El 11S si el piloto hubiera sido el terrorista de Ferrán Torres

Ce truc est tellement franc-maçon qu'on dirait la coloscopie d'Alain Bauer 😳

L'#IA en 2036 🤣

This is a 1-kilogram wheel of cheese. In its raw form — fresh curd, unsalted, unaged — it sells for around $3 at a farmer's market. If it's pressed and aged for three months into a basic table cheese, it fetches $15. If it's crafted into a young Gouda with a wax rind and proper culture, you're looking at $40. If it's aged eighteen months into a proper Parmigiano-Reggiano, that kilogram is worth $35 — but the wheel it came from took two years of daily care, precise temperature, and a cheesemaker who inherited the recipe from his grandfather. If it's transformed into a hand-cave-aged Comté from the Jura mountains, selected by an affineur who taps each wheel with a small hammer and listens — actually listens — to what the cheese is telling him, that kilogram commands $80. And if it's a perfectly matured Époisses, washed in Marc de Bourgogne, wrapped in spruce bark, carried by refrigerated courier to a three-star restaurant in Paris where it arrives at precisely 16°C and is served at the exact moment of peak fermentation — that kilogram is worth $400, and the sommelier pairs it with a Burgundy that costs more than your flight to France. The milk was the same on day one. What changed was patience, knowledge, environment, and the refusal to sell too early.

Ce petit extrait d'une interview de l'international Français de foot Rayan Cherki, qui pense que si certaines personnes en France ne l’aiment pas, c’est à cause de sa grosse barbe et de sa peau un peu foncée, m'inspire ce petit raisonnement. Déjà, je n'ai jamais vu nulle part que des Français n'aiment pas Cherki, dont la majorité ignore l'existence, cependant, c'est sans doute vrai que des gens ont des préjugés mais intégrons une nuance : ce n’est pas le physique en lui-même qui crée cette méfiance. C’est le fait que ce style (barbe fournie, look typé) est massivement associé à des individus qui, au nom de l’islam, commettent attentats, décapitations, viols et assassinats, tout en affirmant que rien d’autre que leur religion n’a le droit d’exister ici. Si une partie des Français ont peur ou rejettent ce qu’ils perçoivent comme "l’islam", ce n’est pas par racisme gratuit. C’est parce qu’une frange de musulmans, minoritaire mais extrêmement active et violente, a passé des décennies à démontrer qu’elle ne voulait pas s’intégrer, mais dominer. Pourtant, encouragés par une gauche clientéliste et intéressée, beaucoup de musulmans ont fini par intérioriser hypocritement l’idée qu’ils sont les victimes. Ce qui leur permet d'évacuer de leur conscience le sang des vraies victimes en France : ces simples citoyens (souvent Français, parfois étrangers) qui profitaient d’une terrasse de café, d’un concert, d’une promenade ou d’une rédaction de journal, et qui ont été massacrés au nom de cette idéologie. Le drame pour trop de Maghrébins, c’est que dénoncer l’islamisme est devenu dangereux, physiquement et socialement. Alors ils choisissent la solution de facilité : dénoncer un "racisme" imaginaire, qui n'est en réalité le plus souvent que l'expression, certes parfois épidermique, d'une peur légitime de finir comme les centaines de victimes du terrorisme islamiste en France depuis les années 2000. Je reste persuadé que Cherki est un mec paisible, normal et qu'il aime la France. Mais cette image dont beaucoup de Maghrébins se plaignent, c’est d’abord aux radicaux musulmans qu’ils la doivent. Tant qu’ils ne prendront pas clairement et collectivement leurs distances avec l’islamisme radical, cette suspicion persistera. Et ce ne sera pas la faute des Français qui, eux, regardent la réalité en face. Tous les Maghrébins et Orientaux en pâtissent aujourd’hui. Et soyons honnêtes : les Français ont déjà beaucoup encaissé. Aucun peuple, et surtout pas les peuples musulmans eux-mêmes, n’aurait accepté aussi longtemps ce qu’ils subissent. Cherki a énormément de talent. Mais s'il veut conquérir les Français, qu'il prenne l'exemple d'un Zidane, qui a toujours respecté la France et les Français (et ces derniers le lui ont bien rendu) plutôt que d'un Benzema, qui ne rate jamais l'occasion d'afficher son mépris pour la France et son peuple tout en cultivant une ambiguïté douteuse dans son rapport à l'islamisme. x.com/Media_FrenchRap/status…

Novembre 2023. Le PDG de Disney retire ses pubs de X pour faire plaisir à la meute. Elon Musk, en direct, devant le monde entier : « Go fuck yourself. » Tout le monde a cru à un coup de sang. C'était un tipping point. Ce jour-là, Musk a dit tout haut ce que personne n'osait formuler : vous ne m'achèterez pas. Ni avec votre argent publicitaire, ni avec votre chantage moral, ni avec vos campagnes de presse. Le boycott était censé le mettre à genoux. Il a préféré perdre des milliards plutôt que de céder un centimètre sur la liberté d'expression. Pendant des décennies, le jeu était simple : signaler la vertu en public, faire le mal en privé. Financer des ONG « bienfaisantes » qui détruisent les cultures qu'elles prétendent sauver. Financer des médias qui mentent à longueur de journée, qui ont couvert les grooming gangs pendant des années par lâcheté idéologique, qui ont préparé le terrain culturel où un prof comme Samuel Paty pouvait être décapité pour avoir enseigné la liberté d'expression. Acheter la compassion du peuple avec du greenwashing, pendant qu'en privé, vous n'en avez absolument rien à foutre. Musk a capté ça il y a des années. Et il a décidé de tout casser. Résultat, trois ans plus tard, jour pour jour ou presque : SpaceX entre en bourse, plus grosse IPO de l'histoire de l'humanité, et Elon Musk devient le premier trillionnaire de tous les temps. Never bet against Elon. Le message à tous les milliardaires de cette planète est limpide. Ceux qui financent la manipulation de masse pour asseoir leur pouvoir, ceux qui achètent les médias, les ONG, les institutions : votre modèle vient de mourir en direct. L'homme que vous avez essayé d'étrangler financièrement vaut maintenant plus que vous tous. Le « new world order » que les globalistes avaient planifié vient d'avoir lieu. Sauf qu'il n'est pas le leur. Le nouvel ordre mondial, c'est Elon Musk qui le construit. Et il repose sur une seule chose : la recherche de la vérité. Pas le signal de vertu. Pas la compassion achetée. Pas les mensonges institutionnalisés. La vérité, la création de valeur réelle, et des fusées qui décollent pendant que vos empires de papier s'effondrent. Go fuck yourself, en effet.

I had to read this three times before I could believe it was real. Rotherham. A small town in northern England. For sixteen years, at least 1,400 children — some as young as eleven — were raped, gang-raped, and trafficked between cities by organized groups of men. Eleven years old. Petrol was poured on them so they would stay quiet. Their families were threatened with death. Photos were taken and used as blackmail. The police knew. The council knew. The social workers knew. For sixteen years, not one of them moved. Why? Because officers were afraid of being called racist if they acted on what they were seeing. That was the whole reason. While children were being sold, adults were protecting their own reputations. That is the moment something in you breaks. And here is the part that makes it worse. The TV networks did not report it. The papers did not chase it. When the journalist Andrew Norfolk finally broke the story, even he thought maybe 150 girls had been hurt. The real number was 1,400. He was staggered. This should have been the biggest story of the decade. It was not. The networks looked away. The advertisers preferred safer topics. The cover-up did not end when the report was published — it continued in the silence of every newsroom that refused to chase it. Then Elon Musk bought X. The advertisers fled. The press declared the platform finished. X almost did not survive. But it did. And on X, the names of those towns started trending. Rotherham. Telford. Rochdale. Oldham. Towns the country had been told to forget. Britain understands itself differently today. Not because the politicians confessed. Not because the broadcasters apologized. Because one platform refused to let it stay buried. X almost did not survive. 1,400 children almost stayed forgotten. That is worth saying out loud.

Henry Nowak told Hampshire Police "I can't breathe" NINE TIMES and "I've been stabbed" FOUR TIMES. Hampshire police didn't believe him because he was a white British lad and they thought he said something racist. "I don't think you have, mate!" Hampshire Police then 'tried to smear Henry Nowak as aggressor' just THREE DAYS after his murder even though *they had evidence this was a lie*. They were caught trying to cover it up and influence the trial. Why hasn't Alexis Boon, the Chief Constable of Hampshire police been sacked and lost his pension yet? This VILE man is not fit to wear the uniform. GET HIM OUT NOW!

Meine Partei Die Grünen organisiert Busse zur Verhinderung des AfD-Parteitags. Ich schäme mich. Es gibt Momente, in denen man als Parteimitglied der @Die_Gruenen innehält und denkt: Meinen die das ernst? Mein Kölner Kreisverband meint es ernst. Per Rundmail werden Mitglieder aufgerufen, in Bussen nach Erfurt zu fahren – nicht zum Protestieren, sondern um den Bundesparteitag der #AfD zu verhindern. Tickets werden bereitgestellt. Busse werden organisiert. Die Grünen als Reiseveranstalter für den Angriff auf demokratische Grundrechte. Der Text lautet wie folgt: "Gemeinsam nach Erfurt: AfD-Bundesparteitag verhindern Aus Köln fahren mehrere Busse zum AfD-Bundesparteitag am 4. und 5. Juli, um ein Zeichen zu setzen: AfD-Bundesparteitag verhindern..." Man muss das sacken lassen. Eine Partei, die sich Hüterin der Demokratie nennt, ruft dazu auf, einer anderen Partei ihren Bundesparteitag unmöglich zu machen. Nicht verboten. Nicht vom Bundesverfassungsgericht untersagt. Legal. Verfassungsrechtlich geschützt. Einfach unerwünscht – und das reicht offenbar. Das ist keine Grauzone. Art. 21 Grundgesetz schützt die Freiheit politischer Parteien. Art. 8 schützt die Versammlungsfreiheit. Auch die der AfD-Delegierten. Wer einen Parteitag aktiv verhindert, riskiert Strafbarkeit wegen Nötigung. Und wer als Parteiorganisation dafür Busse bucht, macht sich zum Organisator dieses Rechtsbruchs. Aber das Rechtliche ist vielleicht noch das Kleinere. Das Eigentliche ist die Denkweise dahinter. Sie lautet: Wir wissen, was demokratisch ist – und deshalb dürfen wir demokratische Regeln brechen. Wir verteidigen den Rechtsstaat – und deshalb nehmen wir das Recht selbst in die Hand. Wir sind die Guten – und das legitimiert alles. Diese Logik hat einen Namen: Der Zweck heiligt die Mittel. Sie ist nicht neu. Und sie ist nicht links. Wer heute den Parteitag des politischen Gegners verhindert, hat das Argument verloren. Er hat nicht die AfD besiegt – er hat ihr das stärkste Opfernarrativ des Jahres geliefert. Frei Haus. Mit Busservice. Ich bin Grüner und ich bleibe es. Aber ich weigere mich, so zu tun, als wäre das hier normal. Es ist nicht normal. Es ist beschämend.

Respect Italy

Hey Jasmine… Black pilot here. I think you missed the plot. Then again, that’s becoming a pattern. I graduated from West Point. I went through Army flight school. I learned to fly the AH-64 Apache. I deployed to combat and flew 55 combat missions over Baghdad. Nobody handed me a cockpit because of my skin color. Nobody lowered the standards for me. Nobody looked at me and said, “Let’s check a diversity box.” That’s what people like you don’t seem to understand. Suggesting that Black pilots, Black engineers, Black doctors, or Black leaders need special preferences to succeed is not empowering, it’s insulting. I didn’t want a different standard. I wanted the same standard. And when you’re flying into combat, the American people don’t care what race the pilot is. They care whether the pilot is qualified. Merit isn’t racist. Excellence isn’t discriminatory. And reducing every achievement to skin color says far more about your worldview than it does about mine.

When the President of France visited the United States in April 1960, he asked the FBI to help him find a man. The man he was looking for was an American citizen. He was sixty-four years old. He had been awarded fifteen French military decorations and — six months earlier, in a ceremony in Paris — had been made a Knight of the Légion d'honneur, the highest civilian honor France can give. The medal had been pinned to his chest by the President himself, who had publicly called him un véritable héros français. A true French hero. The FBI located the man within a few days. He was operating an elevator at Rockefeller Center in New York City. The elevator operator's name was Eugene Bullard. He had been born in Columbus, Georgia, in 1895, the son of a man whose own father had been a slave. He had run away from Columbus at the age of eleven, after watching a white mob nearly lynch his father. He spent the next several years drifting through the American South. At sixteen, he stowed away on a German freighter at Norfolk, Virginia. He landed in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there he made his way to London, where he learned to box. By 1913, at eighteen, he was prizefighting in Paris. When Germany invaded France in August 1914, Bullard was nineteen years old. He had no legal obligation to fight. He had no French citizenship. He went to the recruiting office on October 19, 1914, and signed up for the French Foreign Legion. He spent the next eighteen months as an infantryman in some of the worst fighting of the war — at the Somme, at Champagne, at Verdun. He was wounded three times. The third wound, on March 5, 1916, tore open his thigh and left him with permanent damage to his leg. He was twenty years old. The doctors told him he would not return to the infantry. He decided he wanted to fly. In a Paris café in the spring of 1916, while he was recovering, Bullard mentioned to three white American friends that he was thinking of joining the French air service. A Mississippian named Jeff Dickson laughed. Gene, Dickson said, you know damn well there aren't any Negroes in aviation. Bullard answered: Sure do. That's why I want to get into it. There has to be a first to everything, and I'm going to be the first. Dickson bet him two thousand dollars he would not make it. Bullard took the bet. He earned his pilot's license on May 5, 1917. He won the bet. He reported to the front in August 1917 and flew approximately twenty combat missions over the next three months in a SPAD VII. The fuselage was painted with a bleeding heart pierced by a knife and the French phrase Tout le Sang qui Coule est Rouge — All Blood that Flows is Red. He carried, on every combat flight, a small capuchin monkey named Jimmy in the front of his flight jacket. The French press began calling him L'Hirondelle Noire — the Black Swallow. When the United States entered the war in 1917, Bullard immediately applied to transfer to the U.S. Army Air Service. His application was rejected. The U.S. Army Air Service had a policy, in 1917, of not accepting Black pilots. The other American pilots flying for France in his unit, all of them white, were transferred to the U.S. Air Service. He was the only one who was not. For the next twenty years, he was one of the most familiar faces in the Montmartre nightlife of Paris between the wars. He owned a nightclub called L'Escadrille. He spoke fluent French, English, and German. Hemingway drank there. Fitzgerald drank there. Langston Hughes drank there. Josephine Baker performed there. Louis Armstrong was a personal friend. When Germany invaded Poland in 1939, Bullard was forty-four. His fluent German and his ownership of a nightclub frequented by German officers made him useful to the French Resistance. He became an intelligence agent — eavesdropping in his own bar on conversations between German officers who did not know he understood every word. When France fell in June 1940, friends in the Resistance smuggled him across the Spanish border before the Gestapo could arrest him. He came back to the United States for the first time in twenty-eight years. He arrived in New York with thirty dollars in his pocket and a permanent limp. He did not return to a hero's welcome. He returned to a country that had no idea who he was. He worked at a perfume counter. He worked as a security guard. He worked at the Staten Island shipyards. By the late 1940s, he had taken the job that he would hold for most of the rest of his life. He operated the elevator at Rockefeller Center. He was wearing the elevator uniform on the day a producer from NBC came down from the studios upstairs to ask if he was the man Charles de Gaulle had been looking for. A few weeks later, NBC sent a film crew to interview him in the lobby. The studios where NBC produced The Today Show were on the floors above. He had operated the elevator that took the network executives up to those studios every morning for nearly ten years. He had not been recognized as he did it. He went back to operating the elevator the following Monday. He died of stomach cancer on October 12, 1961, three days after his sixty-sixth birthday. He was buried in the French War Veterans' section of Flushing Cemetery, in Queens, in the uniform of the French Foreign Legion. The casket was draped with the French flag. In 1994 — thirty-three years after his death — the United States Air Force formally commissioned Eugene Jacques Bullard as a Second Lieutenant, posthumously. It was the first commission the U.S. military had ever offered him. He had been the first Black combat pilot in American history. The French had been calling him a hero since 1917. The Americans got around to it in 1994.

- Cuando un tipo de derecha no es cazador y no le gustan las armas, no sale a cazar y no compra armas. - Cuando un tipo de izquierda no es cazador y no le gustan las armas, pide que sea prohibida la caza y la venta de armas. - Cuando un tipo de derecha es vegetariano, no come carne. - Cuando un tipo de izquierda es vegetariano, hace campaña en contra de los alimentos de carne y le gustaría que se prohibiese comer carne. - Cuando un tipo de derecha es homosexual, hace una vida normal. - Cuando un un tipo de izquierda es homosexual, hace apología de la homosexualidad, va a las manifestaciones "orgullo gay" y acusa de "homofóbicos" a todos los que no piensan como él. - Cuando alguien de derecha pierde el trabajo, piensa en cómo salir de la situación y hace todo lo posible por encontrar un nuevo trabajo. - Cuando alguien de izquierda pierde su trabajo, va a quejarse con el sindicato, gasta hasta el último día y va a todas las manifestaciones y huelgas contra la derecha y en contra de los empresarios. - Cuando a un tipo de derecha no le gusta un programa de televisión, cambia de canal o apaga el televisor. - Cuando a un tipo de izquierda no le gusta un programa de televisión, se queja y denuncia en los periódicos, las radios, los canales de televisión, se une a algún partido político de izquierda para promover una causa con el fin del alcanzar el cierre definitivo del canal de televisión que transmite el programa que no le gusta. - Cuando un tipo de derecha es ateo, no va a la iglesia. - Cuando uno de izquierda es ateo, se burla y persigue a todos aquellos que creen en Dios, denuncia la escuela o la institución que exponga un crucifijo, protesta contra cualquier signo de identidad religiosa, pide que se expropien los bienes de la iglesia, que se prohíba la semana santa y cada procesión o peregrinación (contra el Islam no hace nada porque no tiene el coraje). - Cuando un tipo de derecha tiene problemas económicos, busca la manera de trabajar y ganar más dinero o trata de encontrar financiación para pagar sus deudas, y si puede, ahorra. - Cuando un tipo de izquierda tiene problemas económicos le echa la culpa a la derecha, a los empresarios, a la burguesía, al capitalismo, a los neo conservadores etc., etc., luego se pone en contacto con un sindicato con la esperanza de que luego lo metan en un partido político o donde se pueda. - Cuando un tipo de derecha lee este escrito, se ríe y si tiene ganas lo envía a sus amigos. - Cuando un tipo de izquierda lee este escrito, se pone furiozo y trata de fascista y retrógrado a quién lo ha escrito y se lo envió. Sólo cabría agregar: Un hombre de derecha persigue su propia felicidad; un hombre de izquierda persigue arruinarle la felicidad a los demás.

Certains ont critiqué mon tweet (je parle de ceux qui sont restés courtois, ou pas trop cons, les autres bloqués comme d'hab) en soulignant "on ne tue pas un lynx, point". Ben, ce n'est pas ça le sujet, mais celui d'inversion des valeurs qu'impliquent les peines comparées. Je n'ai jamais dit que c'était bien de tuer un lynx, même s'il pouvait y avoir des circonstances atténuantes dans la nuit (il s'agissait d'un specimen très jeune, donc petit). Les partisans du "on ne tue pas un lynx, point" semblent considérer que toute peine se justifierait pour dissuader cela. Très bien. 32 000 euros, une part importante des économies d'une vie, c'est justifié à leurs yeux ? Pourquoi s'arrêter en si bon chemin ? Cent mille euros et cinq ans de prison, non ? No limits ? Totalitarisme écolo ?

C'est dingue !

J'étais pas prêt 😂

For years, the Irish Police (the Garda Siochana) considered Prawo Jazdy as one of the most prolific offenders in the country with more than 50 traffic related offenses. The case was later dropped when it was established that Prawo Jazdy meant Driver's License in Polish.

84 years ago today, the most important Japanese admiral in the Pacific sailed into a fog bank he could not see out of, carrying secret orders he believed were known to no one on earth. The Americans had read them three weeks ago. In May 1942, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto had a plan to end the war in the Pacific in 30 days. He would draw the surviving US Navy carriers into a trap near a tiny atoll called Midway, 1,300 miles northwest of Hawaii, and destroy them with the largest naval force ever assembled. 200 ships. 700 aircraft. 100,000 men. Four heavy carriers under Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo would lead the strike. The American fleet, which had only three serviceable carriers left after the Coral Sea, would be annihilated. Then Hawaii would fall. Then the US would sue for peace. The plan was perfect. It was also compromised. In a basement in Pearl Harbor, a small team of cryptanalysts under Commander Joseph Rochefort had broken the Japanese naval cipher JN-25 in the spring of 1942. They were reading roughly 20 percent of every Japanese signal in real time, and educated guesswork filled in the rest. By mid-May they knew the target was somewhere referred to only as "AF." But where was AF? Rochefort had a hunch. He sent a signal in the clear from Midway saying their water distillation plant had broken down. Two days later, Japanese intercepts mentioned that "AF" was running short of fresh water. Bingo. By May 27 Admiral Chester Nimitz knew the date of the Japanese attack, the composition of the Japanese force, the route Nagumo would take, and roughly the time he would launch his first strike. He pulled every American carrier to a point northeast of Midway called "Point Luck" and waited. The trap had been set for him. He set a trap inside the trap. On June 2, Nagumo's four carriers approached Midway through the worst fog any of them had ever seen. Visibility dropped below 600 yards. His ships could barely see each other. He held radio silence to protect his approach. He believed he had complete surprise. He believed the American carriers were thousands of miles away in the South Pacific. He believed he was about to win the war. Yamamoto, on the battleship Yamato 600 miles behind him, had intelligence that the American carriers might in fact be at sea. He chose not to break radio silence to warn Nagumo. He assumed Nagumo had the same intelligence. Nagumo did not. At 4:30 AM on June 4, Nagumo launched 108 aircraft against Midway from a position the Americans had been waiting for him to reach. By sunset, three of his four carriers were burning hulks. The fourth would sink the next morning. Japan lost 3,057 men, 248 aircraft, and the four best carriers of the Pacific War in a single day. Japanese naval aviation never recovered. The war was decided in six minutes between 10:22 and 10:28 AM on June 4. The whole disaster traced back to one decision on June 2: a Japanese admiral sailing into fog, trusting that nobody knew where he was going.

"Your doner is so awful, you better feed it to the cats." A 1* Google review for a doner place in Berlin. Their reaction is phenomenal. 😁