Posting about me on blue sky?… resister sister owes me some rent…🤪

Sinn Féin’s new branding. Traitors!

happy pride month to home depot for not selling a single piece of straight wood

We didn’t just get into the Signal rooms around Delaney Hall. We became admins within the groups. Our people sat in the chairs that route the asks, approve the members, and push the supply lists out. We watched the operation from the inside of the operation. I have the coordinators by name. The handoff patterns. The donation routes. The drop points. The staging locations. The choreography of how a “spontaneous” crowd actually gets built, hour by hour, message by message. Concerned community member posts. Coordinator responds in minutes. Supplies move. Crowd appears on camera. You’ve been told that’s organic. It is operated. This week, the full thread. Names. Money. Locations. The whole machine, mapped from the seat that runs it.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 One of his better ones.

Can’t believe this is a real title

This got me cracking the fuck up 😂😂😂😂

All 500 lbs just a scootin' it on down the field.✌️😜 #football #nfl #top10tackle #tackle #raven #highschoolfootball #sports

Signalement — contenu lié à de la propagande terroriste #PHAROS Compte diffusant de la propagande ou des éléments de soutien à une organisation terroriste. Merci de vérifier et d’appliquer les mesures nécessaires. ⨁ x.com/lcsuj505

IT’S TIME!!! 👀 Trump says the deal is “scheduled to get signed tomorrow”, meaning by Iran, then he will head to Europe to finalize the deal. Most importantly, Iran will have no nuclear weapon, and the “nuclear dust” will be taken and destroyed by the US, and Trump leaves the door open to taking the uranium back to the US first to “downblend and destroy it”. Whether it is destroyed in Iran or the US, I can assure you that the DoE and IAEA will be testing all of it to see where it originated from. It appears Trump’s plan is for Iran to have the deal signed tomorrow, then Trump will be on the UFC broadcast later that night, to officially announce the war is over, and then he will depart from the White House lawn on Marine One, on his way to Europe to finalize the deal. Trump is setting up an optics masterclass. THE WORLD IS WATCHING!!!

Out here, my neighbor's doorbell has an EYE, and the eye speaks with his voice. I went to return his ladder. I rang. And the doorbell said: "Hey, I see you — just lean it against the rail, man. I'm at work." I looked into the small eye. He was at work AND at his door. The American doorman is a ghost that lives in a button. In Japan, when returning a borrowed thing, you present it formally, report its condition, and thank the lender's household. There was no household. There was a BUTTON. So I did what any correct man would do. I bowed to the doorbell. I held the ladder up to the eye so its condition could be inspected. I gave my report: the ladder had served honorably, no rungs were harmed, and his house's generosity would be remembered. The doorbell said: "Ha. Anytime, man." I learned later that these doorbells RECORD. Which means there exists, somewhere in this country's clouds, an archive of me — bowing to doorframes, announcing my business to empty porches, presenting tools to a button for inspection. My neighbor played one such recording at a barbecue. The guests watched it four times. A woman cried laughing. I stood there holding my burger while my own bow was reviewed like game footage. I prepared to be ashamed. And then my neighbor raised his beer and announced: "Most polite delivery this porch has EVER had." THE PORCH KEEPS RANKINGS. There is a leaderboard. And I am first on it. Hear me, America: a man should behave as though the eye is always watching, because the eye IS always watching, and the eye has a memory, and the eye's owner has a barbecue. A man does not ask the eye to blink first. He bows deeper, and enters the record. I bow lower now. At every door. To every eye. Somewhere your porches are ranking all of us, and I did not cross an ocean to place second at a door.

Somewhere in America, a movie theater. The boy at the concession counter asked me a question about architecture, and called it butter. "You want that layered?" Layered. I looked at the popcorn. I looked at him. "Explain." "Instead of all the butter on top, I do butter, popcorn, butter, popcorn." He mimed the strata with a flat hand. He had explained this before. He would explain it again. A craftsman, patient with the public. I was not prepared. In my land, what is given is given; you do not direct the distribution of a blessing. Here, the boy stood ready to construct my popcorn in courses, like a stone wall — foundation, mortar, foundation, mortar — so that no kernel, however deep, would live unblessed. "The ones at the bottom," I said slowly, "are usually…" "Dry. Yeah. Not on my watch." NOT ON MY WATCH. The oath of a sentry, sworn over popcorn. This is who they have guarding the snacks. "Then layer it," I commanded, "as your conscience demands." He built it like a man who would be judged by it. Pour, pump, rotate. Pour, pump, rotate. Four stories. A tower of equal blessings. The film was fine. I do not remember it. What I remember is the eightieth minute, deep in the bucket, past the depth where popcorn hope usually dies — and finding the kernels there as golden as the first. The bottom of the bucket. As rich as the top. I confess I held one kernel up in the dark and simply looked at it. Butter on top blesses the surface. Butter in layers blesses the whole nation. I tipped the boy on the way out. He had already forgotten me. The best masons forget the wall, and begin the next one. Layered. Always layered. Some words you only need to learn once.

Something Americans probably don’t realise they take for granted… space. Space on the roads. Space in shops. Space in cars. Coming from the UK, it’s one of the first things you notice.

Signalement — contenu lié à de la propagande terroriste #PHAROS Compte diffusant de la propagande ou des éléments de soutien à une organisation terroriste. Merci de vérifier et d’appliquer les mesures nécessaires. ⨁ x.com/s64fue

Why did things kick off in Belfast of all places after the African attempted beheading? There is a lot of nuance and baggage to Northern Ireland. I spoke with Belfast-based writer @SemperFemina21 to learn about the anti-migrant riots near her home. Watch: ngocomment.com/p/belfast-rio…

The UK is about to have a REVOLUTION! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

wow. that was borderline demolition by Team USA. This looks to be more fun than alot thought.

USA. A store. I bought water. The cashier said, “Here you go, buddy.” Buddy. I froze. Buddy is a big word. In Japan, I need three years, two drinking parties, and one moment where we both pretend not to cry before I call someone buddy. But this man gave it to me with a plastic bag. No ceremony. No contract. No dramatic music. Just “buddy.” Then my friend said, “Hurry up, bro.” Bro? Now I had a brother too? I came to America with one suitcase and no siblings. At this rate, I would leave with a family tree that looks like a Costco receipt. I asked my friend, “Am I legally American now?” He said, “No, dude.” Dude. Another title. I was no longer a man. I was Buddy-Bro-Dude, son of the Gas Station. America does not wait for relationships to grow. It throws friendship at you and says, “Catch.”

Let's go liver fucking pool!!