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🗣️ "𝙒𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥." The gaffer had some kind words for the departing Lewis Baker, who was recalled by parent club Stoke City today. #Rovers 🔵⚪️

Blackburn Rovers

299,516 subscribers

60,355 views • 1 year ago •via X (Twitter)

News & Politics Sports #Rovers

Anya Rossi• Live Now

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9 Comments

RoversTiliDie 🇮🇸🇸🇳🇯🇵1 year ago

Sign someone please 🙏

College Shirt Clubs by The Fan Stop2 years ago

We are happy to pay homage to the Sooner legend with this officially-licensed OU Sooners Red Cup design. We will donate a portion of revenue on each shirt sold to the The Toby Keith Foundation. you may donate directly to the Toby Keith foundation here -

Kyle Smith1 year ago

BACK HIM!!!!

David O'Sullivan1 year ago

If we don't back him. And he goes then ill support Bristol rovers as I have brfc on my leg . Or illjust say it means big round fat cunt

BaNnO1 year ago

Give this man some signings or we will lose him. As simple as that

Aaron Holt1 year ago

Looks like a man defeated to me…

h1 year ago

Welcome to the rovers way John mate. We don’t do signings we’ve got garrett, oridion and batty who will all be recalled and they will be your January signings, good luck

Niall1 year ago

If we were serious about play-offs we would make a permanent bid for him

Rico Moorcroft1 year ago

Another transfer day gone ....

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KM2 archive

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Alex Proyas on the Commercial failure of 'Dark City' (1998) & its similarities with 'The Matrix' (1999): "Interviewer: Are you surprised by how big a cult film it has become? Proyas: I was surprised it didn't achieve commercial success initially, but I'm happy it has had this long-lasting life after the fact. I was pretty disappointed the studio hadn't really managed to sell the movie in the way that they could have. I don't think they really knew what to make of it quite frankly. The studio put out a trailer that was quite clever. It was completely non-narrative, just music and imagery. The guys who made the trailer specifically wrote a piece of music for the trailer, and the whole thing felt handcrafted and definitely had a personality. I think people were genuinely impressed by it but it didn't explain to them what the movie was or give them an idea of the kind of experience they were going to get. I think it made audiences think it was some kind of a horror movie. As a result people kind of overlooked it in the theaters. I know 99% of the people who loved it and always ask me about it are people who saw it on video years later. How do you feel about the similarities the later 'The Matrix' (1999) has to 'Dark City' (1998)? If I answer that question honestly it sounds like sour grapes because obviously 'The Matrix' did better commercially than 'Dark City' did. 'Dark City' came out a year before 'The Matrix', one of my producers on 'Dark City' worked on 'The Matrix', and the Wachowskis saw 'Dark City' a good nine months before 'Dark City' came out in the theaters, so they had a good run at picking the more important cherries off the cake. I feel like it's a question I can't answer in any more detail than that, other than to say that maybe the Wachowskis should be asked the question rather than me." (Alex Proyas' interview with Paul Rowlands, 2017)

Alex Proyas on the Commercial failure of 'Dark City' (1998) & its similarities with 'The Matrix' (1999): "Interviewer: Are you surprised by how big a cult film it has become? Proyas: I was surprised it didn't achieve commercial success initially, but I'm happy it has had this long-lasting life after the fact. I was pretty disappointed the studio hadn't really managed to sell the movie in the way that they could have. I don't think they really knew what to make of it quite frankly. The studio put out a trailer that was quite clever. It was completely non-narrative, just music and imagery. The guys who made the trailer specifically wrote a piece of music for the trailer, and the whole thing felt handcrafted and definitely had a personality. I think people were genuinely impressed by it but it didn't explain to them what the movie was or give them an idea of the kind of experience they were going to get. I think it made audiences think it was some kind of a horror movie. As a result people kind of overlooked it in the theaters. I know 99% of the people who loved it and always ask me about it are people who saw it on video years later. How do you feel about the similarities the later 'The Matrix' (1999) has to 'Dark City' (1998)? If I answer that question honestly it sounds like sour grapes because obviously 'The Matrix' did better commercially than 'Dark City' did. 'Dark City' came out a year before 'The Matrix', one of my producers on 'Dark City' worked on 'The Matrix', and the Wachowskis saw 'Dark City' a good nine months before 'Dark City' came out in the theaters, so they had a good run at picking the more important cherries off the cake. I feel like it's a question I can't answer in any more detail than that, other than to say that maybe the Wachowskis should be asked the question rather than me." (Alex Proyas' interview with Paul Rowlands, 2017)

DepressedBergman

66,180 views • 6 months ago

ENZO MARESCA’S PRE-CONFERENCE TODAY AHEAD OF THE TRIP TO LINCOLN. Enzo Maresca on Cole Palmer🔵 Cole is probably is the only one that we need to assess a little bit. The rest are okay, just to recover from the last week. He did already a huge effort to try to play the game. He wants to be there to help his teammates in that kind of game. It's more day by day, week by week, game by game, to see how he is. Enzo Maresca on the game against Manchester United🔵 The game is dictated from the red card. When it was 10v10, we had almost 70% possession. I hope we don't have any more games with 10 players after 3-4 minutes. Enzo Maresca🔵 Anyone can say what they decide to say, it's not a problem. I think we improved a lot last season. We closed the gap. This season, the main target, is to continue to improve the players and team, and close the gap. Enzo Maresca on Benoit Badiashile and Romeo Lavia🔵 They are not back for this game, unfortunately. They both took part of the session yesterday. Hopefully they can be available soon. Enzo Maresca🔵 In this moment, Dario and Romeo is injured, so we cannot give Moises Caicedo a rest. I don't think it's random the amount of injuries we have alluding to the Club World Cup. Enzo Maresca🔵 You can sleep very easy in these kind of games. Football is full of these games. I am very worried about that. For sure, we will have some players from the academy, like we have always done.

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XABI ALONSO ERA

79,470 views • 10 months ago

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Arteta on the Arsenal board: “It's been a lot. They gave me the opportunity to manage this football club when I had no experience at all. “So first of all I have some words of gratitude to everybody that was involved in that decision and that's for sure Edu [Gaspar], that's Tim [Lewis], that's Vinai [Venkatesham], that's a lot of people that were there. “Josh [Kroenke] and Stan [Kroenke] are still here and you can see their faces today but there's a lot of people along the way that have been crucial to this success to build this connection, to be able to build a team that is so competitive and ultimately that we have delivered the Premier League.”

Connor Humm

24,696 views • 2 months ago

PSNI… serious questions need to be asked and answered. Who decided to march visiting Bulgarian fans, who had spent a week insulting, mocking and intimidating Derry people online, down Bishop Street past the Oakgrove with women and children present? Then stand by while CSKA fans attacked terrified families and threw glass bottles❓ Inside the ground… madness. It's the first time I've ever genuinely felt unsafe in 21 years of attending games at the Brandywell. Fair play to the stewards, who did their best in the circumstances. Serious questions need to be asked about security at the Brandywell and how it's resourced - this has been coming for some time now. Having to jump onto the pitch for your own safety should never happen at a football match.. The routing decision by the PSNI on Bishop Street was reckless. Awful and embarrassing, though sadly not surprising from the police here. Whoever made that call needs to be held accountable, and it's a disgrace that all of this overshadows a Derry City side who outplayed CSKA and were really unlucky tonight! An amazing atmosphere created by the Derry fans. Proud of each and every one of the players too… some shift put in! On to Croatia! 🔴⚪️

PSNI… serious questions need to be asked and answered. Who decided to march visiting Bulgarian fans, who had spent a week insulting, mocking and intimidating Derry people online, down Bishop Street past the Oakgrove with women and children present? Then stand by while CSKA fans attacked terrified families and threw glass bottles❓ Inside the ground… madness. It's the first time I've ever genuinely felt unsafe in 21 years of attending games at the Brandywell. Fair play to the stewards, who did their best in the circumstances. Serious questions need to be asked about security at the Brandywell and how it's resourced - this has been coming for some time now. Having to jump onto the pitch for your own safety should never happen at a football match.. The routing decision by the PSNI on Bishop Street was reckless. Awful and embarrassing, though sadly not surprising from the police here. Whoever made that call needs to be held accountable, and it's a disgrace that all of this overshadows a Derry City side who outplayed CSKA and were really unlucky tonight! An amazing atmosphere created by the Derry fans. Proud of each and every one of the players too… some shift put in! On to Croatia! 🔴⚪️

Conor McGinty

411,998 views • 24 days ago

"They won't listen to us because we are moms, they call us crazy," this is what a mother told me on the plane right back from a protest in California. Demoralized and sad, she was tear stricken at what had been done to her and millions of other moms across the country. Totally dismissed by doctors. Looked at like she was crazy and didn't even know her own children. Smeared by everyone from media from friends. They listened today, and today RFJ JR was confirmed. RFK Jr's confirmation today is the culmination of ten-of-thousands of hours of moms who were gas lit, abused, and tossed aside by the political and medical establishment. In 2019 I met these moms during a protest in California. The state was ending all vaccine exemptions, even for children who had been vaccine-injured. This was a new world for me. I had flown up to Sacramento on a lark. I hadn't given the vaccine issue much thought, and had conventional views on them. The stories were heart breaking and several themes emerged. Moms know their children better than anyone. A healthy child would go in for their shots, the child would change. Doctors would mock the mothers who asked if there was any connection. Moms were told that they didn't know what was happening with their children. "We aren't anvi-vaccine, we took our children to get vaccinated. That's how we ended up here." Anti-vaxx'er had become a slur, even though every parent I spoke to have vaccinated their children. They didn't read some random blog and make this an obsession, they were looking for answers. Moms were called crazy, we see this even today, although much less often post-Covid. "Do you think we want to blame the vaccines? We denied this until every other cause had been ruled out. You think we want to feel guilty?" None of these moms wanted to believe that vaccines could harm their children. It was the opposite. If the vaccine caused the child's injuries, then the parent would be left with an immense amount of guilt. Even though it's undeserved. They did nothing wrong. They did what doctors told them. No parents wants to believe that they may have made a medical choice that altered their child's life forever. Every human impulse would lead one away from being anti-vaccine. RKF JR, or "Bobby" as all the moms called him, was banned from social media, along with Del Bigtree. There wasn't much interest in the censorship that Bigtree and Kennedy faced. I would post about it and everyone went, "Meh." This wasn't a cause conservatives or supposed free-speech liberals wanted to embrace. It was unpopular, these were the wilderness years. The moms showed up to every city council meeting. They fought against Covid, they resisted medical tyranny at every gate. Today is their day, as much or more so than RFK JR's. The people are listening now. And today the fight has only begun.

"They won't listen to us because we are moms, they call us crazy," this is what a mother told me on the plane right back from a protest in California. Demoralized and sad, she was tear stricken at what had been done to her and millions of other moms across the country. Totally dismissed by doctors. Looked at like she was crazy and didn't even know her own children. Smeared by everyone from media from friends. They listened today, and today RFJ JR was confirmed. RFK Jr's confirmation today is the culmination of ten-of-thousands of hours of moms who were gas lit, abused, and tossed aside by the political and medical establishment. In 2019 I met these moms during a protest in California. The state was ending all vaccine exemptions, even for children who had been vaccine-injured. This was a new world for me. I had flown up to Sacramento on a lark. I hadn't given the vaccine issue much thought, and had conventional views on them. The stories were heart breaking and several themes emerged. Moms know their children better than anyone. A healthy child would go in for their shots, the child would change. Doctors would mock the mothers who asked if there was any connection. Moms were told that they didn't know what was happening with their children. "We aren't anvi-vaccine, we took our children to get vaccinated. That's how we ended up here." Anti-vaxx'er had become a slur, even though every parent I spoke to have vaccinated their children. They didn't read some random blog and make this an obsession, they were looking for answers. Moms were called crazy, we see this even today, although much less often post-Covid. "Do you think we want to blame the vaccines? We denied this until every other cause had been ruled out. You think we want to feel guilty?" None of these moms wanted to believe that vaccines could harm their children. It was the opposite. If the vaccine caused the child's injuries, then the parent would be left with an immense amount of guilt. Even though it's undeserved. They did nothing wrong. They did what doctors told them. No parents wants to believe that they may have made a medical choice that altered their child's life forever. Every human impulse would lead one away from being anti-vaccine. RKF JR, or "Bobby" as all the moms called him, was banned from social media, along with Del Bigtree. There wasn't much interest in the censorship that Bigtree and Kennedy faced. I would post about it and everyone went, "Meh." This wasn't a cause conservatives or supposed free-speech liberals wanted to embrace. It was unpopular, these were the wilderness years. The moms showed up to every city council meeting. They fought against Covid, they resisted medical tyranny at every gate. Today is their day, as much or more so than RFK JR's. The people are listening now. And today the fight has only begun.

Cernovich

353,490 views • 1 year ago

To Peterborough United, The club that has been my home since I was 6 years old. Little did I know then that this club would become such a big part of my life. To all the coaches, teammates, and staff I've had the pleasure of working with over the years, thank you. Your guidance and support have shaped me into the player and person I am today. To my teammates, past and present, I couldn't have asked for a better group of lads to share the journey with. I want to say a special thank you to the Gaffer, Barry and the Chairman. Your belief in me means everything. To the fans, your support has been incredible. Playing for you, representing this club, has been an absolute honor. This club, this city, and its people will always hold a special place in my heart. Peterborough United has given me so much more than just a football career. It has given me lifelong friends and unforgettable memories. To everyone at Peterborough United, thank you for believing in me and for allowing me to live my dream. I will forever be grateful for the love and support I've received throughout the years. I will always be a Posh fan and will be cheering from afar. Here's to new beginnings and to always remembering where it all started. Thank you, Peterborough United. H 💙🔵

To Peterborough United, The club that has been my home since I was 6 years old. Little did I know then that this club would become such a big part of my life. To all the coaches, teammates, and staff I've had the pleasure of working with over the years, thank you. Your guidance and support have shaped me into the player and person I am today. To my teammates, past and present, I couldn't have asked for a better group of lads to share the journey with. I want to say a special thank you to the Gaffer, Barry and the Chairman. Your belief in me means everything. To the fans, your support has been incredible. Playing for you, representing this club, has been an absolute honor. This club, this city, and its people will always hold a special place in my heart. Peterborough United has given me so much more than just a football career. It has given me lifelong friends and unforgettable memories. To everyone at Peterborough United, thank you for believing in me and for allowing me to live my dream. I will forever be grateful for the love and support I've received throughout the years. I will always be a Posh fan and will be cheering from afar. Here's to new beginnings and to always remembering where it all started. Thank you, Peterborough United. H 💙🔵

Harrison Burrows

201,465 views • 2 years ago

WATCH: CNN’s Scott Jennings goes NUCLEAR on Biden official Kate Bedingfield for saying both sides need to calm down and the left has NOTHING to do with the Kirk assassin’s motive: “‘Why did I do it? I had enough of his hatred. Some hate can’t be negotiated out.’ He — he has a flat — that is — that is the message that the shooter Tyler Robinson sent to his roommate. That is what he said. He also engraved the word, ‘hey, fascist catch’ on the bullet. For ten years, we have heard nothing from the left but that Donald Trump is a fascist. Republicans are Nazis. Authoritarians destroy the Constitution. Bloodbath. Dictator for a day. And he wrote it on the bullet. And he’s been obviously marinating in some kind of information that radicalized him based on what he heard in the air in this country.” “Are you trying to equate [Charlie Kirk and Melissa Hortman]? I’m sorry.” “I’m here to argue. All I know is what the — the prosecutor said today. He read very lucid messages from a shooter who was motivated by political hate, who had a plan to get away with it. He did not sound like a deranged person. He sounded like someone who had decided to take it upon himself to rid the world of someone that he hated politically, that he thought that the world would be better off without. That’s different than some deranged lunatic showing up off the street.” “I don’t know that you’re right about what happened in Minnesota. I don’t.” “What I am not happy about is that we have the shooter's words. We know what he put on the bullets. It's very, very, very clear what happened here and there is a movement by some people to completely say, well, we have no idea. And we do.”

WATCH: CNN’s Scott Jennings goes NUCLEAR on Biden official Kate Bedingfield for saying both sides need to calm down and the left has NOTHING to do with the Kirk assassin’s motive: “‘Why did I do it? I had enough of his hatred. Some hate can’t be negotiated out.’ He — he has a flat — that is — that is the message that the shooter Tyler Robinson sent to his roommate. That is what he said. He also engraved the word, ‘hey, fascist catch’ on the bullet. For ten years, we have heard nothing from the left but that Donald Trump is a fascist. Republicans are Nazis. Authoritarians destroy the Constitution. Bloodbath. Dictator for a day. And he wrote it on the bullet. And he’s been obviously marinating in some kind of information that radicalized him based on what he heard in the air in this country.” “Are you trying to equate [Charlie Kirk and Melissa Hortman]? I’m sorry.” “I’m here to argue. All I know is what the — the prosecutor said today. He read very lucid messages from a shooter who was motivated by political hate, who had a plan to get away with it. He did not sound like a deranged person. He sounded like someone who had decided to take it upon himself to rid the world of someone that he hated politically, that he thought that the world would be better off without. That’s different than some deranged lunatic showing up off the street.” “I don’t know that you’re right about what happened in Minnesota. I don’t.” “What I am not happy about is that we have the shooter's words. We know what he put on the bullets. It's very, very, very clear what happened here and there is a movement by some people to completely say, well, we have no idea. And we do.”

Curtis Houck

77,413 views • 10 months ago

I never knew Kobe Bryant - not even his name - until his tragic death, along with his daughter and 7 others, all taken violently and before their time. As a conservative, I knew Charlie Kirk; I followed and admired him; felt his passing profound sadness. I recently watched Vanessa Bryant’s eulogy for Kobe and their daughter, Gigi. It was real emotion, hard to listen to, but at the same time, it was so touching it was heartwarming. It was a message of lasting love, of deep unending loss, and a personal insight into who Kobe, and Gigi, really were. That kind of insight leaves you feeling as though you’d really known someone, even if only for a moment, and feeling the loss in that moment when you realise they’re no longer there for you to admire, appreciate and really get to know. By the time she’d finished, in so many words, she had thanked God for the time they’d had together, revealed heartfelt intimate details about who they really were, and told us that nothing will ever be the same again. That’s the point of a eulogy. It’s to get to know the person we’ve just lost. Not the neighbour, or the shopkeeper up the road, not the basketball player or the Oscar winner nor the political activist, but the actual person. I never knew Kobe, but by the end I felt as if I knew what kind of man he was, and to be honest it put a lump in my throat more than once. It was very powerful. That’s instinctive, by the way - not learned or scripted. I’ve given eulogies for a best friend, my mum, dad and my granddad. It’s instinctive because on some level we all know that the struggle you once overcame together and now laugh about, or the silly voice someone used every morning to wake you up for school, or the fact they never once missed kissing your nan goodnight in fifty years, all tell us far more about a person than any figure ever could. It’s instinctive because as humans it’s a catharsis we all need, to begin healing, honouring and remembering. After Erika’s eulogy for Charlie, I felt nothing but anger. She begins, in so many words, by telling us that Charlie’s death was a gift from God that Charlie himself had asked for; she shares anecdotes of how others comforted her; tells us how grateful Charlie was for her; and even takes a moment to voice resentment towards men in general, lecturing on how to live: “your wife is not your servant.” The cheers from the mourners were as cheers from an evangelical movement. The whole eulogy played out like the kind of sermon you’d expect at a megachurch - complete with calls to action and, of course, for funding. Please listen to it properly. It’s mostly about Erika, about what “Charlie thought of her.” Then it challenges, chastises and lectures. By the time she’s finished, she’s thanked God for the situation she finds herself in, forgiven the man we’re told killed Charlie, and told us how great things will be going forward - now she’s in charge. Erika’s eulogy for Charlie was scripted - clearly not by her - and as a result, it was not heartfelt, and failed to connect, with anyone. Vanessa’s, by contrast, was clearly written - not scripted - by her. They were her words, and she felt and delivered them so powerfully that we all grieved with her - even someone like me who never even knew who he was - and thanked God for him having been the man he was. One eulogy is a celebration of a life, of gratitude at having shared it, a reckoning with the unfairness of it, and a promise to honour him always. The other is a celebration of loss, of her gratitude for having paid the price of “God’s love” with her husband’s life, of moving on, and of what comes next. There’s nothing wrong with looking forward, but that’s not a eulogy. Maybe the kind ChatGPT might write given some prompts, but not the eulogy of someone who instinctively knows that what they’ve lost can never be replaced. It’s true that everyone grieves differently. But it’s also true that some people do not, or cannot, grieve at all.

I never knew Kobe Bryant - not even his name - until his tragic death, along with his daughter and 7 others, all taken violently and before their time. As a conservative, I knew Charlie Kirk; I followed and admired him; felt his passing profound sadness. I recently watched Vanessa Bryant’s eulogy for Kobe and their daughter, Gigi. It was real emotion, hard to listen to, but at the same time, it was so touching it was heartwarming. It was a message of lasting love, of deep unending loss, and a personal insight into who Kobe, and Gigi, really were. That kind of insight leaves you feeling as though you’d really known someone, even if only for a moment, and feeling the loss in that moment when you realise they’re no longer there for you to admire, appreciate and really get to know. By the time she’d finished, in so many words, she had thanked God for the time they’d had together, revealed heartfelt intimate details about who they really were, and told us that nothing will ever be the same again. That’s the point of a eulogy. It’s to get to know the person we’ve just lost. Not the neighbour, or the shopkeeper up the road, not the basketball player or the Oscar winner nor the political activist, but the actual person. I never knew Kobe, but by the end I felt as if I knew what kind of man he was, and to be honest it put a lump in my throat more than once. It was very powerful. That’s instinctive, by the way - not learned or scripted. I’ve given eulogies for a best friend, my mum, dad and my granddad. It’s instinctive because on some level we all know that the struggle you once overcame together and now laugh about, or the silly voice someone used every morning to wake you up for school, or the fact they never once missed kissing your nan goodnight in fifty years, all tell us far more about a person than any figure ever could. It’s instinctive because as humans it’s a catharsis we all need, to begin healing, honouring and remembering. After Erika’s eulogy for Charlie, I felt nothing but anger. She begins, in so many words, by telling us that Charlie’s death was a gift from God that Charlie himself had asked for; she shares anecdotes of how others comforted her; tells us how grateful Charlie was for her; and even takes a moment to voice resentment towards men in general, lecturing on how to live: “your wife is not your servant.” The cheers from the mourners were as cheers from an evangelical movement. The whole eulogy played out like the kind of sermon you’d expect at a megachurch - complete with calls to action and, of course, for funding. Please listen to it properly. It’s mostly about Erika, about what “Charlie thought of her.” Then it challenges, chastises and lectures. By the time she’s finished, she’s thanked God for the situation she finds herself in, forgiven the man we’re told killed Charlie, and told us how great things will be going forward - now she’s in charge. Erika’s eulogy for Charlie was scripted - clearly not by her - and as a result, it was not heartfelt, and failed to connect, with anyone. Vanessa’s, by contrast, was clearly written - not scripted - by her. They were her words, and she felt and delivered them so powerfully that we all grieved with her - even someone like me who never even knew who he was - and thanked God for him having been the man he was. One eulogy is a celebration of a life, of gratitude at having shared it, a reckoning with the unfairness of it, and a promise to honour him always. The other is a celebration of loss, of her gratitude for having paid the price of “God’s love” with her husband’s life, of moving on, and of what comes next. There’s nothing wrong with looking forward, but that’s not a eulogy. Maybe the kind ChatGPT might write given some prompts, but not the eulogy of someone who instinctively knows that what they’ve lost can never be replaced. It’s true that everyone grieves differently. But it’s also true that some people do not, or cannot, grieve at all.

John Galt

85,044 views • 1 month ago

Back in the day, if you were a client of a bespoke tailor and wanted a tweed jacket, there's a good chance you would have phoned up W. Bill in London. They started as a shop selling things like Scottish sweaters, tweedy ties, and pillow covers. Eventually, they exclusively became a cloth merchant. For some reason, during the time I interacted with the shop, it was owned by a large online hardware company, such as the kind that sells buckets and hammers. The owner of that business assigned Ray Hammett to run W. Bill. Ray apparently was a bit of a quiet menace — a soft-spoken man who *loved* British cloth, especially tweeds. The owner of the parent company was wealthy and didn't really supervise Ray, so Ray basically had an endless budget. And so, Ray bought whatever caught his fancy. W. Bill's shop eventually became so stacked with tweeds that the light from the buzzing fluorescent tubes overhead never penetrated to all corners. The inventory was stacked up to the ceiling, and you had to squeeze yourself between the aisles. Apparently, Ray became known across Britain as the "man who would buy any cloth," so other merchants flocked there to sell even more tweeds. If you were looking for a specific tweed — a Shetland or Cheviot, herringbone or houndstooth, in a particular shade of olive or brown — he would most certainly have it. The great thing about W. Bill is that he had stock from independent, little-known weavers, so if you wanted something made by someone in a small shack in some remote corner of Scotland, he'd have that too. You'd phone him up and hear this soft voice on the other end from a man who was enthusiastic to talk to anyone about tweed. Ray passed away some years ago. W. Bill was eventually acquired by Harrison's of Edinburgh, who cleared out the stock that was never going to sell and kept the good stuff that eventually sold. IMO, Harrison's today is the best merchant if you, like me, favor British cloths. They continue to make things under the W. Bill name — linen, cotton, overcoatings, whipcords, and, of course, tweeds. Some of the designs are a bit playful and eccentric, much like what caught Ray's eye.

Back in the day, if you were a client of a bespoke tailor and wanted a tweed jacket, there's a good chance you would have phoned up W. Bill in London. They started as a shop selling things like Scottish sweaters, tweedy ties, and pillow covers. Eventually, they exclusively became a cloth merchant. For some reason, during the time I interacted with the shop, it was owned by a large online hardware company, such as the kind that sells buckets and hammers. The owner of that business assigned Ray Hammett to run W. Bill. Ray apparently was a bit of a quiet menace — a soft-spoken man who loved British cloth, especially tweeds. The owner of the parent company was wealthy and didn't really supervise Ray, so Ray basically had an endless budget. And so, Ray bought whatever caught his fancy. W. Bill's shop eventually became so stacked with tweeds that the light from the buzzing fluorescent tubes overhead never penetrated to all corners. The inventory was stacked up to the ceiling, and you had to squeeze yourself between the aisles. Apparently, Ray became known across Britain as the "man who would buy any cloth," so other merchants flocked there to sell even more tweeds. If you were looking for a specific tweed — a Shetland or Cheviot, herringbone or houndstooth, in a particular shade of olive or brown — he would most certainly have it. The great thing about W. Bill is that he had stock from independent, little-known weavers, so if you wanted something made by someone in a small shack in some remote corner of Scotland, he'd have that too. You'd phone him up and hear this soft voice on the other end from a man who was enthusiastic to talk to anyone about tweed. Ray passed away some years ago. W. Bill was eventually acquired by Harrison's of Edinburgh, who cleared out the stock that was never going to sell and kept the good stuff that eventually sold. IMO, Harrison's today is the best merchant if you, like me, favor British cloths. They continue to make things under the W. Bill name — linen, cotton, overcoatings, whipcords, and, of course, tweeds. Some of the designs are a bit playful and eccentric, much like what caught Ray's eye.

derek guy

66,320 views • 10 months ago

Shocking! This young Iranian woman killed for celebrating khamenei’s death. Do you remember the night the news spread that Ali Khamenei was dead? Many of us Iranians watched, almost instinctively, took to the streets. Some cried. Some laughed. Some celebrated. Not because we love death, but because we believed the man who had ordered the imprisonment, torture, blinding, and killing of so many innocent people was finally gone. She celebrated inside Iran. Her name was Nehal Abuqalandari. Sources say, she was so happy when she heard the news, she got into a car with her friends and drove through the streets of Khorramabad, full of hope, celebrating the removal of a dictator. But the security forces opened fire and a bullet struck her in the chest. She could have been me. She could have been thousands of other Iranians who celebrated outside Iran. The only difference is geography. I was lucky enough to celebrate in freedom. But she is now gone simply because she celebrated under a warmonger regime. Three days later, authorities pressured her family to call her a “war martyr” and blame America and Israel for her death. Her family refused. Because they knew who killed her. Nehal was not killed by a foreign enemy. She was killed by the Islamic Republic, a regime so afraid of its own people. This is what breaks my heart. Her friends say she was kind, positive, and full of life. She should be alive today. Please say her name: Nehal Abuqalandari. 💔

Shocking! This young Iranian woman killed for celebrating khamenei’s death. Do you remember the night the news spread that Ali Khamenei was dead? Many of us Iranians watched, almost instinctively, took to the streets. Some cried. Some laughed. Some celebrated. Not because we love death, but because we believed the man who had ordered the imprisonment, torture, blinding, and killing of so many innocent people was finally gone. She celebrated inside Iran. Her name was Nehal Abuqalandari. Sources say, she was so happy when she heard the news, she got into a car with her friends and drove through the streets of Khorramabad, full of hope, celebrating the removal of a dictator. But the security forces opened fire and a bullet struck her in the chest. She could have been me. She could have been thousands of other Iranians who celebrated outside Iran. The only difference is geography. I was lucky enough to celebrate in freedom. But she is now gone simply because she celebrated under a warmonger regime. Three days later, authorities pressured her family to call her a “war martyr” and blame America and Israel for her death. Her family refused. Because they knew who killed her. Nehal was not killed by a foreign enemy. She was killed by the Islamic Republic, a regime so afraid of its own people. This is what breaks my heart. Her friends say she was kind, positive, and full of life. She should be alive today. Please say her name: Nehal Abuqalandari. 💔

Masih Alinejad

58,648 views • 2 months ago

In the winter of 1994, Fred Boyce was listening to his car radio when he heard something he could not believe. A government committee had revealed that children at a Massachusetts institution were once fed radioactive cereal. It had happened fifty years earlier. Boyce froze. The institution they mentioned was the Fernald State School. He had lived there as a child. “That’s me,” he said out loud, stunned by what he was hearing. Back in the 1940s, Boyce had joined something called the Science Club. He was one of about 90 boys who signed up. They were promised rewards like extra food and tickets to baseball games. But this wasn’t a regular school club. It was a cover. Behind it was a quiet partnership between researchers at MIT and one of America’s biggest cereal brands. In the post-war years, breakfast cereal was booming. Quaker Oats and Cream of Wheat were competing for dominance. But there was a problem. Scientists had begun to question how nutritious these cereals really were. Some grains, they found, contained an acid called phytate. It made it harder for the body to absorb key minerals like iron and calcium. Cereal companies needed proof their products still delivered value. Quaker Oats decided to take the issue into their own hands. They partnered with MIT to run experiments that would help their brand. It was a business decision, dressed up as a scientific one. MIT secured funding from Quaker and from federal agencies. This included support from the Atomic Energy Commission. Then they created a plan to test how the body absorbed nutrients—by using radioactive tracers. These tracers helped researchers see where nutrients went inside the body. But they also came with risks. And the people consuming them had no idea what they were signing up for. They chose the Fernald State School. It was a state-run home for children labeled “feeble-minded.” Many were abandoned by their families. Some didn’t have any known disabilities at all. Fernald’s reputation was already grim. In the early 1900s, its director, Walter Fernald, was a major voice in the eugenics movement. He believed certain people were less valuable to society. Some kids at Fernald had been placed there simply because they misbehaved. Others were from poor homes or orphanages. They were told they didn’t belong in normal society. In 1949, MIT began recruiting kids into what they called the “Science Club.” They made it sound exciting. There were trips, treats, and even a chance to leave the school grounds. Some parents got letters about the club. But many had long since cut ties. And the letter did not say anything about radioactive materials or medical testing. Years later, LaRoque said he had to sign his own consent form. “I couldn’t read or write back then,” he admitted. “I just did what I was told.” Nine boys were given injections of radioactive calcium. Researchers wanted to track what happened when it entered the bloodstream. That final test helped advance research on bone health. But it was done without informed consent. The boys were never told what they were being given. In 1993, journalist Scott Allen of the Boston Globe stumbled onto the story. He found records of secret studies done on Fernald children. The documents named MIT and Quaker Oats. MIT’s Science Club promised young boys fun, treats, and attention. What it delivered was deception cloaked in data. And a legacy that still feels radioactive today.

Victoria 🇺🇸⏳🗽🚔

35,430 views • 6 months ago

Naturally, after all that, you would think that the Muslim Turks would stop there. But it wasn't enough for them. Their goal was to erase every Greek element from Asia Minor. Their next target was the once-Greek Constantinople. It was a warm September evening in 1955, in the heart of Constantinople, a city still echoing with the ghosts of its Greek Byzantine past. The Greek community, though diminished, thrived in neighborhoods like Pera and Fener, their lives woven into the city’s fabric through shops, churches, and schools. The Greek minority, already marginalized by years of discriminatory policies, felt the weight of suspicion. On September 6, a false report spread like a spark in dry grass: a bomb had allegedly damaged the Turkish consulate in Thessaloniki, near the house where Mustafa Kemal was born. The bombing was a staged provocation, orchestrated by Turkish authorities to incite rage. By dusk, the city was a tinderbox. Mobs, organized and armed with clubs, knives, and gasoline, poured into the streets, targeting Greek homes, businesses, and churches. The government’s role was clear; lists of Greek properties had been prepared in advance, and the police stood by, complicit or indifferent. Dimitris, a baker in Beyoglu, is locking up his small shop. Suddenly, a roar of voices fills the air. A crowd, chanting Kemalist slogans, smashes his windows, looting everything; shelves, ovens, even family photos. Down the street, Eleni, a widow running a grocery, watches helplessly as her store is set ablaze. The mob moves with precision, targeting Greek-owned properties with chilling efficiency. Churches, like the Zoodochos Pigi in Balat, are desecrated; holy icons are shattered, and altars burned. The Greek cemetery in Şişli is vandalized, graves defiled in an orgy of destruction. 4,348 Greek businesses, 110 hotels, 27 pharmacies, 23 schools, and 73 churches were damaged or destroyed. At least 15 people were killed with hundreds injured and numerous women assaulted. The violence wasn’t random; it was a calculated assault, fueled by propaganda and enabled by state inaction. The mobs, often transported from outside Constantinople, carried out their rampage over two days, September 6–7, leaving the Greek community in ruins. The pogrom was a death knell. Many lost everything; homes, livelihoods, security. Greeks of Constantinople were reducing over time already after the fall in 1453. But that was the final hit. The exodus of Greeks from Turkey, reduced the community of over 150.000 to fewer than 2.000 today. As dawn broke on September 7, Constantinople became "Istanbul". The last Greeks, descendants of those who found the City, who built the city, who defended the City, who had history in this City, were expelled from their ancestral homeland. Streets were littered with broken glass and shattered dreams. The Greek community, a cornerstone of the city’s history, was left to pick up the pieces. That was, the anti-Greek "Istanbul pogrom" that took place on 6–7 September 1955. These events are fresh in our memories. How can we forget all the thing they did to us? They came and they expelled Greeks from their homes. Constantinople, Asia Minor, Cappadocia, Pontus, Cyprus, Ionia. We will never forget, everything they did to us. We will never coexist with them.

Naturally, after all that, you would think that the Muslim Turks would stop there. But it wasn't enough for them. Their goal was to erase every Greek element from Asia Minor. Their next target was the once-Greek Constantinople. It was a warm September evening in 1955, in the heart of Constantinople, a city still echoing with the ghosts of its Greek Byzantine past. The Greek community, though diminished, thrived in neighborhoods like Pera and Fener, their lives woven into the city’s fabric through shops, churches, and schools. The Greek minority, already marginalized by years of discriminatory policies, felt the weight of suspicion. On September 6, a false report spread like a spark in dry grass: a bomb had allegedly damaged the Turkish consulate in Thessaloniki, near the house where Mustafa Kemal was born. The bombing was a staged provocation, orchestrated by Turkish authorities to incite rage. By dusk, the city was a tinderbox. Mobs, organized and armed with clubs, knives, and gasoline, poured into the streets, targeting Greek homes, businesses, and churches. The government’s role was clear; lists of Greek properties had been prepared in advance, and the police stood by, complicit or indifferent. Dimitris, a baker in Beyoglu, is locking up his small shop. Suddenly, a roar of voices fills the air. A crowd, chanting Kemalist slogans, smashes his windows, looting everything; shelves, ovens, even family photos. Down the street, Eleni, a widow running a grocery, watches helplessly as her store is set ablaze. The mob moves with precision, targeting Greek-owned properties with chilling efficiency. Churches, like the Zoodochos Pigi in Balat, are desecrated; holy icons are shattered, and altars burned. The Greek cemetery in Şişli is vandalized, graves defiled in an orgy of destruction. 4,348 Greek businesses, 110 hotels, 27 pharmacies, 23 schools, and 73 churches were damaged or destroyed. At least 15 people were killed with hundreds injured and numerous women assaulted. The violence wasn’t random; it was a calculated assault, fueled by propaganda and enabled by state inaction. The mobs, often transported from outside Constantinople, carried out their rampage over two days, September 6–7, leaving the Greek community in ruins. The pogrom was a death knell. Many lost everything; homes, livelihoods, security. Greeks of Constantinople were reducing over time already after the fall in 1453. But that was the final hit. The exodus of Greeks from Turkey, reduced the community of over 150.000 to fewer than 2.000 today. As dawn broke on September 7, Constantinople became "Istanbul". The last Greeks, descendants of those who found the City, who built the city, who defended the City, who had history in this City, were expelled from their ancestral homeland. Streets were littered with broken glass and shattered dreams. The Greek community, a cornerstone of the city’s history, was left to pick up the pieces. That was, the anti-Greek "Istanbul pogrom" that took place on 6–7 September 1955. These events are fresh in our memories. How can we forget all the thing they did to us? They came and they expelled Greeks from their homes. Constantinople, Asia Minor, Cappadocia, Pontus, Cyprus, Ionia. We will never forget, everything they did to us. We will never coexist with them.

Homer Pavlos

119,742 views • 7 months ago

4 years ago, I wore the Newcastle jersey for the first time. At that moment, I hadn’t realized that not only was I about to become a Newcastle player, but I was also about to become a Geordie. You might think « nice Goodbye message » but the sentiment runs deeper than any words I could say, from the very first months that I met the people of this city, I truly understood them and embraced their unwavering passion, which is why it was so important for me to give my all and if this meant to play injured or even not making statistics, I didn’t give a sh** as long as it would help my team. Believe me, I fell for Newcastle, I had great opportunities to leave during dark days, but that was too late I was already in love, I wanted, I needed, I had to stay for helping my team to save the club from Premier League relegation because it meant the world for me. Of course during those dark days some may have had their doubts, but I always believed in this club and look where we are today, it's just so beautiful. I'm leaving Newcastle as it should always have been and that's my greatest trophy because I was a part of it. A deep thank you to ALL of you, my team mates, the loyal fans, the staff, the Club, etc… I’ve seen all your messages, thank you and even though this chapter has ended, the story never stops. Newcastle is home now, I'll continue to be your biggest supporter, I'll watch every game and as long as the club keeps winning I'll be the happiest man in the world… and for sure you will see me again 👀 I love you, I love you sincerely, I love you like a Geordie brother. Once a Geordie, always a Geordie 🖤🤍

4 years ago, I wore the Newcastle jersey for the first time. At that moment, I hadn’t realized that not only was I about to become a Newcastle player, but I was also about to become a Geordie. You might think « nice Goodbye message » but the sentiment runs deeper than any words I could say, from the very first months that I met the people of this city, I truly understood them and embraced their unwavering passion, which is why it was so important for me to give my all and if this meant to play injured or even not making statistics, I didn’t give a sh** as long as it would help my team. Believe me, I fell for Newcastle, I had great opportunities to leave during dark days, but that was too late I was already in love, I wanted, I needed, I had to stay for helping my team to save the club from Premier League relegation because it meant the world for me. Of course during those dark days some may have had their doubts, but I always believed in this club and look where we are today, it's just so beautiful. I'm leaving Newcastle as it should always have been and that's my greatest trophy because I was a part of it. A deep thank you to ALL of you, my team mates, the loyal fans, the staff, the Club, etc… I’ve seen all your messages, thank you and even though this chapter has ended, the story never stops. Newcastle is home now, I'll continue to be your biggest supporter, I'll watch every game and as long as the club keeps winning I'll be the happiest man in the world… and for sure you will see me again 👀 I love you, I love you sincerely, I love you like a Geordie brother. Once a Geordie, always a Geordie 🖤🤍

Allan Saint-Maximin

11,626,353 views • 3 years ago

Tears in the Water, Thunder in the Stands 🏊‍♂️💥 Raw. Electric. Unstoppable. The UBC Aquatics Centre witnessed something beyond sport today. The kind of moments that grip your chest, steal your breath, and leave you standing in absolute awe. Competitors didn't just race—they poured their entire souls into the water. Every stroke, every surge forward was a battle won. The roar of the crowd swelled with every finish. Some touched the wall and threw their fists in the air. Others clutched their faces, overwhelmed by what they had just achieved. And then there were the moments that needed no words—just an embrace, a tear rolling down a cheek, a look of triumph between teammates who know what it took to get here. This is what the Invictus Games Vancouver Whistler 2025 are all about. The courage to start. The strength to keep going. The pride in finishing, no matter what. Watch. Feel it. Be part of this journey. 🎥👇 #SharedJourney #IG25

Tears in the Water, Thunder in the Stands 🏊‍♂️💥 Raw. Electric. Unstoppable. The UBC Aquatics Centre witnessed something beyond sport today. The kind of moments that grip your chest, steal your breath, and leave you standing in absolute awe. Competitors didn't just race—they poured their entire souls into the water. Every stroke, every surge forward was a battle won. The roar of the crowd swelled with every finish. Some touched the wall and threw their fists in the air. Others clutched their faces, overwhelmed by what they had just achieved. And then there were the moments that needed no words—just an embrace, a tear rolling down a cheek, a look of triumph between teammates who know what it took to get here. This is what the Invictus Games Vancouver Whistler 2025 are all about. The courage to start. The strength to keep going. The pride in finishing, no matter what. Watch. Feel it. Be part of this journey. 🎥👇 #SharedJourney #IG25

Invictus Games Vancouver Whistler 2025

25,496 views • 1 year ago

Listen to how well spoken, curtious, and intelligent the working children of a rag-and-bone man were in 1960s Britain. Some claim that it was only upper-class children who spoke eloquently. Well, the notoriously poor rag-and bone-men walked for miles carrying heavy sacks, earning mere coppers by selling scraps to paper mills and soap makers. They often survived by eating discarded food scraps. Yet here are their children, who, despite having grown up with all kind of hardships, set a better example to society than entire swathes of those living in today's world of overt progressiveism. So poor was the job of a rag-and-bone man, that the children here are talking about the teasing they receive as a result. Had schools, and much else not been so dumbed down and ruined, this is what the entire country could have been like. Be they rich or poor. I wonder what they'd think of people's linguistics abilities today?

Listen to how well spoken, curtious, and intelligent the working children of a rag-and-bone man were in 1960s Britain. Some claim that it was only upper-class children who spoke eloquently. Well, the notoriously poor rag-and bone-men walked for miles carrying heavy sacks, earning mere coppers by selling scraps to paper mills and soap makers. They often survived by eating discarded food scraps. Yet here are their children, who, despite having grown up with all kind of hardships, set a better example to society than entire swathes of those living in today's world of overt progressiveism. So poor was the job of a rag-and-bone man, that the children here are talking about the teasing they receive as a result. Had schools, and much else not been so dumbed down and ruined, this is what the entire country could have been like. Be they rich or poor. I wonder what they'd think of people's linguistics abilities today?

Vinnie Sullivan

151,934 views • 24 days ago