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Elon Musk just named it. Starmind. One million AI satellites, each a flying data center wider than a 747, cooled by panels that glow their heat into the void. This is not Starlink. Starlink moves internet. Starmind moves thought. Each satellite, the AI1, carries 150 kilowatts of compute on a 70-meter span of solar cells, runs the model on board, and beams the answer down. No building, no grid, no water. The reason is in SpaceX's own IPO filing. The AI market it values at 26.5 trillion dollars hits a wall of electricity and water that Earth cannot supply at a sane price. Orbit erases both. The sun never sets up there, and a 147-year-old law does the cooling: in a vacuum, heat escapes only as infrared, so a panel facing the 3-kelvin void radiates it straight out, no water touched. Run that panel hotter and it sheds heat 16 times faster for double the temperature. What Earth data centers burn rivers to do, a glowing wing does for nothing. Musk flagged the problem himself, in the same filing. SpaceX cannot get enough chips to build this yet, and the fab meant to fix that, Terafab, ten times the size of Tesla's Austin gigafactory, may fail. The prototypes do not fly until 2027. Astronomers are already in revolt over a million new lights crossing the sky. Days ago, Masayoshi Son, who owns the whole AI stack on the ground, called space data centers pointless. Musk just named his and put a million of them on the drawing board. One man is reading his balance sheet. The other is betting on the laws of physics. The piece works out which one the void rewards.
0:10

Elon Musk just named it. Starmind. One million AI satellites, each a flying data center wider than a 747, cooled by panels that glow their heat into the void. This is not Starlink. Starlink moves internet. Starmind moves thought. Each satellite, the AI1, carries 150 kilowatts of compute on a 70-meter span of solar cells, runs the model on board, and beams the answer down. No building, no grid, no water. The reason is in SpaceX's own IPO filing. The AI market it values at 26.5 trillion dollars hits a wall of electricity and water that Earth cannot supply at a sane price. Orbit erases both. The sun never sets up there, and a 147-year-old law does the cooling: in a vacuum, heat escapes only as infrared, so a panel facing the 3-kelvin void radiates it straight out, no water touched. Run that panel hotter and it sheds heat 16 times faster for double the temperature. What Earth data centers burn rivers to do, a glowing wing does for nothing. Musk flagged the problem himself, in the same filing. SpaceX cannot get enough chips to build this yet, and the fab meant to fix that, Terafab, ten times the size of Tesla's Austin gigafactory, may fail. The prototypes do not fly until 2027. Astronomers are already in revolt over a million new lights crossing the sky. Days ago, Masayoshi Son, who owns the whole AI stack on the ground, called space data centers pointless. Musk just named his and put a million of them on the drawing board. One man is reading his balance sheet. The other is betting on the laws of physics. The piece works out which one the void rewards.

Shanaka Anslem Perera ⚡

290,126 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

Last year, he came across news about an accident near Amarnath. A bus carrying pilgrims met with an accident due to brake failure. Several people were affected. That incident stayed with him and became a trigger for developing a patent pending fail-safe breaking mechanism. ----- I met Khaleel Syed at our ಮುಂದೆ ಬನ್ನಿ meetup in Hubballi in December. Like many others in the room, he listened quietly, asked a few questions, and stayed back after the sessions. A month later, when he explained what he had been building, I understood what confidence can unlock in tier 2 India. Khaleel is from Gadag and studies at KLETU Hubballi. He is pursuing a combined BCA and MCA degree. He is deeply interested in the automotive domain. His father has worked in the automotive field for several years, including time in Saudi. Growing up around that environment, Khaleel always felt that he should do something meaningful in this space. Last year, he came across news about an accident near Amarnath. A bus carrying pilgrims met with an accident due to brake failure. Several people were affected. That incident stayed with him. He and his father started thinking seriously about whether something could be done to address this problem. They began experimenting on their own. Over time, they designed, fabricated, mounted, and tested an apparatus that could act as a fail safe braking mechanism. They developed a system that could be mounted onto the rear axle shaft. In case of brake failure, the driver can press a button placed near the driver’s seat. Once activated, the vehicle comes to a gradual halt within about 10 to 12 seconds. There is no jerk. The stopping is smooth, ensuring the vehicle does not topple or lose control. The system also automatically switches on the hazard lights, alerting other vehicles that something is wrong. To test this properly, they even bought an old Tata Ace truck using their own money. They modified it to install the apparatus and tested it under multiple conditions, both with and without load. The Tata Ace normally carries about 750 kg, but they also tested it with close to 1 tonne of load. The system worked well in all scenarios. Within about 8-9 months, Khaleel and his father took this from idea to a working prototype. With the help of KLETU, Khaleel has applied for a patent. The EIR hearing is already done, and he is hopeful about the next steps. What made me really happy was not just the technical achievement. Khaleel told me that he got the confidence to reach out to me only because of the Hubballi meetup. Because everything was discussed in Kannada, he felt that a small town boy like him could also think big. He felt that his ideas were valid and worth pursuing. He reached out to seek help in connecting with OEMs and others who could support him in commercialising this idea and taking it further through professional testing and industry adoption. If this idea eventually gets adopted at scale, it could make heavy commercial vehicles and buses more fail safe, reduce emissions, and possibly save lives. If anyone reading this knows people who can help Khaleel take this forward and turn this into a real world product, please reach out to me. This, to me, is exactly why #MundheBanni exists.
0:12

Last year, he came across news about an accident near Amarnath. A bus carrying pilgrims met with an accident due to brake failure. Several people were affected. That incident stayed with him and became a trigger for developing a patent pending fail-safe breaking mechanism. ----- I met Khaleel Syed at our ಮುಂದೆ ಬನ್ನಿ meetup in Hubballi in December. Like many others in the room, he listened quietly, asked a few questions, and stayed back after the sessions. A month later, when he explained what he had been building, I understood what confidence can unlock in tier 2 India. Khaleel is from Gadag and studies at KLETU Hubballi. He is pursuing a combined BCA and MCA degree. He is deeply interested in the automotive domain. His father has worked in the automotive field for several years, including time in Saudi. Growing up around that environment, Khaleel always felt that he should do something meaningful in this space. Last year, he came across news about an accident near Amarnath. A bus carrying pilgrims met with an accident due to brake failure. Several people were affected. That incident stayed with him. He and his father started thinking seriously about whether something could be done to address this problem. They began experimenting on their own. Over time, they designed, fabricated, mounted, and tested an apparatus that could act as a fail safe braking mechanism. They developed a system that could be mounted onto the rear axle shaft. In case of brake failure, the driver can press a button placed near the driver’s seat. Once activated, the vehicle comes to a gradual halt within about 10 to 12 seconds. There is no jerk. The stopping is smooth, ensuring the vehicle does not topple or lose control. The system also automatically switches on the hazard lights, alerting other vehicles that something is wrong. To test this properly, they even bought an old Tata Ace truck using their own money. They modified it to install the apparatus and tested it under multiple conditions, both with and without load. The Tata Ace normally carries about 750 kg, but they also tested it with close to 1 tonne of load. The system worked well in all scenarios. Within about 8-9 months, Khaleel and his father took this from idea to a working prototype. With the help of KLETU, Khaleel has applied for a patent. The EIR hearing is already done, and he is hopeful about the next steps. What made me really happy was not just the technical achievement. Khaleel told me that he got the confidence to reach out to me only because of the Hubballi meetup. Because everything was discussed in Kannada, he felt that a small town boy like him could also think big. He felt that his ideas were valid and worth pursuing. He reached out to seek help in connecting with OEMs and others who could support him in commercialising this idea and taking it further through professional testing and industry adoption. If this idea eventually gets adopted at scale, it could make heavy commercial vehicles and buses more fail safe, reduce emissions, and possibly save lives. If anyone reading this knows people who can help Khaleel take this forward and turn this into a real world product, please reach out to me. This, to me, is exactly why #MundheBanni exists.

Vasant Shetty | Building Mundhe Banni

13,947 görüntüleme • 6 ay önce

HOW WE MAKE OUR TRIPS MAGICAL - Cooking classes. In Mexico City, our guide took us to the market, then we all made extra-spicy salsa together. This is a beautiful way to visit places you wouldn't know about and get involved in a tactile activity. Perfect for families and older parents and very inexpensive. - The $325 underwear. We'd been traveling for weeks and needed to do our laundry. Our hotel, Aman Kyoto, would have charged $325 for a small bag of laundry (standard price for all ultra-luxury hotels). I said "NO WAY!!!" and we decided to go into town and find a laundromat. It turned into an adventure (as we stumbled into place after place that wasn't quite right -- one lady translated for us and said, "Are you trying to wash your clothes? This isn't the right place. This place restores kimonos"). We finally found a local laundromat, took our best guess if it would work, and went to lunch. Now this is a fun ritual for us every time we travel. Sometimes cheaper is way more fun - We hire a local photographer. We love our memories of our trips and local photographers know the best spots/time to take photos. Find the best ones on Instagram. In Tokyo, we use the same photographer every year - On complex trips, I work with a travel advisor. I used a larger firm for a 6-week trip across multiple continents, which was invaluable: They helped us navigate different transportation, recommended which safari lodges to visit (and in what order), and even suggested where to economize & where to splurge. Sometimes I know exactly where I want to go so I call a more surgical travel advisor. In the video, he got our NYC hotel triple-upgraded. Or sometimes I just do it myself. TAs are especially helpful for Disney trips, honeymoons, and multi-generational trips. (They also cost you nothing, but you should look into how they work. I find them very valuable) - 1 major activity every two days. The ultimate luxury is time, so we have a rule: 4+ days in any location. We also book 1 major thing (food tour, museum, etc). The rest of the time, we've pinned a bunch of stuff and we wander where we feel like that day - We know exactly what we DON'T want to see. When I'm attending a private tour, I tell them what I want to experience and what I'm not interested in. Most tour guides will take you to the usual hotspots because it's safe and people can say they saw X or ate Y. I know exactly what I want to see. For example, on a coffee tour, I told them the exact kind of beans I wanted to try and what I was not into. People in hospitality love someone who knows what they want!! This level of intentionality means you get to experience magic (it's not rude) I travel several months per year and I want my travel to be incredibly meaningful for my loved ones and me. These are some of the ways I do it If you want to know more, let me know in the comments More details on the next post
0:13

HOW WE MAKE OUR TRIPS MAGICAL - Cooking classes. In Mexico City, our guide took us to the market, then we all made extra-spicy salsa together. This is a beautiful way to visit places you wouldn't know about and get involved in a tactile activity. Perfect for families and older parents and very inexpensive. - The $325 underwear. We'd been traveling for weeks and needed to do our laundry. Our hotel, Aman Kyoto, would have charged $325 for a small bag of laundry (standard price for all ultra-luxury hotels). I said "NO WAY!!!" and we decided to go into town and find a laundromat. It turned into an adventure (as we stumbled into place after place that wasn't quite right -- one lady translated for us and said, "Are you trying to wash your clothes? This isn't the right place. This place restores kimonos"). We finally found a local laundromat, took our best guess if it would work, and went to lunch. Now this is a fun ritual for us every time we travel. Sometimes cheaper is way more fun - We hire a local photographer. We love our memories of our trips and local photographers know the best spots/time to take photos. Find the best ones on Instagram. In Tokyo, we use the same photographer every year - On complex trips, I work with a travel advisor. I used a larger firm for a 6-week trip across multiple continents, which was invaluable: They helped us navigate different transportation, recommended which safari lodges to visit (and in what order), and even suggested where to economize & where to splurge. Sometimes I know exactly where I want to go so I call a more surgical travel advisor. In the video, he got our NYC hotel triple-upgraded. Or sometimes I just do it myself. TAs are especially helpful for Disney trips, honeymoons, and multi-generational trips. (They also cost you nothing, but you should look into how they work. I find them very valuable) - 1 major activity every two days. The ultimate luxury is time, so we have a rule: 4+ days in any location. We also book 1 major thing (food tour, museum, etc). The rest of the time, we've pinned a bunch of stuff and we wander where we feel like that day - We know exactly what we DON'T want to see. When I'm attending a private tour, I tell them what I want to experience and what I'm not interested in. Most tour guides will take you to the usual hotspots because it's safe and people can say they saw X or ate Y. I know exactly what I want to see. For example, on a coffee tour, I told them the exact kind of beans I wanted to try and what I was not into. People in hospitality love someone who knows what they want!! This level of intentionality means you get to experience magic (it's not rude) I travel several months per year and I want my travel to be incredibly meaningful for my loved ones and me. These are some of the ways I do it If you want to know more, let me know in the comments More details on the next post

Ramit Sethi

31,445 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

Has been a while since I've given an update so here's a breakdown of where Sappy is at right now and what we're focusing on going into this year. Pre-amble: With altcoins & NFTs the market is definitely not the same as it was before. I think this is obvious to everyone but I've noticed there are still japanese soldiers that are convinced old tricks and mechanics work. They don't. Liquidity is thin; people want to bid assets that feel like "real companies" not vacuous memecoins. There's still room for memecoins, social currencies, and "utility tokens" (I would say without these functions, tokens are hard to justify versus equities). I'm not part of the camp that thinks there will never be hyperspeculation in crypto again, because there will be; we all love ponzis and PvPing each other onchain. Just not with solved games -- people need something new and fresh. So the overarching plan is to continue building for users, sustainable revenues that aren't tied to directly to crypto, and doubling down on the areas that we've already found PMF / Brand Market Fit. Then leaning into crypto during cyclical periods where liquidity is sloshing around at an accelerated rate. Where we've found early PMF / what we're leaning into: Roblox: we're going to continue to go hard and accelerate here. It's our main objective to ship more seal/brainrot focused games across most genres to cast as wide of a net as we can for the brand, and to also iterate and see what works and stays sticky. Our initial incursion into Roblox was very successful peaking at 2M+ MAU and still sustaining a large portion of that player base... for all of its success, that was a relatively amateur first attempt; we've been setting up better AI pipelines for Roblox development that makes it reasonable to ship many more games and 10x those player counts in totality. It's my belief that Roblox is the sandbox whose audience will be the most valuable on the internet once they are grown up. That intense feeling you get when you see a TikTok referencing an old game you enjoyed on the PS2 or the Gamecube, or when you see a Pokemon card is the exact same feeling the youth of today will get when reminiscing on the things they enjoyed engaging with when they were younger. Fortnite and Roblox are functional equivalents to the old school consoles and exactly where that is taking place. Which is why as much as I care about scaling revenues through Roblox, the long term brand equity gained purely through being popular on the platform is totally invaluable. It also can heavily convert to merchandise sales today if all touchpoints for the brand are dialed in (which is why brands get overcharged so much by Roblox dev shops for the same ROI that only cost us a few thousand $). We have the playbook, it's just about iterating new concepts and then aggressively scaling. Brand Expansion & Merchandising: I've started to create a content pipeline that is easily repeatable, cost efficient (costs next to nothing through either AI or smart reusable concepts), while still being very tasteful and meeting our quality standards for the brand. We are mostly focusing here on reaching people where they're at through nostalgic/emotional content, or just being visually stimulating through carefully curated aesthetics. Content that isn't superficial and touches people in a memorable way. I've attached some examples to the post so you can see what I mean rather than just read it. I don't think it's long until larger brands start doing this at scale, but it's always good to be ahead of the curve and most importantly winning on taste -- knowing what will resonate with people and what won't has always been our edge. The purpose for these accounts is not only to rack up attention but also to begin converting those into sales of both of physicals (plushies & gacha collectibles) and digital avenues like our games, and any other apps we produce. Because they're offshoot accounts it's also a lot easier to be aggressive/experimental with said conversion strategies. Sappy Studio: I'm wrapping everything like Omnia, and everything else into this category because they're all tangentially related. Beginning with Omnia, our current focus is gearing up for Season 0 which involves players competing in the ranked ladder for a prize pool that has rewards through Monad Momentum as well as a player-funded prize pool. This season will be fairly simple with us mostly logging retention, deck building habits, as well as qualitatively observing how aggressively players push the combat system. Deeper monetization wont exist yet outside of the player buy-in (to be eligible for P2E rewards). Beyond that our overarching principle this year is to focus heavily on risk-to-earn mechanics where a portion of that excess value is circular i.e. revenues flow back to prize pools or other parts of the economy, treating the game almost like a protocol where the objective is to amass TVL or player liquidity. Social is also a big focus, and that means implementing the Open World hub which from an infrastructure perspective has already been built out and tested by all of you previously. Right now we are scaffolding the environment in 3D and working through how that hub should look and feel, so players are excited to hang out & idle together while they're queuing. For sappydotlol, what I'm about to say is still early days from a design perspective so a lot can change, but I'm pushing the site in the direction of being a virtual game console. An intersection between Nintendo & Myspace where users can play, trade, and socially interact in a way that's deeply personalised; a breathe of fresh air from the hostility of the current internet. If you go back to my thesis on Roblox above and the game console references, you can kind of see how this will all sequentially tie together. In essence, the strategy is to acquire a critical mass of players through traditional platforms like Roblox, and use that attention and trust to provide an onboarding funnel for web2 users into our own sandbox filled with a mixture of our own browser-based experiences as well as an aggregation of others. The aim is to make the platform a breath of fresh air & bunker from the enshittified platforms like TikTok/IG/X where users are actually served in ways that delight rather than agitate, and where self-expression is incentivised. Closing: As always everything here is subject to change but I've never felt more conviction in our direction until now; I know exactly what we need to do and how, with everything aligning with our team's strengths. Very excited and grinding through things to the point where I'm getting headaches and can't sleep from being hyperfocused for long periods of time lol. There probably has never been a better time to join the ecosystem from a price to fuck around and find out perspective.
1:00

Has been a while since I've given an update so here's a breakdown of where Sappy is at right now and what we're focusing on going into this year. Pre-amble: With altcoins & NFTs the market is definitely not the same as it was before. I think this is obvious to everyone but I've noticed there are still japanese soldiers that are convinced old tricks and mechanics work. They don't. Liquidity is thin; people want to bid assets that feel like "real companies" not vacuous memecoins. There's still room for memecoins, social currencies, and "utility tokens" (I would say without these functions, tokens are hard to justify versus equities). I'm not part of the camp that thinks there will never be hyperspeculation in crypto again, because there will be; we all love ponzis and PvPing each other onchain. Just not with solved games -- people need something new and fresh. So the overarching plan is to continue building for users, sustainable revenues that aren't tied to directly to crypto, and doubling down on the areas that we've already found PMF / Brand Market Fit. Then leaning into crypto during cyclical periods where liquidity is sloshing around at an accelerated rate. Where we've found early PMF / what we're leaning into: Roblox: we're going to continue to go hard and accelerate here. It's our main objective to ship more seal/brainrot focused games across most genres to cast as wide of a net as we can for the brand, and to also iterate and see what works and stays sticky. Our initial incursion into Roblox was very successful peaking at 2M+ MAU and still sustaining a large portion of that player base... for all of its success, that was a relatively amateur first attempt; we've been setting up better AI pipelines for Roblox development that makes it reasonable to ship many more games and 10x those player counts in totality. It's my belief that Roblox is the sandbox whose audience will be the most valuable on the internet once they are grown up. That intense feeling you get when you see a TikTok referencing an old game you enjoyed on the PS2 or the Gamecube, or when you see a Pokemon card is the exact same feeling the youth of today will get when reminiscing on the things they enjoyed engaging with when they were younger. Fortnite and Roblox are functional equivalents to the old school consoles and exactly where that is taking place. Which is why as much as I care about scaling revenues through Roblox, the long term brand equity gained purely through being popular on the platform is totally invaluable. It also can heavily convert to merchandise sales today if all touchpoints for the brand are dialed in (which is why brands get overcharged so much by Roblox dev shops for the same ROI that only cost us a few thousand $). We have the playbook, it's just about iterating new concepts and then aggressively scaling. Brand Expansion & Merchandising: I've started to create a content pipeline that is easily repeatable, cost efficient (costs next to nothing through either AI or smart reusable concepts), while still being very tasteful and meeting our quality standards for the brand. We are mostly focusing here on reaching people where they're at through nostalgic/emotional content, or just being visually stimulating through carefully curated aesthetics. Content that isn't superficial and touches people in a memorable way. I've attached some examples to the post so you can see what I mean rather than just read it. I don't think it's long until larger brands start doing this at scale, but it's always good to be ahead of the curve and most importantly winning on taste -- knowing what will resonate with people and what won't has always been our edge. The purpose for these accounts is not only to rack up attention but also to begin converting those into sales of both of physicals (plushies & gacha collectibles) and digital avenues like our games, and any other apps we produce. Because they're offshoot accounts it's also a lot easier to be aggressive/experimental with said conversion strategies. Sappy Studio: I'm wrapping everything like Omnia, and everything else into this category because they're all tangentially related. Beginning with Omnia, our current focus is gearing up for Season 0 which involves players competing in the ranked ladder for a prize pool that has rewards through Monad Momentum as well as a player-funded prize pool. This season will be fairly simple with us mostly logging retention, deck building habits, as well as qualitatively observing how aggressively players push the combat system. Deeper monetization wont exist yet outside of the player buy-in (to be eligible for P2E rewards). Beyond that our overarching principle this year is to focus heavily on risk-to-earn mechanics where a portion of that excess value is circular i.e. revenues flow back to prize pools or other parts of the economy, treating the game almost like a protocol where the objective is to amass TVL or player liquidity. Social is also a big focus, and that means implementing the Open World hub which from an infrastructure perspective has already been built out and tested by all of you previously. Right now we are scaffolding the environment in 3D and working through how that hub should look and feel, so players are excited to hang out & idle together while they're queuing. For sappydotlol, what I'm about to say is still early days from a design perspective so a lot can change, but I'm pushing the site in the direction of being a virtual game console. An intersection between Nintendo & Myspace where users can play, trade, and socially interact in a way that's deeply personalised; a breathe of fresh air from the hostility of the current internet. If you go back to my thesis on Roblox above and the game console references, you can kind of see how this will all sequentially tie together. In essence, the strategy is to acquire a critical mass of players through traditional platforms like Roblox, and use that attention and trust to provide an onboarding funnel for web2 users into our own sandbox filled with a mixture of our own browser-based experiences as well as an aggregation of others. The aim is to make the platform a breath of fresh air & bunker from the enshittified platforms like TikTok/IG/X where users are actually served in ways that delight rather than agitate, and where self-expression is incentivised. Closing: As always everything here is subject to change but I've never felt more conviction in our direction until now; I know exactly what we need to do and how, with everything aligning with our team's strengths. Very excited and grinding through things to the point where I'm getting headaches and can't sleep from being hyperfocused for long periods of time lol. There probably has never been a better time to join the ecosystem from a price to fuck around and find out perspective.

wab.eth

18,167 görüntüleme • 6 ay önce

Teenage girls went to a basketball game in my backyard(Seattle) wearing t-shirts. According to journalist Brandi Kruse, who was there, they were cussed at, berated and deliberately tripped by adults. By fans. Reportedly with a team owner in the vicinity. For wearing a shirt. And here is the part that should stop everyone cold. The shirt said XX and XY. That is the female karyotype and the male karyotype. It is what is printed in every biology textbook in every classroom in this country. Rare chromosomal disorders exist and produce no third sex, because there is no third gamete. There never has been. They were tripped over a fact you learn in ninth grade. The Storm have said nothing. The WNBA has said nothing. A league that markets itself relentlessly on love, inclusion and belonging watched grown adults go after teenage girls in its own building, and could not locate a statement. Imagine the press release if those girls had worn anything else. They were there to support Sophie Cunningham, who said she believes girls should not have to compete against males, and that she offers truth alongside love, not hate. They held signs saying thank you for speaking up for girls. That is what earned them a foot in the aisle. I live here, and I am done pretending I do not recognize the pattern, because it is the same attitude that is killing this city. City leadership that treats the businesses employing our neighbors as the enemy. Open drug use on sidewalks where children walk to school. A homelessness crisis everyone can see and nobody in power will honestly name. Every one of those is a problem you fix by looking straight at reality, and this is a city that has made not looking into a civic religion. Compassion is the branding. Conformity is the product. Agree and you are family. Step half an inch outside the consensus and the warmth evaporates fast enough to give you whiplash. Seattle used to be the most beautiful place I had ever lived. It is being run into the ground by a fringe that mistakes volume for virtue, and the ordinary people who live here are paying for it. But there is no version of this where adults tripping teenage girls is the righteous side of anything. If your movement requires shoving fourteen year olds over a chromosome chart, you have lost the argument and you are simply angry about it. And a housekeeping note for the franchise. You are 6 and 23. Dead last. The worst record in professional women's basketball. Maybe spend less energy policing what teenagers wear to the arena and more on the part where you cannot win a game. Say something, Seattle. Those were somebody's kids. 🦋
0:10

Teenage girls went to a basketball game in my backyard(Seattle) wearing t-shirts. According to journalist Brandi Kruse, who was there, they were cussed at, berated and deliberately tripped by adults. By fans. Reportedly with a team owner in the vicinity. For wearing a shirt. And here is the part that should stop everyone cold. The shirt said XX and XY. That is the female karyotype and the male karyotype. It is what is printed in every biology textbook in every classroom in this country. Rare chromosomal disorders exist and produce no third sex, because there is no third gamete. There never has been. They were tripped over a fact you learn in ninth grade. The Storm have said nothing. The WNBA has said nothing. A league that markets itself relentlessly on love, inclusion and belonging watched grown adults go after teenage girls in its own building, and could not locate a statement. Imagine the press release if those girls had worn anything else. They were there to support Sophie Cunningham, who said she believes girls should not have to compete against males, and that she offers truth alongside love, not hate. They held signs saying thank you for speaking up for girls. That is what earned them a foot in the aisle. I live here, and I am done pretending I do not recognize the pattern, because it is the same attitude that is killing this city. City leadership that treats the businesses employing our neighbors as the enemy. Open drug use on sidewalks where children walk to school. A homelessness crisis everyone can see and nobody in power will honestly name. Every one of those is a problem you fix by looking straight at reality, and this is a city that has made not looking into a civic religion. Compassion is the branding. Conformity is the product. Agree and you are family. Step half an inch outside the consensus and the warmth evaporates fast enough to give you whiplash. Seattle used to be the most beautiful place I had ever lived. It is being run into the ground by a fringe that mistakes volume for virtue, and the ordinary people who live here are paying for it. But there is no version of this where adults tripping teenage girls is the righteous side of anything. If your movement requires shoving fourteen year olds over a chromosome chart, you have lost the argument and you are simply angry about it. And a housekeeping note for the franchise. You are 6 and 23. Dead last. The worst record in professional women's basketball. Maybe spend less energy policing what teenagers wear to the arena and more on the part where you cannot win a game. Say something, Seattle. Those were somebody's kids. 🦋

Selene Mariposa

354,279 görüntüleme • 5 gün önce

Good afternoon Crime Watch Zim. I need help. I have been trying to reach out to a lady named Nelia Nyati, who is based in the UK. She sent her two sons to study in Namibia around June or July 2024. Unfortunately, one of the boys, Charles “Taku” Nyati, is mentally unstable and appears to be struggling with untreated childhood trauma 😢. Around July last year, my son found Taku in a park searching for food in bins. People there told him that the boy was from Zimbabwe, so my son called me and I rushed there. After speaking to Taku and gathering some information, I took him to the college where he was supposed to be studying, and that is when I heard a very troubling story. I later managed to get the mother’s number and contacted her. She explained that Taku had gone through very difficult experiences while growing up, but she never mentioned any proper plan or support to help him. When I contacted her, I genuinely hoped the child would finally receive the help he needs. At the time, Taku had already spent about four months living on the streets in a foreign country. I took him into my home, cleaned him up, and stayed with him while waiting for his mother to make a plan. The school also confirmed that he was mentally unstable, and the mother admitted the same. I then suggested that he return to Zimbabwe where there are relatives who could possibly assist him, rather than leaving him stranded in Namibia. The older brother, Shaquille, who also stays in Namibia, does not seem concerned about Taku’s situation. He has accommodation, and their mother sends him money from the UK for school fees and upkeep. I also later discovered that the two boys have different fathers. After staying with Taku for about three weeks, I managed to help him return to school and back into the hostel. It was not easy, and sadly, the mother showed very little concern throughout the process. Unfortunately, things did not last long. Taku was later expelled from the hostel and has been back on the streets since September last year 😢. I have tried reaching out to the mother again, but she no longer even opens my messages. I will attach screenshots of our conversations and her UK number. The boy is not looking well at all, and I fear the worst may happen to him while he is suffering alone in Namibia. From our conversations, she mentioned that the father’s name is Jeffrey Takawira. I will also attach the boy’s photo. Kana pane anokwanisa kubatsira mwana uyu, please do. If anyone knows the mother or any relatives, please pindirai. Thank you for your time.
0:18

Good afternoon Crime Watch Zim. I need help. I have been trying to reach out to a lady named Nelia Nyati, who is based in the UK. She sent her two sons to study in Namibia around June or July 2024. Unfortunately, one of the boys, Charles “Taku” Nyati, is mentally unstable and appears to be struggling with untreated childhood trauma 😢. Around July last year, my son found Taku in a park searching for food in bins. People there told him that the boy was from Zimbabwe, so my son called me and I rushed there. After speaking to Taku and gathering some information, I took him to the college where he was supposed to be studying, and that is when I heard a very troubling story. I later managed to get the mother’s number and contacted her. She explained that Taku had gone through very difficult experiences while growing up, but she never mentioned any proper plan or support to help him. When I contacted her, I genuinely hoped the child would finally receive the help he needs. At the time, Taku had already spent about four months living on the streets in a foreign country. I took him into my home, cleaned him up, and stayed with him while waiting for his mother to make a plan. The school also confirmed that he was mentally unstable, and the mother admitted the same. I then suggested that he return to Zimbabwe where there are relatives who could possibly assist him, rather than leaving him stranded in Namibia. The older brother, Shaquille, who also stays in Namibia, does not seem concerned about Taku’s situation. He has accommodation, and their mother sends him money from the UK for school fees and upkeep. I also later discovered that the two boys have different fathers. After staying with Taku for about three weeks, I managed to help him return to school and back into the hostel. It was not easy, and sadly, the mother showed very little concern throughout the process. Unfortunately, things did not last long. Taku was later expelled from the hostel and has been back on the streets since September last year 😢. I have tried reaching out to the mother again, but she no longer even opens my messages. I will attach screenshots of our conversations and her UK number. The boy is not looking well at all, and I fear the worst may happen to him while he is suffering alone in Namibia. From our conversations, she mentioned that the father’s name is Jeffrey Takawira. I will also attach the boy’s photo. Kana pane anokwanisa kubatsira mwana uyu, please do. If anyone knows the mother or any relatives, please pindirai. Thank you for your time.

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐙𝐖

39,522 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

Flying home for Christmas, and thinking about all of it. Tonight, the specially modified, reindeer powered, A350 hums its way back across the Atlantic, the same great circle we traced earlier in the week, only this time in reverse, toward home. It’s approaching Christmas Eve, and while most of the world is gathered around tables and tree lights, thousands of us are in uniform, keeping the skies moving so others can be with the ones they love. This year’s holiday travel period is shaping up to be one of the busiest in history. Globally, more than 300 million passengers are expected to fly over the Christmas and New Year period, a significant increase in demand compared with previous years. It’s easy to forget that behind every departure board and baggage carousel are crews working long hours through holidays and timezones, pilots, cabin crew, engineers, dispatchers, ATC, ground staff, all facilitating millions of journeys. If your plans don’t go quite to schedule this season, please be patient and kind. We are all doing our best to bring you home. From the flightdeck tonight, the horizon blends winter darkness with distant city glows; the Atlantic below, the festive world above. There’s something quietly profound about flying home for Christmas, a reminder of both how vast the world is and how connected we remain. From my crew to yours, safe travels and a peaceful Christmas. #FlyingHomeForChristmas #PilotLife #AviationLife #AvGeek #ChristmasTravel #HolidayTravel #FlightDeckView #AboveTheClouds #GlobalTravel #AirbusA350 #AirlineLife #Gratitude #KindnessMatters #SafeTravels
0:19

Flying home for Christmas, and thinking about all of it. Tonight, the specially modified, reindeer powered, A350 hums its way back across the Atlantic, the same great circle we traced earlier in the week, only this time in reverse, toward home. It’s approaching Christmas Eve, and while most of the world is gathered around tables and tree lights, thousands of us are in uniform, keeping the skies moving so others can be with the ones they love. This year’s holiday travel period is shaping up to be one of the busiest in history. Globally, more than 300 million passengers are expected to fly over the Christmas and New Year period, a significant increase in demand compared with previous years. It’s easy to forget that behind every departure board and baggage carousel are crews working long hours through holidays and timezones, pilots, cabin crew, engineers, dispatchers, ATC, ground staff, all facilitating millions of journeys. If your plans don’t go quite to schedule this season, please be patient and kind. We are all doing our best to bring you home. From the flightdeck tonight, the horizon blends winter darkness with distant city glows; the Atlantic below, the festive world above. There’s something quietly profound about flying home for Christmas, a reminder of both how vast the world is and how connected we remain. From my crew to yours, safe travels and a peaceful Christmas. #FlyingHomeForChristmas #PilotLife #AviationLife #AvGeek #ChristmasTravel #HolidayTravel #FlightDeckView #AboveTheClouds #GlobalTravel #AirbusA350 #AirlineLife #Gratitude #KindnessMatters #SafeTravels

Scott Bateman MBE

22,404 görüntüleme • 7 ay önce

EXODUS: Help Darren Stallcup Move Out Of San Francisco After dedicating the best years of my life to save San Francisco, I have made the heartbreaking decision to leave this great beautiful city behind. I did the best that I could every day and I know so many honest good caring San Franciscans out there are hurting just as much as I am and I've met so many of you who desperately want the same healing and recovery for this city that I do... The truth is... the daily chaos, lawlessness and human suffering on our streets are not accidents but a deliberate result of a cruel, sick game engineered by corrupt politicians and non-profits who benefit from the suffering of the less fortunate. I don't hate everyone who votes differently or works in non-profits... there are plenty of decent people trying to help, but far too many bad apples in the Democratic party are working hand-in-hand with these organizations to keep the crisis alive. I'm infuriated by this broken, predatory system that devastates the vulnerable, attacks those trying to help and enriches those who have blood on their hands... all on the taxpayers dime. That's why I'm done playing along and refusing to sacrifice my life to their endless failure. Yet even as I leave, I'll never stop fighting for the less fortunate by demanding secure treatment beds, real enforcement against fentanyl dealers and sober housing that actually saves lives instead of enabling death. I can continue my art, music and citizen journalism in another city that is cleaner, safer and dare I say more friendlier to me, a conservative Patriot who loves our great beautiful country. Day and Night I walked these streets up and down the block, handing out food, clothing and blankets to the less fortunate while listening to their stories. Through citizen journalism, I documented the homeless crisis on the ground, sharing videos and photos to raise awareness. I spoke passionately at City Hall meetings, demanding accountability from leaders who seemed indifferent. I appeared on national and international television to share my story with the world about the fentanyl genocide devastating our city. Today, with a heavy heart, I regret to inform our community that I am relocating to a safer area outside San Francisco. I can no longer tolerate the chaos and stress of day to day survival in this city. It has taken an undeniable toll on my physical, mental and spiritual well being. Our corrupt and incompetent local and state leaders have deliberately enabled chaos on San Francisco's streets, creating a perpetual crisis that funnels billions of taxpayer dollars into the hands of corrupt non-profits and organizations. These entities thrive on the suffering of the less fortunate, profiting from endless contracts for shelters, outreach programs and harm-reduction initiatives that fail to reduce harm or homelessness. Harm reduction is causing more harm. Progressive policy is making everything progressively worse. I am done being a guinea pig in their social experiment. Year after year, billions have been spent, yet the humanitarian crisis has only worsened, with more tents, more overdoses, and more despair. Fentanyl overdoses are on the rise, homelessness numbers are climbing and our public spaces have all but deteriorated, all while the same politicians get elected year after year. It is a calculated system of human suffering and I am done living through the nightmare every single day. I've been documenting the truth about San Francisco's streets for years, but as I prepare to leave for good, this frontline perspective might go with me unless I am able to find a nice small town where I can continue my work from afar. If my story has ever opened your eyes or fueled your fight, I ask you to show love to my journey. My work in our community began with a deep compassion for those suffering on the streets and I poured my energy into helping the homeless directly. My home burned down to the ground, I know what it's like to have nothing and work your way up from rock bottom. Every day, more people overdose and more people show up in San Francisco from all over the country. It's a never ending cycle. I have lost too many family and friends and I refuse to be next. I am profoundly tired of the fentanyl genocide that has turned my once beloved city into a hell hole. I have seen one too many open air drug markets, claiming thousands of lives each year. The drug dealers operating freely, the human feces and needles littering streets and sidewalks, the judges letting the fentanyl dealers out of jail, the fentanyl showing up on playgrounds and in schools, the women giving birth on the sidewalk, the still born babies found in port-o-pottys, the people jumping off of buildings, the people living in the sewers, the non-stop every day looting of our grocery store, the robbery of our local restaurants, the targeting of our mom-and-pop shops, the risk of riding public transportation, the waking up to burglars kicking in my door and fighting them off, the sound of going to sleep to people screaming and waking up to emergency sirens, the billion dollar tech offices and third world conditions across the streets, the constant threat of The Big Earthquake, power outages, infrastructure breakdown, skyrocketing cost of living, it's all become unbearable. Homeless encampments blocking public spaces, the high risk of fentanyl exposure and rampant property crime have eroded any sense of normalcy. Personal safety threats from erratic behavior, boarded-up stores and political hostility weigh heavily on me. I no longer desire or wish to endure these heartbreaking struggles. Building a life for myself, let alone a family, in this decay, is almost impossible. The frustration with leftist policies enabling open drug scenes, health risks from biohazards and store closures reducing access to essentials has taken its toll. I have personally witnessed at least a dozen grocery stores close down and my heart is broken as I wonder if I am slowly living in a food desert because of rampant, unchecked crime. They defunded the police and the judge releases criminals out of jail the next day. I am sick and tired of fighting off the same bad guys every day. The Urban decay is not just in areas like the Tenderloin, SOMA and Union Square, but all over the city. The difficulty in regular social life is noticeable and everybody is on guard making human connection even more challenging unless you are a millionaire. I walk into small businesses, stores and restaurants and all the workers are on edge wondering what chaos will happen that day. Tourists ask me what is happening to the city? All I do is shake my head. This is not the San Francisco I grew up in. My City has become unrecognizable. The Full House Days are long gone and it will take years, if not generations, for San Francisco to recover from all the damage done. Years of frontline activism without any city wide solutions have left me absolutely drained. Every day feels like the same nightmare, repeating the same chaos day after day without end. I don't want my life trapped in this cycle of sirens, screams and unchecked decline. It's time to step away from this chaos. I do not want to die here. The threats to personal safety, the constant exposure to violence and humanitarian crisis has become too much for one lifetime. I shouldn't have PTSD from living in San Francisco, but I do. Honestly, we all have survivor's guilt. I refuse to let this environment claim my future or my dreams. Relocating means saving my health, mental well being, spirituality and opportunity to thrive elsewhere. No more waking up and counting the bodies on the sidewalks or navigating hazards just to live daily life. I deserve a chance to build without the shadow of this humanitarian crisis looming over everything. I've sacrificed my personal health, safety and years of my life on the frontlines for the vulnerable while our local leaders profited from their pain... now, to keep fighting, I have to leave everything behind and start over. If this battle has ever meant something to you, please do consider supporting. As I pursue my American dreams in a new place, I carry the lessons from San Francisco with me forever. I will always cherish the memories and good times. This city will always have a place in my heart. San Francisco is my hometown. I continue advocating for change from afar, but with renewed energy in a safer environment. This move allows me to build a stable life, free from the nightmare that has defined too many years of life. Thank you to all my family and friends that have supported my work, I fought valiantly but now it is time for a tactical retreat. My time in the trenches, on the frontlines are over. I can't believe I made it out alive. Here's to new beginnings and the hope that one day, San Francisco heals.
0:18

EXODUS: Help Darren Stallcup Move Out Of San Francisco After dedicating the best years of my life to save San Francisco, I have made the heartbreaking decision to leave this great beautiful city behind. I did the best that I could every day and I know so many honest good caring San Franciscans out there are hurting just as much as I am and I've met so many of you who desperately want the same healing and recovery for this city that I do... The truth is... the daily chaos, lawlessness and human suffering on our streets are not accidents but a deliberate result of a cruel, sick game engineered by corrupt politicians and non-profits who benefit from the suffering of the less fortunate. I don't hate everyone who votes differently or works in non-profits... there are plenty of decent people trying to help, but far too many bad apples in the Democratic party are working hand-in-hand with these organizations to keep the crisis alive. I'm infuriated by this broken, predatory system that devastates the vulnerable, attacks those trying to help and enriches those who have blood on their hands... all on the taxpayers dime. That's why I'm done playing along and refusing to sacrifice my life to their endless failure. Yet even as I leave, I'll never stop fighting for the less fortunate by demanding secure treatment beds, real enforcement against fentanyl dealers and sober housing that actually saves lives instead of enabling death. I can continue my art, music and citizen journalism in another city that is cleaner, safer and dare I say more friendlier to me, a conservative Patriot who loves our great beautiful country. Day and Night I walked these streets up and down the block, handing out food, clothing and blankets to the less fortunate while listening to their stories. Through citizen journalism, I documented the homeless crisis on the ground, sharing videos and photos to raise awareness. I spoke passionately at City Hall meetings, demanding accountability from leaders who seemed indifferent. I appeared on national and international television to share my story with the world about the fentanyl genocide devastating our city. Today, with a heavy heart, I regret to inform our community that I am relocating to a safer area outside San Francisco. I can no longer tolerate the chaos and stress of day to day survival in this city. It has taken an undeniable toll on my physical, mental and spiritual well being. Our corrupt and incompetent local and state leaders have deliberately enabled chaos on San Francisco's streets, creating a perpetual crisis that funnels billions of taxpayer dollars into the hands of corrupt non-profits and organizations. These entities thrive on the suffering of the less fortunate, profiting from endless contracts for shelters, outreach programs and harm-reduction initiatives that fail to reduce harm or homelessness. Harm reduction is causing more harm. Progressive policy is making everything progressively worse. I am done being a guinea pig in their social experiment. Year after year, billions have been spent, yet the humanitarian crisis has only worsened, with more tents, more overdoses, and more despair. Fentanyl overdoses are on the rise, homelessness numbers are climbing and our public spaces have all but deteriorated, all while the same politicians get elected year after year. It is a calculated system of human suffering and I am done living through the nightmare every single day. I've been documenting the truth about San Francisco's streets for years, but as I prepare to leave for good, this frontline perspective might go with me unless I am able to find a nice small town where I can continue my work from afar. If my story has ever opened your eyes or fueled your fight, I ask you to show love to my journey. My work in our community began with a deep compassion for those suffering on the streets and I poured my energy into helping the homeless directly. My home burned down to the ground, I know what it's like to have nothing and work your way up from rock bottom. Every day, more people overdose and more people show up in San Francisco from all over the country. It's a never ending cycle. I have lost too many family and friends and I refuse to be next. I am profoundly tired of the fentanyl genocide that has turned my once beloved city into a hell hole. I have seen one too many open air drug markets, claiming thousands of lives each year. The drug dealers operating freely, the human feces and needles littering streets and sidewalks, the judges letting the fentanyl dealers out of jail, the fentanyl showing up on playgrounds and in schools, the women giving birth on the sidewalk, the still born babies found in port-o-pottys, the people jumping off of buildings, the people living in the sewers, the non-stop every day looting of our grocery store, the robbery of our local restaurants, the targeting of our mom-and-pop shops, the risk of riding public transportation, the waking up to burglars kicking in my door and fighting them off, the sound of going to sleep to people screaming and waking up to emergency sirens, the billion dollar tech offices and third world conditions across the streets, the constant threat of The Big Earthquake, power outages, infrastructure breakdown, skyrocketing cost of living, it's all become unbearable. Homeless encampments blocking public spaces, the high risk of fentanyl exposure and rampant property crime have eroded any sense of normalcy. Personal safety threats from erratic behavior, boarded-up stores and political hostility weigh heavily on me. I no longer desire or wish to endure these heartbreaking struggles. Building a life for myself, let alone a family, in this decay, is almost impossible. The frustration with leftist policies enabling open drug scenes, health risks from biohazards and store closures reducing access to essentials has taken its toll. I have personally witnessed at least a dozen grocery stores close down and my heart is broken as I wonder if I am slowly living in a food desert because of rampant, unchecked crime. They defunded the police and the judge releases criminals out of jail the next day. I am sick and tired of fighting off the same bad guys every day. The Urban decay is not just in areas like the Tenderloin, SOMA and Union Square, but all over the city. The difficulty in regular social life is noticeable and everybody is on guard making human connection even more challenging unless you are a millionaire. I walk into small businesses, stores and restaurants and all the workers are on edge wondering what chaos will happen that day. Tourists ask me what is happening to the city? All I do is shake my head. This is not the San Francisco I grew up in. My City has become unrecognizable. The Full House Days are long gone and it will take years, if not generations, for San Francisco to recover from all the damage done. Years of frontline activism without any city wide solutions have left me absolutely drained. Every day feels like the same nightmare, repeating the same chaos day after day without end. I don't want my life trapped in this cycle of sirens, screams and unchecked decline. It's time to step away from this chaos. I do not want to die here. The threats to personal safety, the constant exposure to violence and humanitarian crisis has become too much for one lifetime. I shouldn't have PTSD from living in San Francisco, but I do. Honestly, we all have survivor's guilt. I refuse to let this environment claim my future or my dreams. Relocating means saving my health, mental well being, spirituality and opportunity to thrive elsewhere. No more waking up and counting the bodies on the sidewalks or navigating hazards just to live daily life. I deserve a chance to build without the shadow of this humanitarian crisis looming over everything. I've sacrificed my personal health, safety and years of my life on the frontlines for the vulnerable while our local leaders profited from their pain... now, to keep fighting, I have to leave everything behind and start over. If this battle has ever meant something to you, please do consider supporting. As I pursue my American dreams in a new place, I carry the lessons from San Francisco with me forever. I will always cherish the memories and good times. This city will always have a place in my heart. San Francisco is my hometown. I continue advocating for change from afar, but with renewed energy in a safer environment. This move allows me to build a stable life, free from the nightmare that has defined too many years of life. Thank you to all my family and friends that have supported my work, I fought valiantly but now it is time for a tactical retreat. My time in the trenches, on the frontlines are over. I can't believe I made it out alive. Here's to new beginnings and the hope that one day, San Francisco heals.

Darren Stallcup - World Peace Movement

20,793 görüntüleme • 7 ay önce

🔊Church: WE’RE LIVING IN THE FINAL STAGE! Acceleration is happening - Satan is accelerating deception, and God is accelerating EXPOSURE!! The scale of evil being revealed through the Epstein files is proof that the restrainer, the Holy Spirit, is losing His grip on evil. In His mercy, God is exposing darkness so people can see what has been operating behind the scenes and who they are truly following. This is the final call to come to Jesus!!! For those who reject Him, the next chapter is the 7-Year Tribulation — the worst time in human history! The atrocities we are seeing now will be nothing compared to what the world will endure during those days!! KEEP LOOKING UP!! OUR SAVIOR IS AT THE DOOR! We need to talk about the dark season we’re living in! 👉🏼The Epstein files have revealed some of the most revolting and gut-wrenching evil we have ever seen. I hope you’re not digging too deeply into them or reading too much, because the details are extremely disturbing. ⚡I will not go into details, but everywhere we look, deeply disturbing layers of satanism, corruption, abuse, deception, and darkness are surfacing. Many wealthy and powerful figures — presidents, royalty, tech moguls — along with major institutions such as the United Nations, Harvard University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), Goldman Sachs, the International Peace Institute, and others, have come under intense scrutiny. Things that have operated for decades behind closed doors are now being brought into the open. This is NOT random! We need to pause and think: 👉🏼Why is so much darkness being exposed? 👉🏼Why are these extremely disturbing revelations surfacing across governments, institutions, and elites? 👉🏼Why is corruption no longer hidden, but now openly displayed? First, let’s quickly review the prophetic timeline and framework that ties all of this together: ✅Increasing deception ✅Moral and spiritual decline ✅Rise of global instability and lawlessness ✅Collapse of trust in worldly systems ✅Exposure of evil ⏹️The Rapture of the Church ⏹️Rise of the Antichrist (false savior) ⏹️7 year peace treaty with Israel ⏹️The 7-Year Tribulation/Wrath of God ⏹️Execution of a global system of control ⏹️The Second Coming of Christ ⏹️The Millennial Reign of Christ WHERE DOES THIS EXPOSURE OF EVIL FIT? Let’s step back and look at history — the Bible shows a very consistent pattern: 💣Before the Flood 👉🏼Wickedness filled the earth 💣Before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah 👉🏼Moral corruption and depravity reached its peak 💣Before Israel went into captivity 👉🏼prophets exposed corruption, idolatry, and rebellion 💣Before the fall of Jerusalem (70 AD) 👉🏼Warnings, tensions, and spiritual blindness intensified 📜From this, we can see that before major biblical judgments, God consistently reveals and exposes evil. Therefore, before the greatest and final judgment in history falls upon the earth, all evil must be brought into the light. That is exactly what we are witnessing today. This exposure of evil is unfolding in the time leading up to the 7-Year Tribulation, following the same pattern Scripture has shown throughout history. ⚠️Just to clarify: Just as Noah became an heir of righteousness by faith, and Lot is called righteous, we — the Church — have been justified by faith in His blood, which makes us righteous. Therefore, we will not experience the wrath of God. We will not be here for the 7-year-tribulation 📖“For God did not appoint us to wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Thess 5:9 WHY NOW? The exposure of evil prepares humanity for The Savior — and for a false “savior.” Before people will follow a new leader or system, they must first lose complete faith in the existing leadership and structures. Right now, governments, media, medical systems, financial systems, and even religious institutions are being exposed and started to become widely distrusted. This is not random collapse — IT’S DEMOLITION! GOD IS PULLING BACK THE VEIL!! Jesus says: 📖“For nothing is secret that will not be revealed, nor anything hidden that will not be known and come to light.” Luke 8:17 💙Exposure is actually an act of mercy before judgment. God reveals corruption so that people can see who they have been following and place their faith in Jesus. Victims can also be vindicated. In a sense, God is separating light from darkness, shattering the illusion that human leaders are saviors and showing the world what it’s like to live in a world without Him. WE CAN SEE THE RESTRAINER LOOSENING Paul describes a “restrainer” that holds back full-scale lawlessness UNTIL a certain time: 📖“For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only He who now restrains will do so until He is taken out of the way.” 2 Thess 2:7 👉🏼The mystery of lawlessness has always existed, it’s always been there, but something is shifting right now in our world, we can feel that the restraints are weakening, shame is diminishing, evil is becoming bolder, it doesn’t hide anymore. Sin today is not only practiced, but celebrated, defended, and even legislated! ❌I wish I could unhear this TEDx talk at the University of Würzburg in Germany, where medical student argued that pedophilia is an “unchangeable sexual orientation” and that society should accept people with that attraction. This is the restrainer losing its grip on evil, and evil becoming bolder!!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? 🌍The world will begin to see global control as safety. The evil surfacing right now is so extreme that even those who embrace wickedness find it unacceptable. In their fear, they will accept global oversight as a measure of protection. 👉🏼We know the Beast system requires global economic integration, centralized identification, digital transactions, and behavioral compliance. People will not accept this if they feel free — but when they feel endangered, they will gladly trade freedom for security. Fear will demand control, control will be marketed as protection, and protection will come at the cost of freedom. This conditions humanity to say: “Just fix it. I don’t care how!! Just do it!!” This mindset is the perfect mindset for welcoming the Beast system!!! 🔊We are not watching random headlines! We are witnessing God accelerate the exposure of evil on a massive scale — a world being shaken and destabilized, with numerous elites stepping down or being compromised. The world is seeing what has been hidden behind the veil — true evil at work! Soon, people will be looking for someone (a.k.a the Antichrist) to step up and bring peace! They will be searching for a savior — and this is where the enemy will accelerate his maximum deception plan! 🔊Church: A global separation is happening, and light and darkness are no longer blending quietly!!! But the same God who is revealing corruption is the God who is redeeming the very last souls of the Church age of grace! There is no middle ground left!!! 🔊If the Restrainer is beginning to lift His restraint, how close are we to the Rapture when that restraint is fully removed??!! Time is almost UP!! KEEP PRAYING! KEEP PREACHING THE GOSPEL! KEEP LOOKING UP FOR THE ONE TRUE SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST — KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS! Maranatha!! COME, LORD JESUS, COME!!! 🤍
0:10

🔊Church: WE’RE LIVING IN THE FINAL STAGE! Acceleration is happening - Satan is accelerating deception, and God is accelerating EXPOSURE!! The scale of evil being revealed through the Epstein files is proof that the restrainer, the Holy Spirit, is losing His grip on evil. In His mercy, God is exposing darkness so people can see what has been operating behind the scenes and who they are truly following. This is the final call to come to Jesus!!! For those who reject Him, the next chapter is the 7-Year Tribulation — the worst time in human history! The atrocities we are seeing now will be nothing compared to what the world will endure during those days!! KEEP LOOKING UP!! OUR SAVIOR IS AT THE DOOR! We need to talk about the dark season we’re living in! 👉🏼The Epstein files have revealed some of the most revolting and gut-wrenching evil we have ever seen. I hope you’re not digging too deeply into them or reading too much, because the details are extremely disturbing. ⚡I will not go into details, but everywhere we look, deeply disturbing layers of satanism, corruption, abuse, deception, and darkness are surfacing. Many wealthy and powerful figures — presidents, royalty, tech moguls — along with major institutions such as the United Nations, Harvard University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), Goldman Sachs, the International Peace Institute, and others, have come under intense scrutiny. Things that have operated for decades behind closed doors are now being brought into the open. This is NOT random! We need to pause and think: 👉🏼Why is so much darkness being exposed? 👉🏼Why are these extremely disturbing revelations surfacing across governments, institutions, and elites? 👉🏼Why is corruption no longer hidden, but now openly displayed? First, let’s quickly review the prophetic timeline and framework that ties all of this together: ✅Increasing deception ✅Moral and spiritual decline ✅Rise of global instability and lawlessness ✅Collapse of trust in worldly systems ✅Exposure of evil ⏹️The Rapture of the Church ⏹️Rise of the Antichrist (false savior) ⏹️7 year peace treaty with Israel ⏹️The 7-Year Tribulation/Wrath of God ⏹️Execution of a global system of control ⏹️The Second Coming of Christ ⏹️The Millennial Reign of Christ WHERE DOES THIS EXPOSURE OF EVIL FIT? Let’s step back and look at history — the Bible shows a very consistent pattern: 💣Before the Flood 👉🏼Wickedness filled the earth 💣Before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah 👉🏼Moral corruption and depravity reached its peak 💣Before Israel went into captivity 👉🏼prophets exposed corruption, idolatry, and rebellion 💣Before the fall of Jerusalem (70 AD) 👉🏼Warnings, tensions, and spiritual blindness intensified 📜From this, we can see that before major biblical judgments, God consistently reveals and exposes evil. Therefore, before the greatest and final judgment in history falls upon the earth, all evil must be brought into the light. That is exactly what we are witnessing today. This exposure of evil is unfolding in the time leading up to the 7-Year Tribulation, following the same pattern Scripture has shown throughout history. ⚠️Just to clarify: Just as Noah became an heir of righteousness by faith, and Lot is called righteous, we — the Church — have been justified by faith in His blood, which makes us righteous. Therefore, we will not experience the wrath of God. We will not be here for the 7-year-tribulation 📖“For God did not appoint us to wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Thess 5:9 WHY NOW? The exposure of evil prepares humanity for The Savior — and for a false “savior.” Before people will follow a new leader or system, they must first lose complete faith in the existing leadership and structures. Right now, governments, media, medical systems, financial systems, and even religious institutions are being exposed and started to become widely distrusted. This is not random collapse — IT’S DEMOLITION! GOD IS PULLING BACK THE VEIL!! Jesus says: 📖“For nothing is secret that will not be revealed, nor anything hidden that will not be known and come to light.” Luke 8:17 💙Exposure is actually an act of mercy before judgment. God reveals corruption so that people can see who they have been following and place their faith in Jesus. Victims can also be vindicated. In a sense, God is separating light from darkness, shattering the illusion that human leaders are saviors and showing the world what it’s like to live in a world without Him. WE CAN SEE THE RESTRAINER LOOSENING Paul describes a “restrainer” that holds back full-scale lawlessness UNTIL a certain time: 📖“For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only He who now restrains will do so until He is taken out of the way.” 2 Thess 2:7 👉🏼The mystery of lawlessness has always existed, it’s always been there, but something is shifting right now in our world, we can feel that the restraints are weakening, shame is diminishing, evil is becoming bolder, it doesn’t hide anymore. Sin today is not only practiced, but celebrated, defended, and even legislated! ❌I wish I could unhear this TEDx talk at the University of Würzburg in Germany, where medical student argued that pedophilia is an “unchangeable sexual orientation” and that society should accept people with that attraction. This is the restrainer losing its grip on evil, and evil becoming bolder!!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? 🌍The world will begin to see global control as safety. The evil surfacing right now is so extreme that even those who embrace wickedness find it unacceptable. In their fear, they will accept global oversight as a measure of protection. 👉🏼We know the Beast system requires global economic integration, centralized identification, digital transactions, and behavioral compliance. People will not accept this if they feel free — but when they feel endangered, they will gladly trade freedom for security. Fear will demand control, control will be marketed as protection, and protection will come at the cost of freedom. This conditions humanity to say: “Just fix it. I don’t care how!! Just do it!!” This mindset is the perfect mindset for welcoming the Beast system!!! 🔊We are not watching random headlines! We are witnessing God accelerate the exposure of evil on a massive scale — a world being shaken and destabilized, with numerous elites stepping down or being compromised. The world is seeing what has been hidden behind the veil — true evil at work! Soon, people will be looking for someone (a.k.a the Antichrist) to step up and bring peace! They will be searching for a savior — and this is where the enemy will accelerate his maximum deception plan! 🔊Church: A global separation is happening, and light and darkness are no longer blending quietly!!! But the same God who is revealing corruption is the God who is redeeming the very last souls of the Church age of grace! There is no middle ground left!!! 🔊If the Restrainer is beginning to lift His restraint, how close are we to the Rapture when that restraint is fully removed??!! Time is almost UP!! KEEP PRAYING! KEEP PREACHING THE GOSPEL! KEEP LOOKING UP FOR THE ONE TRUE SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST — KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS! Maranatha!! COME, LORD JESUS, COME!!! 🤍

Maranatha777

78,311 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

Dear X Family, Please RT my story ❤️ I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. I don’t know much about the world outside this cage. It’s all I’ve ever known—cold, cramped, and sounds of others like me. I can’t remember when I was born, but I remember my mother. She was warm and soft, but they took her away before I even learned her smell. Now, it’s just me, surrounded by metal bars. I’ve heard stories, whispered through the cages. Stories of grass—soft and cool under paws, of breezes carrying scents of flowers, trees, and earth. I’ve never felt them, but sometimes I dream of them. In my dream, I run free, my ears flapping in the wind, the ground soft beneath me. But when I wake up, it’s always the same: the cold cage and the endless wait. I don’t know what’s waiting for me beyond these cages, but I can sense the fear in the others. The ones who go don’t come back the same, if they come back at all. I hear the word "lab" sometimes, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is that there are no toys, no warm beds, no kind hands to scratch behind my ears. Just needles, machines, and pain. I wish I could run. I wish I could smell the air like in my dreams. But here, I’m just waiting—waiting for them to take me away, to do whatever they want. I don’t understand why. I don’t know what I did wrong. I just want to feel the warmth of the sun, the softness of grass, and the love of a family. But I know, deep down, that I’ll never get that chance. The days blur together, and I wonder if this is all life is meant to be for someone like me. No love, no play, no family—just waiting in the dark until it’s my turn. Maybe, in another life, I could’ve been someone’s best friend, curled up on a couch, loved and cared for. But here, I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. ---------------------------------------------- Beagle #48 deserves a name and family along with 3,000 other beagles inside Ridglan Farms in Wisconsin. Marshall Bioresources in New Rose, NY has over 23,000 beagles suffering from neglect. ---------------------------------------------- We are advocates for these beagles in cages and just published our first email newsletter. Scroll to bottom of webpage link below to Subscribe Thank you to everyone who RT's❤️WE LOVE YOU! The email newsletter is how we keep you updated on our actions to save these beagles. Beagle Lovers & Rescuers has recently become a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization! This means that every donation you make is tax-deductible and goes directly toward our mission to close all lab beagle breeding facilities. #StopAnimalCruelty #stopanimaltesting #freethe23k
0:14

Dear X Family, Please RT my story ❤️ I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. I don’t know much about the world outside this cage. It’s all I’ve ever known—cold, cramped, and sounds of others like me. I can’t remember when I was born, but I remember my mother. She was warm and soft, but they took her away before I even learned her smell. Now, it’s just me, surrounded by metal bars. I’ve heard stories, whispered through the cages. Stories of grass—soft and cool under paws, of breezes carrying scents of flowers, trees, and earth. I’ve never felt them, but sometimes I dream of them. In my dream, I run free, my ears flapping in the wind, the ground soft beneath me. But when I wake up, it’s always the same: the cold cage and the endless wait. I don’t know what’s waiting for me beyond these cages, but I can sense the fear in the others. The ones who go don’t come back the same, if they come back at all. I hear the word "lab" sometimes, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is that there are no toys, no warm beds, no kind hands to scratch behind my ears. Just needles, machines, and pain. I wish I could run. I wish I could smell the air like in my dreams. But here, I’m just waiting—waiting for them to take me away, to do whatever they want. I don’t understand why. I don’t know what I did wrong. I just want to feel the warmth of the sun, the softness of grass, and the love of a family. But I know, deep down, that I’ll never get that chance. The days blur together, and I wonder if this is all life is meant to be for someone like me. No love, no play, no family—just waiting in the dark until it’s my turn. Maybe, in another life, I could’ve been someone’s best friend, curled up on a couch, loved and cared for. But here, I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. ---------------------------------------------- Beagle #48 deserves a name and family along with 3,000 other beagles inside Ridglan Farms in Wisconsin. Marshall Bioresources in New Rose, NY has over 23,000 beagles suffering from neglect. ---------------------------------------------- We are advocates for these beagles in cages and just published our first email newsletter. Scroll to bottom of webpage link below to Subscribe Thank you to everyone who RT's❤️WE LOVE YOU! The email newsletter is how we keep you updated on our actions to save these beagles. Beagle Lovers & Rescuers has recently become a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization! This means that every donation you make is tax-deductible and goes directly toward our mission to close all lab beagle breeding facilities. #StopAnimalCruelty #stopanimaltesting #freethe23k

Beagle Lovers And Rescuers Inc.

19,268 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce

🦕💬 • 260611 [01:03 AM KST] 41 voice notes transcripted/translated in order: hi how did you like made by riize? you’re asking if i ate dinner? i didn’t eat. i ate lunch kind of late, but i ate a hearty lunch. i also wanted to do a live as i finished work, but while wondering if i should do a live or not, something new to do popped up. and while i was doing it, it got too late. so i'll do a live later. go knicks! lately, the NBA's a hot topic lately. knicks. crazy. i don't know, you know... basketball that well, but i remember growing up they were sort of *the team* that people, yk cheered on. but i don't remember anyone saying that they were doing great, or anything. but apparently they're in the finals rn and they're doing rly well, so also can't forget the world cup. world cup season rn, so... just sports season.. sports season, crazy, yeah? [singing dyd] how is it? riize's challenge. easy, right? do it lots, please~ these days, a lot of short-form [videos] are coming up, as you've probably seen. I thought it might be fun if everyone did that together... what do you think? live... there's a way to turn it on, but even if i turned it on, i'm not sure if i could do it well. i don't have confidence rn so i'm talking like this wa, but there's only 4 days left for our comeback.. only 4 days left... how is it? are you guys looking forward to it? are u guys excited? we're going to ulsan the 15th, and wonbin hyung, said he's buying us lunch... not really. but it's our first time going to ulsan all together. we'll have our comeback there. i think it'll be fun. also, the 15th we're doing a comeback live.. we've been doing it every comeback... and at the live stream we'll be high school students.. but it could honestly be university students too.. or really just do it without a concept, but i think it'll be fun... just... it'll be fun... so, while doing that we'll talk about the comeback whatever happens i want us all to just create fun memories together, and since it’s summer, how about you all enjoy summer together with riize... how does that feel? how's this pfp? i like it ㅎㅎ engddongi, eng, engddon ah, right. also with taro hyung, we'll appear at salon drip... i also think that will be fun when it comes out. the recording was also fun, with doyeon nuna.. please watch it ah... you guys can hear the dryer? i won't tell you who's clothes it's drying, it's a secret~ since you could look at this as something im trying out instead of doing a live stream i won't be able to do it super often or every single day, but I think it wouldn't be bad to use this feature again sometime what do you think? ah, but languages are difficult it's not easy to unify into just one language now, but on the other hand, it's really fun. somehow, this chat room..? is that right? realizing that this place is totally global and international is in a way pretty cool. haha anyway, after a long time i rode a bike again.. there was a lot of sunlight... sunlight.. did lots of photosynthesis but what was a real mistake was first of all the bicycle didnt have a basket, and I didnt wear a comfortable backpack. i came out carrying a somewhat awkward/uncomfortable bag, so i really messed up on top of that the bicycle was incredibly heavy, but then the battery completely died... so I almost cried. without even realizing it I had gone so far away so I suffered a bit. that’s the story i also have the feeling i bruised my butt a bit... ㅎㅎ but that will also become a funny memory, right? how's riizing summer vacation? i think there were really a lot of funny moments... sungchan hyung was so funny... sungchan hyung said somewhere he hasn't eaten ramyeon in a year ㅎㅎ and sungchan hyung honestly isn't the type to eat ramen alone, he's on the not eating it side... but he's always like 'one bite, one bite'... so if we put all that together, wouldn't it be a plate of ramen?ㅎㅎ for me, at the beginning of our debut, it was a bit... you know how while filming content, i ended up grilling meat and all? but now, grilling meat... well, i don't think it's that bad also, back when we went to japan to shoot our album jacket photos and the trailer, we visited a lot of vinyl (LP) shops... and that was actually the first time in my life buying an LP with my own money when i was young i went to la to play, and then there was this famous 'amoeba music' store. i looked around and everything, but honestly back then i really wasn't that much interested in LPs. so i bought things like a lot of stickers and used them to decorate my laptop. somehow, after that time, [it was like] I truly spent time in a vinyl shop? but visiting now that I'm a bit older, it was so much fun there are so many songs I don’t know, and tons of songs that aren't even famous so back then in japan, duran duran is a really famous band, but I bought duran duran's Notorious LP and then I also bought Barry Finnertys,, barrynims NY City LP. what was so surprising was that as soon as I listened to the LP, the sound and quality were so good that I was like, 'wow, what is this?' but when I looked it up on the internet, it only had like 3,000 views on YouTube? I think it was 3,000, so because it was so good, I bought it. and after that yesterday too while wandering around here and there, i happened to walk into a cafe and they had LPs there too so yesterday, I bought one or two ㅎㅎ lp's no mater how you look it they have a vibe... its true that nowadays you can just look up and listen to everything on your phone, but another good thing about it (lps) is that I think it’s really great for finding songs you don't know so when going to the lp shop you get to learn a lot of new songs that you didn't know before. even if you don't go with the sole purpose of buying an LP, it's just... really great for discovering things... should I say? a riize lp would also be good... back then, during boom boom bass, we even went there and did all that stuff with our LP too... how was the video editing? back then when i went to school when doing things like presentations, together with other students we would edit videos.. i did lowkey find that kind of stuff pretty fun though because it was pretty much my first time [doing that] since back during those days... but really i think it was fun like... yeah.. i want to try to do it again when i was young i did draw. i drew for fun but it had been such a long time since i last properly sat down and tried to draw something properly with a pencil.. i think it's been such a long time i'm probably the worst at drawing in my family? ㅎㅎ my dad's good, my mom's also good.. my grandpa also draws reaññu well. but it was fun drawing again, so i also want to try that again... why is there so many things i want to do? really why is it? and above all, i want to work really hard on music so that someday i can show you even more. now, like from the trailer to the full version that was uploaded to our site... those kinds of things are a bit different from just being a song, though.. now everyone, let's try meditating together with me sorry.. anyways.. i have to leave in a couple hours actually, so.. time to hit the hay, yeehaw i can't fall asleep right away ㅎㅎ this.. seems like it might be a bit difficult to interpret/translate.. (yes anton, it is,,,) next time it might be better to just turn on a live stream instead ㅎㅎ sorry wow... sleep is really not coming... [1 video] [1 picture] ok jinja gn
0:01

🦕💬 • 260611 [01:03 AM KST] 41 voice notes transcripted/translated in order: hi how did you like made by riize? you’re asking if i ate dinner? i didn’t eat. i ate lunch kind of late, but i ate a hearty lunch. i also wanted to do a live as i finished work, but while wondering if i should do a live or not, something new to do popped up. and while i was doing it, it got too late. so i'll do a live later. go knicks! lately, the NBA's a hot topic lately. knicks. crazy. i don't know, you know... basketball that well, but i remember growing up they were sort of *the team* that people, yk cheered on. but i don't remember anyone saying that they were doing great, or anything. but apparently they're in the finals rn and they're doing rly well, so also can't forget the world cup. world cup season rn, so... just sports season.. sports season, crazy, yeah? [singing dyd] how is it? riize's challenge. easy, right? do it lots, please~ these days, a lot of short-form [videos] are coming up, as you've probably seen. I thought it might be fun if everyone did that together... what do you think? live... there's a way to turn it on, but even if i turned it on, i'm not sure if i could do it well. i don't have confidence rn so i'm talking like this wa, but there's only 4 days left for our comeback.. only 4 days left... how is it? are you guys looking forward to it? are u guys excited? we're going to ulsan the 15th, and wonbin hyung, said he's buying us lunch... not really. but it's our first time going to ulsan all together. we'll have our comeback there. i think it'll be fun. also, the 15th we're doing a comeback live.. we've been doing it every comeback... and at the live stream we'll be high school students.. but it could honestly be university students too.. or really just do it without a concept, but i think it'll be fun... just... it'll be fun... so, while doing that we'll talk about the comeback whatever happens i want us all to just create fun memories together, and since it’s summer, how about you all enjoy summer together with riize... how does that feel? how's this pfp? i like it ㅎㅎ engddongi, eng, engddon ah, right. also with taro hyung, we'll appear at salon drip... i also think that will be fun when it comes out. the recording was also fun, with doyeon nuna.. please watch it ah... you guys can hear the dryer? i won't tell you who's clothes it's drying, it's a secret~ since you could look at this as something im trying out instead of doing a live stream i won't be able to do it super often or every single day, but I think it wouldn't be bad to use this feature again sometime what do you think? ah, but languages are difficult it's not easy to unify into just one language now, but on the other hand, it's really fun. somehow, this chat room..? is that right? realizing that this place is totally global and international is in a way pretty cool. haha anyway, after a long time i rode a bike again.. there was a lot of sunlight... sunlight.. did lots of photosynthesis but what was a real mistake was first of all the bicycle didnt have a basket, and I didnt wear a comfortable backpack. i came out carrying a somewhat awkward/uncomfortable bag, so i really messed up on top of that the bicycle was incredibly heavy, but then the battery completely died... so I almost cried. without even realizing it I had gone so far away so I suffered a bit. that’s the story i also have the feeling i bruised my butt a bit... ㅎㅎ but that will also become a funny memory, right? how's riizing summer vacation? i think there were really a lot of funny moments... sungchan hyung was so funny... sungchan hyung said somewhere he hasn't eaten ramyeon in a year ㅎㅎ and sungchan hyung honestly isn't the type to eat ramen alone, he's on the not eating it side... but he's always like 'one bite, one bite'... so if we put all that together, wouldn't it be a plate of ramen?ㅎㅎ for me, at the beginning of our debut, it was a bit... you know how while filming content, i ended up grilling meat and all? but now, grilling meat... well, i don't think it's that bad also, back when we went to japan to shoot our album jacket photos and the trailer, we visited a lot of vinyl (LP) shops... and that was actually the first time in my life buying an LP with my own money when i was young i went to la to play, and then there was this famous 'amoeba music' store. i looked around and everything, but honestly back then i really wasn't that much interested in LPs. so i bought things like a lot of stickers and used them to decorate my laptop. somehow, after that time, [it was like] I truly spent time in a vinyl shop? but visiting now that I'm a bit older, it was so much fun there are so many songs I don’t know, and tons of songs that aren't even famous so back then in japan, duran duran is a really famous band, but I bought duran duran's Notorious LP and then I also bought Barry Finnertys,, barrynims NY City LP. what was so surprising was that as soon as I listened to the LP, the sound and quality were so good that I was like, 'wow, what is this?' but when I looked it up on the internet, it only had like 3,000 views on YouTube? I think it was 3,000, so because it was so good, I bought it. and after that yesterday too while wandering around here and there, i happened to walk into a cafe and they had LPs there too so yesterday, I bought one or two ㅎㅎ lp's no mater how you look it they have a vibe... its true that nowadays you can just look up and listen to everything on your phone, but another good thing about it (lps) is that I think it’s really great for finding songs you don't know so when going to the lp shop you get to learn a lot of new songs that you didn't know before. even if you don't go with the sole purpose of buying an LP, it's just... really great for discovering things... should I say? a riize lp would also be good... back then, during boom boom bass, we even went there and did all that stuff with our LP too... how was the video editing? back then when i went to school when doing things like presentations, together with other students we would edit videos.. i did lowkey find that kind of stuff pretty fun though because it was pretty much my first time [doing that] since back during those days... but really i think it was fun like... yeah.. i want to try to do it again when i was young i did draw. i drew for fun but it had been such a long time since i last properly sat down and tried to draw something properly with a pencil.. i think it's been such a long time i'm probably the worst at drawing in my family? ㅎㅎ my dad's good, my mom's also good.. my grandpa also draws reaññu well. but it was fun drawing again, so i also want to try that again... why is there so many things i want to do? really why is it? and above all, i want to work really hard on music so that someday i can show you even more. now, like from the trailer to the full version that was uploaded to our site... those kinds of things are a bit different from just being a song, though.. now everyone, let's try meditating together with me sorry.. anyways.. i have to leave in a couple hours actually, so.. time to hit the hay, yeehaw i can't fall asleep right away ㅎㅎ this.. seems like it might be a bit difficult to interpret/translate.. (yes anton, it is,,,) next time it might be better to just turn on a live stream instead ㅎㅎ sorry wow... sleep is really not coming... [1 video] [1 picture] ok jinja gn

🧼

37,315 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

🚨 ALERT TEXAS – DEMAND ANSWERS LUBBOCK! Is it just me, or is this deeply disturbing? Syrian-American Mohamad Altabaa - former Texas Tech MSA president and the driving force behind the massive 'Unity Center' mosque built inside a former Lubbock elementary school - is seen in yet another video (April 2025) - this time riding on the back of a motorcycle in Syria, hanging off casually, seemingly enjoying the "freedom" of post-Assad Islamic Syria amid the chaos. This reportedly happened around the time the U.S. State Department had Syria at Level 4: Do Not Travel for ALL Americans - explicit warnings of terrorism, kidnapping, civil unrest, armed conflict, and "no part of Syria is considered safe." How does a third-year Texas Tech medical student with "global support" for his Texas project manage to zip around a war-torn no-go zone on a motorcycle like it's a vacation - while ordinary U.S. citizens are strongly advised to stay far away? What kind of powerful ties, networks, or protections make that possible? And where exactly is the money coming from to buy and flip a sprawling abandoned public school into a mega-mosque and community fortress in just 40 days? The same shadowy "global" sources that are flying in supporters and volunteers from across the world to make this happen in Lubbock? Who are they? Who is donating to make this happen? When will America finally wake up and stop allowing the ummah to quietly fund and accelerate the takeover of our neighborhoods, schools, and communities? Nothing screams "Texas values" like Syria motorcycle rides in forbidden war zones and mystery overseas "support" pouring in unchecked. And now local media has gone radio silent on the hard questions - instead celebrating and cheerleading this rapid transformation while brushing aside every red flag. No real scrutiny, no follow-ups, just endless feel-good fluff about "community" and "unity." Lubbock - your town is NOW ground zero. Demand real answers on funding, foreign connections, and the real agenda before it's too late.
0:14

🚨 ALERT TEXAS – DEMAND ANSWERS LUBBOCK! Is it just me, or is this deeply disturbing? Syrian-American Mohamad Altabaa - former Texas Tech MSA president and the driving force behind the massive 'Unity Center' mosque built inside a former Lubbock elementary school - is seen in yet another video (April 2025) - this time riding on the back of a motorcycle in Syria, hanging off casually, seemingly enjoying the "freedom" of post-Assad Islamic Syria amid the chaos. This reportedly happened around the time the U.S. State Department had Syria at Level 4: Do Not Travel for ALL Americans - explicit warnings of terrorism, kidnapping, civil unrest, armed conflict, and "no part of Syria is considered safe." How does a third-year Texas Tech medical student with "global support" for his Texas project manage to zip around a war-torn no-go zone on a motorcycle like it's a vacation - while ordinary U.S. citizens are strongly advised to stay far away? What kind of powerful ties, networks, or protections make that possible? And where exactly is the money coming from to buy and flip a sprawling abandoned public school into a mega-mosque and community fortress in just 40 days? The same shadowy "global" sources that are flying in supporters and volunteers from across the world to make this happen in Lubbock? Who are they? Who is donating to make this happen? When will America finally wake up and stop allowing the ummah to quietly fund and accelerate the takeover of our neighborhoods, schools, and communities? Nothing screams "Texas values" like Syria motorcycle rides in forbidden war zones and mystery overseas "support" pouring in unchecked. And now local media has gone radio silent on the hard questions - instead celebrating and cheerleading this rapid transformation while brushing aside every red flag. No real scrutiny, no follow-ups, just endless feel-good fluff about "community" and "unity." Lubbock - your town is NOW ground zero. Demand real answers on funding, foreign connections, and the real agenda before it's too late.

Amy Mek

203,243 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.
0:10

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.

SiriusB

15,437 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

Wow. WOW. WOOOOOOOW. So um, that first Wildcard+Thousands stream was... *amazing* and also... a *lot* 😅 In the end, it was *exactly* what we were hoping for - a true stress test of ALL these systems coming together for the first time. We are SO grateful for the thousands of people who showed up today to play, attend, tune-in and help us PLAYTEST all this new stuff. We can't wait to see you all again at NEXT WEEK'S EX2 EVENT! So, now let's talk about how it went... Stuff that worked: - Our community SHOWED UP. Oh boy did you show up 😅. Our servers were straining under the load... which is good actually, in fact it's the whole point. Even more importantly, we have already received insanely valuable feedback, bug reports, stuff people loved/hated - and it's only been a few hours since the stream ended. I can't even explain to y'all how valuable this process is. Yes it's stressful, it reminds me of trying to keep Words With Friends online during that first insane year, but it's EXACTLY what we were hoping for (NEED) to turn this into the polished, top-notch game and streaming experience we are on a mission to deliver. I truly can't thank y'all enough, and hope to see you again when we run it all back again next week 🥹 - The stream itself stayed up and was mostly stable! Phew 😅. For context, ThousandsTV is not a twitch wrapper, it's a web3-native streaming tech stack built we built specifically to connect game, web/mobile, and blockchain together all at the same time. There are a LOT of moving pieces going on behind the scenes. - We brought viewers INTO THE GAME! Viewers showed up in the stands of the arena, with connected wallets/assets, triggered actions/rallies from chat, and were seen and heard during the whole stream. - The brand new 2v2 build of Wildcard was (mostly) stable and our players and viewers seemed to be having a blast down on the field and up in the stands. It was thrilling to watch Team Blue dominate, even though Team Red held their own in game 3! - Our production crew did an insanely good job running the stream, managing the players, shoutcasters, and talent, and producing a top-notch show. Of course we will work hard to make every stream better than the last, but I was super proud of how our team "rolled with the punches" during today's event. Stuff that didn't work (and/or needs to be dramatically improved): - Although it's fun to see chat going crazy, chat spam is actually something we are passionate to FIX. As you can see from the attached video, chat spam dominated today's stream and made it impossible for anyone to even see anyone else's messages. We have some GREAT ideas for how to fix this and actually turn chat spam into a FUN and exciting and not annoying thing - but those improvements didn't get shipped in time for this event. - Credits purchasing flow needs a LOT of work. As I'm sure y'all know, bringing money on chain is pretty complicated, and although we've been working hard to make this as seamless as possible, it still needs a TON of improvements. Many users who WANTED to spend money today weren't able to and/or ran into frustrating bugs in the credit purchase flow. Fixing this is obviously a top priority for our team. - Rallies need a LOT of work. Spectator-interactive features like rallies are at the heart of our vision for Wildcard. These "stream apps", as we call them, are the UNLOCK for how spectators, viewers and fans directly connect and interact with their favorite competitors, content creators, and communities. The current rally feature HINTS at this potential, but it needs to be WAY easier to understand, use, and have fun with. Improvements are ON THE WAY. - Referees were only partially working. Referees are a key innovation of the Thousands platform. They are AI-driven "personalities" (NPCs) that pay attention to everything that's happening in the arena, both on the field and especially in the stands (i.e. in chat, during rallies, etc.) The referees then make "calls" at the end of every match, rewarding users for their engagement and participation. Unfortunately, the referees weren't fully functional and seemed to drop the ball on recognizing everyone's contributions (especially people who showed up holding valuable assets such as Wildpasses in their wallets, and people who boosted those rallies with credits.) What's happening next: 1. We are combing through ALL the logs from the event right now, to make sure we don't miss a SINGLE action that our viewers and fans took during the event, including what they brought in their wallets (i.e. Wildpass holders!), any credits that were purchased, rallies that users engaged with, etc. This information is normally processed by our referees, who then determine dynamically how they're going to distribute $WC awards. We were originally hoping to complete this process and the subsequent airdrops within a few hours after the event, but given the amount of data, we need a bit more time to run these scripts (and airdrops) in batches instead of all at once, and make sure ALL of the data is being included. IMPORTANT: I will keep y'all updated in real-time here on twitter/X as this process is ongoing, and let you know the moment it's complete and all the awards have been distributed (i.e. when to go check your wallets 😎) 2. PLEASE keep sending us your feedback and bug reports. Open a ticket on our Discord and let us know what you loved, what you hated, and especially what we need to FIX. Given the overwhelming response to this event, it will likely take us several days to process everyone's feedback and fix all the bugs, but we WILL NOT REST until every ticket is closed/resolved. Thank you in advance for your patience. 3. We turn it up another notch next week. As our dear friends Wolves DAO just announced, the Wildcard Exhibition Event #2 is streaming LIVE from the WOLVES DEN AT GDC next Friday! If you missed out on all the action today, DON'T WORRY, because as I keep saying: we are just getting warmed up (and there is a LOT more b that needs to be distributed, get what I'm sayin??? 😎) Finally: Just wanted to say THANK YOU, again. Truly, from the bottom of my (our) hearts. Your excitement and enthusiasm for what we're building is why we do this. Even (especially, in fact) when you tell us all the things you want us to improve. We thrive off this feedback, it's how this game and this platform go from good to GREAT. I am so grateful for those of you who are taking this journey with us. SEE YA NEXT WEEK!!!
0:10

Wow. WOW. WOOOOOOOW. So um, that first Wildcard+Thousands stream was... *amazing* and also... a *lot* 😅 In the end, it was *exactly* what we were hoping for - a true stress test of ALL these systems coming together for the first time. We are SO grateful for the thousands of people who showed up today to play, attend, tune-in and help us PLAYTEST all this new stuff. We can't wait to see you all again at NEXT WEEK'S EX2 EVENT! So, now let's talk about how it went... Stuff that worked: - Our community SHOWED UP. Oh boy did you show up 😅. Our servers were straining under the load... which is good actually, in fact it's the whole point. Even more importantly, we have already received insanely valuable feedback, bug reports, stuff people loved/hated - and it's only been a few hours since the stream ended. I can't even explain to y'all how valuable this process is. Yes it's stressful, it reminds me of trying to keep Words With Friends online during that first insane year, but it's EXACTLY what we were hoping for (NEED) to turn this into the polished, top-notch game and streaming experience we are on a mission to deliver. I truly can't thank y'all enough, and hope to see you again when we run it all back again next week 🥹 - The stream itself stayed up and was mostly stable! Phew 😅. For context, ThousandsTV is not a twitch wrapper, it's a web3-native streaming tech stack built we built specifically to connect game, web/mobile, and blockchain together all at the same time. There are a LOT of moving pieces going on behind the scenes. - We brought viewers INTO THE GAME! Viewers showed up in the stands of the arena, with connected wallets/assets, triggered actions/rallies from chat, and were seen and heard during the whole stream. - The brand new 2v2 build of Wildcard was (mostly) stable and our players and viewers seemed to be having a blast down on the field and up in the stands. It was thrilling to watch Team Blue dominate, even though Team Red held their own in game 3! - Our production crew did an insanely good job running the stream, managing the players, shoutcasters, and talent, and producing a top-notch show. Of course we will work hard to make every stream better than the last, but I was super proud of how our team "rolled with the punches" during today's event. Stuff that didn't work (and/or needs to be dramatically improved): - Although it's fun to see chat going crazy, chat spam is actually something we are passionate to FIX. As you can see from the attached video, chat spam dominated today's stream and made it impossible for anyone to even see anyone else's messages. We have some GREAT ideas for how to fix this and actually turn chat spam into a FUN and exciting and not annoying thing - but those improvements didn't get shipped in time for this event. - Credits purchasing flow needs a LOT of work. As I'm sure y'all know, bringing money on chain is pretty complicated, and although we've been working hard to make this as seamless as possible, it still needs a TON of improvements. Many users who WANTED to spend money today weren't able to and/or ran into frustrating bugs in the credit purchase flow. Fixing this is obviously a top priority for our team. - Rallies need a LOT of work. Spectator-interactive features like rallies are at the heart of our vision for Wildcard. These "stream apps", as we call them, are the UNLOCK for how spectators, viewers and fans directly connect and interact with their favorite competitors, content creators, and communities. The current rally feature HINTS at this potential, but it needs to be WAY easier to understand, use, and have fun with. Improvements are ON THE WAY. - Referees were only partially working. Referees are a key innovation of the Thousands platform. They are AI-driven "personalities" (NPCs) that pay attention to everything that's happening in the arena, both on the field and especially in the stands (i.e. in chat, during rallies, etc.) The referees then make "calls" at the end of every match, rewarding users for their engagement and participation. Unfortunately, the referees weren't fully functional and seemed to drop the ball on recognizing everyone's contributions (especially people who showed up holding valuable assets such as Wildpasses in their wallets, and people who boosted those rallies with credits.) What's happening next: 1. We are combing through ALL the logs from the event right now, to make sure we don't miss a SINGLE action that our viewers and fans took during the event, including what they brought in their wallets (i.e. Wildpass holders!), any credits that were purchased, rallies that users engaged with, etc. This information is normally processed by our referees, who then determine dynamically how they're going to distribute $WC awards. We were originally hoping to complete this process and the subsequent airdrops within a few hours after the event, but given the amount of data, we need a bit more time to run these scripts (and airdrops) in batches instead of all at once, and make sure ALL of the data is being included. IMPORTANT: I will keep y'all updated in real-time here on twitter/X as this process is ongoing, and let you know the moment it's complete and all the awards have been distributed (i.e. when to go check your wallets 😎) 2. PLEASE keep sending us your feedback and bug reports. Open a ticket on our Discord and let us know what you loved, what you hated, and especially what we need to FIX. Given the overwhelming response to this event, it will likely take us several days to process everyone's feedback and fix all the bugs, but we WILL NOT REST until every ticket is closed/resolved. Thank you in advance for your patience. 3. We turn it up another notch next week. As our dear friends Wolves DAO just announced, the Wildcard Exhibition Event #2 is streaming LIVE from the WOLVES DEN AT GDC next Friday! If you missed out on all the action today, DON'T WORRY, because as I keep saying: we are just getting warmed up (and there is a LOT more b that needs to be distributed, get what I'm sayin??? 😎) Finally: Just wanted to say THANK YOU, again. Truly, from the bottom of my (our) hearts. Your excitement and enthusiasm for what we're building is why we do this. Even (especially, in fact) when you tell us all the things you want us to improve. We thrive off this feedback, it's how this game and this platform go from good to GREAT. I am so grateful for those of you who are taking this journey with us. SEE YA NEXT WEEK!!!

WildPaul - BEAST MODE

26,851 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce

8 things I'm doing to capture the "magic window" of my kid's childhood. For a bit of context: I'm 42 with 4 kids, ages 11 to 2, and run my own content + services business for creators. 1. I work from home Even though I own my business, I used to have an office too. I miss it sometimes (ok at least once a week), but being closer to the kids is a bigger benefit. I get to take breaks to hit golf balls at the park, fish, and play. 2. My wife stays at home Prolly worth a whole post, but this was a shared decision that was led by my wife. We wanted to have one of us available for the kids as much as they needed. She's a nurse, which definitely comes in handy 🤕 Also means she can start work again when she wants. 3. We homeschool I was homeschooled until 9th grade, so this wasn't a hard sell for me. My wife leads the charge here, but I help the older boys with math and other topics. One cool part is they have a desk in my office room too, so we can "cowork" together. 4. I coach their teams If my kid is playing a sport, I'll be coaching. We get to be physical with each other, learn teamwork, he gets to be coached by other dads and see my coach other kids. I also started leading jiu-jitsu classes in the neighborhood for kids and my 11 yr old helps me teach. 5. We exercise together I stopped going to CrossFit a couple years ago and built a simple garage gym so my kids could work out with me. Bodyweight exercises and GORUCK sandbags are the majority of our shared movements, but they also get to see their Dad being active and practicing good habits. 6. We're active in Church Another one that deserves an entire post, but similar to coaching their teams, our kids get to be around like-minded families, mentored by adults who care about them, and build a shared faith that binds us together. We also read the Bible and pray together each day. 7. I create content May not have expected this one, but when I started my YouTube channel a primary motivator was for my kids to be able to watch the videos when they got older. To see what Dad was thinking about, how I solved problems, set goals, etc. In many ways my content is a snapshot of our lives that has value beyond audience or monetization. 8. Leveraging AI AI has made me a lot more productive—I'd say 2-3x what I was capable of just a year ago. But a few months ago I realized I was just putting those "saved" hours right back into more work. If I was twice as productive, why wasn't I working half as many hours? I'm not quite working part-time, but I have cut back and used my new efficiencies for more time with the family instead of working at the same pace. ---- If you're reading this partly because this post is blowing up— hope it gives a little more context to how I'm structuring my life and work to be as intentional as I can with my family while being the provider they need too. It's a constant balancing act, more like walking a tightrope than balancing the scales of family and work. But I'm incredibly blessed to have such a great family and good work to do with cool people. Thanks for reading!
0:13

8 things I'm doing to capture the "magic window" of my kid's childhood. For a bit of context: I'm 42 with 4 kids, ages 11 to 2, and run my own content + services business for creators. 1. I work from home Even though I own my business, I used to have an office too. I miss it sometimes (ok at least once a week), but being closer to the kids is a bigger benefit. I get to take breaks to hit golf balls at the park, fish, and play. 2. My wife stays at home Prolly worth a whole post, but this was a shared decision that was led by my wife. We wanted to have one of us available for the kids as much as they needed. She's a nurse, which definitely comes in handy 🤕 Also means she can start work again when she wants. 3. We homeschool I was homeschooled until 9th grade, so this wasn't a hard sell for me. My wife leads the charge here, but I help the older boys with math and other topics. One cool part is they have a desk in my office room too, so we can "cowork" together. 4. I coach their teams If my kid is playing a sport, I'll be coaching. We get to be physical with each other, learn teamwork, he gets to be coached by other dads and see my coach other kids. I also started leading jiu-jitsu classes in the neighborhood for kids and my 11 yr old helps me teach. 5. We exercise together I stopped going to CrossFit a couple years ago and built a simple garage gym so my kids could work out with me. Bodyweight exercises and GORUCK sandbags are the majority of our shared movements, but they also get to see their Dad being active and practicing good habits. 6. We're active in Church Another one that deserves an entire post, but similar to coaching their teams, our kids get to be around like-minded families, mentored by adults who care about them, and build a shared faith that binds us together. We also read the Bible and pray together each day. 7. I create content May not have expected this one, but when I started my YouTube channel a primary motivator was for my kids to be able to watch the videos when they got older. To see what Dad was thinking about, how I solved problems, set goals, etc. In many ways my content is a snapshot of our lives that has value beyond audience or monetization. 8. Leveraging AI AI has made me a lot more productive—I'd say 2-3x what I was capable of just a year ago. But a few months ago I realized I was just putting those "saved" hours right back into more work. If I was twice as productive, why wasn't I working half as many hours? I'm not quite working part-time, but I have cut back and used my new efficiencies for more time with the family instead of working at the same pace. ---- If you're reading this partly because this post is blowing up— hope it gives a little more context to how I'm structuring my life and work to be as intentional as I can with my family while being the provider they need too. It's a constant balancing act, more like walking a tightrope than balancing the scales of family and work. But I'm incredibly blessed to have such a great family and good work to do with cool people. Thanks for reading!

Matt Ragland

10,335 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.
0:10

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.

SiriusB

14,805 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

Dear X Family, Please RT my story. I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. I don’t know much about the world outside this cage. It’s all I’ve ever known—cold, cramped, and sounds of others like me. I can’t remember when I was born, but I remember my mother. She was warm and soft, but they took her away before I even learned her smell. Now, it’s just me, surrounded by metal bars. I’ve heard stories, whispered through the cages. Stories of grass—soft and cool under paws, of breezes carrying scents of flowers, trees, and earth. I’ve never felt them, but sometimes I dream of them. In my dream, I run free, my ears flapping in the wind, the ground soft beneath me. But when I wake up, it’s always the same: the cold cage and the endless wait. I don’t know what’s waiting for me beyond these cages, but I can sense the fear in the others. The ones who go don’t come back the same, if they come back at all. I hear the word "lab" sometimes, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is that there are no toys, no warm beds, no kind hands to scratch behind my ears. Just needles, machines, and pain. I wish I could run. I wish I could smell the air like in my dreams. But here, I’m just waiting—waiting for them to take me away, to do whatever they want. I don’t understand why. I don’t know what I did wrong. I just want to feel the warmth of the sun, the softness of grass, and the love of a family. But I know, deep down, that I’ll never get that chance. The days blur together, and I wonder if this is all life is meant to be for someone like me. No love, no play, no family—just waiting in the dark until it’s my turn. Maybe, in another life, I could’ve been someone’s best friend, curled up on a couch, loved and cared for. But here, I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. ---------------------------------------------- Beagle #48 deserves a name and family along with 3,000 other beagles inside Ridglan Farms in Wisconsin. What can you do to help us close this place? Join us at the Dane County Courthouse on October 23, where we will present evidence to a judge of animal cruelty violations by Ridglan Farms. We will be asking the judge to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate and charge Ridglan Farms. Dress nicely and do not bring any signs; they will not be allowed in the courthouse. Brace yourself to hear about dogs kept in awful conditions for their entire lives; the testimony and evidence will be unpleasant but it's necessary to get those dogs OUT of that hellhole. They need us to be strong and speak out on their behalf, so we will see you there! Event Link, Hoping Russell Russell Brand and Ricky Gervais will RT to help these beagles. Please follow our biggest supporters on X BowTiedKong | Criminal Defense & Family Law Atty Lady Astor 🗡️ Count Simon of #TzuVannia Phaedra Grace Lisa Christine •. @cbrannenmissw Prometheus Anne Margaret Daniel Robb Edwards 🌱
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Dear X Family, Please RT my story. I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. I don’t know much about the world outside this cage. It’s all I’ve ever known—cold, cramped, and sounds of others like me. I can’t remember when I was born, but I remember my mother. She was warm and soft, but they took her away before I even learned her smell. Now, it’s just me, surrounded by metal bars. I’ve heard stories, whispered through the cages. Stories of grass—soft and cool under paws, of breezes carrying scents of flowers, trees, and earth. I’ve never felt them, but sometimes I dream of them. In my dream, I run free, my ears flapping in the wind, the ground soft beneath me. But when I wake up, it’s always the same: the cold cage and the endless wait. I don’t know what’s waiting for me beyond these cages, but I can sense the fear in the others. The ones who go don’t come back the same, if they come back at all. I hear the word "lab" sometimes, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is that there are no toys, no warm beds, no kind hands to scratch behind my ears. Just needles, machines, and pain. I wish I could run. I wish I could smell the air like in my dreams. But here, I’m just waiting—waiting for them to take me away, to do whatever they want. I don’t understand why. I don’t know what I did wrong. I just want to feel the warmth of the sun, the softness of grass, and the love of a family. But I know, deep down, that I’ll never get that chance. The days blur together, and I wonder if this is all life is meant to be for someone like me. No love, no play, no family—just waiting in the dark until it’s my turn. Maybe, in another life, I could’ve been someone’s best friend, curled up on a couch, loved and cared for. But here, I’m just a number. And soon, I’ll be nothing at all. ---------------------------------------------- Beagle #48 deserves a name and family along with 3,000 other beagles inside Ridglan Farms in Wisconsin. What can you do to help us close this place? Join us at the Dane County Courthouse on October 23, where we will present evidence to a judge of animal cruelty violations by Ridglan Farms. We will be asking the judge to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate and charge Ridglan Farms. Dress nicely and do not bring any signs; they will not be allowed in the courthouse. Brace yourself to hear about dogs kept in awful conditions for their entire lives; the testimony and evidence will be unpleasant but it's necessary to get those dogs OUT of that hellhole. They need us to be strong and speak out on their behalf, so we will see you there! Event Link, Hoping Russell Russell Brand and Ricky Gervais will RT to help these beagles. Please follow our biggest supporters on X BowTiedKong | Criminal Defense & Family Law Atty Lady Astor 🗡️ Count Simon of #TzuVannia Phaedra Grace Lisa Christine •. @cbrannenmissw Prometheus Anne Margaret Daniel Robb Edwards 🌱

Beagle Lovers And Rescuers Inc.

24,416 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce