my grandmother was one of the first women to graduate from Brooklyn College with a degree in Chemistry. She was born to two very sick parents who both died while she was very young. My grandmother was a picky eater growing up and she never let me forget it. She introduced new food to me and when I fussed, she said “don’t say you don’t like something until you try it.” In fact, my first memory was her feeding me slices of cheese. I’m sure she just wanted me to be healthy, but it taught me a deeper lesson. That small value, helped me develop an open mind, not just for food, but everything in life. She taught me how to cross the streets in New York. One time, I got so frustrated that my grandma made me hold her hand, I ran off into the middle of the street with cars passing. When she rescued me 😂 she yelled at me and my credit score was dead on arrival ever since. My grandma spoke as a matter of fact. Confidently. She challenged me every step of my maturity. That helped me not only believe in myself but understand that along the way, I would have to put up as well. Even when you achieve something? It’s not enough. There’s still work to put in and a level to reach. With all her grandchildren, Grandma Roz would mark their height. Every visit, I’d see my growth. Through my younger cousins, I saw the evolution of her commitment to raising our family. I always respected that. My grandma once went to the Queens public library at flushing and picked me up a VHS of He Got Game. She tossed the case on the tv stand in my room and said “watch it, there’s nudity in it” 😂 When I was a teen, She would often have a secret non alcoholic beer with me… it was her way of being dangerous and I always got a kick out of it. As I got older, my car rides to NY always stopped at my grandma’s house in flushing. She would treat me the same way from when I was a kid. Treating an hour ride from Jersey as a “long ride you must be starving” taking out a piece of toast and offering a “little margarine” in her Brooklyn accent. At night, coming to my room with extra pillows, which she never called pillows, but “cushions” As a kid, my grandma would wake me up every morning singing Irving Berlin’s “Oh, How I Hate To Get Up In The Morning” I learned to enjoy the song because splashing water would come after. Something about that song. It’s so perfect. It’s so spiritual. I always imagined myself signing it at her funeral. I don’t know if I will, but now she won’t have to wake up every morning. She will get to sleep. With the eternal. Im forever grateful for such an amazing matriarch that I would have NOTHING without. I’m sad, broken, but she lived a long life and I know how blessed she was to make it a full century’s worth on this earth. My last experience with her was last week, she wouldn’t take her medicine. I just came up to her, put the pills in my hand and gave it to her. She took it. She grabbed my hand and kissed it. I’m so thankful to my mom, the healthcare workers, for allowing me to have a moment like that. Rest in Peace, Roslind Dorwitt aka Grandma Roz, or as our family called her… The Wizard of ROZ. ❤️
0:40

I just got the sad news that my Grandma Roz passed away at the age of 94. A Brownsville native, my grandmother was one of the first women to graduate from Brooklyn College with a degree in Chemistry. She was born to two very sick parents who both died while she was very young. My grandmother was a picky eater growing up and she never let me forget it. She introduced new food to me and when I fussed, she said “don’t say you don’t like something until you try it.” In fact, my first memory was her feeding me slices of cheese. I’m sure she just wanted me to be healthy, but it taught me a deeper lesson. That small value, helped me develop an open mind, not just for food, but everything in life. She taught me how to cross the streets in New York. One time, I got so frustrated that my grandma made me hold her hand, I ran off into the middle of the street with cars passing. When she rescued me 😂 she yelled at me and my credit score was dead on arrival ever since. My grandma spoke as a matter of fact. Confidently. She challenged me every step of my maturity. That helped me not only believe in myself but understand that along the way, I would have to put up as well. Even when you achieve something? It’s not enough. There’s still work to put in and a level to reach. With all her grandchildren, Grandma Roz would mark their height. Every visit, I’d see my growth. Through my younger cousins, I saw the evolution of her commitment to raising our family. I always respected that. My grandma once went to the Queens public library at flushing and picked me up a VHS of He Got Game. She tossed the case on the tv stand in my room and said “watch it, there’s nudity in it” 😂 When I was a teen, She would often have a secret non alcoholic beer with me… it was her way of being dangerous and I always got a kick out of it. As I got older, my car rides to NY always stopped at my grandma’s house in flushing. She would treat me the same way from when I was a kid. Treating an hour ride from Jersey as a “long ride you must be starving” taking out a piece of toast and offering a “little margarine” in her Brooklyn accent. At night, coming to my room with extra pillows, which she never called pillows, but “cushions” As a kid, my grandma would wake me up every morning singing Irving Berlin’s “Oh, How I Hate To Get Up In The Morning” I learned to enjoy the song because splashing water would come after. Something about that song. It’s so perfect. It’s so spiritual. I always imagined myself signing it at her funeral. I don’t know if I will, but now she won’t have to wake up every morning. She will get to sleep. With the eternal. Im forever grateful for such an amazing matriarch that I would have NOTHING without. I’m sad, broken, but she lived a long life and I know how blessed she was to make it a full century’s worth on this earth. My last experience with her was last week, she wouldn’t take her medicine. I just came up to her, put the pills in my hand and gave it to her. She took it. She grabbed my hand and kissed it. I’m so thankful to my mom, the healthcare workers, for allowing me to have a moment like that. Rest in Peace, Roslind Dorwitt aka Grandma Roz, or as our family called her… The Wizard of ROZ. ❤️

Poppa Left

30,082 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

The message taped to the kennel caught my attention almost by accident. It was written in pencil on a ripped piece of notebook paper, and I nearly walked right past it. I was already in a hurry. The shelter was about to close in twenty minutes, and I had come for a specific purpose that did not include stopping to read notes on kennel doors. Still, something made me pause. The message read, in careful but slightly shaky handwriting: Her name is Bella. She is 11 years old. She slept beside me every night for nine years. I’m moving into memory care and can’t take her with me. Please don’t let her be frightened. I never found out who wrote it. The intake form listed the surrender under a care facility coordinator’s name, meaning someone else had handled the paperwork for the owner. That likely meant the person who wrote that note did it while they still had the chance. Bella was a small beagle mix with tan and white fur and a face dusted with gray. She moved slowly, the way older dogs do when stiff joints make every step deliberate. She sat quietly in the far corner of the kennel, chin resting on her paws. She wasn’t asleep. She was simply still in that patient way animals become when they are waiting for something they’re no longer sure will happen. I sat down on the bench outside the kennel. When she noticed me, she raised her head and met my eyes with a soft brown gaze that carried a look I recognized instantly, even though I wished I didn’t. It reminded me of my father’s expression the day I helped move him into his assisted living facility two years earlier. That quiet understanding that the life you knew has ended, and the next chapter hasn’t begun yet. I asked a volunteer how long Bella had been there. “Eleven days,” she said. I asked if anyone had shown interest in adopting her. The volunteer shook her head gently, the way people do when they’ve learned not to say more than necessary. I left the shelter without her. I told myself I already had too much going on. My apartment was small. There was no yard. It wouldn’t be fair to bring an older dog into that situation. I made it four blocks before I turned the car around. Bella is sleeping on my bed right now, something she decided immediately upon arriving home. She walked inside, glanced at the bed, then at me, and hopped up as if she had already made up her mind that the interview process was finished. She’s been here for six weeks now. She sleeps directly in the middle of the bed. I’ve become very familiar with the narrow strip of mattress along the left edge. Somewhere there is a person living in a memory care facility who probably no longer remembers writing that note asking someone to make sure their dog wasn’t scared. But I want them to know that someone did read it. And Bella isn’t scared anymore. She’s safe. She’s home. If you want to see Bella now — the little beagle who finally found her way back onto someone’s bed
0:22

The message taped to the kennel caught my attention almost by accident. It was written in pencil on a ripped piece of notebook paper, and I nearly walked right past it. I was already in a hurry. The shelter was about to close in twenty minutes, and I had come for a specific purpose that did not include stopping to read notes on kennel doors. Still, something made me pause. The message read, in careful but slightly shaky handwriting: Her name is Bella. She is 11 years old. She slept beside me every night for nine years. I’m moving into memory care and can’t take her with me. Please don’t let her be frightened. I never found out who wrote it. The intake form listed the surrender under a care facility coordinator’s name, meaning someone else had handled the paperwork for the owner. That likely meant the person who wrote that note did it while they still had the chance. Bella was a small beagle mix with tan and white fur and a face dusted with gray. She moved slowly, the way older dogs do when stiff joints make every step deliberate. She sat quietly in the far corner of the kennel, chin resting on her paws. She wasn’t asleep. She was simply still in that patient way animals become when they are waiting for something they’re no longer sure will happen. I sat down on the bench outside the kennel. When she noticed me, she raised her head and met my eyes with a soft brown gaze that carried a look I recognized instantly, even though I wished I didn’t. It reminded me of my father’s expression the day I helped move him into his assisted living facility two years earlier. That quiet understanding that the life you knew has ended, and the next chapter hasn’t begun yet. I asked a volunteer how long Bella had been there. “Eleven days,” she said. I asked if anyone had shown interest in adopting her. The volunteer shook her head gently, the way people do when they’ve learned not to say more than necessary. I left the shelter without her. I told myself I already had too much going on. My apartment was small. There was no yard. It wouldn’t be fair to bring an older dog into that situation. I made it four blocks before I turned the car around. Bella is sleeping on my bed right now, something she decided immediately upon arriving home. She walked inside, glanced at the bed, then at me, and hopped up as if she had already made up her mind that the interview process was finished. She’s been here for six weeks now. She sleeps directly in the middle of the bed. I’ve become very familiar with the narrow strip of mattress along the left edge. Somewhere there is a person living in a memory care facility who probably no longer remembers writing that note asking someone to make sure their dog wasn’t scared. But I want them to know that someone did read it. And Bella isn’t scared anymore. She’s safe. She’s home. If you want to see Bella now — the little beagle who finally found her way back onto someone’s bed

Crazy Moments

17,596 Aufrufe • vor 10 Tagen

Long post, please kindly read them. it would just take less than 2 minute of your time. A Midnight Call 26 Oct 2024 It was 2 a.m., the world outside silent and still. I was bone-tired from a grueling day, my head heavy with the weight of it all. I’d just slipped into sleep when my phone suddenly buzzed, vibrating insistently on the bedside table. At first, I ignored it, thinking it could wait until morning. But then it rang again, and something in its persistence made me pick up. “Hello?” I answered, my voice feeble with exhaustion. “Is this Advocate Ashwin?” A man's voice, firm yet urgent, came through the line. “Yes” I tried to shake the sleep from my voice. “This is Shivakumar, Sub Inspector from **** police station” he said, his tone grave. Instantly, I sat up, alert. “Tell me, sir. How can I help?” “We’re on the highway,” he began, voice thick with a mix of anger and sadness. “We found a young street calf, hardly a 5 months old. He was hit by a speeding vehicle, left to cry and bleed on the road. But that wasn’t the end of it,” he said, voice tight with contained rage. “Another vehicle came and hit him again, dragged him some distance, and left him there, barely breathing.” A surge of anger rose within me at the cruelty of it all, but I pushed it down. I had to act quickly. “Sir, please, can you have one of your men stay by him until we arrive?” I asked. “I’ll send a vehicle right away.” The Sub Inspector didn’t hesitate. “Yes, we’ll stay with him. He’s suffering. He needs us.” I quickly arranged for a team to be dispatched. By the time we reached the calf, the compassionate officers were there, standing guard by the frail figure lying on the road. He was so small, barely 4 month old and his breaths were shallow. His eyes, wide with pain and fear, were searching—perhaps for some kindness, some solace. The officers and our staff lifted him with the utmost care, placing him onto a plank, and our vehicle sped back to the gaushala. Our veterinary team had been waiting, ready with bandages and medicine, their faces showing both worry and determination. Gently, they began to examine him, murmuring soothing words, treating each bruise and wound as if it were their own. We all prayed intensely to Sri Krishna to help us recover the calf. Though he was bruised and had torn ligaments, thankfully no bones were broken. But the journey wasn’t over yet. For days, he lay in recovery, eyes watching us, filled with a fragile hope. Slowly, day by day, he began to show signs of strength, taking tiny steps, even nibbling on food placed before him. today , it’s been a week since that call pierced the silence of the night. Our little calf is beginning to stand on his own, determined, with a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His journey has been painful, but he’s coming through it, one small step at a time. In the stillness of that night, a life was saved because of the compassion of strangers—of officers, vets, and everyone who believed in his right to live. Watching him now, I’m reminded of the incredible power of kindness, even in the loneliest hours. This wouldn't have been possible without your support and blessings of Krishna!. But what's in store for the drivers who sped away without having one bit of remorse? hell? or worse than that?
1:06

Long post, please kindly read them. it would just take less than 2 minute of your time. A Midnight Call 26 Oct 2024 It was 2 a.m., the world outside silent and still. I was bone-tired from a grueling day, my head heavy with the weight of it all. I’d just slipped into sleep when my phone suddenly buzzed, vibrating insistently on the bedside table. At first, I ignored it, thinking it could wait until morning. But then it rang again, and something in its persistence made me pick up. “Hello?” I answered, my voice feeble with exhaustion. “Is this Advocate Ashwin?” A man's voice, firm yet urgent, came through the line. “Yes” I tried to shake the sleep from my voice. “This is Shivakumar, Sub Inspector from **** police station” he said, his tone grave. Instantly, I sat up, alert. “Tell me, sir. How can I help?” “We’re on the highway,” he began, voice thick with a mix of anger and sadness. “We found a young street calf, hardly a 5 months old. He was hit by a speeding vehicle, left to cry and bleed on the road. But that wasn’t the end of it,” he said, voice tight with contained rage. “Another vehicle came and hit him again, dragged him some distance, and left him there, barely breathing.” A surge of anger rose within me at the cruelty of it all, but I pushed it down. I had to act quickly. “Sir, please, can you have one of your men stay by him until we arrive?” I asked. “I’ll send a vehicle right away.” The Sub Inspector didn’t hesitate. “Yes, we’ll stay with him. He’s suffering. He needs us.” I quickly arranged for a team to be dispatched. By the time we reached the calf, the compassionate officers were there, standing guard by the frail figure lying on the road. He was so small, barely 4 month old and his breaths were shallow. His eyes, wide with pain and fear, were searching—perhaps for some kindness, some solace. The officers and our staff lifted him with the utmost care, placing him onto a plank, and our vehicle sped back to the gaushala. Our veterinary team had been waiting, ready with bandages and medicine, their faces showing both worry and determination. Gently, they began to examine him, murmuring soothing words, treating each bruise and wound as if it were their own. We all prayed intensely to Sri Krishna to help us recover the calf. Though he was bruised and had torn ligaments, thankfully no bones were broken. But the journey wasn’t over yet. For days, he lay in recovery, eyes watching us, filled with a fragile hope. Slowly, day by day, he began to show signs of strength, taking tiny steps, even nibbling on food placed before him. today , it’s been a week since that call pierced the silence of the night. Our little calf is beginning to stand on his own, determined, with a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His journey has been painful, but he’s coming through it, one small step at a time. In the stillness of that night, a life was saved because of the compassion of strangers—of officers, vets, and everyone who believed in his right to live. Watching him now, I’m reminded of the incredible power of kindness, even in the loneliest hours. This wouldn't have been possible without your support and blessings of Krishna!. But what's in store for the drivers who sped away without having one bit of remorse? hell? or worse than that?

Ashwin Sampatkumaran

12,904 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

40 quotes from Larry Ellison from the new episode "How Larry Ellison Thinks" 1. They were mistaking the present for the future. It’s the worst mistake a tech company can make. 2. I just can’t accept defeat until I’ve been carried dead from the field. 3. The more you win, the more you want to win. 4. I apply engineering discipline to our entire business, not just product development. 5. A 100 percent perfect solution exists only in the imagination. 6. In marketing, simple messages always win. 7. I’ve always been more motivated by fear of failure than by greed. 8. It’s win or die. 9. I am a sprinter. I rest, I sprint, I rest, I sprint again. 10. The brain’s primary purpose is deception, and the primary person to be deceived is the owner. 11. I have a lot of endurance: intellectual, emotional, physical. 12. You can’t get rich by doing the same thing as everyone else. 13. It’s in my nature to go for the highest-risk/highest-reward option. That’s my cross to bear. 14. Once a course has been plotted, I sail a long way off and burn my boats. 15. People reflexively resist change. 16. Silicon Valley is a killing field. Very few technology companies survive. 17. It never ceases to amaze me how the product name can be the difference between success and failure in the technology industry. 18. I never had the discipline to do things I didn’t like. 19. My father had told me that I would never amount to anything. 20. I thought it would be smart to avoid very competitive markets. 21. I liked the fact it was risky. The bigger the apparent risk, the fewer people will try to go there. 22. Whenever you travel an untraveled path there’s risk. 23. The first version of our database was called Oracle Version 2. I didn’t think anyone would buy Version 1 of a database from five guys in California. 24. If we built the right products the right way, we would win. That was my view of the world then, and that’s my view of the world now. 25. The most effective way to grow sales is to make the product better. 26. [On Oracle almost going out of business in 1991] I couldn’t run away. I had to save Oracle to save myself. I had no choice. 27. You cannot run a company without strong checks and balances. 28. I believe that every process within an organization—marketing, sales, service, everything—should be carefully engineered. 29. I hate losing. 30. If customers don’t believe you’re going to survive—you won’t. 31. If you work in Silicon Valley long enough, you can’t help noticing how much the technology industry resembles the women’s clothing business. Both are fashion-driven. Fashionable ideas are hot, while the others are not. 32. Writing checks is easy. Writing software is hard. 33. We pick our enemies very carefully. It helps us focus. 34. Most people are so in love with their own ideas that it confines their thinking— it creates boundaries and limits their ability to solve problems. 35. People are more interested in personalities than technologies. 36. If you’re a fighter, the only way up is through the top fighters in your division. 37. You cannot lead if you’re filled with uncertainty. 38. Whenever I got too close to a goal I’d raise the bar for fear of actually clearing it. 39. What we want to do with our lives is the most important question we all have to answer. 40. It took me a long time to understand that we all want to be loved. Even me.
1:02:06

40 quotes from Larry Ellison from the new episode "How Larry Ellison Thinks" 1. They were mistaking the present for the future. It’s the worst mistake a tech company can make. 2. I just can’t accept defeat until I’ve been carried dead from the field. 3. The more you win, the more you want to win. 4. I apply engineering discipline to our entire business, not just product development. 5. A 100 percent perfect solution exists only in the imagination. 6. In marketing, simple messages always win. 7. I’ve always been more motivated by fear of failure than by greed. 8. It’s win or die. 9. I am a sprinter. I rest, I sprint, I rest, I sprint again. 10. The brain’s primary purpose is deception, and the primary person to be deceived is the owner. 11. I have a lot of endurance: intellectual, emotional, physical. 12. You can’t get rich by doing the same thing as everyone else. 13. It’s in my nature to go for the highest-risk/highest-reward option. That’s my cross to bear. 14. Once a course has been plotted, I sail a long way off and burn my boats. 15. People reflexively resist change. 16. Silicon Valley is a killing field. Very few technology companies survive. 17. It never ceases to amaze me how the product name can be the difference between success and failure in the technology industry. 18. I never had the discipline to do things I didn’t like. 19. My father had told me that I would never amount to anything. 20. I thought it would be smart to avoid very competitive markets. 21. I liked the fact it was risky. The bigger the apparent risk, the fewer people will try to go there. 22. Whenever you travel an untraveled path there’s risk. 23. The first version of our database was called Oracle Version 2. I didn’t think anyone would buy Version 1 of a database from five guys in California. 24. If we built the right products the right way, we would win. That was my view of the world then, and that’s my view of the world now. 25. The most effective way to grow sales is to make the product better. 26. [On Oracle almost going out of business in 1991] I couldn’t run away. I had to save Oracle to save myself. I had no choice. 27. You cannot run a company without strong checks and balances. 28. I believe that every process within an organization—marketing, sales, service, everything—should be carefully engineered. 29. I hate losing. 30. If customers don’t believe you’re going to survive—you won’t. 31. If you work in Silicon Valley long enough, you can’t help noticing how much the technology industry resembles the women’s clothing business. Both are fashion-driven. Fashionable ideas are hot, while the others are not. 32. Writing checks is easy. Writing software is hard. 33. We pick our enemies very carefully. It helps us focus. 34. Most people are so in love with their own ideas that it confines their thinking— it creates boundaries and limits their ability to solve problems. 35. People are more interested in personalities than technologies. 36. If you’re a fighter, the only way up is through the top fighters in your division. 37. You cannot lead if you’re filled with uncertainty. 38. Whenever I got too close to a goal I’d raise the bar for fear of actually clearing it. 39. What we want to do with our lives is the most important question we all have to answer. 40. It took me a long time to understand that we all want to be loved. Even me.

David Senra

130,914 Aufrufe • vor 9 Monaten

Writing these words is incredibly difficult for me right now, but I'm afraid that if I don't write them now, I never will. I was only ten years old when I first saw the photo of Jennifer 'Precious' Finch below. I had just lost my mother after her long battle with cancer. Around that time, I was reading a book about Kurt Cobain and the author mentioned a bass player named Jennifer Finch. Nirvana's drummer Dave Grohl was her boyfriend and she was the one who introduced Courtney Love to Kurt, and she was an incredible bassist, artist, photographer and activist, and played in an all female band called L7. She seemed to have left her fingerprints all over the American punk scene. After reading everything written about Jennifer over and over again, I remember my childself self thinking: 'An all-female punk band?' I couldn't stop staring at her photos in amazement... The fire-red hair, the unbelievable energy bursting out of every image, the confidence, the attitude, the style... I threw the book into my bag, rushed to the nearest record store, showed it to the owner, and asked, "Do you have LPs of any of these bands? Hole? Babes in Toyland? Sugar Babydoll? L7? The Gits?" They had L7. I bought the record and ran straight back home. The years that followed were spent following these women... Their stage presence, their courage, their music, their politics. Even if Oliver Stone had opened Natural Born Killers with an explosion, it couldn't have made a bigger impact on me than hearing "Shitlist." I can't remember how many times that my childhood version watched the film just to hear L7. Or how many times I jumped off the couch when Jennifer appeared in a John Waters film. Or how many nights I stayed up in front of MTV, hoping they'd play another one of their videos. My childhood, my teenage years were shaped by that world. My worldview. My confidence. My taste in music. My politics. Even my closest circle of friends. Then life performed one of its impossible miracles. Jennifer Finch transformed from one of my childhood heroes into a musician I eventually had the privilege of working with, then into a close friend, then an older sister and ultimately someone I call family. The first real tour I ever organized with my friends as a teenager was for Jennifer's new band, The Shocker. Years later, in my twenties, we were sitting together in a kebab shop in Denmark talking about our shared love for Kanye and the Yeezy pop-up store in Los Angeles that had just opened. As I approached my thirties, we wandered through museums together in Nuremberg before going to watch British bands play. Another time, while I was visiting the incredible Raymond Pettibon retrospective in Moscow, I called her to show her the original SST fanzines. "Cali mention, Precious!!' From the day I discovered her as a child until today, Jennifer's influence never left my life. I admired her, learned from her, and never stopped learning from her. I honestly don't think anyone else has shaped my life so profoundly or in so many different ways. Jennifer was so down to earth that you could almost forget, for a moment, just how much she had lived through and how a legendary rockstar she really was. But then she'd start talking about music, art, photography, or politics, and you'd immediately realize the depth of her knowledge. I have met very few people in my life whose understanding of music stretched so effortlessly from hip-hop to metal, from punk to jazz. Jennifer wasn't just an icon of the Los Angeles punk scene. She reached people in the smallest underground communities all over the world and left a lasting mark on countless lives. You could write an entire book about the life she lived. Within seconds she could take you from a jaw dropping story to one that left you crying with laughter. One day she told me she was proud of me. I still remember thinking "Life has been incredibly hard but hey, if I can make my childhood hero proud then it's ok, I made it." I'm writing these words with incredible sadness, grief mixed with anger, because I truly believe that if the United States treated healthcare as a universal human right, Jennifer Finch would still be with us today. Instead, her treatment turned into a battle against private insurance companies that made everything harder, longer and more exhausting. So yes, my heart is broken. And yes, forever, Free Luigi. My deepest condolences to her life partner, Jack, and to everyone who loved her and everyone who was loved by her. Until we meet again, may the stars guide you home. Precious. I'll miss you forever. — Erin RIP Jennifer Precious Finch (1966-2026)
1:30

Writing these words is incredibly difficult for me right now, but I'm afraid that if I don't write them now, I never will. I was only ten years old when I first saw the photo of Jennifer 'Precious' Finch below. I had just lost my mother after her long battle with cancer. Around that time, I was reading a book about Kurt Cobain and the author mentioned a bass player named Jennifer Finch. Nirvana's drummer Dave Grohl was her boyfriend and she was the one who introduced Courtney Love to Kurt, and she was an incredible bassist, artist, photographer and activist, and played in an all female band called L7. She seemed to have left her fingerprints all over the American punk scene. After reading everything written about Jennifer over and over again, I remember my childself self thinking: 'An all-female punk band?' I couldn't stop staring at her photos in amazement... The fire-red hair, the unbelievable energy bursting out of every image, the confidence, the attitude, the style... I threw the book into my bag, rushed to the nearest record store, showed it to the owner, and asked, "Do you have LPs of any of these bands? Hole? Babes in Toyland? Sugar Babydoll? L7? The Gits?" They had L7. I bought the record and ran straight back home. The years that followed were spent following these women... Their stage presence, their courage, their music, their politics. Even if Oliver Stone had opened Natural Born Killers with an explosion, it couldn't have made a bigger impact on me than hearing "Shitlist." I can't remember how many times that my childhood version watched the film just to hear L7. Or how many times I jumped off the couch when Jennifer appeared in a John Waters film. Or how many nights I stayed up in front of MTV, hoping they'd play another one of their videos. My childhood, my teenage years were shaped by that world. My worldview. My confidence. My taste in music. My politics. Even my closest circle of friends. Then life performed one of its impossible miracles. Jennifer Finch transformed from one of my childhood heroes into a musician I eventually had the privilege of working with, then into a close friend, then an older sister and ultimately someone I call family. The first real tour I ever organized with my friends as a teenager was for Jennifer's new band, The Shocker. Years later, in my twenties, we were sitting together in a kebab shop in Denmark talking about our shared love for Kanye and the Yeezy pop-up store in Los Angeles that had just opened. As I approached my thirties, we wandered through museums together in Nuremberg before going to watch British bands play. Another time, while I was visiting the incredible Raymond Pettibon retrospective in Moscow, I called her to show her the original SST fanzines. "Cali mention, Precious!!' From the day I discovered her as a child until today, Jennifer's influence never left my life. I admired her, learned from her, and never stopped learning from her. I honestly don't think anyone else has shaped my life so profoundly or in so many different ways. Jennifer was so down to earth that you could almost forget, for a moment, just how much she had lived through and how a legendary rockstar she really was. But then she'd start talking about music, art, photography, or politics, and you'd immediately realize the depth of her knowledge. I have met very few people in my life whose understanding of music stretched so effortlessly from hip-hop to metal, from punk to jazz. Jennifer wasn't just an icon of the Los Angeles punk scene. She reached people in the smallest underground communities all over the world and left a lasting mark on countless lives. You could write an entire book about the life she lived. Within seconds she could take you from a jaw dropping story to one that left you crying with laughter. One day she told me she was proud of me. I still remember thinking "Life has been incredibly hard but hey, if I can make my childhood hero proud then it's ok, I made it." I'm writing these words with incredible sadness, grief mixed with anger, because I truly believe that if the United States treated healthcare as a universal human right, Jennifer Finch would still be with us today. Instead, her treatment turned into a battle against private insurance companies that made everything harder, longer and more exhausting. So yes, my heart is broken. And yes, forever, Free Luigi. My deepest condolences to her life partner, Jack, and to everyone who loved her and everyone who was loved by her. Until we meet again, may the stars guide you home. Precious. I'll miss you forever. — Erin RIP Jennifer Precious Finch (1966-2026)

erin/c

70,574 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

🚨 Is Reading Trump’s Speech a Crime in China? Shen Qijia, Online Name “Jing Lei,” Erupts Again: He Doesn’t Want to Endure It Anymore! Yesterday afternoon, Chinese entrepreneur Shen Qijia, online name “Jinglei (meaning Thunder),” 沈啟家ShenStartHome, who had remained silent for quite some time since he used his real name to expose the CCP in March (see video below ), read President Trump’s speech from America’s 250th birthday celebration during a livestream on Chinese social media platform Kuaishou. The speech included a section sharply denouncing communism. To avoid triggering “sensitive words,” he deliberately replaced “communism” with “pie-in-the-sky-ism.” However, even though he tried not to use the "sensitive" word “communism”, before long, the police still came to his door to reprimand him, issued him a warning (see video), and permanently banned the Kuaishou account he used for livestreaming — an account he had borrowed from his wife. Shen Qijia said that in the CCP’s China, there is now absolutely no way to survive. The money illegally confiscated by the government cannot be recovered. He cannot repay the debts he owes. He has become a “laolai,” a blacklisted defaulter. His old passport has expired, but he is not allowed to apply for a new one. He cannot go anywhere, and he does not know how he can change his current desperate situation. Please help spread his video widely! Below is the full text of the letter he sent me yesterday: ******** Dear Ms. Zeng, Hello. Something happened to me again today. From 3:40 p.m. to 5:40 p.m. this afternoon, I was livestreaming on my wife’s account on Kuaishou, a platform inside the Great Firewall. Suddenly, the account was permanently banned. Not long afterward, someone came to my home and knocked on the door violently, saying they were from the police station. I opened the door and let them in. They said: “Someone called 110 to report that you were wantonly attacking the Communist Party during your Kuaishou livestream.” They then reprimanded me face-to-face and gave me a verbal warning. But in fact, all I did was read a piece of news. The content of the news was that President Trump Donald J. Trump, in his speech today at America’s 250th birthday celebration, fiercely denounced communism and said that the vast majority of human suffering was caused by communism. Whenever the word “communism” came up, I used the substitute term “pie-in-the-sky-ism” in my broadcast. Yet three police officers from the local station still came to my door and reprimanded me. They said that even if I saw news like this, I was not allowed to spread it. After warning me face-to-face, they left. I am extremely angry. It is not only because, for spreading universal values, my own social media accounts, as well as the accounts of my relatives and friends, have been permanently banned one after another, leaving me with no place to speak. It is also because my path in life has been completely blocked. I have had no income for several months, and I have no means to obtain food or clothing. I know I am already being watched by the police. I may also be taken away and imprisoned at any moment because of the previous incident in which I cursed the Communist bandits in a Douyin livestream. This is the reality I am facing. Last time, I publicly exposed how the Bao’an District government and the Public Security Bureau in Shenzhen plundered 4.87 million yuan of my company’s lawful assets. Nearly three months have passed since then. They have not come after me, but they have not solved the problem either. Of course, I have no illusions about it. Once the Communist bandits grab what belongs to you, you can forget about ever getting it back. They want to save face, yet all they do are shameless things. Their skin is thicker than the city wall. The problem is, they refuse to return the huge amount of property they owe my company, while I owe friends more than 400,000 yuan in debt and cannot repay it. Because of that, the court put me on China’s blacklist of “dishonest judgment debtors,” commonly known as “laolai,” which restricts people from traveling, borrowing money, and many other normal activities. My passport has expired, and I can no longer apply for a new one. I cannot go anywhere. I can only be trapped here and die here, in this hellhole where I do not even want to take a dump. Damn it. I truly feel despair. In fact, my soul has long no longer belonged here. My heart yearns for freedom — for a country where people can speak normally, where human rights are protected, where people have dignity, and where they are not treated as slaves, prisoners, or objects to be controlled and bullied. But judging from the current situation, it is very hard to change this predicament. I hope the international community and the U.S. government can extend a helping hand to me. Thank you! Please, Ms. Zeng, give me your full support and help spread this widely. Please share it with the media. Thank you!
0:51

🚨 Is Reading Trump’s Speech a Crime in China? Shen Qijia, Online Name “Jing Lei,” Erupts Again: He Doesn’t Want to Endure It Anymore! Yesterday afternoon, Chinese entrepreneur Shen Qijia, online name “Jinglei (meaning Thunder),” 沈啟家ShenStartHome, who had remained silent for quite some time since he used his real name to expose the CCP in March (see video below ), read President Trump’s speech from America’s 250th birthday celebration during a livestream on Chinese social media platform Kuaishou. The speech included a section sharply denouncing communism. To avoid triggering “sensitive words,” he deliberately replaced “communism” with “pie-in-the-sky-ism.” However, even though he tried not to use the "sensitive" word “communism”, before long, the police still came to his door to reprimand him, issued him a warning (see video), and permanently banned the Kuaishou account he used for livestreaming — an account he had borrowed from his wife. Shen Qijia said that in the CCP’s China, there is now absolutely no way to survive. The money illegally confiscated by the government cannot be recovered. He cannot repay the debts he owes. He has become a “laolai,” a blacklisted defaulter. His old passport has expired, but he is not allowed to apply for a new one. He cannot go anywhere, and he does not know how he can change his current desperate situation. Please help spread his video widely! Below is the full text of the letter he sent me yesterday: ******** Dear Ms. Zeng, Hello. Something happened to me again today. From 3:40 p.m. to 5:40 p.m. this afternoon, I was livestreaming on my wife’s account on Kuaishou, a platform inside the Great Firewall. Suddenly, the account was permanently banned. Not long afterward, someone came to my home and knocked on the door violently, saying they were from the police station. I opened the door and let them in. They said: “Someone called 110 to report that you were wantonly attacking the Communist Party during your Kuaishou livestream.” They then reprimanded me face-to-face and gave me a verbal warning. But in fact, all I did was read a piece of news. The content of the news was that President Trump Donald J. Trump, in his speech today at America’s 250th birthday celebration, fiercely denounced communism and said that the vast majority of human suffering was caused by communism. Whenever the word “communism” came up, I used the substitute term “pie-in-the-sky-ism” in my broadcast. Yet three police officers from the local station still came to my door and reprimanded me. They said that even if I saw news like this, I was not allowed to spread it. After warning me face-to-face, they left. I am extremely angry. It is not only because, for spreading universal values, my own social media accounts, as well as the accounts of my relatives and friends, have been permanently banned one after another, leaving me with no place to speak. It is also because my path in life has been completely blocked. I have had no income for several months, and I have no means to obtain food or clothing. I know I am already being watched by the police. I may also be taken away and imprisoned at any moment because of the previous incident in which I cursed the Communist bandits in a Douyin livestream. This is the reality I am facing. Last time, I publicly exposed how the Bao’an District government and the Public Security Bureau in Shenzhen plundered 4.87 million yuan of my company’s lawful assets. Nearly three months have passed since then. They have not come after me, but they have not solved the problem either. Of course, I have no illusions about it. Once the Communist bandits grab what belongs to you, you can forget about ever getting it back. They want to save face, yet all they do are shameless things. Their skin is thicker than the city wall. The problem is, they refuse to return the huge amount of property they owe my company, while I owe friends more than 400,000 yuan in debt and cannot repay it. Because of that, the court put me on China’s blacklist of “dishonest judgment debtors,” commonly known as “laolai,” which restricts people from traveling, borrowing money, and many other normal activities. My passport has expired, and I can no longer apply for a new one. I cannot go anywhere. I can only be trapped here and die here, in this hellhole where I do not even want to take a dump. Damn it. I truly feel despair. In fact, my soul has long no longer belonged here. My heart yearns for freedom — for a country where people can speak normally, where human rights are protected, where people have dignity, and where they are not treated as slaves, prisoners, or objects to be controlled and bullied. But judging from the current situation, it is very hard to change this predicament. I hope the international community and the U.S. government can extend a helping hand to me. Thank you! Please, Ms. Zeng, give me your full support and help spread this widely. Please share it with the media. Thank you!

Inconvenient Truths — Jennifer Zeng Reports

16,536 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

People seem to be very confused about my dynamic with my husband Don and my boyfriend Brian. I think it’s important to explain this and make people realize it’s okay to have complicated relationships when life gets tough. I met Don in 2009 and married him in 2015. He had a stroke in 2019 and I became his full time caregiver. In 2022 I realized life was too short so I made the tough decision to find myself again and make myself happy. Thats when I moved Don into a facility so the professionals could take over. I will admit I was a better caregiver but I can’t do the work of an entire team of people. Unless you have been in my shoes and been a caregiver for your spouse, you wouldn’t understand. It was so overwhelming, I quit my job of eight years to care for him. I wanted to care for him. But stress turned to anxiety and depression and into panic attacks. Caregiver burnout is real and has even been shown to decrease your life expectancy. You are caring for your loved one but you are mourning their loss… even though they are still there. Now I’m mourning him again as he physically passes away! I met Brian and he became my boyfriend. He came into my life at a very emotional time. It also happened to be during a category 5 hurricane. Things happen for a reason so I do want to thank Hurricane Ian for bringing Brian into my life. I still am married to Don but Brian helps support me emotionally in ways Don used to but can’t anymore. I can go home to Brian and get a hug after sitting in the ICU all day with Don. Brian helped me be Don’s court appointed guardian. He helped me have difficult conversations with lawyers. But most of all he stuck around and supported me. People made smart ass comments about us looking happy on thanksgivings. But the photo doesn’t show the phone call that interrupted dinner about Don being an organ donor. The photo doesn’t show me shedding tears in the restaurant parking lot as everyone inside is laughing and enjoying their time with family. It’s a blessing to have the support Brian offers. Don would have been okay with it. He wanted me to be happy. I didn’t just leave Don the second he started dying. This has been a long and very emotional process. I don’t post a video every time I am crying or upset with myself. To literally quote the words Don has sang to me himself many times over the years: “If you're reading this There’s going to come a day When you'll move on And find someone else And that's OK Just remember this I'm in a better place Where soldiers live in peace And angels sing amazing grace” He always sang songs that spoke to him. He didn’t sing them to just sing. Him singing, even 16 years ago gives me peace and closure that I wouldn’t have thought would be possible. ❤️❤️❤️
1:12

People seem to be very confused about my dynamic with my husband Don and my boyfriend Brian. I think it’s important to explain this and make people realize it’s okay to have complicated relationships when life gets tough. I met Don in 2009 and married him in 2015. He had a stroke in 2019 and I became his full time caregiver. In 2022 I realized life was too short so I made the tough decision to find myself again and make myself happy. Thats when I moved Don into a facility so the professionals could take over. I will admit I was a better caregiver but I can’t do the work of an entire team of people. Unless you have been in my shoes and been a caregiver for your spouse, you wouldn’t understand. It was so overwhelming, I quit my job of eight years to care for him. I wanted to care for him. But stress turned to anxiety and depression and into panic attacks. Caregiver burnout is real and has even been shown to decrease your life expectancy. You are caring for your loved one but you are mourning their loss… even though they are still there. Now I’m mourning him again as he physically passes away! I met Brian and he became my boyfriend. He came into my life at a very emotional time. It also happened to be during a category 5 hurricane. Things happen for a reason so I do want to thank Hurricane Ian for bringing Brian into my life. I still am married to Don but Brian helps support me emotionally in ways Don used to but can’t anymore. I can go home to Brian and get a hug after sitting in the ICU all day with Don. Brian helped me be Don’s court appointed guardian. He helped me have difficult conversations with lawyers. But most of all he stuck around and supported me. People made smart ass comments about us looking happy on thanksgivings. But the photo doesn’t show the phone call that interrupted dinner about Don being an organ donor. The photo doesn’t show me shedding tears in the restaurant parking lot as everyone inside is laughing and enjoying their time with family. It’s a blessing to have the support Brian offers. Don would have been okay with it. He wanted me to be happy. I didn’t just leave Don the second he started dying. This has been a long and very emotional process. I don’t post a video every time I am crying or upset with myself. To literally quote the words Don has sang to me himself many times over the years: “If you're reading this There’s going to come a day When you'll move on And find someone else And that's OK Just remember this I'm in a better place Where soldiers live in peace And angels sing amazing grace” He always sang songs that spoke to him. He didn’t sing them to just sing. Him singing, even 16 years ago gives me peace and closure that I wouldn’t have thought would be possible. ❤️❤️❤️

Jeremy Judkins

354,829 Aufrufe • vor 9 Monaten

My Thoughts on R2 after my time with it! Short review! First, Rivian completely nailed this thing. I love the positioning of the driver seats. That long front nose gives a nice commanding feel. They will sell each and every one of these! Driving impression/suspension: 9/10 I felt the vehicle has good build quality. It felt *tight* and secure. Power delivery was smooth and crisp in all-purpose. Sport mode fella unlocked and ready for all the fun things. Power is rapid and consistent with a full power moment around 35-40mph, all the power is there. There is a good amount of nose rise during a hard acceleration. But I do feel the suspension was working well to control this. Remember this isn’t an air suspension. It’s a coil suspension. There is a difference between the suspension setting soft was SOFT. Firm was stiff but not overly stiff. It didn’t have that bouncing effect that some vehicles can have when going into firm suspension. Moderate was a good balance. I wish it could be more adaptive in moderate but it’s very very good. Turn in was good, and the turning radius was excellent. Switching from D to R for a 3-point turn was smooth and quick, no jerkiness. Very good control over entrance to parking lots. Stable. Lastly, it feels like the small delay some R1 have in throttle is gone with R2. Software: 8/10 This is where you guys know I am hard on them on. Because I want the best they can give. Rivian OS2.0 is a HUGE upgrade over R1. In all cases. Responsiveness, touch input, speed, app switching, keyboard responsiveness, etc., it is a huge difference. I love the new “fish stick” bar. And settings being available with one tap and being app-dependent first is fantastic. Well done Wassym Bensaid, the halo are great. The only thing about them is while driving, it’s hard to get a direct click, especially when trying to use it to switch drive modes where you have to push towards you. The halo likes the spin/move, but I think I just need to get used to it. Living with it would for sure help with that. I’m really hoping they fully unlock customization for them. You can end up with 8 different characters you could adjust. I really like having the driver display. But driving with it, you can notice how much smaller it is compared to R1. It’s no deal breaker, but it’s noticeable. Cameras felt snapper and of higher quality over Gen 2 R1. The turn signal sounds is new I like it as well as the forward and Evers noise it makes. Think Tesla sound when shifting. Audio: Now I’ve experienced R2 3x now. With 2 times with audio. The audio was significantly better than when I got to sit it in, in Miami for a block party. It’s about as good as R1 is now. There did feel like a sub was there. That’s great. I used my Apple Music account so I could listen to the song I love. And it was great. Not perfect but good enough. Long as it’s comparable to R1, it’s okay. Cabin: It was very well appointed. I actually found it sufficiently quiet. 🤫 I think for sure it’s quieter than my R1T without question. The HVAC system design (air vent) I like better than R1. I feel like the HVAC system now can blow the air on better than trying to. I need more time to test preconditioning because that’s where I’ve seen most of the issues with my R1 vehicles. Tons of space, easy to drop the seats, it’s flat, and nice under-floor space. The 1-touch drop for all windows was excellent. Overall: I think this is the Rivian everyone has been waiting for. This will be a fantastic one-car solution for so many families. There is storage for days, off-road abilities a Model Y can’t even think of doing, but the UHF needs to improve quicker than it currently is because that is really becoming a buying decision for people. Tim and I can’t wait to take delivery of our R2 Rivian; we are ready! Feel free to ask me anything about the R2! I’ll do my best to answer it or get you the answer. It’s a 10/10 for so many people.
0:58

My Thoughts on R2 after my time with it! Short review! First, Rivian completely nailed this thing. I love the positioning of the driver seats. That long front nose gives a nice commanding feel. They will sell each and every one of these! Driving impression/suspension: 9/10 I felt the vehicle has good build quality. It felt *tight* and secure. Power delivery was smooth and crisp in all-purpose. Sport mode fella unlocked and ready for all the fun things. Power is rapid and consistent with a full power moment around 35-40mph, all the power is there. There is a good amount of nose rise during a hard acceleration. But I do feel the suspension was working well to control this. Remember this isn’t an air suspension. It’s a coil suspension. There is a difference between the suspension setting soft was SOFT. Firm was stiff but not overly stiff. It didn’t have that bouncing effect that some vehicles can have when going into firm suspension. Moderate was a good balance. I wish it could be more adaptive in moderate but it’s very very good. Turn in was good, and the turning radius was excellent. Switching from D to R for a 3-point turn was smooth and quick, no jerkiness. Very good control over entrance to parking lots. Stable. Lastly, it feels like the small delay some R1 have in throttle is gone with R2. Software: 8/10 This is where you guys know I am hard on them on. Because I want the best they can give. Rivian OS2.0 is a HUGE upgrade over R1. In all cases. Responsiveness, touch input, speed, app switching, keyboard responsiveness, etc., it is a huge difference. I love the new “fish stick” bar. And settings being available with one tap and being app-dependent first is fantastic. Well done Wassym Bensaid, the halo are great. The only thing about them is while driving, it’s hard to get a direct click, especially when trying to use it to switch drive modes where you have to push towards you. The halo likes the spin/move, but I think I just need to get used to it. Living with it would for sure help with that. I’m really hoping they fully unlock customization for them. You can end up with 8 different characters you could adjust. I really like having the driver display. But driving with it, you can notice how much smaller it is compared to R1. It’s no deal breaker, but it’s noticeable. Cameras felt snapper and of higher quality over Gen 2 R1. The turn signal sounds is new I like it as well as the forward and Evers noise it makes. Think Tesla sound when shifting. Audio: Now I’ve experienced R2 3x now. With 2 times with audio. The audio was significantly better than when I got to sit it in, in Miami for a block party. It’s about as good as R1 is now. There did feel like a sub was there. That’s great. I used my Apple Music account so I could listen to the song I love. And it was great. Not perfect but good enough. Long as it’s comparable to R1, it’s okay. Cabin: It was very well appointed. I actually found it sufficiently quiet. 🤫 I think for sure it’s quieter than my R1T without question. The HVAC system design (air vent) I like better than R1. I feel like the HVAC system now can blow the air on better than trying to. I need more time to test preconditioning because that’s where I’ve seen most of the issues with my R1 vehicles. Tons of space, easy to drop the seats, it’s flat, and nice under-floor space. The 1-touch drop for all windows was excellent. Overall: I think this is the Rivian everyone has been waiting for. This will be a fantastic one-car solution for so many families. There is storage for days, off-road abilities a Model Y can’t even think of doing, but the UHF needs to improve quicker than it currently is because that is really becoming a buying decision for people. Tim and I can’t wait to take delivery of our R2 Rivian; we are ready! Feel free to ask me anything about the R2! I’ll do my best to answer it or get you the answer. It’s a 10/10 for so many people.

Tyrone Holland🚀🧑🏽‍💻

32,078 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

The Scandal Police Wanted Buried - Birmingham's Grooming Gangs Exposed It is past time we talked about the Mirpuri Rape Clans of Birmingham. In 2015, the Birmingham Mail obtained a confidential West Midlands Police document forced through a Freedom of Information request. It showed the police had known since 2010 that rape gangs were targeting children outside schools across the city. They did not warn the public. The reason given inside the document was concern about community tensions. West Midlands Police produced intelligence comparing exploitation patterns in the city directly to Rotherham. More than 700 children were identified at risk in three months. Hundreds of suspects were under investigation. Children's homes. Hotels. Mapped locations. Documented networks. The police knew children were being dragged into the cars of Pakistani men outside school gates. They said nothing. And nobody was made to answer for that decision. Birmingham is the constituency of the Muslim bloc vote reliant Jess Phillips. It is also the constituency of Shabana Mahmood, the Mirpuri heritage Home Secretary. Two of the most powerful women in British politics represent Birmingham. Neither of them has ever demanded a full public reckoning for it. Just how powerful are the Mirpuri men of Birmingham? This is the first of a series of three transmission. Decide for yourself if either Phillips or Mahmood can be trusted with the national inquiry. _________ If this work is useful to you, the best thing you can do is support it. Everything I produce is free. It stays that way because subscribers make it possible. Please like, share and comment on the video. Follow my page here on X, and please, please, please, subscribe to my newsletter where I share all of my work. 👉 These small asks costs you absolutely nothing and makes all the difference to our campaign. Thank You Raja 🙏 _________ I've been nothing but honest with you throughout this journey. The truth is that the national inquiry, that we forced, will be a cover up. For us to succeed, we now need to keep exposing it, and then help shape what comes next. This will take us another 5 years. My hope is that I can help see this through until the end. For that to happen, as well as praying I stay healthy, I need your help. Please subscribe to my newsletter. 👉 I'm afraid it has been another terrible week with cancellations of paid subscriptions. I don't blame anyone. I'm just grateful that these people supported me for the time they were able to. All I can do is continue to share my work for as long as I am able and ask you a simple question - does anyone else educate and campaign the way I do? 👉 👉 Ever Grateful Raja 🙏
25:39

The Scandal Police Wanted Buried - Birmingham's Grooming Gangs Exposed It is past time we talked about the Mirpuri Rape Clans of Birmingham. In 2015, the Birmingham Mail obtained a confidential West Midlands Police document forced through a Freedom of Information request. It showed the police had known since 2010 that rape gangs were targeting children outside schools across the city. They did not warn the public. The reason given inside the document was concern about community tensions. West Midlands Police produced intelligence comparing exploitation patterns in the city directly to Rotherham. More than 700 children were identified at risk in three months. Hundreds of suspects were under investigation. Children's homes. Hotels. Mapped locations. Documented networks. The police knew children were being dragged into the cars of Pakistani men outside school gates. They said nothing. And nobody was made to answer for that decision. Birmingham is the constituency of the Muslim bloc vote reliant Jess Phillips. It is also the constituency of Shabana Mahmood, the Mirpuri heritage Home Secretary. Two of the most powerful women in British politics represent Birmingham. Neither of them has ever demanded a full public reckoning for it. Just how powerful are the Mirpuri men of Birmingham? This is the first of a series of three transmission. Decide for yourself if either Phillips or Mahmood can be trusted with the national inquiry. _________ If this work is useful to you, the best thing you can do is support it. Everything I produce is free. It stays that way because subscribers make it possible. Please like, share and comment on the video. Follow my page here on X, and please, please, please, subscribe to my newsletter where I share all of my work. 👉 These small asks costs you absolutely nothing and makes all the difference to our campaign. Thank You Raja 🙏 _________ I've been nothing but honest with you throughout this journey. The truth is that the national inquiry, that we forced, will be a cover up. For us to succeed, we now need to keep exposing it, and then help shape what comes next. This will take us another 5 years. My hope is that I can help see this through until the end. For that to happen, as well as praying I stay healthy, I need your help. Please subscribe to my newsletter. 👉 I'm afraid it has been another terrible week with cancellations of paid subscriptions. I don't blame anyone. I'm just grateful that these people supported me for the time they were able to. All I can do is continue to share my work for as long as I am able and ask you a simple question - does anyone else educate and campaign the way I do? 👉 👉 Ever Grateful Raja 🙏

Raja Miah

14,496 Aufrufe • vor 5 Monaten

I have a story about addiction from a different perspective. A story where recovery was not possible. I have one sibling. An older brother. Everyone loved him. It was easy to love him. He died 10 years ago. It was a horrible death that took him 20 years to accomplish, dragging everyone who loved him along the way. He was an amazing musician. He didn't read music. No lessons. Hand him any instrument, and he can play it. He had a big heart. He was easily the funniest person I've ever known. And he is the only other human being who speaks fluent movie-script-quotes with precision and skill. But alcohol took over in his mid-20s. Bam Margera is just 2 years younger than my brother. He reminds me of my brother *so* much. Everything Bam and his family went through with his addiction is what my brother and family went through. My brother left high school because he was a gifted songwriter and musician. Bam left because he was a gifted skater. My brother was really into editing and producing films, and so is Bam. When Ryan Dunn died, and Bam went off the deep end, I was watching my brother do the same thing every time a strong emotion hit him, and he simply didn't know what to do with it. My brother was so beautiful on the outside, yet unrecognizable at the end. I can not tell you how many times my brother would go missing. Hundreds of times. He would sometimes go missing for up to a week. Then we'd get a call from the police or a hospital. Usually, the hospital would be first because he'd be near death. Then they would keep him on a 5150 at a mental health facility. Then he would come home. One time, he chased me with a knife in his hand, screaming he was going to kill me as I was running out of my parents' home on a cordless phone dialing 911. I found a fifth of vodka in his room and poured it down the drain. He went looking for it 20 minutes later, and it was empty...and I told him I poured it out. When I was 24 years old, I landed my first job that came with an office. My name was outside of it. I was stoked. I worked my ass off to get there. But there was no happiness at that time in my life. I remember my father calling me at work, sitting in that office, to say he was coming to pick me up because he knew where my brother, who had been missing for 4 days, was. The credit card he stole from my mother showed he was at a little oceanfront motel 10 minutes away. And I remember thinking to myself on the way over there...I have to open the motel room door. I can't let my dad see him hanging. It will destroy his life. I told my dad to wait about 10 feet to my left, and I opened the door, and there was my brother fashioning a sheet into a noose. Another time he went missing, and they found him on the roof of a building with the inside of his arms slashed from elbow to wrist, just lying in a pool of blood. Dark shit. Both of the insides of his arms were mutilated from being sliced open so many times. At least 30, if not more. He stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts in public about 10 years before he died. He got to the point of seizures when he withdrew and had alcohol-related dementia for the last 3 years of his life, which would come and go. Then one day, after 2 decades, he called my parents and said something was wrong. My parents went over to his place, ended up calling 911, the ambulance got there, and he started walking outside with assistance from paramedics and collapsed. In front of my parents. He was rushed to the hospital. I had not seen my brother for the last 9 years of his life. He disowned me. Because he felt he had to. He killed my dog when he got drunk 9 years before he died. No one knows if he meant to or not, he was so wasted. He couldn't face me after that. So he disowned me. And a piece of my heart died the day he did it. I talked to my parents right before they left to see what was wrong that day. The last thing I said to my dad was, "Do not let him die without me having an opportunity to say goodbye." My dad called me from the er 2 hours later and said, "You should come over now. He won't know you're here." When I got there, I was shocked at what I saw. He wasn't the right color. He was in a coma. Severe internal bleeding. On life support. It was jarring even after seeing him in a much similar state hundreds of times for such a long time. He was taken to the ICU 3 hours later, where they would transfuse blood by the bag damn near constantly, and it just shot out of his nose. It was bloody. A lot of blood. After about 6 hours, I told my parents to go home and get some rest. I would stay with him. And I talked to him like he was right there. Like one of the hundreds of pillow-fort slumber parties we had as kids. Like no time had passed, and his addiction never existed. I showed him pictures of my life over the past decade on my phone...just like he was there. But he wasn't there. And after 3 hours and extensive talks with several doctors and specialists, I had to make the decision to remove his life support. After my parents returned and said goodbye, I told them to wait out in the hall until he passed because I could not allow them to have the memory of him dying, and I returned to my brother's side, and said what I needed to say, bawling my heart out. I told them to turn off the machines, and I held him in my arms as he died. It took just over 7 minutes. And I just held him. I had Nine Inch Nails playing for him. One of his favorites thanks to Pretty Hate Machine. He was a fan for life after that. He was my best friend. But he was also someone I had to protect myself from if he was intoxicated. This is the end that usually becomes a reality for addicts and their families. Then there's someone like Bam Margera. He went to the same place my brother went to in his head. And he came back. Bam is one of the greatest comebacks ever and a story of recovery worth knowing. I see YouTube shorts of Bam skating again every day, and I'm so moved that I just sit here and cry. You can see his personality is back. You have no idea how rare that is. Their personality shows very little while they're in their addiction. Recovery stories are incredibly personal to so many people, including those who have gone through addiction with an addict because they love them so much...they'd see anything they had to see and endure anything they have to endure just to be there with them at their lowest point. Addicts are not monsters. The stuff they use to numb the pain they do not understand is the real monster. And when you put enough of that into a human being, they do things they would *never* do without it. People are not pure. We are more complex than that. We are good and bad. Light and dark. Right and wrong. Chaotic and serene. You will find that the answer to every question you have about life is usually "both" for a reason. Because one can not exist without the other. With recovery stories like Hunter Biden's and Bam Margera's out in the ether, more people will be less ignorant as to how this disease plays out, and that will do nothing but good for so many families struggling with this issue. Addiction isn't just for the addict. Addiction is for everyone who loves them, as well. It's just a different perspective of hell. So listen to recovery stories with renewed respect because most addicts end up the way it ended for the only sibling I'll ever have.
2:04

I have a story about addiction from a different perspective. A story where recovery was not possible. I have one sibling. An older brother. Everyone loved him. It was easy to love him. He died 10 years ago. It was a horrible death that took him 20 years to accomplish, dragging everyone who loved him along the way. He was an amazing musician. He didn't read music. No lessons. Hand him any instrument, and he can play it. He had a big heart. He was easily the funniest person I've ever known. And he is the only other human being who speaks fluent movie-script-quotes with precision and skill. But alcohol took over in his mid-20s. Bam Margera is just 2 years younger than my brother. He reminds me of my brother *so* much. Everything Bam and his family went through with his addiction is what my brother and family went through. My brother left high school because he was a gifted songwriter and musician. Bam left because he was a gifted skater. My brother was really into editing and producing films, and so is Bam. When Ryan Dunn died, and Bam went off the deep end, I was watching my brother do the same thing every time a strong emotion hit him, and he simply didn't know what to do with it. My brother was so beautiful on the outside, yet unrecognizable at the end. I can not tell you how many times my brother would go missing. Hundreds of times. He would sometimes go missing for up to a week. Then we'd get a call from the police or a hospital. Usually, the hospital would be first because he'd be near death. Then they would keep him on a 5150 at a mental health facility. Then he would come home. One time, he chased me with a knife in his hand, screaming he was going to kill me as I was running out of my parents' home on a cordless phone dialing 911. I found a fifth of vodka in his room and poured it down the drain. He went looking for it 20 minutes later, and it was empty...and I told him I poured it out. When I was 24 years old, I landed my first job that came with an office. My name was outside of it. I was stoked. I worked my ass off to get there. But there was no happiness at that time in my life. I remember my father calling me at work, sitting in that office, to say he was coming to pick me up because he knew where my brother, who had been missing for 4 days, was. The credit card he stole from my mother showed he was at a little oceanfront motel 10 minutes away. And I remember thinking to myself on the way over there...I have to open the motel room door. I can't let my dad see him hanging. It will destroy his life. I told my dad to wait about 10 feet to my left, and I opened the door, and there was my brother fashioning a sheet into a noose. Another time he went missing, and they found him on the roof of a building with the inside of his arms slashed from elbow to wrist, just lying in a pool of blood. Dark shit. Both of the insides of his arms were mutilated from being sliced open so many times. At least 30, if not more. He stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts in public about 10 years before he died. He got to the point of seizures when he withdrew and had alcohol-related dementia for the last 3 years of his life, which would come and go. Then one day, after 2 decades, he called my parents and said something was wrong. My parents went over to his place, ended up calling 911, the ambulance got there, and he started walking outside with assistance from paramedics and collapsed. In front of my parents. He was rushed to the hospital. I had not seen my brother for the last 9 years of his life. He disowned me. Because he felt he had to. He killed my dog when he got drunk 9 years before he died. No one knows if he meant to or not, he was so wasted. He couldn't face me after that. So he disowned me. And a piece of my heart died the day he did it. I talked to my parents right before they left to see what was wrong that day. The last thing I said to my dad was, "Do not let him die without me having an opportunity to say goodbye." My dad called me from the er 2 hours later and said, "You should come over now. He won't know you're here." When I got there, I was shocked at what I saw. He wasn't the right color. He was in a coma. Severe internal bleeding. On life support. It was jarring even after seeing him in a much similar state hundreds of times for such a long time. He was taken to the ICU 3 hours later, where they would transfuse blood by the bag damn near constantly, and it just shot out of his nose. It was bloody. A lot of blood. After about 6 hours, I told my parents to go home and get some rest. I would stay with him. And I talked to him like he was right there. Like one of the hundreds of pillow-fort slumber parties we had as kids. Like no time had passed, and his addiction never existed. I showed him pictures of my life over the past decade on my phone...just like he was there. But he wasn't there. And after 3 hours and extensive talks with several doctors and specialists, I had to make the decision to remove his life support. After my parents returned and said goodbye, I told them to wait out in the hall until he passed because I could not allow them to have the memory of him dying, and I returned to my brother's side, and said what I needed to say, bawling my heart out. I told them to turn off the machines, and I held him in my arms as he died. It took just over 7 minutes. And I just held him. I had Nine Inch Nails playing for him. One of his favorites thanks to Pretty Hate Machine. He was a fan for life after that. He was my best friend. But he was also someone I had to protect myself from if he was intoxicated. This is the end that usually becomes a reality for addicts and their families. Then there's someone like Bam Margera. He went to the same place my brother went to in his head. And he came back. Bam is one of the greatest comebacks ever and a story of recovery worth knowing. I see YouTube shorts of Bam skating again every day, and I'm so moved that I just sit here and cry. You can see his personality is back. You have no idea how rare that is. Their personality shows very little while they're in their addiction. Recovery stories are incredibly personal to so many people, including those who have gone through addiction with an addict because they love them so much...they'd see anything they had to see and endure anything they have to endure just to be there with them at their lowest point. Addicts are not monsters. The stuff they use to numb the pain they do not understand is the real monster. And when you put enough of that into a human being, they do things they would *never* do without it. People are not pure. We are more complex than that. We are good and bad. Light and dark. Right and wrong. Chaotic and serene. You will find that the answer to every question you have about life is usually "both" for a reason. Because one can not exist without the other. With recovery stories like Hunter Biden's and Bam Margera's out in the ether, more people will be less ignorant as to how this disease plays out, and that will do nothing but good for so many families struggling with this issue. Addiction isn't just for the addict. Addiction is for everyone who loves them, as well. It's just a different perspective of hell. So listen to recovery stories with renewed respect because most addicts end up the way it ended for the only sibling I'll ever have.

Nicole Minét

408,300 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

Cheney Should Have Died Alone In A Cage Dick Cheney, arguably the single government official most responsible for the expansion of US warmongering and militarism in the 21st century, has died. The worst worst war sluts of the US empire have issued statements expressing their condolences, including Democrats like Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Bill Clinton, and Nancy Pelosi. Because if there’s one thing that can bring Democrats and Republicans together, it’s war crimes and the slaughter millions of middle easterners. Dick Cheney died far too old and far too free. The fact that such monsters get to pass away in their eighties surrounded by loved ones instead of alone in a cage is an indictment of our entire civilization. In a truly sane society, Richard Bruce Cheney would have lived out his life in relative obscurity, working as a gardener or something. In a fairly sane society, people would have realized what a monster Cheney was before he could do any major harm in Washington, and he would have been driven out of any town he tried to enter. In a slightly sane society, he would have been punished for the rape of Iraq and lived out the rest of his life in a cell in The Hague. But we do not live in a truly sane society, or in a fairly sane society, or even in a slightly sane society. We live in the sort of society that lets a man unleash a chain of events which kills millions and displaces tens of millions causing more human suffering than the mind can possibly comprehend, and then live out the rest of his life in comfort and privilege, with zero consequences of any kind. Dick Cheney is dead now, but his legacy lives on. The damage he did is still unfolding. The hegemonic, hypermilitaristic ideology he promoted has become the baseline norm. New swamp monsters have stepped in to fill his shoes and advance the same murderous and tyrannical agendas he advanced, confident that they too will suffer no consequences and live long and comfortable lives in reward for their loyal service to the US empire. Dick Cheney left a stain upon our species that we will spend the rest of our lives trying to scrub out. All decent people want our world to move in the exact opposite direction he spent his entire blood-spattered career working to steer us toward. All decent people want to undo everything that Dick Cheney was. That said, the world actually does feel better without Dick Cheney in it. Feels a bit brighter. A bit lighter. Kinder. Gentler. I don’t find comfort in the idea that Cheney is burning in hell now, because I do not believe in hell. I don’t find comfort in the idea that the empire will become less murderous and abusive in Cheney’s absence, because it won’t. I find comfort in the fact that, after all these years, I am finally walking around on a planet that I do not have to share with Dick Cheney. It’s a nice experience. Give it a try. Take a few steps and notice how you are at long last walking around on an earth that doesn’t have Dick Cheney on it. Look up at the sky and reflect on the fact that you and Dick Cheney are not living underneath that sky together anymore. Breathe deeply and think, “Today is the first day of life without Dick Cheney.” It’s pretty sweet. I find that something in me relaxes a bit. Something subtle in my animal body is very relieved that he is gone now. That’s good enough for me. I’ll take it. Reading by Tim Foley:
4:16

Cheney Should Have Died Alone In A Cage Dick Cheney, arguably the single government official most responsible for the expansion of US warmongering and militarism in the 21st century, has died. The worst worst war sluts of the US empire have issued statements expressing their condolences, including Democrats like Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Bill Clinton, and Nancy Pelosi. Because if there’s one thing that can bring Democrats and Republicans together, it’s war crimes and the slaughter millions of middle easterners. Dick Cheney died far too old and far too free. The fact that such monsters get to pass away in their eighties surrounded by loved ones instead of alone in a cage is an indictment of our entire civilization. In a truly sane society, Richard Bruce Cheney would have lived out his life in relative obscurity, working as a gardener or something. In a fairly sane society, people would have realized what a monster Cheney was before he could do any major harm in Washington, and he would have been driven out of any town he tried to enter. In a slightly sane society, he would have been punished for the rape of Iraq and lived out the rest of his life in a cell in The Hague. But we do not live in a truly sane society, or in a fairly sane society, or even in a slightly sane society. We live in the sort of society that lets a man unleash a chain of events which kills millions and displaces tens of millions causing more human suffering than the mind can possibly comprehend, and then live out the rest of his life in comfort and privilege, with zero consequences of any kind. Dick Cheney is dead now, but his legacy lives on. The damage he did is still unfolding. The hegemonic, hypermilitaristic ideology he promoted has become the baseline norm. New swamp monsters have stepped in to fill his shoes and advance the same murderous and tyrannical agendas he advanced, confident that they too will suffer no consequences and live long and comfortable lives in reward for their loyal service to the US empire. Dick Cheney left a stain upon our species that we will spend the rest of our lives trying to scrub out. All decent people want our world to move in the exact opposite direction he spent his entire blood-spattered career working to steer us toward. All decent people want to undo everything that Dick Cheney was. That said, the world actually does feel better without Dick Cheney in it. Feels a bit brighter. A bit lighter. Kinder. Gentler. I don’t find comfort in the idea that Cheney is burning in hell now, because I do not believe in hell. I don’t find comfort in the idea that the empire will become less murderous and abusive in Cheney’s absence, because it won’t. I find comfort in the fact that, after all these years, I am finally walking around on a planet that I do not have to share with Dick Cheney. It’s a nice experience. Give it a try. Take a few steps and notice how you are at long last walking around on an earth that doesn’t have Dick Cheney on it. Look up at the sky and reflect on the fact that you and Dick Cheney are not living underneath that sky together anymore. Breathe deeply and think, “Today is the first day of life without Dick Cheney.” It’s pretty sweet. I find that something in me relaxes a bit. Something subtle in my animal body is very relieved that he is gone now. That’s good enough for me. I’ll take it. Reading by Tim Foley:

Caitlin Johnstone

56,962 Aufrufe • vor 10 Monaten

Eulogy by Dana Silberman Sitton - Shiri's Sister and Aunt to Kfir and Ariel: “Baz, Lulu, and Purpur. For a whole year I've been preparing myself for this moment, But nothing could truly prepare me adequately for saying goodbye to you. Baz has been Shiri's nickname since we were children. I've already shared how much we looked forward to becoming aunts. Shiri and I decided that when we had children, they couldn't call us by our first names—only "Aunt"! And so it was. Lia, Alon, and Erez were blessed with an aunt like no other, caring, loving, and protective. Shiri and I grew up in a home filled with love, compassion, and understanding. Dad and Mom raised us to be strong women, to love others and respect differences. When we were children, I was the annoying sister; Shiri was always the innocent and sweet one. Shiri wanted to clean the table—I would lie on it. Shiri wanted to watch television—I would suddenly feel compelled to dance in front of it. I admit I tormented her a bit and always waited for her reaction. "Why don't you get back at me?" I would ask. And Shiri would say, "Wait until I'm older, then I'll get you back." A few years ago, I reminded her that I was still waiting... When our children came along, I told her about their antics and she said, "See? Now they're getting you back for everything you did to me." When Shiri and I would pick up the children from kindergarten, we would go straight to Mom and Dad's house. We'd open the door, and they would immediately rush to hug and kiss their grandchildren and whisk them away. Shiri and I would look at each other and say, "Well, it seems we're unnecessary here." That's how deeply they loved their grandchildren—with such special love. Now Baz, you're here beside them, with them, so I'm not worried. My Lulu, A little redhead with a mischievous laugh, Playful yet gentle, Small but wise. I was privileged to be your aunt for only 4 years, But they were 4 years of being a proud aunt! I'll miss you so deeply, I'll miss our shared dinners with Lia, Alon, and Erez at Grandpa and Grandma's house, eating pizza from Grandpa's special recipe. I'll miss your walk, like a little man, Your laughter, your kind eyes, and your sweet hugs. Purpur, Sadly, I only had 9 months to cherish you. It wasn't difficult to fall in love with you immediately, Smiling and pure, And a redhead too—you didn't disappoint. You were both my beloved, special, and one-of-a-kind nephews! You'll be in our hearts for eternity and forever present in our lives. I want to ask your forgiveness on behalf of our leadership and military who weren't there for you that day, And who took so long to bring you back to your homeland. Please watch over us from above—five angels who are uniquely mine. Baz, hug Dad and Mom tightly for me and watch over them for me. Please send energies here to drive all evil from the world and leave only goodness. I promise you, as I promised Mom and Dad, that the monsters beyond the fence will not succeed in their mission. They will not defeat us, they will not break us. On the contrary, their mission failed because we united, because we grew stronger, because we became invincible. They lost. I hope you're up there embraced by Mom and Dad, playing and running through green fields of happiness and love. I promise you, Baz, and you, Lulu and Purpur, that no one will forget you. Lia, Alon, and Erez will grow up to be proud of you. You will be forever bound in our hearts and souls. I'm certain we'll meet again...”
2:24

Eulogy by Dana Silberman Sitton - Shiri's Sister and Aunt to Kfir and Ariel: “Baz, Lulu, and Purpur. For a whole year I've been preparing myself for this moment, But nothing could truly prepare me adequately for saying goodbye to you. Baz has been Shiri's nickname since we were children. I've already shared how much we looked forward to becoming aunts. Shiri and I decided that when we had children, they couldn't call us by our first names—only "Aunt"! And so it was. Lia, Alon, and Erez were blessed with an aunt like no other, caring, loving, and protective. Shiri and I grew up in a home filled with love, compassion, and understanding. Dad and Mom raised us to be strong women, to love others and respect differences. When we were children, I was the annoying sister; Shiri was always the innocent and sweet one. Shiri wanted to clean the table—I would lie on it. Shiri wanted to watch television—I would suddenly feel compelled to dance in front of it. I admit I tormented her a bit and always waited for her reaction. "Why don't you get back at me?" I would ask. And Shiri would say, "Wait until I'm older, then I'll get you back." A few years ago, I reminded her that I was still waiting... When our children came along, I told her about their antics and she said, "See? Now they're getting you back for everything you did to me." When Shiri and I would pick up the children from kindergarten, we would go straight to Mom and Dad's house. We'd open the door, and they would immediately rush to hug and kiss their grandchildren and whisk them away. Shiri and I would look at each other and say, "Well, it seems we're unnecessary here." That's how deeply they loved their grandchildren—with such special love. Now Baz, you're here beside them, with them, so I'm not worried. My Lulu, A little redhead with a mischievous laugh, Playful yet gentle, Small but wise. I was privileged to be your aunt for only 4 years, But they were 4 years of being a proud aunt! I'll miss you so deeply, I'll miss our shared dinners with Lia, Alon, and Erez at Grandpa and Grandma's house, eating pizza from Grandpa's special recipe. I'll miss your walk, like a little man, Your laughter, your kind eyes, and your sweet hugs. Purpur, Sadly, I only had 9 months to cherish you. It wasn't difficult to fall in love with you immediately, Smiling and pure, And a redhead too—you didn't disappoint. You were both my beloved, special, and one-of-a-kind nephews! You'll be in our hearts for eternity and forever present in our lives. I want to ask your forgiveness on behalf of our leadership and military who weren't there for you that day, And who took so long to bring you back to your homeland. Please watch over us from above—five angels who are uniquely mine. Baz, hug Dad and Mom tightly for me and watch over them for me. Please send energies here to drive all evil from the world and leave only goodness. I promise you, as I promised Mom and Dad, that the monsters beyond the fence will not succeed in their mission. They will not defeat us, they will not break us. On the contrary, their mission failed because we united, because we grew stronger, because we became invincible. They lost. I hope you're up there embraced by Mom and Dad, playing and running through green fields of happiness and love. I promise you, Baz, and you, Lulu and Purpur, that no one will forget you. Lia, Alon, and Erez will grow up to be proud of you. You will be forever bound in our hearts and souls. I'm certain we'll meet again...”

Hen Mazzig

152,596 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

The “I never wanted any of this to be public or content” Myth I never wanted any of this to come out. Except I actually mean that. It’s embarrassing, it’s trashy, and it’s the opposite of how I want to present myself publicly. I stayed silent for months while lie after lie was spun about me behind the scenes because I didn’t want to air private, messy moments from a relationship I genuinely cared about. I stayed silent out of fear, because I was told no one would believe me because he would be blindly believed on his large platform. In one of our very last conversations before I blocked him everywhere mid-October, he threatened to do a show on me, contact my employer, and “turn me into the next Lindsey”. Why? Because I didn’t want to continue apologizing to him for the 300th time about venting to someone I thought was a friend. I stayed silent because of these threats. But after Wednesday, after Chelsea posted the private video Aidan gave her, (the same one he threatened me with directly back on 10/2), and after the gaslighting posts yesterday, I don’t have a choice anymore. So here is the timeline. Here are the receipts. Here is what actually happened. September-October 2025- I Stayed Silent Through Months of Smear Campaigns For months, several creators repeated the same false narrative that “Aidan never said a bad word about Meredith.” Jess. Glarer. Auntie Deb. Kim. Ray from Dallas. Others. Meanwhile, Aidan was: • Badmouthing me privately and encouraging others to do so publicly, • Texting Joe “Flipperhead” entire paragraphs trashing me, • Aidan knew Joe would leak them (and even bragged on a stream that he did exactly that so he’d leak them), • Sending Jess Machado after me for months on her large platform, • Directing people behind the scenes to paint me as a villain. • Sending random people who supported me DMs to change their mind (yes Aidan, not everyone is fooled by your bullshit and they came right to me). I ignored all of it. I said nothing. I stayed silent through daily lies because I didn’t want to call more attention to it or face Aidan’s wrath. November 2025 -The Rumors About “March 4”, Joe Flipperhead Flips to Team Aidan Aidan texted Joe his entire made-up version weeks ago. Joe circulated those texts on purpose. Joe threatened me with posting a video montage of mine and Aidan’s private texts. Joe is a pussy so he eventually had Kristy post it for him. Creators discussed it publicly without me ever responding. I STILL didn’t defend myself. November 26-27, 2025- Ratchet Chelsea: The Full 48 Hour Meltdown 11/26/25- The Unprovoked Attack & The March 4 Video On Tuesday night, Chelsea came out of nowhere and launched herself straight at me, accusing me of all kinds of conspiracies from harassment to the horrific crime of sending a friend request, which is explained in vivid detail in the below post (she’s since gone somewhat viral, love this for her!) She spent the next 24 hours thoroughly embarrassing herself and the moment anyone challenged her story even slightly, she did what she always does: she imploded. Her accusations spiraled into her posting the March 4 video. On 11/26/25 at 11:08 PM, Chelsea posted the first clip–a blanket, context-less snippet of me drunk saying something I immediately apologized for the next morning. At 11:50 PM, I responded because at that point, I had no choice. 11/27/25-The Gaslighting & 9-Minute Backpedal Then yesterday, Aidan tried to save face by posting that he “didn’t want the video to be public.” And like clockwork, nine minutes later, Chelsea came charging into the comments like a Temu-sponsored bat out of hell, scrambling to apologize, trying to rewrite reality so it looked like he didn’t send her to do it. It was panicked, sloppy damage control. An amateur quality cover-up attempt that only made it more obvious how coordinated this all was. She wasn’t apologizing because she grew a conscience. She was apologizing because she got caught doing exactly what she’d been primed to do. I wonder if Aidan called her “you should’ve waited at least 20 minutes, dumbass!!!”. Not too bright that Chelsea. I can only imagine the regrets he must have for utilizing someone with the IQ of a pencil to do his dirty work. The Coordination Between Aidan & Chelsea Is Obvious Chelsea had virtually NO followers Wednesday morning. Aidan was one of the first. We’re supposed to believe someone with 150k followers just stumbled on an account that starts posting HIS private messages and HIS private videos? Kk. Aidan commented on her posts that same day, clearly encouraging it. She confirmed in my DMs back on 11/6 that she and Aidan were aligned. And she literally wrote at 4:04 AM that she had “proof,” videos & screenshots she would release if I didn’t “stop calling” her, calls she still hasn’t produced a single shred of proof of. Then yesterday within 9 minutes of his post, she writes: “Sorry for going rogue, Aidan, I hope you don’t hate my guts.” Going rogue? From WHAT? Who gave you the material in the first place? The coordination is obvious to anyone with functioning brain cells. The “I never wanted this public” lie Aidan’s post yesterday claimed he “never wanted this to be public.” If this were true, why did he instruct Chelsea to post it? Why did he share it with Jess Machado to threaten me with for the last month? Why did he share it with Joe Flipperhead, and God knows who else? If he didn’t want it public, he wouldn’t have shared it with anyone, let alone the girl I caught him cheating with. The timeline is clear– Chelsea posted a video at 11:08 pm on Thanksgiving Eve, I responded at 11:50 out of self defense. He leaked first. He escalated first. He weaponized it first. Trying to rewrite that now is gaslighting, pure and simple. He's been lighting matches behind the scenes for months, praying for this to go public. The “Meredith accused him of abuse” narrative is FALSE My actions tell the truth: • I never went to police. • I never filed anything. • I never told anyone he hit me. • I never repeated it. • I apologized the next day. • We stayed together for FOUR more months after that night. • He called me 100+ times some days, even indicating he’d end his life if we broke up. If he believed I was “dangerous,” his actions would have said that. They didn’t. The only reason this is public now is because HE leaked it. Actions > drunk slurred words said because a camera was shoved in my face when I asked him repeatedly to stop filming and to leave. The Wilbur Theatre Rumors—Let’s get petty for a second. This is another topic I’m cringing at discussing but we can thank Aidan for since he shared our sexual messages with Joe Flipperhead. And since some people (Auntie Deb, sweetie, this means you) insist on pushing their Dollar Store fan-fiction about the Wilbur Theatre night, let’s actually walk through what happened, using facts instead of whatever drug-induced hallucinations you’ve been spinning this week. The rumor goes like this- I was “mad at Aidan because we didn’t hook up,” and to “prove” it, they trot out a cherry-picked text where I said I wanted to hook up, he didn’t answer, and the next morning I said I was drunk and sorry. And somehow this has been spun into me being desperate, obsessed, or pining like a background character in a teenage soap opera. Adorable. Wrong, but adorable. Here’s the real plot twist-Aidan and I had already been together literally two days earlier, and shocker-that was initiated by him, not me. I didn’t just “show up at the Wilbur”. He invited me to come to the after party at Encore knowing I had a wedding earlier in the night. I wanted to see my friends there who I actually met to go with. This wasn’t a surprise, it was planned ahead of time. The “I was drunk, sorry” message wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t longing. It was me politely tapping the brakes because I didn’t even want to entertain whatever bad path it could lead us back down. And then? He texted me asking about my brother’s wedding, how I am, etc. I ignored him for a full week. Until I had no choice but to speak to him about MereNeill. That silence, from me, is what triggered his latest meltdown. Not mine. His. So no, Auntie Deb, your version isn’t “a different perspective.” It’s just wrong. Like wildly, hilariously, not-even-in-the-ballpark wrong. But sure, keep spinning fanfic if it makes your livestreams feel more exciting. I realize it’s probably been awhile since you’ve had any action since you’ve let yourself go so badly, so you live vicariously through others. Recap For MONTHS I ignored: • the texts he sent Joe to leak • the smear campaign • the creators parroting lies • the behind-the-scenes messages • the insinuations I hacked him and even shared revenge porn • the constant coordinated attacks • the threats of “turning me into the next Lindsey” • his warning that everyone would believe him because of his platform • the threats to contact my employer I didn’t clap back, didn’t retaliate, didn’t respond. But Wednesday, when Chelsea dumped the video he gave her, the same video she threatened weeks ago to drop, AND he posted pretending he didn’t want this all out? That was the line. They chose the nuclear option. Now I’m responding with facts in pure self-defense. Conclusion/Message for Temu Storm This entire mess could have stayed private. I wanted it to stay private. But when someone leaks your private moments, lies about your intentions, weaponizes your past, and coordinates an online attack, you either let the false narrative stand or you defend yourself. I’m choosing to defend myself with receipts, not gossip. With timelines, not “he said.” With evidence, not weaponized drunk clips. And then there’s Aidan’s favorite delusion. The claim that I was ‘working with Karen behind the scenes’ or ‘conspiring with her to get him in trouble for the recording.’ That could not be further from the truth. I didn’t even know he had recorded her until after she already knew about it herself. I wasn’t working with her, plotting with her, or communicating with her about it. She and I have always been friendly, but we didn’t even discuss the recording until it started leaking and Joe Flipperhead went feral on Twitter. Meanwhile, Aidan spent weeks screaming at me, accusing me of being some kind of secret double agent, like he was trying to create the betrayal he was terrified of. Almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. And here’s the reality: in the last few weeks, after he’s gone fully scorched earth on me, I have talked to her, and I support her 100%. The things he’s done to her over the past couple years, and the way he twisted it all for his followers, is the exact same manipulation I lived through. I’m not going into her details because that’s her story to tell… but let’s just say I have a feeling you’ll be hearing it sooner rather than later. And since this week has apparently become “Let’s All Fixate on Meredith Week,” let me address the content-creator sideshow, too. Some of you are strangers, while some I actually considered my friends. It’s shocking but not shocking how quickly you all flip a switch and follow your captain’s orders. Ray from Dallas spent his Sunday foaming at the mouth in a hostile little video about me, all bark, no substance. I saw it. I’m not intimidated. Mostly, I’m embarrassed for you. And your family(ies) will feel the same when your ass is doxxed next week. Can’t wait to tAkE tHaT WaLk with you! Then there’s Will, who’s gone on multiple streams calling me “crazy” and pretending he’s scared of me, despite me being nothing but nice to him. Why? Because he thinks I was the first one to tell Karen he heard the recording, which he absolutely did (unless Aidan is lying about who he played it for, but we know he’s actually telling the truth on this for once). She was informed of it the very next day, which is why she called you and you know this. This was two full days before I was even aware of a call at all. Will, for someone with your track record, maybe sit the “women are dangerous” narrative out. You’re not fooling anyone. I’m staring at 15 pages of police reports and no, it’s not all “things you’ve owned up for in the past”. You know this. Again, I’d take a very large seat here. And then my personal favorite-ex-fake friend Auntie Deb, who decided to spice up his Spaces on Thanksgiving by accusing me of distributing revenge porn with zero evidence, zero screenshots, zero anything. A completely fabricated felony tossed around like it’s gossip hour at the bingo hall. Considering your own professional history, James, I’d hope you of all people would understand how catastrophic false accusations can be, but apparently not. It would be a shame if I were to share the real reason around your separation at the middle school and how you wanted to bring Turtlenoy into it. This is all based on the several witnesses I’ve spoken to. See how that works? You announce things as fact based on something someone told you. I wonder if you’ll have that same enthusiasm when the topic is you. TBD. I’ll wait for that retraction about revenge porn. Ball’s in your court hun. And of course, there’s Jessica Machado, who’s been grinding this axe for months like it’s her full-time personality. Hos long did you cry when Chelsea beat you to the punch with that video? Don’t worry hun, there’s more but she didn’t post it because it’s not great for your fairytale. If you thought the fall-out of Kate’s video was bad, Jessica…stay tuned. I may have been momentarily distracted dealing with the chaos from Temu Chelsea, but there’s an army of your victims out there that are eager and ready for your downfall. The false claim that I shared “revenge porn,” the conspiracy theories, the wild accusations you present as fact, all of it. The 10+ streams you’ve now defamed me on. You’ve been so obsessed with me for so long that you can’t even keep your own narratives straight anymore. I love this so much for you. Let me be crystal clear–I am done being all of your punching bag. You love to spin this narrative that I’m this dangerous person. You’d think you’d lay off from constantly f*cking with me if you truly believed that. I would genuinely love for this nonsense to stop. But that requires ALL of you to stop manufacturing drama, stop lying, and stop weaponizing made-up crimes for clicks. And if they want to keep going? I’ve got plenty of content for many seasons to come.
0:57

The “I never wanted any of this to be public or content” Myth I never wanted any of this to come out. Except I actually mean that. It’s embarrassing, it’s trashy, and it’s the opposite of how I want to present myself publicly. I stayed silent for months while lie after lie was spun about me behind the scenes because I didn’t want to air private, messy moments from a relationship I genuinely cared about. I stayed silent out of fear, because I was told no one would believe me because he would be blindly believed on his large platform. In one of our very last conversations before I blocked him everywhere mid-October, he threatened to do a show on me, contact my employer, and “turn me into the next Lindsey”. Why? Because I didn’t want to continue apologizing to him for the 300th time about venting to someone I thought was a friend. I stayed silent because of these threats. But after Wednesday, after Chelsea posted the private video Aidan gave her, (the same one he threatened me with directly back on 10/2), and after the gaslighting posts yesterday, I don’t have a choice anymore. So here is the timeline. Here are the receipts. Here is what actually happened. September-October 2025- I Stayed Silent Through Months of Smear Campaigns For months, several creators repeated the same false narrative that “Aidan never said a bad word about Meredith.” Jess. Glarer. Auntie Deb. Kim. Ray from Dallas. Others. Meanwhile, Aidan was: • Badmouthing me privately and encouraging others to do so publicly, • Texting Joe “Flipperhead” entire paragraphs trashing me, • Aidan knew Joe would leak them (and even bragged on a stream that he did exactly that so he’d leak them), • Sending Jess Machado after me for months on her large platform, • Directing people behind the scenes to paint me as a villain. • Sending random people who supported me DMs to change their mind (yes Aidan, not everyone is fooled by your bullshit and they came right to me). I ignored all of it. I said nothing. I stayed silent through daily lies because I didn’t want to call more attention to it or face Aidan’s wrath. November 2025 -The Rumors About “March 4”, Joe Flipperhead Flips to Team Aidan Aidan texted Joe his entire made-up version weeks ago. Joe circulated those texts on purpose. Joe threatened me with posting a video montage of mine and Aidan’s private texts. Joe is a pussy so he eventually had Kristy post it for him. Creators discussed it publicly without me ever responding. I STILL didn’t defend myself. November 26-27, 2025- Ratchet Chelsea: The Full 48 Hour Meltdown 11/26/25- The Unprovoked Attack & The March 4 Video On Tuesday night, Chelsea came out of nowhere and launched herself straight at me, accusing me of all kinds of conspiracies from harassment to the horrific crime of sending a friend request, which is explained in vivid detail in the below post (she’s since gone somewhat viral, love this for her!) She spent the next 24 hours thoroughly embarrassing herself and the moment anyone challenged her story even slightly, she did what she always does: she imploded. Her accusations spiraled into her posting the March 4 video. On 11/26/25 at 11:08 PM, Chelsea posted the first clip–a blanket, context-less snippet of me drunk saying something I immediately apologized for the next morning. At 11:50 PM, I responded because at that point, I had no choice. 11/27/25-The Gaslighting & 9-Minute Backpedal Then yesterday, Aidan tried to save face by posting that he “didn’t want the video to be public.” And like clockwork, nine minutes later, Chelsea came charging into the comments like a Temu-sponsored bat out of hell, scrambling to apologize, trying to rewrite reality so it looked like he didn’t send her to do it. It was panicked, sloppy damage control. An amateur quality cover-up attempt that only made it more obvious how coordinated this all was. She wasn’t apologizing because she grew a conscience. She was apologizing because she got caught doing exactly what she’d been primed to do. I wonder if Aidan called her “you should’ve waited at least 20 minutes, dumbass!!!”. Not too bright that Chelsea. I can only imagine the regrets he must have for utilizing someone with the IQ of a pencil to do his dirty work. The Coordination Between Aidan & Chelsea Is Obvious Chelsea had virtually NO followers Wednesday morning. Aidan was one of the first. We’re supposed to believe someone with 150k followers just stumbled on an account that starts posting HIS private messages and HIS private videos? Kk. Aidan commented on her posts that same day, clearly encouraging it. She confirmed in my DMs back on 11/6 that she and Aidan were aligned. And she literally wrote at 4:04 AM that she had “proof,” videos & screenshots she would release if I didn’t “stop calling” her, calls she still hasn’t produced a single shred of proof of. Then yesterday within 9 minutes of his post, she writes: “Sorry for going rogue, Aidan, I hope you don’t hate my guts.” Going rogue? From WHAT? Who gave you the material in the first place? The coordination is obvious to anyone with functioning brain cells. The “I never wanted this public” lie Aidan’s post yesterday claimed he “never wanted this to be public.” If this were true, why did he instruct Chelsea to post it? Why did he share it with Jess Machado to threaten me with for the last month? Why did he share it with Joe Flipperhead, and God knows who else? If he didn’t want it public, he wouldn’t have shared it with anyone, let alone the girl I caught him cheating with. The timeline is clear– Chelsea posted a video at 11:08 pm on Thanksgiving Eve, I responded at 11:50 out of self defense. He leaked first. He escalated first. He weaponized it first. Trying to rewrite that now is gaslighting, pure and simple. He's been lighting matches behind the scenes for months, praying for this to go public. The “Meredith accused him of abuse” narrative is FALSE My actions tell the truth: • I never went to police. • I never filed anything. • I never told anyone he hit me. • I never repeated it. • I apologized the next day. • We stayed together for FOUR more months after that night. • He called me 100+ times some days, even indicating he’d end his life if we broke up. If he believed I was “dangerous,” his actions would have said that. They didn’t. The only reason this is public now is because HE leaked it. Actions > drunk slurred words said because a camera was shoved in my face when I asked him repeatedly to stop filming and to leave. The Wilbur Theatre Rumors—Let’s get petty for a second. This is another topic I’m cringing at discussing but we can thank Aidan for since he shared our sexual messages with Joe Flipperhead. And since some people (Auntie Deb, sweetie, this means you) insist on pushing their Dollar Store fan-fiction about the Wilbur Theatre night, let’s actually walk through what happened, using facts instead of whatever drug-induced hallucinations you’ve been spinning this week. The rumor goes like this- I was “mad at Aidan because we didn’t hook up,” and to “prove” it, they trot out a cherry-picked text where I said I wanted to hook up, he didn’t answer, and the next morning I said I was drunk and sorry. And somehow this has been spun into me being desperate, obsessed, or pining like a background character in a teenage soap opera. Adorable. Wrong, but adorable. Here’s the real plot twist-Aidan and I had already been together literally two days earlier, and shocker-that was initiated by him, not me. I didn’t just “show up at the Wilbur”. He invited me to come to the after party at Encore knowing I had a wedding earlier in the night. I wanted to see my friends there who I actually met to go with. This wasn’t a surprise, it was planned ahead of time. The “I was drunk, sorry” message wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t longing. It was me politely tapping the brakes because I didn’t even want to entertain whatever bad path it could lead us back down. And then? He texted me asking about my brother’s wedding, how I am, etc. I ignored him for a full week. Until I had no choice but to speak to him about MereNeill. That silence, from me, is what triggered his latest meltdown. Not mine. His. So no, Auntie Deb, your version isn’t “a different perspective.” It’s just wrong. Like wildly, hilariously, not-even-in-the-ballpark wrong. But sure, keep spinning fanfic if it makes your livestreams feel more exciting. I realize it’s probably been awhile since you’ve had any action since you’ve let yourself go so badly, so you live vicariously through others. Recap For MONTHS I ignored: • the texts he sent Joe to leak • the smear campaign • the creators parroting lies • the behind-the-scenes messages • the insinuations I hacked him and even shared revenge porn • the constant coordinated attacks • the threats of “turning me into the next Lindsey” • his warning that everyone would believe him because of his platform • the threats to contact my employer I didn’t clap back, didn’t retaliate, didn’t respond. But Wednesday, when Chelsea dumped the video he gave her, the same video she threatened weeks ago to drop, AND he posted pretending he didn’t want this all out? That was the line. They chose the nuclear option. Now I’m responding with facts in pure self-defense. Conclusion/Message for Temu Storm This entire mess could have stayed private. I wanted it to stay private. But when someone leaks your private moments, lies about your intentions, weaponizes your past, and coordinates an online attack, you either let the false narrative stand or you defend yourself. I’m choosing to defend myself with receipts, not gossip. With timelines, not “he said.” With evidence, not weaponized drunk clips. And then there’s Aidan’s favorite delusion. The claim that I was ‘working with Karen behind the scenes’ or ‘conspiring with her to get him in trouble for the recording.’ That could not be further from the truth. I didn’t even know he had recorded her until after she already knew about it herself. I wasn’t working with her, plotting with her, or communicating with her about it. She and I have always been friendly, but we didn’t even discuss the recording until it started leaking and Joe Flipperhead went feral on Twitter. Meanwhile, Aidan spent weeks screaming at me, accusing me of being some kind of secret double agent, like he was trying to create the betrayal he was terrified of. Almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. And here’s the reality: in the last few weeks, after he’s gone fully scorched earth on me, I have talked to her, and I support her 100%. The things he’s done to her over the past couple years, and the way he twisted it all for his followers, is the exact same manipulation I lived through. I’m not going into her details because that’s her story to tell… but let’s just say I have a feeling you’ll be hearing it sooner rather than later. And since this week has apparently become “Let’s All Fixate on Meredith Week,” let me address the content-creator sideshow, too. Some of you are strangers, while some I actually considered my friends. It’s shocking but not shocking how quickly you all flip a switch and follow your captain’s orders. Ray from Dallas spent his Sunday foaming at the mouth in a hostile little video about me, all bark, no substance. I saw it. I’m not intimidated. Mostly, I’m embarrassed for you. And your family(ies) will feel the same when your ass is doxxed next week. Can’t wait to tAkE tHaT WaLk with you! Then there’s Will, who’s gone on multiple streams calling me “crazy” and pretending he’s scared of me, despite me being nothing but nice to him. Why? Because he thinks I was the first one to tell Karen he heard the recording, which he absolutely did (unless Aidan is lying about who he played it for, but we know he’s actually telling the truth on this for once). She was informed of it the very next day, which is why she called you and you know this. This was two full days before I was even aware of a call at all. Will, for someone with your track record, maybe sit the “women are dangerous” narrative out. You’re not fooling anyone. I’m staring at 15 pages of police reports and no, it’s not all “things you’ve owned up for in the past”. You know this. Again, I’d take a very large seat here. And then my personal favorite-ex-fake friend Auntie Deb, who decided to spice up his Spaces on Thanksgiving by accusing me of distributing revenge porn with zero evidence, zero screenshots, zero anything. A completely fabricated felony tossed around like it’s gossip hour at the bingo hall. Considering your own professional history, James, I’d hope you of all people would understand how catastrophic false accusations can be, but apparently not. It would be a shame if I were to share the real reason around your separation at the middle school and how you wanted to bring Turtlenoy into it. This is all based on the several witnesses I’ve spoken to. See how that works? You announce things as fact based on something someone told you. I wonder if you’ll have that same enthusiasm when the topic is you. TBD. I’ll wait for that retraction about revenge porn. Ball’s in your court hun. And of course, there’s Jessica Machado, who’s been grinding this axe for months like it’s her full-time personality. Hos long did you cry when Chelsea beat you to the punch with that video? Don’t worry hun, there’s more but she didn’t post it because it’s not great for your fairytale. If you thought the fall-out of Kate’s video was bad, Jessica…stay tuned. I may have been momentarily distracted dealing with the chaos from Temu Chelsea, but there’s an army of your victims out there that are eager and ready for your downfall. The false claim that I shared “revenge porn,” the conspiracy theories, the wild accusations you present as fact, all of it. The 10+ streams you’ve now defamed me on. You’ve been so obsessed with me for so long that you can’t even keep your own narratives straight anymore. I love this so much for you. Let me be crystal clear–I am done being all of your punching bag. You love to spin this narrative that I’m this dangerous person. You’d think you’d lay off from constantly f*cking with me if you truly believed that. I would genuinely love for this nonsense to stop. But that requires ALL of you to stop manufacturing drama, stop lying, and stop weaponizing made-up crimes for clicks. And if they want to keep going? I’ve got plenty of content for many seasons to come.

Meredith O

16,962 Aufrufe • vor 9 Monaten

🔆 The Redox Recipe No More DMs 🙏 Sorry, I can’t do DMs anymore. Every morning I wake up to 9–20 messages. If I answer one by one, I help a few. If I answer here, we all learn. So let’s do this in the open; because sunlight belongs to everyone. I understand everyone’s frustration..believe me, I’ve been there. I spent a full year in the hospital with one of the deadliest Systemic Lupus. Few walk out alive. I lost my kidneys, almost lost my lungs, spinal cord, intestines, and few other organs… The only reason I’m here writing this is because I signed a waiver refusing more “treatment.” I told the doctors I’d rather die at home..and that’s when life began to return. If you’re desperate like I was, you must walk the talk.(today is 14° but with the wind feels 9/10) No supplement, no pill, only what’s truly necessary (like my transplant medication, without which I wouldn’t survive). As ☣️ Pleb Kruse = BTC foundationalist in exile 🟩🔆 said: If your body’s make it, don’t take it.” No doctor can fix what your light environment broke 1. You can’t heal in the same environment that made you sick. If your location is toxic, move. Period 2. 🌞 Sunrise is non-negotiable. Watch it with naked eyes, bare skin, and bare feet on the ground. That’s how your circadian clock resets — your mitochondria’s morning meeting with the heartbeat of the Earth (or God — call it what you want) 🍱 3. Eat the light your environment provides. Minimum 70% seafood, cooked gently to protect DHA. Add oysters, seaweed, and wild fish, those don’t need to be local. The remaining 30% must be local fruits, vegetables, and meats grown under your local sunlight. Foreign food = foreign light code = inflammation and lost redox. 🦶 4. Ground daily. Barefoot on earth, sand, or water (sea, rivers, lakes). Avoid places with underground cables or transformers. You’re not “earthing”..you’re plugging back into Nature’s current. 👚5. Wear natural fibers only. Cotton, linen, wool. They let your body exchange electrons freely. Synthetic fabrics trap static and block your electric field . no bueno 😬 📡6. Escape high-EMF zones. If your home sits near a tower, radar, or airport(like mine) plan your exit. I’ll move in 2 years when our work contract ends. Until then, I sleep in an EMF-shielding bag, wear protective clothing head-to-toe, and spend every vacation in nature(far from cities) Know this: staying long-term will cost you years of life. 🏠7. Inside your home: Unplug what you don’t need. No microwave, no blender, no electric toothbrush, no Wi-Fi (use ethernet cables). At sunset, switch to candles or one dim red/incandescent bulb. No TV, no screens. When the sun sets, so should you. Darkness is your natural melatonin therapy. Sunrise and darkness are the yin and yang of life…,one cannot exist without the other. 🥶8. Cold Thermogenesis (CT). Cold water is your internal light switch. It structures your cellular water, tightens your charge, and rebuilds your semiconductors. Start with cold showers; progress to ice baths. Make light from within. 🫡 9. Respect your temperature environment. If it’s hot ; feel it. If it’s cold; embrace it. Your temperature is the “seconds hand” on Nature’s clock:⏰ Sunlight = hour hand Darkness & magnetism = minute hand Temperature = seconds hand That’s how time is written in biology. 🎯 10. Location, Location. The older we get, the more we need the sun. If you live in high latitudes and don’t embrace cold; move. It’s useless to live in the North wrapped in a down jacket. Cold is not the enemy; it’s the teacher. 🍫11. Carbohydrates. If you live near the equator, you can eat them ..sunlight will handle the deuterium load. But if you live in higher latitudes (4 seasons), carbs are only for summer and must be local. Winter means carnivore mode; that’s Nature telling you to “hibernate.” Humans are walking bears ..we don’t sleep all winter, but we must create light inside through DHA and cold. Start with these few steps, and your new life will unfold.. REDOX ARE 🔑
4:37

🔆 The Redox Recipe No More DMs 🙏 Sorry, I can’t do DMs anymore. Every morning I wake up to 9–20 messages. If I answer one by one, I help a few. If I answer here, we all learn. So let’s do this in the open; because sunlight belongs to everyone. I understand everyone’s frustration..believe me, I’ve been there. I spent a full year in the hospital with one of the deadliest Systemic Lupus. Few walk out alive. I lost my kidneys, almost lost my lungs, spinal cord, intestines, and few other organs… The only reason I’m here writing this is because I signed a waiver refusing more “treatment.” I told the doctors I’d rather die at home..and that’s when life began to return. If you’re desperate like I was, you must walk the talk.(today is 14° but with the wind feels 9/10) No supplement, no pill, only what’s truly necessary (like my transplant medication, without which I wouldn’t survive). As ☣️ Pleb Kruse = BTC foundationalist in exile 🟩🔆 said: If your body’s make it, don’t take it.” No doctor can fix what your light environment broke 1. You can’t heal in the same environment that made you sick. If your location is toxic, move. Period 2. 🌞 Sunrise is non-negotiable. Watch it with naked eyes, bare skin, and bare feet on the ground. That’s how your circadian clock resets — your mitochondria’s morning meeting with the heartbeat of the Earth (or God — call it what you want) 🍱 3. Eat the light your environment provides. Minimum 70% seafood, cooked gently to protect DHA. Add oysters, seaweed, and wild fish, those don’t need to be local. The remaining 30% must be local fruits, vegetables, and meats grown under your local sunlight. Foreign food = foreign light code = inflammation and lost redox. 🦶 4. Ground daily. Barefoot on earth, sand, or water (sea, rivers, lakes). Avoid places with underground cables or transformers. You’re not “earthing”..you’re plugging back into Nature’s current. 👚5. Wear natural fibers only. Cotton, linen, wool. They let your body exchange electrons freely. Synthetic fabrics trap static and block your electric field . no bueno 😬 📡6. Escape high-EMF zones. If your home sits near a tower, radar, or airport(like mine) plan your exit. I’ll move in 2 years when our work contract ends. Until then, I sleep in an EMF-shielding bag, wear protective clothing head-to-toe, and spend every vacation in nature(far from cities) Know this: staying long-term will cost you years of life. 🏠7. Inside your home: Unplug what you don’t need. No microwave, no blender, no electric toothbrush, no Wi-Fi (use ethernet cables). At sunset, switch to candles or one dim red/incandescent bulb. No TV, no screens. When the sun sets, so should you. Darkness is your natural melatonin therapy. Sunrise and darkness are the yin and yang of life…,one cannot exist without the other. 🥶8. Cold Thermogenesis (CT). Cold water is your internal light switch. It structures your cellular water, tightens your charge, and rebuilds your semiconductors. Start with cold showers; progress to ice baths. Make light from within. 🫡 9. Respect your temperature environment. If it’s hot ; feel it. If it’s cold; embrace it. Your temperature is the “seconds hand” on Nature’s clock:⏰ Sunlight = hour hand Darkness & magnetism = minute hand Temperature = seconds hand That’s how time is written in biology. 🎯 10. Location, Location. The older we get, the more we need the sun. If you live in high latitudes and don’t embrace cold; move. It’s useless to live in the North wrapped in a down jacket. Cold is not the enemy; it’s the teacher. 🍫11. Carbohydrates. If you live near the equator, you can eat them ..sunlight will handle the deuterium load. But if you live in higher latitudes (4 seasons), carbs are only for summer and must be local. Winter means carnivore mode; that’s Nature telling you to “hibernate.” Humans are walking bears ..we don’t sleep all winter, but we must create light inside through DHA and cold. Start with these few steps, and your new life will unfold.. REDOX ARE 🔑

🌞Light Me Away 💫

15,451 Aufrufe • vor 10 Monaten