Lewis Hamilton Ferrari F1 2026 vs Bugatti Bolide en Monza

Trump said something outside a press gaggle that I don’t think enough people caught. A reporter called him out on the corruption. He gave three responses. 1. I have the right to do it. 2. He’s not stealing that much. A billion or two billion dollars. Not that much money. Classic Trump. 3. People don’t care. That’s the permission structure. Our collective apathy is what they’re using to justify everything happening in Washington right now. Please stand up and prove him wrong.

Bestselling novelist David Baldacci on how AI companies deliberately stole every book and academic paper published in the last 70 years: Baldacci is a named plaintiff in a lawsuit against OpenAI and Microsoft in the Southern District of New York, alongside John Grisham, Scott Turow, George R.R. Martin, Jodi Picoult, and Jonathan Franzen. They're also representing roughly 60,000 unnamed plaintiffs. He explains how AI companies arrived at novels as the key ingredient for building superintelligence: "The AI community searched the world. How do you create superintelligence? They tried everything to try to figure out, how do you do this? They fed dictionaries into it. They did lots of stuff. They finally found the only way to create super intelligence that they needed was to feed novels into the large language models. Novels worked, finished products of storytelling with characters and dialogue and research and events and interactions. That was their Holy Grail moment." Baldacci points out the obvious path the AI companies could have taken —negotiating with the five major publishers, each of whom represents around 100,000 writers. Instead, they chose theft. @davidbaldacci continues: "They decided we're just going to steal them. I'm not saying anything out of school. They've admitted this. They got most of the books from a Russian pirate website where they would go and download the books from there. And they didn't even want their software programs to know they were stealing the books. So they had the software program that would scrape off the copyright page, scrape off the ISBN number on the back, and just download the book itself." The scale is staggering. Over the last eight or nine years, every book and every academic paper published in the last 70 years worldwide has been ingested into the large language models at Anthropic, OpenAI, and Meta. Baldacci testified about this on Capitol Hill in July. He describes the personal toll of being a named plaintiff: "I've had to give them all of my materials, all of my financial information I've had to give them, let them come in and do a complete scrape on all of my emails, all of my communications. I sat through a nine hour deposition like I've done something wrong. They said, yeah, we've taken your books, we haven't paid you a dime and we didn't ask your permission, but we should be entitled to do it because AI is so cool. That's basically their legal argument." The parallel case against Anthropic in California has already settled for $1.5 billion, to be paid out over two years to 50,000 writers. The OpenAI and Microsoft case is now past discovery and heading toward a settlement conference.

lol! Rodney Dangerfield had everyone laughing! 🤣 on Carson!

Water Firing Hypercar with NASA Technology!

WOW … WHY DO JETS FLY AROUND EMPTY⁉️⁉️⁉️😱😱😱

Now you too can buy torn or stained Levi jeans. Only $159.95 at Myers.

I have no truck with any religion. They all treat women appallingly. We cannot turn a blind eye to the oppression of women wherever it occurs.

Another brilliant monologue from Oliver Kometzke which encapsulates who Trump is. Sound 🆙 🎥 TikTok - vm.tiktok.com/ZNRJvrXxq/

There were 722 deaths for every 100,000 people in the US in 2024 – nearly 3.1 million deaths overall – according to the provisional, age-adjusted data from the CDC. Now that’s a genocide self inflicted.

A Jordanian aid worker just murdered two Israelis. It’s not the first time terrorists have targeted aid facilities >>>

The West’s Last Battlefield: Not Land, but Social Media They don’t need tanks. They just need trends. Watch a kid in Portland repost: “it’s genocide.” The same line echoes from a Lahore factory, an Iraqi café, an Iranian dorm—same wording, same emoji. Who taught her? Nobody. The algorithm did. The fan farm did. A million ghost accounts from Karachi hit like, retweet, follow back. Suddenly, she thinks it’s her voice. It isn’t. It’s rented outrage. American morals—empathy, justice—are perfect bait. “What if it was your kid under rubble?” works because we’ve seen real rubble: Sandy Hook, Parkland. Transplant Gaza, swap accents, and boom—you’re defending jihadists. You don’t see the strings: Pakistani trolls, Qatari cash, bot farms pumping ten million impressions an hour. No one checks the IP. No one asks: Why does this 18-year-old in Tehran care more than the mayor? But the fracture is real. College squares split: one side chants “Queers for Palestine,” the other waves flags. Families argue over Thanksgiving. Newsrooms self-censor. The West is cracked. Gaza’s two million people—half the size of Los Angeles—paralyzed a civilization of 500 million. How? Not bombs. Follows. Likes. Division. They play both ends. Leftists get anti-imperialism. Right-wingers get “strong borders” panic—watch how fast “build the wall” morphs into “close the mosques.” Muslims cheer from the balcony: let them eat each other. They don’t care who wins—just let the host bleed. When America tears itself apart—Democrat versus Republican, campus versus suburb—they’ll call it payback. Not liberation. Schadenfreude. This isn’t activism. It’s infiltration in AR filters. And we’re the idiots handing out passwords. Until we start asking, “Who’s behind the profile?” we’ll keep cheering our own funeral—posted live, with hearts and fire emojis. Wake up. The army isn’t coming. It’s already subscribed.

My mother prayed five times a day, quietly, on a little rug. I didn’t kick her out. That was her space. I let it be. But the same book she whispers to also says: “Crush the infidel.” Allah “misleads whom He wills” (Quran 7:178). That’s not devotion. It’s a countdown. My father signed a fatwa: Kill me if I leave. Not some stranger. Not ISIS. My dad. That’s the default setting. Right now, five miles away, an imam recites Quran 9:29: “Fight them until they pay the jizya in humiliation.” Then he winks—“misunderstood.” It isn’t. He’s selling skimmed milk. Here’s the real list, no edits: • Steal? Your right hand is chopped off. Quran 5:38. • Adultery? Married ones are stoned alive. Bukhari 6.60.79. • Gay? Throw them from a roof, then stone the fall. Abu Dawud 4462. • Leave Islam? One quick neck slice. Bukhari 9.84.57. • Believe Jesus is God? Eternal fire, no escape. Quran 4:48. • Rob a caravan? Amputate opposite limbs, crucify the body. Muslim 17.4194. None of that is optional. None of it is rare. It’s policy. Jihad isn’t an inner struggle. It’s “strike their necks” (Quran 8:12). Paradise? It’s “under the shade of swords” (Muslim 8.3322). Sufis spin. Salafis shoot. Same verse, same aim: Until there is no god but Allah. So when a coworker says, “We just want to coexist,” ask: On whose map? The Quran doesn’t rent space. One caliph. One law. One god. Everything else is overtime—pay jizya or pick a blade. Real faith makes you lighter. Renounce. Surrender. Breathe. Islam loads you down: Convert, conquer, collect. I tried to drop the weight. They called it apostasy. I tried to walk away. They loaded rounds. I’m not mad at prayer. I’m mad at the salesman version—the lie that “moderate” is a flavor. It isn’t. If you’re Muslim, own the stoning. Own the amputations. Own the hellfire line for every non-Muslim on earth. If you won’t, don’t hide behind the word. You’re not moderate. You’re awake. And that’s when they want you gone.

Criticize Islam, get killed-then they'll tweet religion of peace.

Muslim isn't in your blood. It's not a race you inherit. And let's be honest-it barely passes for a religion. It's a patchwork: Jewish Shabbat rules, Christian virgin births, Zoroastrian angels, all stapled to one man's bruised ego when the rabbis in Medina told him no, you're not the next Moses. So he invented Allah-not God, but Muhammad with a megaphone. Rejection stung. He didn't create. He replaced. Outraged the old prophets, rewrote them, then ordered: follow or fall. That's the DNA. Today, two billion people clutch that mask like it's oxygen. Why? Because underneath, there's nothing. Wake up-no label, just coffee, traffic, bills. You're human. Scary. Slap Muslim on it? Instant team. Instant worth. Instant shield. Alone, they stream porn, drink beer, whisper prayers when the wife looks. Group them-mosque, protest, Twitter mob-and the fangs slide out. I've seen it: individual guys are chill. Put fifty together? Death to whoever questions. It's pack psychology, not piety. They chant the Quran in classical Arabic-no street tongue-because the sound feels holy. I studied it. It's poetry from 1400 years ago, beautiful, hypnotic. Like opera. But translate the lyrics? Strike necks. Pay or die. Own women. Stone gays. You wouldn't hum that. They don't hear the words-they feel the vibe. Performance over meaning. Divine hypnosis. And if you crack it? Blasphemy. Kill the philosopher. Real awakening doesn't need a uniform. Buddha sat under a tree-no banner. Jesus said deny yourself-no flag. Lao Tzu walked away, no crowd. Muhammad? Built an army. That's the tell. Enlightenment isn't conquest. It's surrender. You don't identify. You dissolve. Muslims cling because dropping the mask means facing the void: Who am I without Allah's fan club? So they defend it like addicts defend the needle. Identity crisis on steroids. I get it-my dad wanted me dead for leaving. Fatwa over breakfast. But I'm not mad at the quiet ones who just... pray. I'm mad at the hypocrites. Born Muslim, never read a verse, oppose every cruel law, yet scream Allahu akbar at rallies. Why the label? What do you want-respect? Safety? A pat on the back for not bombing? The moment you question, they rage. Not at the critique-at the threat to their comfort blanket. Strip it, and they're naked. Two billion? Most aren't Muslim-they're cultural zombies. Walking, talking shields funded by oil money: It's peace! Coexist! Fine-until the pack forms. Then it's one caliph, one law, no diversity. Universal design? Please. That's ego dressed as divine. I don't disbelieve God. I just see projection everywhere. Muhammad's anger, Arab pride, fear of the unknown. Not truth. Truth doesn't need volume. Wake up. Drop the mask. If you need Muslim to feel real, you're not. You're hiding. And silence just keeps the jihadists warm. I chose breath over brigade. You can too. Or stay in the cave. But don't call it light.

Two million Gazans relocated isn't ethnic cleansing; it's triage. Not expulsion, but extraction-like pulling a firebomb out before it lights. Israel's been called cleanser for seventy-seven years, yet Arabs inside her borders triple in number while the West Bank grows steady. Gaza alone implodes, because Gaza doesn't house people, it harvests them: converts trauma into curriculum, despair into detonators. So the plan isn't racial-it's surgical. Separate wolves from sheep before the next massive human sacrifice, before the jihadists morph into suited ideologues who quote Camus while smuggling drones. The sheep aren't villains; they're victims of a Palestinian cult that teaches resistance equals suicide. Relocate the flock, dismantle the altar. International law will howl-yet that same law left babies in incubators, let rockets pass as protests. Sensitive? Yes. But inaction is deadlier. Gaza's only export is war; its only legacy, orphans who recite death poetry. We can debate borders forever, or end the breeding ground. Either way, the arithmetic is merciless: let it stand, and the next attack won't need tunnels-it'll wear a Harvard hoodie. History will call this mercy, even if headlines won't.