SCOTUS: The Supreme Court just struck the federal ban on gun possession by marijuana users in US v. Hemani. Gorsuch wrote it, & even Sotomayor & Jackson joined. Under Bruen, the government couldn't prove a historical basis to disarm pot smokers.

🚨 The Supreme Court ruled that the federal ban on firearm possession by unlawful drug users violates the Second Amendment as applied to a Texas man who regularly used marijuana.

🚨 IT'S OFFICIAL: One of the White House terror plot organizers IS A DACA RECIPIENT "DHS confirming the suspected ringleader accused in a plot to carry out a mass casualty attack at the UFC event at the White House on Sunday is an ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT." "The alleged ringleader of this incident Abraham Alvarez was in the country illegally from Mexico, but also may have been granted DACA status allowed to stay back into the Obama administration." END DACA!

Sunrise at Stonehenge today (18th June) was at 4.50am, sunset is at 9.25pm 🌤️

Life was better when hardest decision of the day was what to get at the snack bar:

Censorship always comes with a “protect the children” lie

Personal update: Last weekend, while covering the Knicks riots in Times Square, I got clocked in the head by a flying glass bottle Doctors believe I suffered a concussion, resulting in confusion, brain fog, and fatigue—the latter two I’m still dealing with days later. That’s why my post volume has dropped, as I’m still the only one who posts on my account. Thanks so much for all your support, and I hope to be back on the road covering stories ASAP 🙂🇺🇸

Nobody wants to be the one to say it's over. The ivory-billed woodpecker, the largest woodpecker in North America, nearly the size of a crow, was last conclusively documented in 1944. In the decades that followed, much of the forest it depended on disappeared. Most biologists concluded the bird was gone. But the search never stopped. Arkansas, Florida, Louisiana. Grainy videos. Sound recordings. Enough possible sightings to keep the question alive, but never enough to close it. In 2021, the US Fish and Wildlife Service proposed declaring the species extinct. Then more blurry footage surfaced from Louisiana. The decision was delayed, then delayed again. Even now, the agency has not made it final. Some ornithologists think there may be a few birds left in remote swamp forests, surviving because the places they inhabit are so difficult to reach. Others see the searches as a kind of grief, a refusal to let go of a bird that vanished before most people alive today were born. People called it the Lord God Bird, because that was said to be the reaction when one appeared. No one has documented one conclusively in more than 80 years.

The Chicken and Waffle Emergency Meeting I ordered chicken and waffles because the name sounded like two separate meals having an argument. Then the plate arrived. Fried chicken. On a waffle. With syrup. I stared at it. The chicken looked confident. The waffle looked trapped. The syrup looked like it had caused problems before. I asked the waitress, “Is this breakfast?” She said, “Depends how strong you are.” This was not an answer. This was a threat. I looked at the plate again. Chicken belongs with lunch. Waffles belong with morning. Syrup belongs with pancakes. America put all three together and expected me to act like the table was not legally confused. I picked up the syrup. My hand stopped. Pouring syrup on waffle: Normal. Pouring syrup on chicken: A crime in several emotional jurisdictions. The man at the next table saw me freeze. He said, “Bro, drown it.” Drown it. America does not season food. America declares floods. So I poured. The syrup landed on the waffle. Safe. Then it crossed into chicken territory. No one screamed. No police came. The chicken simply sat there, accepting the syrup like it had been waiting for corruption. I cut one bite. Chicken. Waffle. Syrup. My brain immediately called an emergency meeting. Sweet was yelling. Salt was confused. Crunch demanded legal counsel. Breakfast refused to sit next to Dinner. Lunch said, “Why am I even here?” Then my mouth raised its hand and said, “Shut up. This works.” That was the worst part. It worked. The waffle was soft. The chicken was crispy. The syrup was lying to both of them, but in a helpful way. By the third bite, I was no longer eating. I was watching enemies become roommates. By the fifth bite, I understood the American system. Do not solve conflict. Put it on a plate. Add syrup. Charge $14.99. The waitress came back. “How is it?” I wanted to say, “My government has collapsed.” Instead, I said, “It is peaceful now.” She nodded like this happens often. Chicken and waffles is not a meal. It is breakfast and violence sharing custody of syrup. I finished the plate with shame, respect, and minor maple damage. NyanChuu will no longer fear impossible alliances. If America puts ribs on pancakes and calls it a morning special, I will not ask questions. I will simply request extra napkins and prepare for diplomacy.

Spraying roundup on weeds in the cracks of your driveway is kind of silly. Boiling water will do the same job better. Pour it straight onto the weed and down into the crack. The heat ruptures the plant on contact and it wilts within the day. A stubborn deep-rooted one might need a second pour, but that's the whole method. Roundup's own label tells you to keep it out of storm drains. And a driveway is basically a funnel straight into one. Every rain carries whatever you sprayed down the gutter and, in most towns, straight into the nearest creek with nothing in between. Boiling water kills the weed and stops at the weed.

Erling Haaland spent $134,000 on a book he'll never read. Then gave it away. Last December, he and his father quietly bought the 1594 edition of Snorri Sturluson's Kings' Sagas at auction — the most expensive book ever sold in Norwegian history. Only one copy exists on earth. They donated it to the public library in Bryne. The town where Haaland grew up. One condition: it stays open. Anyone can walk in and read it. What actually is this book? Written in 1230, it chronicles Norwegian kings from the age of gods through medieval history — warriors, farmers, kings from the exact coastal region Haaland calls home. The 1594 edition was the first time it was ever printed in Norwegian. Before that it lived in manuscripts, locked away from ordinary people for 350 years. He bought the moment his people's history became something they could hold — and handed it to the next generation. "I want the book always to lie open so people can read about those who came from where I come from." He scored twice for Norway today in his first ever World Cup match. The kings in that book would've approved.