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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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uncutpenis

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167,132 просмотров • 1 год назад •via X (Twitter)

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 🔗 ⬇️
7:19

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 🔗 ⬇️

Intel Lady

179,129 просмотров • 6 месяцев назад

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
2:02

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

Billkin x PP Universe

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“What’s the perfect size? Bonnie blue has a VERY specific answer and she’s not afraid to prove it.” Host 1: What's too big and what's too small? Guest: I rate so many dicks for a living. I feel like I'm a professional at this. Host 1: Here you go. We got these for you. Guest: They're all still too big. Six inches is about average and, to me, the perfect size. I call it a boyfriend-size dick—not too big, not too small. Four can be good too, as long as it has some girth. I have a small cervix, so I can't really take very large sizes. This one is about 7 or 8 inches, and with the curve, it's deadly. That's big. These are unrealistic—like pornstar sizes. On camera, I need bigger sizes so you can see the penetration, but in my personal life, I prefer smaller. This is about 9 or 10 inches. That's too big for me. Six is perfect. Five to six is great for me.
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“What’s the perfect size? Bonnie blue has a VERY specific answer and she’s not afraid to prove it.” Host 1: What's too big and what's too small? Guest: I rate so many dicks for a living. I feel like I'm a professional at this. Host 1: Here you go. We got these for you. Guest: They're all still too big. Six inches is about average and, to me, the perfect size. I call it a boyfriend-size dick—not too big, not too small. Four can be good too, as long as it has some girth. I have a small cervix, so I can't really take very large sizes. This one is about 7 or 8 inches, and with the curve, it's deadly. That's big. These are unrealistic—like pornstar sizes. On camera, I need bigger sizes so you can see the penetration, but in my personal life, I prefer smaller. This is about 9 or 10 inches. That's too big for me. Six is perfect. Five to six is great for me.

osaze

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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 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.

BowTiedBroke

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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 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.”

ROSALÍA UPDATE

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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
1:09

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 просмотров • 4 месяцев назад

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 просмотров • 2 месяцев назад

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 просмотров • 1 месяц назад

Park Bogum’s speech ENG (the long and accurate version 😭) : Hello, this is Park Bogum. Thank you very much. First of all, I give glory to God, who always guides me on the right path. I am already grateful just to have been invited to such a grand awards ceremony, but to also be given the great honor of receiving the Best Entertainer Award, which one can receive only once in a lifetime, I am truly, deeply thankful. I believe this is all thanks to the viewers who loved The Seasons: Park Bogum’s Cantabile, the audience who stayed with us for the past ten months, and the production staff who took full responsibility for creating and carrying this late-night music program until the very end. Since it was my first time taking on the role of MC, I learned so much and was often amazed. The system of recording one episode each week and airing it within the same week was truly fascinating to me. I’m sincerely grateful to PDs and writers who worked so hard every week to invite wonderful musicians — PD Seok Kyung, PD Seung Hoi, PD Jayeon, PD Jinhwa, and writers Hyuna, Jieun, Saeeun, and Sumin, as well as PD Mirae and PD Minjoo. (I’m not sure about the names so bare with me 😭) Above all, I must thank the incredible maestros who elevated the performances of the artists — Maestro Jung Maye, Maestro Kungchittachi, Maestro Donghan, Teacher Yechan, Teacher Jongho, Teacher Taehyuk, Teacher Wonyoung, and Teacher Juyeong — and also Music Director Kang Seung-won. It was truly an honor and a joy to create this show together with them. I sincerely hope this wonderful program, continues on, and that it can always be remembered as a show that gives people a small pause, a moment of rest in their daily lives. Now, another passionate night awaits you with Sseu-dam Sseu-dam by 10cm, which will gently comfort your hearts. I want to express my deepest gratitude to the Korea Broadcasting Awards committee, the viewers, and the production team, as well as my utmost respect and thanks to all the artists, PDs, writers, and everyone who received awards today. Thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart #박보검 #PARKBOGUM
3:08

Park Bogum’s speech ENG (the long and accurate version 😭) : Hello, this is Park Bogum. Thank you very much. First of all, I give glory to God, who always guides me on the right path. I am already grateful just to have been invited to such a grand awards ceremony, but to also be given the great honor of receiving the Best Entertainer Award, which one can receive only once in a lifetime, I am truly, deeply thankful. I believe this is all thanks to the viewers who loved The Seasons: Park Bogum’s Cantabile, the audience who stayed with us for the past ten months, and the production staff who took full responsibility for creating and carrying this late-night music program until the very end. Since it was my first time taking on the role of MC, I learned so much and was often amazed. The system of recording one episode each week and airing it within the same week was truly fascinating to me. I’m sincerely grateful to PDs and writers who worked so hard every week to invite wonderful musicians — PD Seok Kyung, PD Seung Hoi, PD Jayeon, PD Jinhwa, and writers Hyuna, Jieun, Saeeun, and Sumin, as well as PD Mirae and PD Minjoo. (I’m not sure about the names so bare with me 😭) Above all, I must thank the incredible maestros who elevated the performances of the artists — Maestro Jung Maye, Maestro Kungchittachi, Maestro Donghan, Teacher Yechan, Teacher Jongho, Teacher Taehyuk, Teacher Wonyoung, and Teacher Juyeong — and also Music Director Kang Seung-won. It was truly an honor and a joy to create this show together with them. I sincerely hope this wonderful program, continues on, and that it can always be remembered as a show that gives people a small pause, a moment of rest in their daily lives. Now, another passionate night awaits you with Sseu-dam Sseu-dam by 10cm, which will gently comfort your hearts. I want to express my deepest gratitude to the Korea Broadcasting Awards committee, the viewers, and the production team, as well as my utmost respect and thanks to all the artists, PDs, writers, and everyone who received awards today. Thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart #박보검 #PARKBOGUM

gummy 🇵🇸

45,445 просмотров • 1 год назад

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 просмотров • 1 год назад

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 просмотров • 10 месяцев назад

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

71,091 просмотров • 2 месяцев назад

🚨 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 просмотров • 3 месяцев назад

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 просмотров • 10 месяцев назад

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 просмотров • 3 месяцев назад

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 просмотров • 6 месяцев назад

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

409,172 просмотров • 3 месяцев назад

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

57,057 просмотров • 11 месяцев назад

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

152,731 просмотров • 1 год назад