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ก่อนนอนไอ้ #ทาสหมา 🐶 อ้วนก็ต้องกราบเท้า 👣 นายอีกรอบเป็นการแสดงความเคารพเจ้านาย😁😊 ก่อนจะนอนนายต้องถอดหัวหมาออกเหลือฮู้ดแดงเพราะเจ้านายจะยัดใส่ sleepsack 😴😪 แบบรัดแน่นๆ จะได้เงี่ยนทั้งคืน 🌃ไม่ต้องนอนกันเลยพรุ่งนี้มาลง --- Before bed, my fat pup 🐶 always has to crawl over and worship Master’s feet one last time as proper respect 👣😊 Then I pull off his dog hood, leave him in that tight red hood,...

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✈️ Go to Taiwan 🇹🇼 9-12 Oct

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14,531 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten •via X (Twitter)

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So, life update that worries me... Didn't sleep well last night. Was too worried if this drunk and drugged-up native was going to come back. My daughter took the garbage out and forgot to lock the door when she came inside. This guy showed up about 10 minutes later, and walked into my house. We were both just in our sleep shirts, relaxing, she in the living room and I was in ny bedroom working on an article Im posting shortly. I came scrambling out of my bedroom and found this guy plastered drunk standing in my kitchen. I immediately forced him out the door into the porch and closed the door behind me, putting myself between him and the door. He was so drunk he couldn't speak words, just mumbled. I calmly told him to get lost. He just smiled and stared at me with all his tear drop tattoos next to his eyes scrunching up. I told him again to leave. He stood there looking stupid. Finally I told him if he didnt leave I would call the cops, then I turned around, went inside, locked the door and retrieved my firearm. I had enough time to load ammo into a clip, get the trigger lock off my firearm and get back to the front of the house to find him sitting in the car still. I was waiting to see if he was leaving, or coming back. Because he gave off a vibe that he was willing to get violent for whatever he was pursuing. Just after Dave died, a white vehicle showed up and parked next door on the road at the abandoned property. A man came to my door and kept trying to get me to go to his vehicle to "look at something". Of course I didnt go with him, but it was enough to get me to hire an electrician to install the security cameras, especially after my kid's bow was stolen. I have 3 more cameras to go up still. But since Dave passed away I have to hire people to do these things and, well, its not cheap or easy and definitely hard to find someone with the time in their schedule to fit me in. I showed this video clip to a person I know here in town, who informed me this guy and his friend were revived multiple times over the weekend from fentanyl overdoses. All I know is the guy was so plastered if I lit a match while he talked he would have become a human mmolatov.i have no idea who drove him. As soon as the snow is gone, I will be fortifying my property like its a military compound so the next time one of these fuckers shows up word will spread real quick not to mess with "The Widow" as I've learned I am called in this town. Yes, I filed a police report and yes, I have passed on the footage to RCMP.
0:33

So, life update that worries me... Didn't sleep well last night. Was too worried if this drunk and drugged-up native was going to come back. My daughter took the garbage out and forgot to lock the door when she came inside. This guy showed up about 10 minutes later, and walked into my house. We were both just in our sleep shirts, relaxing, she in the living room and I was in ny bedroom working on an article Im posting shortly. I came scrambling out of my bedroom and found this guy plastered drunk standing in my kitchen. I immediately forced him out the door into the porch and closed the door behind me, putting myself between him and the door. He was so drunk he couldn't speak words, just mumbled. I calmly told him to get lost. He just smiled and stared at me with all his tear drop tattoos next to his eyes scrunching up. I told him again to leave. He stood there looking stupid. Finally I told him if he didnt leave I would call the cops, then I turned around, went inside, locked the door and retrieved my firearm. I had enough time to load ammo into a clip, get the trigger lock off my firearm and get back to the front of the house to find him sitting in the car still. I was waiting to see if he was leaving, or coming back. Because he gave off a vibe that he was willing to get violent for whatever he was pursuing. Just after Dave died, a white vehicle showed up and parked next door on the road at the abandoned property. A man came to my door and kept trying to get me to go to his vehicle to "look at something". Of course I didnt go with him, but it was enough to get me to hire an electrician to install the security cameras, especially after my kid's bow was stolen. I have 3 more cameras to go up still. But since Dave passed away I have to hire people to do these things and, well, its not cheap or easy and definitely hard to find someone with the time in their schedule to fit me in. I showed this video clip to a person I know here in town, who informed me this guy and his friend were revived multiple times over the weekend from fentanyl overdoses. All I know is the guy was so plastered if I lit a match while he talked he would have become a human mmolatov.i have no idea who drove him. As soon as the snow is gone, I will be fortifying my property like its a military compound so the next time one of these fuckers shows up word will spread real quick not to mess with "The Widow" as I've learned I am called in this town. Yes, I filed a police report and yes, I have passed on the footage to RCMP.

Melanie In Saskatchewan

44,530 Aufrufe • vor 7 Monaten

Case File - The Train Track Killer Exhibit No - 612 Jackson was a 21-year-old cocky Iowa jock, the kind of guy who knew exactly how good he looked and loved making sure everyone else did too. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-kissed skin stretched tight over hard-earned muscle. That night he showed up to the house party in tight, frayed denim shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, showing off his powerful legs, and an open flannel shirt that hung loose over his sculpted chest and abs. Every time he moved, the fabric shifted, giving teasing glimpses of his toned body. He drank hard, flirted harder, and soaked up the attention as girls (and a few guys) openly stared, complimented, and touched his arms, chest, and abs. Jackson just smirked, flexing subtly, loving every second. As the hours passed, the drinks kept coming. By the end of the night, Jackson was heavily intoxicated—laughing too loud, stumbling slightly, that cocky confidence now sloppy and unguarded. He realized too late that he’d lost his phone. No Uber. So he started walking home along the quiet rural road, the cool night air doing little to sober him up. He weaved unsteadily, muttering to himself, his muscular legs struggling to stay straight. Unbeknownst to him, the Train Track Killer was out driving that night. He wasn’t actively hunting, but when his headlights caught the stumbling, barely-dressed jock with that perfect body on full display, he couldn’t resist. Opportunity like this didn’t come often. The killer pulled up slowly beside him, window down, voice full of fake concern: “You okay, man? Looking a little rough. Need a ride?” Drunk and arrogant, Jackson laughed. “What, you just wanna stare at this body too?” he slurred, flexing his chest playfully. He climbed in anyway, completely unaware how true his joke was. During the ride, Jackson wouldn’t shut up—bragging about how the girls at the party were all over him, how they couldn’t keep their hands off his “sexy fucking abs and legs.” He kept touching himself absentmindedly as he talked, completely oblivious. Then, with a cocky grin, he joked, “You’re not some serial killer, are you?” The driver glanced over calmly. “Actually… I am.” Jackson burst out laughing. “Good one, dude. You’re a joker.” Without warning, the killer plunged a syringe deep into Jackson’s neck. The jock’s eyes widened in shock, his strong body jerking once before going limp as the drug took hold. The killer smiled, one hand sliding over Jackson’s warm, firm chest and abs as he drove the rest of the way home, savoring his prize. Back at his isolated house, the killer dragged the unconscious hunk inside, stripped him down to just his tight underwear, and tightly restrained him to a sturdy chair—arms behind his back, legs spread. When Jackson finally woke up groggy and disoriented, the taunting began. The killer circled him slowly, hands roaming freely over every inch of that perfect athletic body. “All that cockiness… and now you’re mine.” Jackson struggled, panicked, but it was useless. The strangling was slow and intimate. The killer’s hands tightened around the jock’s thick neck while continuing to touch and fondle him. Jackson’s muscular body bucked and flexed desperately against the ropes until his strength finally faded. Even after death, the killer wasn’t done—fondling, kissing, fucking, and using the still-warm body before finally disposing of it. Jackson’s corpse was dumped near the railroad tracks, left to decompose for six long days under the summer sun before anyone found what remained. #serialkiller #aigenerated #fiction
0:30

Case File - The Train Track Killer Exhibit No - 612 Jackson was a 21-year-old cocky Iowa jock, the kind of guy who knew exactly how good he looked and loved making sure everyone else did too. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-kissed skin stretched tight over hard-earned muscle. That night he showed up to the house party in tight, frayed denim shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, showing off his powerful legs, and an open flannel shirt that hung loose over his sculpted chest and abs. Every time he moved, the fabric shifted, giving teasing glimpses of his toned body. He drank hard, flirted harder, and soaked up the attention as girls (and a few guys) openly stared, complimented, and touched his arms, chest, and abs. Jackson just smirked, flexing subtly, loving every second. As the hours passed, the drinks kept coming. By the end of the night, Jackson was heavily intoxicated—laughing too loud, stumbling slightly, that cocky confidence now sloppy and unguarded. He realized too late that he’d lost his phone. No Uber. So he started walking home along the quiet rural road, the cool night air doing little to sober him up. He weaved unsteadily, muttering to himself, his muscular legs struggling to stay straight. Unbeknownst to him, the Train Track Killer was out driving that night. He wasn’t actively hunting, but when his headlights caught the stumbling, barely-dressed jock with that perfect body on full display, he couldn’t resist. Opportunity like this didn’t come often. The killer pulled up slowly beside him, window down, voice full of fake concern: “You okay, man? Looking a little rough. Need a ride?” Drunk and arrogant, Jackson laughed. “What, you just wanna stare at this body too?” he slurred, flexing his chest playfully. He climbed in anyway, completely unaware how true his joke was. During the ride, Jackson wouldn’t shut up—bragging about how the girls at the party were all over him, how they couldn’t keep their hands off his “sexy fucking abs and legs.” He kept touching himself absentmindedly as he talked, completely oblivious. Then, with a cocky grin, he joked, “You’re not some serial killer, are you?” The driver glanced over calmly. “Actually… I am.” Jackson burst out laughing. “Good one, dude. You’re a joker.” Without warning, the killer plunged a syringe deep into Jackson’s neck. The jock’s eyes widened in shock, his strong body jerking once before going limp as the drug took hold. The killer smiled, one hand sliding over Jackson’s warm, firm chest and abs as he drove the rest of the way home, savoring his prize. Back at his isolated house, the killer dragged the unconscious hunk inside, stripped him down to just his tight underwear, and tightly restrained him to a sturdy chair—arms behind his back, legs spread. When Jackson finally woke up groggy and disoriented, the taunting began. The killer circled him slowly, hands roaming freely over every inch of that perfect athletic body. “All that cockiness… and now you’re mine.” Jackson struggled, panicked, but it was useless. The strangling was slow and intimate. The killer’s hands tightened around the jock’s thick neck while continuing to touch and fondle him. Jackson’s muscular body bucked and flexed desperately against the ropes until his strength finally faded. Even after death, the killer wasn’t done—fondling, kissing, fucking, and using the still-warm body before finally disposing of it. Jackson’s corpse was dumped near the railroad tracks, left to decompose for six long days under the summer sun before anyone found what remained. #serialkiller #aigenerated #fiction

The Serial Killer Files Ai

15,236 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

Walking with the Man My Son Is Becoming What an honor it was to walk with him this morning. Firstborn with firstborn. Adult with adult. Mother with son. He is my firstborn. Born 24 years ago this March. There are days when I still see the boy I carried, the child I held, the young teenager I worried over. And then there are mornings like this, when I walk beside him and realize that he is not yet fully formed, not finished, not fixed… but becoming. I almost had to drag him out of bed. “I’m not a morning person,” he said, his voice still wrapped in sleep. And yes, the first few minutes of our walk felt like watching him slowly thaw into the day. 😊 But I waited. I slowed down. I let him arrive in his own time. And then the conversation opened. I realized I had never really asked him what adulthood feels like from his side of the journey. So I leaned in. “Tell me,” I said softly, “What has surprised you? What do you wish you had known earlier?” “Man!” he laughed. “Now I understand why you and dad used to complain about us leaving the lights on. Everything costs when you’re an adult. You pay for everything!” We laughed together. But beneath his humor was discovery, the moment a child realizes that adulthood is not just freedom, but responsibility. Adulting, he is learning, can feel like a never-ending cycle of bills. Now that he works to cover his own costs, he feels the pinch. We still support him, of course. But I can see something shifting in him: a growing awareness of effort, value, and gratitude. Then his tone changed. “Another hard thing,” he said, “is communication. People should just say what they mean and mean what they say. Adults skirt around things too much.” I smiled, and felt the weight of truth in his words. “Yes,” I told him gently. “That is one of the hardest parts of growing up. People hide. They avoid. They say one thing and mean another. Learning to communicate well is a lifelong journey. Keep being true to yourself.” We spoke about self-control, about choices, about the quiet battles no one sees. “It’s one thing for you to tell me not to do something,” he said thoughtfully. “But I also have to find my own why.” In that moment, I felt the bittersweet beauty of motherhood. You can guide, but you cannot walk the path for them. You can warn, but you cannot choose for them. You can love, but you cannot live their lives. My little boy is growing. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But steadily. One insight at a time. As we ended our walk, we sat down quietly. I took his hand, his hand now larger than mine, and I spoke my blessing over him. I told him my hopes for his life. I told him my prayer for his journey. And above all else, I told him this: He may still be becoming, but he must never forget that he is deeply, fiercely, unconditionally loved. Not just as a man in the making. But always, as my son. #Becoming #MotherAndSon #WalkTalkConnect
0:53

Walking with the Man My Son Is Becoming What an honor it was to walk with him this morning. Firstborn with firstborn. Adult with adult. Mother with son. He is my firstborn. Born 24 years ago this March. There are days when I still see the boy I carried, the child I held, the young teenager I worried over. And then there are mornings like this, when I walk beside him and realize that he is not yet fully formed, not finished, not fixed… but becoming. I almost had to drag him out of bed. “I’m not a morning person,” he said, his voice still wrapped in sleep. And yes, the first few minutes of our walk felt like watching him slowly thaw into the day. 😊 But I waited. I slowed down. I let him arrive in his own time. And then the conversation opened. I realized I had never really asked him what adulthood feels like from his side of the journey. So I leaned in. “Tell me,” I said softly, “What has surprised you? What do you wish you had known earlier?” “Man!” he laughed. “Now I understand why you and dad used to complain about us leaving the lights on. Everything costs when you’re an adult. You pay for everything!” We laughed together. But beneath his humor was discovery, the moment a child realizes that adulthood is not just freedom, but responsibility. Adulting, he is learning, can feel like a never-ending cycle of bills. Now that he works to cover his own costs, he feels the pinch. We still support him, of course. But I can see something shifting in him: a growing awareness of effort, value, and gratitude. Then his tone changed. “Another hard thing,” he said, “is communication. People should just say what they mean and mean what they say. Adults skirt around things too much.” I smiled, and felt the weight of truth in his words. “Yes,” I told him gently. “That is one of the hardest parts of growing up. People hide. They avoid. They say one thing and mean another. Learning to communicate well is a lifelong journey. Keep being true to yourself.” We spoke about self-control, about choices, about the quiet battles no one sees. “It’s one thing for you to tell me not to do something,” he said thoughtfully. “But I also have to find my own why.” In that moment, I felt the bittersweet beauty of motherhood. You can guide, but you cannot walk the path for them. You can warn, but you cannot choose for them. You can love, but you cannot live their lives. My little boy is growing. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But steadily. One insight at a time. As we ended our walk, we sat down quietly. I took his hand, his hand now larger than mine, and I spoke my blessing over him. I told him my hopes for his life. I told him my prayer for his journey. And above all else, I told him this: He may still be becoming, but he must never forget that he is deeply, fiercely, unconditionally loved. Not just as a man in the making. But always, as my son. #Becoming #MotherAndSon #WalkTalkConnect

Jacqueline Asiimwe

20,042 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

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 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten

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

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

Ashwin Sampatkumaran

12,904 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

We are so quick to ask for prayer when we are poorly, but not as quick to thank him for the result. I wanna get better at because I'm still here, and that... is a miracle, thank you, Jesus 🙏 When someone asks for prayer, you know they are not ok, as it actually takes a lot of courage to ask for prayer and admit you aren't coping. But society doesn't teach us that. We all put on that brave face. How about you just be YOU, exactly how you come today, and then how you come tomorrow and so on. So many more people will be touched as they gravitate to the vulnerable sides we dont like people to see. No one can be strong all the time. But at the beginning of this now 6 month fight, I would try and be whom I thought people expected me to be, but there comes a time you can't pretend, and I am realising that is OK as well. When you have no choice but to just "be," that's when you find your true self. It doesn't mean that a loud, vibrant person isn't me either. It just means I'm stripped back atm and taking a step back to heal. One can only get back up so many times, before they fall and stay there for a while, and that's me now, and I have now learnt that it is also OK as well. During these times of absolute stripping back, I like to call it, you lose energy very quickly. So, during your "healing journey," many follow and offer help, support, and love, and as the journey goes on, it gets less than a few less again. Then you get to the point where people just don't know what to say. Because you know what? Either do I? I feel like if I explain every detail to someone of the last 5 years I've just met, they wouldn't even believe it could happen because I still struggle too. My best friend Nadine wrote this song for me, and I've used it to show you some really personal pictures of the last 6 months fighting golden staph and then sepsis. Keep in mind these are the good pictures, I tried to take the confronting ones out. This journey is still ongoing, and It's been in this time that EVERYTHING has started to crash around me, literally.... I was and still feel numb, I didn't want to talk, and some days I still don't want to. Don't take it as a sign against you. I need to learn how to take off everything that has crashed around me first. I'm still on the floor and I've realised that it's ok to stay there for a while as well. I nearly died twice in the last 6 months, and sometimes I ask why I didn't? Because after 20 years in pain, it's a long road with very few walking companions. I cry thinking about my beautiful son Colby, who has had to watch this journey nearly his whole life. I wish he didn't have to, but then part of that is what makes him, him as well. So there is ALWAYS a purpose, and there is ALWAYS a reason. Man, I am proud mumma of the man you have become❣️ So I hold on to that last string of hope I still have, well let's say a peice of cotton, in the hope that when my story is read it will help other people, and maybe change lives, because for awhile there I was actually brave enough to write it. I realise managing to sit in the sun for 30 mins in the morning is heaven. Sitting for meals and then back to bed is the reality, but I hang on to "I sat in the sun for 30 mins today." Then slowly but surely I will lift off the things that have fallen on top of me, one at a time, and start finding my way back. Because my small circle is unfailing, never changing, always loving, accepting of any way I come and always available. I am loved and so very blessed 🙏 I'm extremely grateful for all the messages, and if I haven't replied, you now know why, but I have read them ALL, and I thank you. They continue to encourage me. Thank you ALL so much, Much Love Always Emma xx ❣️
3:27

We are so quick to ask for prayer when we are poorly, but not as quick to thank him for the result. I wanna get better at because I'm still here, and that... is a miracle, thank you, Jesus 🙏 When someone asks for prayer, you know they are not ok, as it actually takes a lot of courage to ask for prayer and admit you aren't coping. But society doesn't teach us that. We all put on that brave face. How about you just be YOU, exactly how you come today, and then how you come tomorrow and so on. So many more people will be touched as they gravitate to the vulnerable sides we dont like people to see. No one can be strong all the time. But at the beginning of this now 6 month fight, I would try and be whom I thought people expected me to be, but there comes a time you can't pretend, and I am realising that is OK as well. When you have no choice but to just "be," that's when you find your true self. It doesn't mean that a loud, vibrant person isn't me either. It just means I'm stripped back atm and taking a step back to heal. One can only get back up so many times, before they fall and stay there for a while, and that's me now, and I have now learnt that it is also OK as well. During these times of absolute stripping back, I like to call it, you lose energy very quickly. So, during your "healing journey," many follow and offer help, support, and love, and as the journey goes on, it gets less than a few less again. Then you get to the point where people just don't know what to say. Because you know what? Either do I? I feel like if I explain every detail to someone of the last 5 years I've just met, they wouldn't even believe it could happen because I still struggle too. My best friend Nadine wrote this song for me, and I've used it to show you some really personal pictures of the last 6 months fighting golden staph and then sepsis. Keep in mind these are the good pictures, I tried to take the confronting ones out. This journey is still ongoing, and It's been in this time that EVERYTHING has started to crash around me, literally.... I was and still feel numb, I didn't want to talk, and some days I still don't want to. Don't take it as a sign against you. I need to learn how to take off everything that has crashed around me first. I'm still on the floor and I've realised that it's ok to stay there for a while as well. I nearly died twice in the last 6 months, and sometimes I ask why I didn't? Because after 20 years in pain, it's a long road with very few walking companions. I cry thinking about my beautiful son Colby, who has had to watch this journey nearly his whole life. I wish he didn't have to, but then part of that is what makes him, him as well. So there is ALWAYS a purpose, and there is ALWAYS a reason. Man, I am proud mumma of the man you have become❣️ So I hold on to that last string of hope I still have, well let's say a peice of cotton, in the hope that when my story is read it will help other people, and maybe change lives, because for awhile there I was actually brave enough to write it. I realise managing to sit in the sun for 30 mins in the morning is heaven. Sitting for meals and then back to bed is the reality, but I hang on to "I sat in the sun for 30 mins today." Then slowly but surely I will lift off the things that have fallen on top of me, one at a time, and start finding my way back. Because my small circle is unfailing, never changing, always loving, accepting of any way I come and always available. I am loved and so very blessed 🙏 I'm extremely grateful for all the messages, and if I haven't replied, you now know why, but I have read them ALL, and I thank you. They continue to encourage me. Thank you ALL so much, Much Love Always Emma xx ❣️

Emma Longman - Azzopardi

42,848 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

Alright. I’m honestly relieved that this is finally coming out, so we can finally put an end to the fairytale conspiracies about March 4, courtesy of Joe Flipperhead and the ratchet harem. Since Aidan and his Dollar-Tree-sidekick Chelsea want to drag March 4th into the public arena, let’s do it properly– with facts, not the fairy tale he’s been feeding everyone. The rumors flying around are completely untrue, and I’ve wanted to defend myself for weeks, but Aidan has spent the last month threatening me, telling people that if the truth ever came out he’d “turn me into the next Lindsey,” that everyone would believe him because he has a platform, and even declaring he’d tell his followers to contact my work. Well, here we are. Since he chose to drag this into the public and sic his ratchet brigade on me, I’m finally telling the actual story. That night wasn’t some dramatic “Meredith tried to send me to jail” moment. It was a drunk, disgusting fight between two adults—the kind Aidan has on rotation with every woman he dates. Both of us were very intoxicated, but he was blackout drunk, verbally abusive, and filming me against my will. I told him to stop. He didn’t. I’d found out about him sexting another girl and had bottled up emotions for months, which is what started the argument. I asked him to leave after he said horrible things to me, including calling me fat and useless, that people only like me because I’m “Turtleboy’s girlfriend”. I asked him to leave and he began recording me, pointing a phone in my face while I repeatedly told him to stop. He lost his own key, and because he couldn’t remember anything, he made up a story that I “stole it.” Imagine spreading this fantasy when I have him on video of me asking him to return MY KEYS? I was uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and didn’t want a drunken fight being filmed. He took our feud out into the common area of my building, disturbing other tenants. So yes, I said “you hit me,” specifically because I believed he wouldn’t share the video if I said that. I said it so he would STOP RECORDING ME, and he has a full video that I clearly say, “I’m only saying that so you’ll stop recording me.” I never reported anything to the police, never intended to, never would. He knows this. We discussed this fact many times the next day and several occasions in the last few months. That context has been deliberately cut out to push a fake narrative, but don’t worry, I’ll be posting the full videos that I took of that night. When he’s threatened me with releasing this very video, he admitted it would be edited out and no one would believe me over him. Meanwhile, the victim cosplay he’s doing now? Pathetic. He claims he was “stuck” in my house. Reality: I asked him to leave over and over. This narrative that he was somehow stuck there held hostage is simply not true. Reality: I have video of him refusing to get out of my bed, not “sleeping on the couch.” Reality: I have video of him screaming at me like a lunatic. Reality: He lost his key because he was hammered, then somehow turned that into me “stealing it.” Reality: He was causing a huge scene in my apartment throwing a literal temper tantrum on the floor. With other tenants in the building, I was genuinely concerned someone would call the police. He also lies that I tried to keep him from court the next day. Reality? I gave him my car so he could get to court. I sat in the passenger seat half-dead from a hangover while chauffeuring Captain Accountability to his court date. I sat next to him during court, then eventually throwing up in a bag on the way home. Then he used that same car to drive to his house for his spare key, and back again. I supported him through the entire aftermath, like I did every time. But now he’s trying to pretend he was some endangered baby deer and I was plotting to Lindsay him? Get real. This narrative that I was somehow trying to get him arrested? An absolutely disgusting lie considering the trauma that situation caused him. Not to mention the countless hours I spent during our 1.5 year relationship assisting with his legal defense to keep him OUT of jail. He knows it’s not true. He knows exactly what happened. Do you really think if his narrative were true, he’d stay with me for months to come and not file his own police report? But he also knows he thrives off playing victim, and he knows he has people willing to believe anything he says without question. Over the last month, behind the scenes with recording gate, he’s been telling me and others that if I ever spoke up, he’d ruin me. That he’d twist the story because he has the bigger platform. That he’d make sure people contacted my job. He has leaked private texts, sent people after me, and used Chelsea, a woman he cheated on me with, to push his manufactured victim narrative. But here’s the truth: Aidan is not the victim of March 5th. He was drunk, verbally abusive, refusing to leave, and escalating a situation he then turned around and weaponized. And like every situation he touches, every feud, every fallout, every “enemy,” every messy disaster, he plays the same role: the powerless victim of consequences he created. At some point, people need to recognize the common denominator. I stayed silent because I didn’t want this ugliness public. I didn’t want to embarrass him. I didn’t want to rehash something painful, private, and humiliating for both of us. But since he chose to send CamelToe Joe and his ratchet harem to post private fights, twist reality, and smear me, I’m done being quiet. Aidan is incapable of having a private relationship and ending. And Chelsea…hun. I know your brain cells are limited, but your "insurance" explanation makes no sense. When did he send you this video? Months after it happened? Why would you need insurance at that point? You’re being used like a scratch-off ticket from Cumberland Farms. He feeds you a cropped video and suddenly you’re Nancy Drew with a nicotine patch? Please. You weren’t even in the picture until after he was done cheating with you. These videos paint a wildly different picture of the fake victim narrative CamelToe Joe has been pushing, huh? I’ll be posting more soon, about the recording, about every single lie he has chosen to spread through his minions the last two months. I guess I was crazy to think Aidan would ever be okay with someone walking away and moving on peacefully. Since Aidan wanted the truth out, he's about to get it. PS- Speaking of men being fake scared of women– Funny how some people with very chaotic personal histories suddenly decide they’re the moral authority on my life, enough so to peddle lies on their large platforms. If I had these kinds of pasts, I'd probably sit this one out, and maybe stop throwing stones from your glass basements and (mom’s) houses.
0:05

Sensitive content

Alright. I’m honestly relieved that this is finally coming out, so we can finally put an end to the fairytale conspiracies about March 4, courtesy of Joe Flipperhead and the ratchet harem. Since Aidan and his Dollar-Tree-sidekick Chelsea want to drag March 4th into the public arena, let’s do it properly– with facts, not the fairy tale he’s been feeding everyone. The rumors flying around are completely untrue, and I’ve wanted to defend myself for weeks, but Aidan has spent the last month threatening me, telling people that if the truth ever came out he’d “turn me into the next Lindsey,” that everyone would believe him because he has a platform, and even declaring he’d tell his followers to contact my work. Well, here we are. Since he chose to drag this into the public and sic his ratchet brigade on me, I’m finally telling the actual story. That night wasn’t some dramatic “Meredith tried to send me to jail” moment. It was a drunk, disgusting fight between two adults—the kind Aidan has on rotation with every woman he dates. Both of us were very intoxicated, but he was blackout drunk, verbally abusive, and filming me against my will. I told him to stop. He didn’t. I’d found out about him sexting another girl and had bottled up emotions for months, which is what started the argument. I asked him to leave after he said horrible things to me, including calling me fat and useless, that people only like me because I’m “Turtleboy’s girlfriend”. I asked him to leave and he began recording me, pointing a phone in my face while I repeatedly told him to stop. He lost his own key, and because he couldn’t remember anything, he made up a story that I “stole it.” Imagine spreading this fantasy when I have him on video of me asking him to return MY KEYS? I was uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and didn’t want a drunken fight being filmed. He took our feud out into the common area of my building, disturbing other tenants. So yes, I said “you hit me,” specifically because I believed he wouldn’t share the video if I said that. I said it so he would STOP RECORDING ME, and he has a full video that I clearly say, “I’m only saying that so you’ll stop recording me.” I never reported anything to the police, never intended to, never would. He knows this. We discussed this fact many times the next day and several occasions in the last few months. That context has been deliberately cut out to push a fake narrative, but don’t worry, I’ll be posting the full videos that I took of that night. When he’s threatened me with releasing this very video, he admitted it would be edited out and no one would believe me over him. Meanwhile, the victim cosplay he’s doing now? Pathetic. He claims he was “stuck” in my house. Reality: I asked him to leave over and over. This narrative that he was somehow stuck there held hostage is simply not true. Reality: I have video of him refusing to get out of my bed, not “sleeping on the couch.” Reality: I have video of him screaming at me like a lunatic. Reality: He lost his key because he was hammered, then somehow turned that into me “stealing it.” Reality: He was causing a huge scene in my apartment throwing a literal temper tantrum on the floor. With other tenants in the building, I was genuinely concerned someone would call the police. He also lies that I tried to keep him from court the next day. Reality? I gave him my car so he could get to court. I sat in the passenger seat half-dead from a hangover while chauffeuring Captain Accountability to his court date. I sat next to him during court, then eventually throwing up in a bag on the way home. Then he used that same car to drive to his house for his spare key, and back again. I supported him through the entire aftermath, like I did every time. But now he’s trying to pretend he was some endangered baby deer and I was plotting to Lindsay him? Get real. This narrative that I was somehow trying to get him arrested? An absolutely disgusting lie considering the trauma that situation caused him. Not to mention the countless hours I spent during our 1.5 year relationship assisting with his legal defense to keep him OUT of jail. He knows it’s not true. He knows exactly what happened. Do you really think if his narrative were true, he’d stay with me for months to come and not file his own police report? But he also knows he thrives off playing victim, and he knows he has people willing to believe anything he says without question. Over the last month, behind the scenes with recording gate, he’s been telling me and others that if I ever spoke up, he’d ruin me. That he’d twist the story because he has the bigger platform. That he’d make sure people contacted my job. He has leaked private texts, sent people after me, and used Chelsea, a woman he cheated on me with, to push his manufactured victim narrative. But here’s the truth: Aidan is not the victim of March 5th. He was drunk, verbally abusive, refusing to leave, and escalating a situation he then turned around and weaponized. And like every situation he touches, every feud, every fallout, every “enemy,” every messy disaster, he plays the same role: the powerless victim of consequences he created. At some point, people need to recognize the common denominator. I stayed silent because I didn’t want this ugliness public. I didn’t want to embarrass him. I didn’t want to rehash something painful, private, and humiliating for both of us. But since he chose to send CamelToe Joe and his ratchet harem to post private fights, twist reality, and smear me, I’m done being quiet. Aidan is incapable of having a private relationship and ending. And Chelsea…hun. I know your brain cells are limited, but your "insurance" explanation makes no sense. When did he send you this video? Months after it happened? Why would you need insurance at that point? You’re being used like a scratch-off ticket from Cumberland Farms. He feeds you a cropped video and suddenly you’re Nancy Drew with a nicotine patch? Please. You weren’t even in the picture until after he was done cheating with you. These videos paint a wildly different picture of the fake victim narrative CamelToe Joe has been pushing, huh? I’ll be posting more soon, about the recording, about every single lie he has chosen to spread through his minions the last two months. I guess I was crazy to think Aidan would ever be okay with someone walking away and moving on peacefully. Since Aidan wanted the truth out, he's about to get it. PS- Speaking of men being fake scared of women– Funny how some people with very chaotic personal histories suddenly decide they’re the moral authority on my life, enough so to peddle lies on their large platforms. If I had these kinds of pasts, I'd probably sit this one out, and maybe stop throwing stones from your glass basements and (mom’s) houses.

The old M can’t come to the phone right now

122,740 Aufrufe • vor 10 Monaten

Alan Jackson played his last show last night. He is one of the good ones. A patriot and Christ centered. He has a neurological disease which impedes his balance and ability to play the guitar. He is my favorite country singer of all time. He told stories. He made you not just hear, but FEEL what it is to be a “good ole boy”. He was also never afraid to be bold in his faith. But I have a more personal story about Alan Jackson I’d like to share and it is the reason I have always been a fan of him and his music. Back in 1992, I was going on my first real trip with my mom up to New York to see her sister and my cousins. It was the first time I had ever flown. Our flight left later in the evening, not quite a red-eye, but close. I think it was somewheres around 10 or 11pm. At the time, Charlotte Douglas Airport was way smaller and far less busy than it is now. So me and mom board the plane, and I take the window seat (as kids usually do). Me and mom are chit chatting, and she was doing her best to calm me. See, me and flying don’t really get along. Neither do me and heights - never have, prolly never will. To say I was a bit wound up about the flight would be an understatement. The plane is continuing to board, and there weren’t many folks on the plane. As memory best serves, it was maybe 1/3 full, if that. Everyone is seated, doors are shut, plane is ready to push. Then the pilot comes over the speaker to tell us there would be a slight delay as some folks were making their way to the plane. Door opens up, and 5-6 dudes get on the plane. All wearing stetsons and boots. The 3rd dude on to the plane stood out a little more because he had frills hanging off his coat and he was wearing a white stetson. He was noticeably taller than the rest as well. The first two dudes keep coming down the aisle and end up sitting right behind us. The third dude stops at our row, looks at my mom and me, tips his hat and says “Evenin, folks. How y’all doin?”, then takes the aisle seat right next to my mom. My mom, who rarely ever swore, then says “Holy shit. You’re Alan Jackson”. He says “Yes’m I am, and you are?”. So mom introduced us. But here’s what really sticks with me: Mom had told him I was a bit scared for my first flight. Wanna guess what Alan Jackson did? He asked if it was okay to pray with us. So he did. After which, we spent the entire flight chatting with Alan Jackson. He and his band even belted out a couple songs along the way. It is legit one of those memories I will never forget. I never got to see him to live. But I’d say this experience trumps any concert of his I could have went to. I think something like that speaks more to the man he is than his music. Here he is, just met this kid and his mom 5 minutes prior, and he is offering a prayer to calm my fears for my first flight. So, in closing - I pray Alan can find true peace in his retirement, and I pray that the Father will provide him with healing and assuage his suffering with the disease he has. Thank you for the prayer, Alan Jackson. Thank you for all the wonderful music, and thank you for never being afraid to profess your love for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
4:02

Alan Jackson played his last show last night. He is one of the good ones. A patriot and Christ centered. He has a neurological disease which impedes his balance and ability to play the guitar. He is my favorite country singer of all time. He told stories. He made you not just hear, but FEEL what it is to be a “good ole boy”. He was also never afraid to be bold in his faith. But I have a more personal story about Alan Jackson I’d like to share and it is the reason I have always been a fan of him and his music. Back in 1992, I was going on my first real trip with my mom up to New York to see her sister and my cousins. It was the first time I had ever flown. Our flight left later in the evening, not quite a red-eye, but close. I think it was somewheres around 10 or 11pm. At the time, Charlotte Douglas Airport was way smaller and far less busy than it is now. So me and mom board the plane, and I take the window seat (as kids usually do). Me and mom are chit chatting, and she was doing her best to calm me. See, me and flying don’t really get along. Neither do me and heights - never have, prolly never will. To say I was a bit wound up about the flight would be an understatement. The plane is continuing to board, and there weren’t many folks on the plane. As memory best serves, it was maybe 1/3 full, if that. Everyone is seated, doors are shut, plane is ready to push. Then the pilot comes over the speaker to tell us there would be a slight delay as some folks were making their way to the plane. Door opens up, and 5-6 dudes get on the plane. All wearing stetsons and boots. The 3rd dude on to the plane stood out a little more because he had frills hanging off his coat and he was wearing a white stetson. He was noticeably taller than the rest as well. The first two dudes keep coming down the aisle and end up sitting right behind us. The third dude stops at our row, looks at my mom and me, tips his hat and says “Evenin, folks. How y’all doin?”, then takes the aisle seat right next to my mom. My mom, who rarely ever swore, then says “Holy shit. You’re Alan Jackson”. He says “Yes’m I am, and you are?”. So mom introduced us. But here’s what really sticks with me: Mom had told him I was a bit scared for my first flight. Wanna guess what Alan Jackson did? He asked if it was okay to pray with us. So he did. After which, we spent the entire flight chatting with Alan Jackson. He and his band even belted out a couple songs along the way. It is legit one of those memories I will never forget. I never got to see him to live. But I’d say this experience trumps any concert of his I could have went to. I think something like that speaks more to the man he is than his music. Here he is, just met this kid and his mom 5 minutes prior, and he is offering a prayer to calm my fears for my first flight. So, in closing - I pray Alan can find true peace in his retirement, and I pray that the Father will provide him with healing and assuage his suffering with the disease he has. Thank you for the prayer, Alan Jackson. Thank you for all the wonderful music, and thank you for never being afraid to profess your love for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Paul Fleuret

66,704 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

Luxon’s cringe airport performance yesterday is a fitting end to a totally mediocre political career. He gave his most exaggerated rendition of his now signature David Brent impression : smiling at, and greeting no one, pretending to respond to imaginary humorous banter just before the mask fell .. the dude is going out just how he always was - in true pathetic style, a clown. While the media and the MP’s may point to Luxon insulting small business owners, I would offer that his fanatical Indian fascination and insulting Kiwis by announcing “kiwis aren’t as young, as hard working or as educated” as third worlders was just fucking insanity, he got done in by his obsessive subservient Indian fawning. Luxon was never a New Zealander, he’s spent the majority of his adult hood overseas selling soap and deodorant, he has no understanding of the kiwi psyche, the meaning of the term ‘nation state’ : he never gave one single solitary fuck about this country. He and Willis did nothing what they promised, and were determined to keep us in a holding pattern of crap, rather than being brave and making actual decisions, or how about just doing what you you clowns said you would do ? Good riddance you pair of Ernie’s. In my lifetime here is the list of my 3 worst Prime ministers - in order of shit-ness. 1) Jacinda Ardern 2) Chris Hipkins 3) Chris Luxon There is a chance with the discombobulation that WP can stall the final readings of the dog shit India FTA, that would be perfect - Luxon’s crowning glory denied him and the FTA issue going to election. There is also a chance that Labour devastated that Luxon their best asset has met his demise, will replace Hipkins. The biggest laugh last night ? reading that Luxon has “the full support” of tavistock trannnymaniac Matt Doocey, and looney Joseph Mooney… fuck that must have been comforting for Luxon to read lol ‘PM, good news, we still have Doocey & Mooney!’ 😆😆
0:49

Luxon’s cringe airport performance yesterday is a fitting end to a totally mediocre political career. He gave his most exaggerated rendition of his now signature David Brent impression : smiling at, and greeting no one, pretending to respond to imaginary humorous banter just before the mask fell .. the dude is going out just how he always was - in true pathetic style, a clown. While the media and the MP’s may point to Luxon insulting small business owners, I would offer that his fanatical Indian fascination and insulting Kiwis by announcing “kiwis aren’t as young, as hard working or as educated” as third worlders was just fucking insanity, he got done in by his obsessive subservient Indian fawning. Luxon was never a New Zealander, he’s spent the majority of his adult hood overseas selling soap and deodorant, he has no understanding of the kiwi psyche, the meaning of the term ‘nation state’ : he never gave one single solitary fuck about this country. He and Willis did nothing what they promised, and were determined to keep us in a holding pattern of crap, rather than being brave and making actual decisions, or how about just doing what you you clowns said you would do ? Good riddance you pair of Ernie’s. In my lifetime here is the list of my 3 worst Prime ministers - in order of shit-ness. 1) Jacinda Ardern 2) Chris Hipkins 3) Chris Luxon There is a chance with the discombobulation that WP can stall the final readings of the dog shit India FTA, that would be perfect - Luxon’s crowning glory denied him and the FTA issue going to election. There is also a chance that Labour devastated that Luxon their best asset has met his demise, will replace Hipkins. The biggest laugh last night ? reading that Luxon has “the full support” of tavistock trannnymaniac Matt Doocey, and looney Joseph Mooney… fuck that must have been comforting for Luxon to read lol ‘PM, good news, we still have Doocey & Mooney!’ 😆😆

Holyhekatuiteka

13,305 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

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 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

Fear of going to hell wasn’t the reason I accepted Jesus Christ.. I was at my lowest point in life. I hit rock bottom and I was about to jump out of a hotel window and end my life. I was ashamed of the sinful lifestyle I was living as an Onlyfans girl. The shame and the feeling of disgust was overwhelming. I hated my life, I hated the world and I felt like nobody loved me. For some time, I wanted to get out of that lifestyle. But after being deceived and tricked out of my money by a man I thought loved me, I ended up facing homelessness. I reflected on my life and all I could see was how much people had hurt me, the pain and suffering I had experienced in my life and I just wanted to escape all the feelings of sadness and shame. But I realized that it was all my fault. I was the one who made certain choices leading up to this situation. All I could think was “just kill yourself”, “you’ve ruined your life”, “no one cares about you”, “the world is better off without you”, “you’re just a whore”, “your family is ashamed of you”, “no one will ever marry you”, “you’re homeless and will suffer even more”, “you’re stupid”, and etc. In desperation, I cried out to God for the first time in life. I yelled at God and told Him that if He was real, He needed to show me He is real because I was ready to end it all. No one was there to stop me. I could easily jump out of the window and die without anyone intervening or knowing until it was done. I was at my breaking point, and I had accepted that this was it for me. After crying my entire heart out to God, I stood up off the floor ready to go open the window to carry out my ending. When I stood up, I instantly became lightheaded, I walked to the bed and layed down. As soon as my back hit the mattress I felt a presence I had never felt before ever in life. It was an overwhelming love that I can’t put into words, this presence came over my entire body and every single thought I had was silenced. I didn’t have a single thought, my mind went completely blank and all I could feel was overwhelming peace, love and it was so beautiful that I never wanted it to end. Every moment was better than the last and nothing was even happening. The best word I can use to describe it was pure bliss. The first thought I had was “I am here with you” I felt a tear come out of my eye. And I knew, that that was God. At that moment I was absolutely shocked. It’s an experience I will never forget and I will always long to be immersed in that bliss, peace and love again.. I went to sleep and the next morning, I posted on all my socials that I was quitting onlyfans and I wanted to give my life to God. Now, I didn’t know who God was. All I knew was that I had an encounter with God in that hotel room. I was raised a spiritist, and I never went to church and I had never read the Bible in my life. I didn’t know anything about this God. All I had known was sin, darkness and the brokenness I lived in up until that moment. After I posted that, a girl I had met one time asked if I wanted to go to church with her. This was the first time anyone had ever invited me to church. I said yes, and when I arrived I spoke to a woman there who told me about Jesus for the first time. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to end my life, and Jesus wanted to give me a new life. The gospel hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in awe of this Jesus she spoke about. I wanted to know Him because He was unlike anyone I had ever met. After I accepted Christ, a group there huddled around me, prayed for me and I felt the same overwhelming presence again that I felt the night before. I now knew that Jesus is God. They asked me if I wanted to get baptized right on the spot and I agreed. Then they gave me my first Bible. I was born again as a new creation in Christ and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I used to be a victim. Now I’m more than a conqueror! Thank you Jesus!
2:05

Sensitive content

Fear of going to hell wasn’t the reason I accepted Jesus Christ.. I was at my lowest point in life. I hit rock bottom and I was about to jump out of a hotel window and end my life. I was ashamed of the sinful lifestyle I was living as an Onlyfans girl. The shame and the feeling of disgust was overwhelming. I hated my life, I hated the world and I felt like nobody loved me. For some time, I wanted to get out of that lifestyle. But after being deceived and tricked out of my money by a man I thought loved me, I ended up facing homelessness. I reflected on my life and all I could see was how much people had hurt me, the pain and suffering I had experienced in my life and I just wanted to escape all the feelings of sadness and shame. But I realized that it was all my fault. I was the one who made certain choices leading up to this situation. All I could think was “just kill yourself”, “you’ve ruined your life”, “no one cares about you”, “the world is better off without you”, “you’re just a whore”, “your family is ashamed of you”, “no one will ever marry you”, “you’re homeless and will suffer even more”, “you’re stupid”, and etc. In desperation, I cried out to God for the first time in life. I yelled at God and told Him that if He was real, He needed to show me He is real because I was ready to end it all. No one was there to stop me. I could easily jump out of the window and die without anyone intervening or knowing until it was done. I was at my breaking point, and I had accepted that this was it for me. After crying my entire heart out to God, I stood up off the floor ready to go open the window to carry out my ending. When I stood up, I instantly became lightheaded, I walked to the bed and layed down. As soon as my back hit the mattress I felt a presence I had never felt before ever in life. It was an overwhelming love that I can’t put into words, this presence came over my entire body and every single thought I had was silenced. I didn’t have a single thought, my mind went completely blank and all I could feel was overwhelming peace, love and it was so beautiful that I never wanted it to end. Every moment was better than the last and nothing was even happening. The best word I can use to describe it was pure bliss. The first thought I had was “I am here with you” I felt a tear come out of my eye. And I knew, that that was God. At that moment I was absolutely shocked. It’s an experience I will never forget and I will always long to be immersed in that bliss, peace and love again.. I went to sleep and the next morning, I posted on all my socials that I was quitting onlyfans and I wanted to give my life to God. Now, I didn’t know who God was. All I knew was that I had an encounter with God in that hotel room. I was raised a spiritist, and I never went to church and I had never read the Bible in my life. I didn’t know anything about this God. All I had known was sin, darkness and the brokenness I lived in up until that moment. After I posted that, a girl I had met one time asked if I wanted to go to church with her. This was the first time anyone had ever invited me to church. I said yes, and when I arrived I spoke to a woman there who told me about Jesus for the first time. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to end my life, and Jesus wanted to give me a new life. The gospel hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in awe of this Jesus she spoke about. I wanted to know Him because He was unlike anyone I had ever met. After I accepted Christ, a group there huddled around me, prayed for me and I felt the same overwhelming presence again that I felt the night before. I now knew that Jesus is God. They asked me if I wanted to get baptized right on the spot and I agreed. Then they gave me my first Bible. I was born again as a new creation in Christ and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I used to be a victim. Now I’m more than a conqueror! Thank you Jesus!

✞

46,756 Aufrufe • vor 9 Tagen

Analyzing Episode 35. Season 2 aka Turning the Tables Alrighty, let's do this. Episode 35 was one of the strongest episodes of season 2, I think, because we get to see Ciho and Alya kind of switch places, for once. In s1, Alya would mostly pick flight when her feelings got overwhelming. Whereas Ciho, with his Ağa mindset, would inevitably choose to fight. But, unlike in s1, the circumstances are unique. We see the tables turn because Alya probably hasn't loved anyone before like she loves Cihan, and Cihan hasn't ever come across a test as heavy as the half-alive Boran. So, essentially, they're both out of their comfort zones. Let's discuss Alya first. My love for this character just keeps growing. I've yet to see someone be as principled and willing to break the rules, as strong and soft at the same time, as Alya Albora. The woman is a marvel. We must protect her at all costs (Get in line, Ciho). As the episode begins, Alya walks off to their room and proceeds to lock herself in Cihan's study after informing everyone about Cihan's not-so-tiny health problem. I think being the smart cookie she is, she realizes early on that Cihan will be his stubborn self about the surgery business, which is why something of a plan is already forming in her head. When Cihan shows up to talk, Alya doesn't back down from telling him she knows exactly why he's walking to almost certain death. Still, she only brings out the big guns after pleading with him to review his decision doesn't work. Her goal isn't to hurt him. It's to save him. To shock him enough to wake from the limbo Cihan has isolated himself in. When her words fail to achieve their target, she acts. I'm pretty damn sure she knows exactly what she's going to do as she's packing her clothes to leave the mansion. Alya refuses to leave Cihan's side even in the worst of circumstances, so her walking out when he's about to risk his life is completely out of character. And not only that, before leaving, she tells Cihan she doesn't want to talk to him or see him until he changes his mind about becoming the donor. See? Smart. She's doing everything she can to keep him from monitoring her movements (like he generally does :D). She's learned to read her husband, so much so that she turns his tactics on him. And Cihan never picks up on it. And watching her in action is poetry in motion - beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Because this time, the one person she can always count on for support isn't with her. She's fighting for Cihan, for their love, all on her own. Even though they promise each other they'd face whatever obstacles come their way together as they leave the airport in ep 29. While everyone gathers to wish Cihan well before the operation, Alya walks through those corridors alone. She has no one to calm her fears, no one to soothe her brow. No one tells her they'll be praying for her quick recovery. And that hurts like a son of a bitch. Because Alya has such a capacity for love and giving, she doesn't hesitate to take huge risks for the people she loves. On the other hand, she has no one other than Cihan to do the same for her. He's her other half. And there's no way in hell she'd stand back and watch him destroy himself. Her devotion and resolve are crystal clear when she speaks to Cihan while he's sedated. Still, I think some of her loneliness and desperation bleeds through her words to her husband. Almost as if something deep inside her cries out for him to wake up and choose her - like she's choosing him. Over everyone. Even her own life. Speaking of choosing, let's pause here and pivot to Cihan Bey. Cihan, like all of us, is a product of his upbringing, his environment, and his personal beliefs. Two of those three things are extremely toxic and warped. Not to mention, the guilt that's eating him alive is a product of those two things. They say when you're undergoing feelings of intense guilt, you tend to fluctuate between two states - suppression and surrender. When you suppress, you tell yourself you're fine. Everything's okay. Things are best this way type of stuff. In fact, I want you to remember this phrase. Then, there's surrender - moments of lucidity where you realize you're falling apart, that this isn't what you want at all. You're flooded by emotions and longing about what you're denying yourself. And that's something you see in Cihan over and over in this episode. He keeps fluctuating from one state to the other, and I don't think he even realizes what he's about to do to himself and Alya by wanting to go through with that operation. Take the scene where they're talking in their room before Alya leaves. On the one hand, Cihan tells Alya he has responsibilities to his family, and on the other, he can't see how his decision will affect Alya and Deniz. Then, when Cihan tries talking to Alya when he's driving her to work, he tells her he doesn't want to sacrifice their love, but in the next instance, he tells her he won't lose her 'in his heart' even if Boran wakes up. You see the inconsistency? He keeps switching between what he truly wants and the things might be best this way mindset. Surrender and suppression. Like when he keeps seeking her out at every turn, but insists on undergoing a surgery that will almost certainly kill him. The guilt inside him builds like pressure almost. He tries to suppress it until it spills over, revealing his true feelings, then he panics and moves back to suppression again. This keeps repeating until he wakes up to discover that Alya is the one undergoing the surgery. That's when the cycle finally breaks. Because when he's faced with the reality of losing Alya forever, he finally accepts the core truth driving his guilt - he fell in love with his brother's wife. Sure, he thinks Boran is dead and gone when it happens, but guilt doesn't really follow logic. That's why Alya being the donor and almost losing her life forces him to accept the love he feels for Alya is part of him now. There is no fighting it, there is no changing it. There is only accepting it. And his speech to Boran before he sees Alya is proof of his surrender. Because he finally admits that his bond with Alya isn't about choice anymore, he doesn't control the love; it controls him now. In front of Boran, no less. He finally looks his guilt in the face and starts to overcome it. That's why we see him initiating the kiss in their room. He's not overcome by self-reproach when he thinks of touching Alya intimately now. All very, very positive signs. And, let's not forget, when he sees his entire family conspired behind his back to allow Alya to be the donor, he understands another sold truth. He is the only family Alya has apart from Deniz. Which makes Alya's sacrifice all the more powerful. Because he realizes that she kept her part of the bargain. She kept fighting for them, even when he didn't. Hopefully, this is the moment where Cihan stops running and starts choosing. Alya didn’t just save his life physically; she forced him to confront the part of himself he kept buried. And now that he’s finally surrendered to that truth, we’re about to see the version of Cihan who fights for love instead of resisting it. Till next time, happy reading, y'all. #CihAl #UzakŞehir
4:55

Analyzing Episode 35. Season 2 aka Turning the Tables Alrighty, let's do this. Episode 35 was one of the strongest episodes of season 2, I think, because we get to see Ciho and Alya kind of switch places, for once. In s1, Alya would mostly pick flight when her feelings got overwhelming. Whereas Ciho, with his Ağa mindset, would inevitably choose to fight. But, unlike in s1, the circumstances are unique. We see the tables turn because Alya probably hasn't loved anyone before like she loves Cihan, and Cihan hasn't ever come across a test as heavy as the half-alive Boran. So, essentially, they're both out of their comfort zones. Let's discuss Alya first. My love for this character just keeps growing. I've yet to see someone be as principled and willing to break the rules, as strong and soft at the same time, as Alya Albora. The woman is a marvel. We must protect her at all costs (Get in line, Ciho). As the episode begins, Alya walks off to their room and proceeds to lock herself in Cihan's study after informing everyone about Cihan's not-so-tiny health problem. I think being the smart cookie she is, she realizes early on that Cihan will be his stubborn self about the surgery business, which is why something of a plan is already forming in her head. When Cihan shows up to talk, Alya doesn't back down from telling him she knows exactly why he's walking to almost certain death. Still, she only brings out the big guns after pleading with him to review his decision doesn't work. Her goal isn't to hurt him. It's to save him. To shock him enough to wake from the limbo Cihan has isolated himself in. When her words fail to achieve their target, she acts. I'm pretty damn sure she knows exactly what she's going to do as she's packing her clothes to leave the mansion. Alya refuses to leave Cihan's side even in the worst of circumstances, so her walking out when he's about to risk his life is completely out of character. And not only that, before leaving, she tells Cihan she doesn't want to talk to him or see him until he changes his mind about becoming the donor. See? Smart. She's doing everything she can to keep him from monitoring her movements (like he generally does :D). She's learned to read her husband, so much so that she turns his tactics on him. And Cihan never picks up on it. And watching her in action is poetry in motion - beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Because this time, the one person she can always count on for support isn't with her. She's fighting for Cihan, for their love, all on her own. Even though they promise each other they'd face whatever obstacles come their way together as they leave the airport in ep 29. While everyone gathers to wish Cihan well before the operation, Alya walks through those corridors alone. She has no one to calm her fears, no one to soothe her brow. No one tells her they'll be praying for her quick recovery. And that hurts like a son of a bitch. Because Alya has such a capacity for love and giving, she doesn't hesitate to take huge risks for the people she loves. On the other hand, she has no one other than Cihan to do the same for her. He's her other half. And there's no way in hell she'd stand back and watch him destroy himself. Her devotion and resolve are crystal clear when she speaks to Cihan while he's sedated. Still, I think some of her loneliness and desperation bleeds through her words to her husband. Almost as if something deep inside her cries out for him to wake up and choose her - like she's choosing him. Over everyone. Even her own life. Speaking of choosing, let's pause here and pivot to Cihan Bey. Cihan, like all of us, is a product of his upbringing, his environment, and his personal beliefs. Two of those three things are extremely toxic and warped. Not to mention, the guilt that's eating him alive is a product of those two things. They say when you're undergoing feelings of intense guilt, you tend to fluctuate between two states - suppression and surrender. When you suppress, you tell yourself you're fine. Everything's okay. Things are best this way type of stuff. In fact, I want you to remember this phrase. Then, there's surrender - moments of lucidity where you realize you're falling apart, that this isn't what you want at all. You're flooded by emotions and longing about what you're denying yourself. And that's something you see in Cihan over and over in this episode. He keeps fluctuating from one state to the other, and I don't think he even realizes what he's about to do to himself and Alya by wanting to go through with that operation. Take the scene where they're talking in their room before Alya leaves. On the one hand, Cihan tells Alya he has responsibilities to his family, and on the other, he can't see how his decision will affect Alya and Deniz. Then, when Cihan tries talking to Alya when he's driving her to work, he tells her he doesn't want to sacrifice their love, but in the next instance, he tells her he won't lose her 'in his heart' even if Boran wakes up. You see the inconsistency? He keeps switching between what he truly wants and the things might be best this way mindset. Surrender and suppression. Like when he keeps seeking her out at every turn, but insists on undergoing a surgery that will almost certainly kill him. The guilt inside him builds like pressure almost. He tries to suppress it until it spills over, revealing his true feelings, then he panics and moves back to suppression again. This keeps repeating until he wakes up to discover that Alya is the one undergoing the surgery. That's when the cycle finally breaks. Because when he's faced with the reality of losing Alya forever, he finally accepts the core truth driving his guilt - he fell in love with his brother's wife. Sure, he thinks Boran is dead and gone when it happens, but guilt doesn't really follow logic. That's why Alya being the donor and almost losing her life forces him to accept the love he feels for Alya is part of him now. There is no fighting it, there is no changing it. There is only accepting it. And his speech to Boran before he sees Alya is proof of his surrender. Because he finally admits that his bond with Alya isn't about choice anymore, he doesn't control the love; it controls him now. In front of Boran, no less. He finally looks his guilt in the face and starts to overcome it. That's why we see him initiating the kiss in their room. He's not overcome by self-reproach when he thinks of touching Alya intimately now. All very, very positive signs. And, let's not forget, when he sees his entire family conspired behind his back to allow Alya to be the donor, he understands another sold truth. He is the only family Alya has apart from Deniz. Which makes Alya's sacrifice all the more powerful. Because he realizes that she kept her part of the bargain. She kept fighting for them, even when he didn't. Hopefully, this is the moment where Cihan stops running and starts choosing. Alya didn’t just save his life physically; she forced him to confront the part of himself he kept buried. And now that he’s finally surrendered to that truth, we’re about to see the version of Cihan who fights for love instead of resisting it. Till next time, happy reading, y'all. #CihAl #UzakŞehir

CocoLoco

26,299 Aufrufe • vor 11 Monaten

Caller: Yeah, thanks for taking my call. So, basically, I'm just trying to get some guidance and maybe some next steps on how to put a 20-year friendship to bed and let go. Dr. John Delony: Oh, wait, wait, wait! Almost always, that's a... somebody did a thing. What happened? Caller: Oh, they definitely did a thing. It's a little bit of a doozy. Dr. John Delony: Oh, no, what happened?! What is it, man? Caller: All right, so I guess I'll give you a little bit of backstory. I have a... I mean, he's my best friend, or was, I guess I should say. Basically my brother. I mean, 20 years is a long time to have a friendship, right? Dr. John Delony: Hey, call that out! That is, A: this sounds like the beginning to a Dawson's Creek episode, I'm not gonna lie, and I'm super excited about it. Two: um, yeah, that's a brother, dude. 20 years side-by-side, that's a brother, right? Caller: Yeah, definitely. So, anyway, I met my fiancé about 5 years ago. We got engaged last year. Our wedding's actually coming up in 16 days at this point. Dr. John Delony: Very cool. Congratulations, man. Caller: Thank you. Anyway, so my best friend and my fiancé, they didn't always see eye-to-eye. You know, it was, I think, a little bit of, you know, vying for my attention at some points. You know, and so anyway, over the past few years, they have really gotten close. You know, him and his wife, we BBQ together, we hang out all the time, you know, we're... it's the crew, right? And so they finally got to a point, my fiancé and him, where, you know, they were tight, everything was going well. And he actually... him and his wife's 4-year wedding anniversary just passed, and he thought it would be cool to kind of re-propose to her because they kind of eloped the first time. And he asked me to host it at my house, you know, kind of a surprise shindig, re-proposal. And I was like, "Of course, brother, like I got you. I'll have everybody over, we'll keep it a surprise, yada yada." So, that all went fine. It was nice. They stayed over afterwards to, you know, BBQ, hang out. We were having some celebratory drinks and what have you. And I ended up... me and his wife ended up, you know, going to bed. It was late, and I'm not gonna lie... Dr. John Delony: Not together, right? Caller: Not together, no. I was gonna clarify that! Dr. John Delony: All right. Yeah, just... I held my breath there for a second. Caller: Yeah. Dr. John Delony: I was hoping you were calling to tell me how bad your friend was because you slept with his wife. Okay, good. So that didn't happen. So you and his wife went to bed separately. I feel like I know where this story is headed. Then what? Caller: Yeah. He... he made a pass at my fiancé. Dr. John Delony: What does that mean? Caller: He... tried to kiss her. Dr. John Delony: Okay. Caller: And when they were... and it... they were, you know, out, obviously, by themselves talking together, and it's funny because he... it wasn't just like a...
3:17

Caller: Yeah, thanks for taking my call. So, basically, I'm just trying to get some guidance and maybe some next steps on how to put a 20-year friendship to bed and let go. Dr. John Delony: Oh, wait, wait, wait! Almost always, that's a... somebody did a thing. What happened? Caller: Oh, they definitely did a thing. It's a little bit of a doozy. Dr. John Delony: Oh, no, what happened?! What is it, man? Caller: All right, so I guess I'll give you a little bit of backstory. I have a... I mean, he's my best friend, or was, I guess I should say. Basically my brother. I mean, 20 years is a long time to have a friendship, right? Dr. John Delony: Hey, call that out! That is, A: this sounds like the beginning to a Dawson's Creek episode, I'm not gonna lie, and I'm super excited about it. Two: um, yeah, that's a brother, dude. 20 years side-by-side, that's a brother, right? Caller: Yeah, definitely. So, anyway, I met my fiancé about 5 years ago. We got engaged last year. Our wedding's actually coming up in 16 days at this point. Dr. John Delony: Very cool. Congratulations, man. Caller: Thank you. Anyway, so my best friend and my fiancé, they didn't always see eye-to-eye. You know, it was, I think, a little bit of, you know, vying for my attention at some points. You know, and so anyway, over the past few years, they have really gotten close. You know, him and his wife, we BBQ together, we hang out all the time, you know, we're... it's the crew, right? And so they finally got to a point, my fiancé and him, where, you know, they were tight, everything was going well. And he actually... him and his wife's 4-year wedding anniversary just passed, and he thought it would be cool to kind of re-propose to her because they kind of eloped the first time. And he asked me to host it at my house, you know, kind of a surprise shindig, re-proposal. And I was like, "Of course, brother, like I got you. I'll have everybody over, we'll keep it a surprise, yada yada." So, that all went fine. It was nice. They stayed over afterwards to, you know, BBQ, hang out. We were having some celebratory drinks and what have you. And I ended up... me and his wife ended up, you know, going to bed. It was late, and I'm not gonna lie... Dr. John Delony: Not together, right? Caller: Not together, no. I was gonna clarify that! Dr. John Delony: All right. Yeah, just... I held my breath there for a second. Caller: Yeah. Dr. John Delony: I was hoping you were calling to tell me how bad your friend was because you slept with his wife. Okay, good. So that didn't happen. So you and his wife went to bed separately. I feel like I know where this story is headed. Then what? Caller: Yeah. He... he made a pass at my fiancé. Dr. John Delony: What does that mean? Caller: He... tried to kiss her. Dr. John Delony: Okay. Caller: And when they were... and it... they were, you know, out, obviously, by themselves talking together, and it's funny because he... it wasn't just like a...

Brown Legacy

160,656 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

🫎 🪿 The sky had just turned light when my baby brother, Kenji the Mooseweiler, decided to wake up the household by holding his stuffed goose in his mouth and honking it. Over and over. And Over. I opened one sleepy eye to see him standing there proudly honking away like he was performing the National Anthem at a sporting event. I could have happily slept until much closer to breakfast time, but nooooo. Because the oversized Pork Roast's honking woke humans, he was taken outside for a ridiculously early potty break. And humans seem to think when one dog needs to go out, all dogs need to go out. The humans think wrong. I did not need to go out. What I needed was to resume my dream of staying at a luxury resort where I was in the pool doggy paddling my way to the swim up cheese bar. 🧀 Instead I was expected to get up and head outside to keep Kenji company while he did his morning business. I reluctantly rose from my super comfy bed and did the obligatory big stretch, which was NOT EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED!! Then I headed outside where the honker was waiting for me. I went directly into the potty area, squatted and did my business promptly like a good girl. Kenji did 17 laps sniffing the yard, tripped over the pool and nearly fell in it, and then finally lifted a leg on a tree. Another 17 laps and he squatted his moose caboose and did the other part of his business. It was obvious this wasn't an urgent potty situation and that we both could have continued our peaceful slumbers for at least another hour. Because he was taking so long the human had to come outside and do a welfare check. Once she determined we were both present and still alive, she thought it would be fun to work on teaching baby rottie Kenji to give me hugs. Once again she thought wrong. It was not fun. For the right price I'll happily put a paw around him. However I absawoofly do not want his giant clumsy clownpaws randomly smacking me as he tries to figure out where to put them. To make it even more insulting, after the uncoordinated chaos goblin played whack-a-mole on my head, I discovered the human had no treats!! And do you think breakfast was served early when we went back inside? Nope. Not a single morsel. I am now going to nap until I hear the sound of food. And if I hear the sound of Kenji honking that goose, I will repossess it and skillfully extract it's squeaker. 🪿😴 🎥 Feeble hug attempts #HonkingRottie #GooseWakeUpCall #MooseWithGoose #ChesnyyWantsSleep #SendTreatsNotGeese
0:45

🫎 🪿 The sky had just turned light when my baby brother, Kenji the Mooseweiler, decided to wake up the household by holding his stuffed goose in his mouth and honking it. Over and over. And Over. I opened one sleepy eye to see him standing there proudly honking away like he was performing the National Anthem at a sporting event. I could have happily slept until much closer to breakfast time, but nooooo. Because the oversized Pork Roast's honking woke humans, he was taken outside for a ridiculously early potty break. And humans seem to think when one dog needs to go out, all dogs need to go out. The humans think wrong. I did not need to go out. What I needed was to resume my dream of staying at a luxury resort where I was in the pool doggy paddling my way to the swim up cheese bar. 🧀 Instead I was expected to get up and head outside to keep Kenji company while he did his morning business. I reluctantly rose from my super comfy bed and did the obligatory big stretch, which was NOT EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED!! Then I headed outside where the honker was waiting for me. I went directly into the potty area, squatted and did my business promptly like a good girl. Kenji did 17 laps sniffing the yard, tripped over the pool and nearly fell in it, and then finally lifted a leg on a tree. Another 17 laps and he squatted his moose caboose and did the other part of his business. It was obvious this wasn't an urgent potty situation and that we both could have continued our peaceful slumbers for at least another hour. Because he was taking so long the human had to come outside and do a welfare check. Once she determined we were both present and still alive, she thought it would be fun to work on teaching baby rottie Kenji to give me hugs. Once again she thought wrong. It was not fun. For the right price I'll happily put a paw around him. However I absawoofly do not want his giant clumsy clownpaws randomly smacking me as he tries to figure out where to put them. To make it even more insulting, after the uncoordinated chaos goblin played whack-a-mole on my head, I discovered the human had no treats!! And do you think breakfast was served early when we went back inside? Nope. Not a single morsel. I am now going to nap until I hear the sound of food. And if I hear the sound of Kenji honking that goose, I will repossess it and skillfully extract it's squeaker. 🪿😴 🎥 Feeble hug attempts #HonkingRottie #GooseWakeUpCall #MooseWithGoose #ChesnyyWantsSleep #SendTreatsNotGeese

Team Servicerottie🇨🇦🐕‍🦺🦽

19,217 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten

This footage comes from a home security camera inside the Mercer residence in Knoxville, Tennessee. The man in the pajamas is Harold. He is 79 years old. He was diagnosed with a progressive memory condition two years ago. Part of Harold's condition causes what his doctors call "sundowning." In the late evening hours, Harold's mind sometimes takes him back decades. He will wake up convinced he needs to drive somewhere. Go to work. Meet someone. He gets dressed in whatever is closest. Walks to the door. Before last year, this happened three or four times a week. Harold's wife, Carol, would hear him and get up to guide him back. But Carol has her own health challenges. She can't always wake up fast enough. On two separate occasions, Harold made it outside before Carol could stop him. A neighbor found him once at eleven PM walking down the middle of their street in slippers. Their son suggested an alert system. They tried one. Harold figured out how to turn it off. Then last February, their daughter brought over a two-year-old Golden Retriever named Samson that she could no longer keep due to a housing move. Nobody planned what happened next. About three weeks after Samson arrived, Carol reviewed the home security footage from the previous night. She hadn't heard Harold get up. The footage showed Harold walking down the hallway toward the front door at 1:17 AM. And Samson already standing at the door before Harold reached it. Harold tried to go around him. Samson shifted. Blocked again. Harold tried once more. Samson moved a second time. Then Samson reached up and very gently took Harold's sleeve in his mouth. Just held it. Began slowly walking Harold back down the hallway toward the bedroom. Harold followed him. Carol watched the footage sitting at her kitchen table with her coffee going cold in her hands. She called their son right away. Sent him the clip. Their son showed it to Harold's brain doctor at the next appointment. The doctor reviewed it twice. Then said: "This is door-blocking and redirection behavior. It is a recognized way to help with memory-related wandering. This dog is doing it correctly. On his own. Without any training." Carol told us: "Samson came to us because our daughter needed somewhere for him to go. We thought we were doing her a favor. Turns out Samson was the one doing us the favor. He has been watching over Harold every single night." Harold, on a clear morning, was told about what Samson does. He looked at the dog for a long moment. Then said: "Well. Somebody has to look after things around here. Samson sleeps at the foot of Harold's bed now. Some dogs arrive at exactly the right moment, for reasons nobody fully understands until much later.
0:30

This footage comes from a home security camera inside the Mercer residence in Knoxville, Tennessee. The man in the pajamas is Harold. He is 79 years old. He was diagnosed with a progressive memory condition two years ago. Part of Harold's condition causes what his doctors call "sundowning." In the late evening hours, Harold's mind sometimes takes him back decades. He will wake up convinced he needs to drive somewhere. Go to work. Meet someone. He gets dressed in whatever is closest. Walks to the door. Before last year, this happened three or four times a week. Harold's wife, Carol, would hear him and get up to guide him back. But Carol has her own health challenges. She can't always wake up fast enough. On two separate occasions, Harold made it outside before Carol could stop him. A neighbor found him once at eleven PM walking down the middle of their street in slippers. Their son suggested an alert system. They tried one. Harold figured out how to turn it off. Then last February, their daughter brought over a two-year-old Golden Retriever named Samson that she could no longer keep due to a housing move. Nobody planned what happened next. About three weeks after Samson arrived, Carol reviewed the home security footage from the previous night. She hadn't heard Harold get up. The footage showed Harold walking down the hallway toward the front door at 1:17 AM. And Samson already standing at the door before Harold reached it. Harold tried to go around him. Samson shifted. Blocked again. Harold tried once more. Samson moved a second time. Then Samson reached up and very gently took Harold's sleeve in his mouth. Just held it. Began slowly walking Harold back down the hallway toward the bedroom. Harold followed him. Carol watched the footage sitting at her kitchen table with her coffee going cold in her hands. She called their son right away. Sent him the clip. Their son showed it to Harold's brain doctor at the next appointment. The doctor reviewed it twice. Then said: "This is door-blocking and redirection behavior. It is a recognized way to help with memory-related wandering. This dog is doing it correctly. On his own. Without any training." Carol told us: "Samson came to us because our daughter needed somewhere for him to go. We thought we were doing her a favor. Turns out Samson was the one doing us the favor. He has been watching over Harold every single night." Harold, on a clear morning, was told about what Samson does. He looked at the dog for a long moment. Then said: "Well. Somebody has to look after things around here. Samson sleeps at the foot of Harold's bed now. Some dogs arrive at exactly the right moment, for reasons nobody fully understands until much later.

Gabriele Corno

782,829 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

🚨 DECODING KEVIN GILL / BARKING PUPPY'S "THE BATMAN" REVIEW 🚨 $GME & $BP TIN 🧵 [1/4] This puzzle just keeps getting crazier and crazier! In some ways, I am a little nervous to even share how I'm beginning to see these as a previous GME Elitist... Many of my Old Compatriots have turned on me... Yet, the signs are clear and undeniable. Much of the narrative has shifted to $BP for now. I expect Gamestop to grind for a while, mostly up, but we are not at the finish line yet.... lot's of money to be made in the meantime though so we can keep packing those bags!!! Barking Puppy's "Mortal Kombat: Finish Him" post last night had multiple layers of meaning, but most obvious was the RED fire color coding. Sure enough, Gamestop was in the RED today. His Mortal Kombat post also signaled "Ready Player 1", which signals the RK meme, but it's important to remember it closes with Daenery's Dragon from "Game of Thrones". The Dragon awakens in RED. This had gotten me a few times... because it's a Dragon, and Dragons are cool, so I am inclined to expect big moves... And Gamestop is down 8% as of right now, big move alright! RK's memes are like a deck of cards. Each one has meaning to convey and it can be pulled at any time, and multiple times at that. I'm beginning to finally catch on to the language. Anyway, we have a ton to unpack here with "The Batman", so let's start with a transcription: "The Batman is about Bruce Wayne, who feels it's his duty to protect Gotham, even if it's beyond saving, because he's a symbol... a symbol that can endure, punish, and bring change. With his car, he tears through a Pesky Penguin, before spearheading The Riddler too. In the interrogation room, the glass has no self-reflection: only FULL Transparancy. Batman see's a distorted reflection... so he becomes something more: not fear, hope. One step at a time." First of all, I want to point out that the world of Meme Tokens is VERY much like Gotham City: Crime Ridden. Can Barking Puppy save it? Let's jump forward a bit to the part where Kevin says "Spearheading The Riddler". This is significant because he cuts to a shot of Scorpion from the "Mortal Kombat" live action movie. "Get Over Here." Kevin identifies Barking Puppy as Scorpion, which is in keeping with how I identified his BP character in his "MK" post on X last night [fire fatality was a dead giveaway]. We connected his "Mortal Kombat" post to RK's "Ready Player 1" post because it features Scorpion, Goro, and others in the movie. The "MK" Dragon also connects perfectly to the "GoT" red-eyed dragon. Yet, there is another RK "MK" post that I missed, it shows the actual game. The post is about a CHANGE IN NARRATOR. One of the characters [Liu Kang = Ape] performs a bicycle kick and it hits... and hits... and hits for so long that RK interjects the "SpongeBob SquarePants" [sBsP = Barking Puppy] narrator. "Two Hours Later" "Six Hours Later" "So much later that the OLD NARRATOR got tired of WAITING and they had to hire a NEW ONE." This RK dates back to March 10th, 2021. This is EXTREMELY significant... And it all connects back to the star that played "The Riddler" in "The Batman": Paul Dano. Paul Dano played as Keith Gill in the movie "Dumb Money." Yesterday, a mysterious new profile appeared in the $BP community... Completely new account, and his first post sent shockwaves. He has a certain pizzazz that just... attracts people. And he began posting RIDDLES. Now, I've learned many lessons about putting my foot in my mouth and speaking too soon. People tagged me on his posts to help come and solve them... but, I decided to sit back and wait for confirmation. CONTINUE TO PART 2 #GME $GME $BP #GAMESTOP
1:02

🚨 DECODING KEVIN GILL / BARKING PUPPY'S "THE BATMAN" REVIEW 🚨 $GME & $BP TIN 🧵 [1/4] This puzzle just keeps getting crazier and crazier! In some ways, I am a little nervous to even share how I'm beginning to see these as a previous GME Elitist... Many of my Old Compatriots have turned on me... Yet, the signs are clear and undeniable. Much of the narrative has shifted to $BP for now. I expect Gamestop to grind for a while, mostly up, but we are not at the finish line yet.... lot's of money to be made in the meantime though so we can keep packing those bags!!! Barking Puppy's "Mortal Kombat: Finish Him" post last night had multiple layers of meaning, but most obvious was the RED fire color coding. Sure enough, Gamestop was in the RED today. His Mortal Kombat post also signaled "Ready Player 1", which signals the RK meme, but it's important to remember it closes with Daenery's Dragon from "Game of Thrones". The Dragon awakens in RED. This had gotten me a few times... because it's a Dragon, and Dragons are cool, so I am inclined to expect big moves... And Gamestop is down 8% as of right now, big move alright! RK's memes are like a deck of cards. Each one has meaning to convey and it can be pulled at any time, and multiple times at that. I'm beginning to finally catch on to the language. Anyway, we have a ton to unpack here with "The Batman", so let's start with a transcription: "The Batman is about Bruce Wayne, who feels it's his duty to protect Gotham, even if it's beyond saving, because he's a symbol... a symbol that can endure, punish, and bring change. With his car, he tears through a Pesky Penguin, before spearheading The Riddler too. In the interrogation room, the glass has no self-reflection: only FULL Transparancy. Batman see's a distorted reflection... so he becomes something more: not fear, hope. One step at a time." First of all, I want to point out that the world of Meme Tokens is VERY much like Gotham City: Crime Ridden. Can Barking Puppy save it? Let's jump forward a bit to the part where Kevin says "Spearheading The Riddler". This is significant because he cuts to a shot of Scorpion from the "Mortal Kombat" live action movie. "Get Over Here." Kevin identifies Barking Puppy as Scorpion, which is in keeping with how I identified his BP character in his "MK" post on X last night [fire fatality was a dead giveaway]. We connected his "Mortal Kombat" post to RK's "Ready Player 1" post because it features Scorpion, Goro, and others in the movie. The "MK" Dragon also connects perfectly to the "GoT" red-eyed dragon. Yet, there is another RK "MK" post that I missed, it shows the actual game. The post is about a CHANGE IN NARRATOR. One of the characters [Liu Kang = Ape] performs a bicycle kick and it hits... and hits... and hits for so long that RK interjects the "SpongeBob SquarePants" [sBsP = Barking Puppy] narrator. "Two Hours Later" "Six Hours Later" "So much later that the OLD NARRATOR got tired of WAITING and they had to hire a NEW ONE." This RK dates back to March 10th, 2021. This is EXTREMELY significant... And it all connects back to the star that played "The Riddler" in "The Batman": Paul Dano. Paul Dano played as Keith Gill in the movie "Dumb Money." Yesterday, a mysterious new profile appeared in the $BP community... Completely new account, and his first post sent shockwaves. He has a certain pizzazz that just... attracts people. And he began posting RIDDLES. Now, I've learned many lessons about putting my foot in my mouth and speaking too soon. People tagged me on his posts to help come and solve them... but, I decided to sit back and wait for confirmation. CONTINUE TO PART 2 #GME $GME $BP #GAMESTOP

The Prophetic Outlaw

11,705 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

My forex fun-fact: Forex humbled me for some time I was literally reduced to a beggar after the death of my daughter, I lost everything and became customer to loan companies, using my cars as collateral to get money and I was left with no car at all at some point, I was using public transport coded lol, many that are close to me knows this, I was always invited from one police station to the other, this court to that court, I became the shadow of my self, but one thing remain with me which is courage, confidence at the face of chaos … I face betrayals from those that I never expected.. Guys I have a lot that I will share with you all, may be I will open a YouTube channels where I will be talking about my forex journey I was loosing serially, infact most times I will borow money and fund before I say jack I already has lost the money, it was not easy at all, in-fact some times I have to call some trader to pls help find me something to buy litle food stuffs in my house due to the fact that I have nothing in the house, all the pos in my area I was owing them in millions, because it took them long time to understood that I was broke. The market shows me no mercy, I even aproach two traders to even buy off my academy just this last month so that I may atleast start again yes, sometimes I will be afraid to even post on my pages just because I don’t know who I am owing that may comment to insult me but many of them are calm with me , may be due to the fact that they know that I am straight forward, asssshh! I was humbled but I maintain steez … infact some big trader will come to Abuja and called me but I will tell them I am not in town just because I don’t even have a car to go see them, because how will I be explaining…it’s a long story that I want to cut short … a lot happen … on the 16th of April 2026 of last month I was resting in my house and upto 9 police or so armed police men enter my house, surrounded it and took me away with a car that has no plate number, they never told my family where they were taking me to it was like a movie and I had nothing on me.. in my account or at hand, I followed them and I was locked up in a cell where I can only sit or stand, it was like a dog house size, I can’t even stretch my legs it is not more than 2 square meters and some times we will be upto 5 inside so no can stretched legs , him it is well .. No body believed that I have no money, I was bankrupt it was in that cell I felt disappointed and I keep telling my family bothe my wife and my sister that was present that I am still the lion and I told them I k ow my self because I know it very well that when ever pressure was much on me like this I know that my break point is close I will not be able to say some things but I will thank some set of traders specially without saying much TonySnip3r FALCONS FOREX ACADEMY 📈 PIPCOMMANDER riffles, Mj young KingFtp® ICTQUEEN👸 Drbillsofficial Loaded Forex Emmanuel odah JOEL MICHAEL Vee📊🫆 InveStorTolu💥 kOE etc To be continue…… It was in that cell that I say to my self this forex must behave well oo and look at how it has started blessing me .. I have paid nothing less than 200m debt in less than a week now .. me that can’t afford 10k naira last two weeks but same forex wey dey kill me any how now hin I carry dey roar back to market now lol My YouTube channel will be launch where I will be releasing videos that will help you as a trader Forex can make or mar you Roar … when you see that some people that are with you before the down time are no longer wanting to pick your calls know that it is time to pick up your call by your self …. Even at your peak there is always a down time and as a trader know that your life is represented in a chart where you have the highs and the lows .. suport and resistance …. Down market will not continue forever and bullish market will hit a resistanc one day but nothing is permanent in life … stay alive to trade, if I can do it you can 💪🏽
0:50

My forex fun-fact: Forex humbled me for some time I was literally reduced to a beggar after the death of my daughter, I lost everything and became customer to loan companies, using my cars as collateral to get money and I was left with no car at all at some point, I was using public transport coded lol, many that are close to me knows this, I was always invited from one police station to the other, this court to that court, I became the shadow of my self, but one thing remain with me which is courage, confidence at the face of chaos … I face betrayals from those that I never expected.. Guys I have a lot that I will share with you all, may be I will open a YouTube channels where I will be talking about my forex journey I was loosing serially, infact most times I will borow money and fund before I say jack I already has lost the money, it was not easy at all, in-fact some times I have to call some trader to pls help find me something to buy litle food stuffs in my house due to the fact that I have nothing in the house, all the pos in my area I was owing them in millions, because it took them long time to understood that I was broke. The market shows me no mercy, I even aproach two traders to even buy off my academy just this last month so that I may atleast start again yes, sometimes I will be afraid to even post on my pages just because I don’t know who I am owing that may comment to insult me but many of them are calm with me , may be due to the fact that they know that I am straight forward, asssshh! I was humbled but I maintain steez … infact some big trader will come to Abuja and called me but I will tell them I am not in town just because I don’t even have a car to go see them, because how will I be explaining…it’s a long story that I want to cut short … a lot happen … on the 16th of April 2026 of last month I was resting in my house and upto 9 police or so armed police men enter my house, surrounded it and took me away with a car that has no plate number, they never told my family where they were taking me to it was like a movie and I had nothing on me.. in my account or at hand, I followed them and I was locked up in a cell where I can only sit or stand, it was like a dog house size, I can’t even stretch my legs it is not more than 2 square meters and some times we will be upto 5 inside so no can stretched legs , him it is well .. No body believed that I have no money, I was bankrupt it was in that cell I felt disappointed and I keep telling my family bothe my wife and my sister that was present that I am still the lion and I told them I k ow my self because I know it very well that when ever pressure was much on me like this I know that my break point is close I will not be able to say some things but I will thank some set of traders specially without saying much TonySnip3r FALCONS FOREX ACADEMY 📈 PIPCOMMANDER riffles, Mj young KingFtp® ICTQUEEN👸 Drbillsofficial Loaded Forex Emmanuel odah JOEL MICHAEL Vee📊🫆 InveStorTolu💥 kOE etc To be continue…… It was in that cell that I say to my self this forex must behave well oo and look at how it has started blessing me .. I have paid nothing less than 200m debt in less than a week now .. me that can’t afford 10k naira last two weeks but same forex wey dey kill me any how now hin I carry dey roar back to market now lol My YouTube channel will be launch where I will be releasing videos that will help you as a trader Forex can make or mar you Roar … when you see that some people that are with you before the down time are no longer wanting to pick your calls know that it is time to pick up your call by your self …. Even at your peak there is always a down time and as a trader know that your life is represented in a chart where you have the highs and the lows .. suport and resistance …. Down market will not continue forever and bullish market will hit a resistanc one day but nothing is permanent in life … stay alive to trade, if I can do it you can 💪🏽

FxLion

101,608 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten