First Noel retweeted
Nah man. I’m not gonna let this go unchecked. As a GWOT veteran I can’t.
I listened to Massie drone through his articles of impeachment against Pete Hegseth and I recognized the sickness immediately.
We fought under this ridiculous worldview during GWOT, and it cost us dearly.
Massie is merely an acolyte of the bloodless bureaucratic religion that puts the lawyer in the center of the kill chain, treats every American use of force like a moral emergency, and somehow always finds more sympathy for the enemy being hunted than for the American sent to hunt him.
His whole speech I began wondering who he actually was speaking for, and that’s not good.
GWOT vets know EXACTLY where that road leads. Another approval. Another review. Another JAG opinion. Another commander afraid to make a decision because one bad headline will destroy his career faster than losing the fight ever could.
We were lectured for years about “courageous restraint.” We were told that killing one enemy might create ten more. We were taught to fear our own lethality while the enemy studied our hesitation.
And then we spent twenty years bleeding into the fucking sand.
So spare me the sermon about how dangerous it is to remove lawyers who think their job is to become a veto point over command. Spare me the sudden reverence for process from people who watched Afghanistan collapse, watched thirteen Americans die at Abbey Gate, watched the Taliban retake Kabul, and somehow found no constitutional apocalypse worthy of impeachment then.
Now the outrage is that the machine is actually being used. That commanders are expected to command. And that enemies are being treated like…. actual enemies for once.
That civilian leadership is telling the bureaucracy to get the hell out of the way of lawful military action.
From where I sit, the betrayal isn’t that Washington finally found some aggression for a chang. The realest betrayal is that men like Massie still think the lesson of the GWOT was that we needed more hesitation.
No. WE NEEDED MORE VICTORY.
And I’m done pretending those are the same thing. We’re all done with it. Massie is dead wrong here, he knows it, you know it, and I know it.
Sincerely,
-A seriously disgruntled GWOT vet who knows Hegseth is the cure to what ails our military here.
Breaking News: Congressman Thomas Massie is reading Articles of Impeachment against @SecWar Pete Hegseth on the House floor now.
Watch here: youtube.com/live/3EmwC0QQ8f8…
First Noel retweeted
Jesus FUCKING Christ, Massie. Every time I think Congress has finally scraped the absolute bottom of the barrel of useless, self-important, backstabbing assholes, you come crawling out from underneath it like a syphilitic fucking sewer rat with a superiority complex and a desperate need for somebody, ANYBODY, to give a shit what you think.
You’ve spent your entire worthless career as a preening, self-righteous little bitch who never actually did a goddamn thing except clap for the cameras, cash the checks, and jerk yourself off about how principled you are while the rest of the party actually tried to win. You're a walking participation trophy with a congressional pension, the political equivalent of a wet fart in an elevator who somehow convinced himself he's Thomas fucking Jefferson.
And now, for your grand fucking finale, you’re counting “eight impeachable acts” like some pious little altar boy with a hard-on for losing, because Pete Hegseth is effective, the war is going the way your voters wanted, and your colleagues aren’t stupid enough to follow a lame-duck loser into a political suicide pact.
Eight! EIGHT! Congratulations, you sanctimonious dipshit. Did you count them all by yourself, or did you need your Democrat buddies to take your shoes off so you could get past ten?
And since you've suddenly appointed yourself the nation's supreme authority on military accountability, let's revisit Lloyd fucking Austin.
The Secretary of Defense vanished into a hospital for days, the President wasn't informed, his own deputy didn't know the full circumstances, and the Pentagon's chain of command looked like a goddamn Three Stooges reunion.
WHERE THE FUCK WAS CAPTAIN ACCOUNTABILITY THEN, YOU SPINELESS, TWO-FACED LITTLE SHITSTAIN?
No impeachment crusade. No constitutional sermon. No theatrical outrage. Apparently your principles were buried somewhere between your pinecone collection and whatever Democrat's ass you were kissing that week.
But Hegseth starts kicking ass, and suddenly the mighty Thomas Massie emerges from his woodland fucking monastery, clutching his impeachment articles like Moses descending Mount Sinai, ready to lecture everybody about constitutional responsibility.
Spare me the sanctimonious horseshit, you gutless fraud.
You've become the Democrats' favorite useful Republican, a pompous, backstabbing jackass who mistakes sabotaging his own party for some grand demonstration of moral superiority. You're the political equivalent of a hemorrhoid that learned to quote the Federalist Papers.
And the funniest fucking part? Kentucky finally saw through the act.
After years of listening to you congratulate yourself for being the smartest, bravest, most principled man in Washington, your own voters apparently decided they'd rather have an empty fucking chair than another term of your insufferable bullshit.
Imagine possessing an ego so catastrophically inflated that getting your ass handed to you at the ballot box only convinces you the country desperately needs MORE of your unsolicited wisdom.
You're the drunk asshole being thrown out of the bar who keeps screaming that HE'S the one who decided to leave.
And now, with the clock running out on your miserable congressional career, you're spending your remaining political oxygen trying to kneecap an administration your own party elected. What an extraordinary fucking achievement. Years in Congress, and your farewell performance is practically indistinguishable from something written by the Democratic National Committee.
You had an opportunity to leave Washington with whatever scraps of dignity you had left. Instead, you've chosen to spend your final days as a bitter little political cockroach, desperately scrambling for relevance while the lights go out.
So here's some advice, Tommy.
Go clear out your empty office, go fuck yourself with that pinecone on the way out, and take your resume full of nothing with you.
You're a pathetic, irrelevant, treasonous clown who peaked as a meme, and your greatest congressional accomplishment was demonstrating just how fucking unbearable one self-important asshole can become.
Now take your persecution complex, your worthless political legacy, and your bottomless reservoir of self-righteous horseshit, shove it all straight up your ass, and FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF, you pinecone-sucking, zero-accomplishment, traitor-ass motherfucker. 🖕
unavailable
First Noel retweeted
🔴🇫🇷 𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗘 — Des OSSEMENTS attribués à saint Nicolas, évêque de Myre, conservés depuis 1098 à Saint-Nicolas-de-Port, en Meurthe-et-Moselle, ont été VOLÉS dans leur reliquaire, au sein de la basilique, puis DÉTRUITS.
Le suspect, interpellé à son domicile, a reconnu avoir BRISÉ la vitrine protégeant le reliquaire, avant d’en voler le contenu, de BRÛLER les ossements puis de les ÉCRASER par « désir de destruction ».
(Source : L'Est Républicain)
First Noel retweeted
Exactly 😂
Tesla has no government contracts and President Trump ended federal incentives for electric vehicles.
SpaceX contracts with the government are BOTH the best product AND the lowest price! Moreover government revenue will be less than 10% of SpaceX revenue this quarter and less then 5% a year from now.
Happy to cancel any that the government doesn’t want. Just say the word!
First Noel retweeted
So, basically, 500 million Europeans expect 300 million Americans to protect them from 120 million Russians who can’t even defeat 40 million Ukrainians while those 500 million Europeans don’t even realize they are being conquered by 2 billion Muslims who claim they are being persecuted by 8 million Israelis. Is that about right?
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First Noel retweeted
QUIT YOUR BITCHING!!!!!!
Grandpa didn’t have a $90 month internet bill, a $130 phone bill, seven app subscriptions at $72 month, an Amazon addiction for $200 month, he didn’t have Netflix, Paramount or HBO for another $112 month and his haircuts didn’t need a ‘stylist’!
I’m worn out hearing people moan, “Our grandparents could buy a house on one paycheck, but now we can’t even afford rent on two!”
Yeah, maybe because Grandma wasn’t dropping half her income on $14 iced lattes and avocado toast shaped like art projects. Back then, if they wanted coffee, they boiled it at home in a dented pot. It tasted like burnt rubber and regret — but it woke you up and cleaned your pipes.
And Grandma wasn’t “out to brunch.” You think she had time for mimosas and hashtags? She was making something called whatever’s left in the fridge and feeding six people with it.
Don’t even start with Uber Eats. You think Grandpa was out here paying $38 to have a burger delivered three blocks away? Please. He grilled mystery meat on a rusted barbecue, and everyone called it dinner.
Now people cry about being broke while sitting in a house full of gadgets. Two SUVs in the driveway, six streaming services, three air fryers, and matching tattoos that cost more than their light bill. You think Grandpa had a tattoo? He did. It said “Korea, 1951,” and it came with trauma, not Instagram likes.
And the kids—Lord help us. “We can’t make ends meet, but Brayden needs the new iPhone!” No, he doesn’t. You’re handing an $1100 device to a child who still eats crayons and forgets to flush.
When we were kids, there was one phone. It hung on the wall like a family relic. The cord stretched just far enough for you to whisper secrets before someone yelled, “Get off, I need to make a call!” And guess what? We lived.
The TV? One. In the living room. With three channels and a dial that clicked like a safe. And if Dad wanted to watch bowling, you were a fan of bowling, end of story.
Now there’s a flat screen in every room, the baby’s got an iPad, the dog’s got a camera, and everyone’s wondering why they can’t afford rent.
Because you’re living like rock stars on retail salaries, that’s why.
Grandpa wasn’t leasing Teslas or buying $12 smoothies called “Green Zen Awakening.” He drove a truck that coughed smoke, rattled like a storm, and smelled like oil and hard work.
They lived within their means. Whatever Grandpa brought home on Friday — that’s what they had. They weren’t keeping up with the Joneses; they were keeping the lights on.
So yeah, Grandpa bought a house on one salary. But he also didn’t have a gym membership, three delivery apps, and emotional support crystals on his nightstand. His only support system was Grandma, who told him to quit whining and mow the yard.
Nowadays, everyone’s broke, anxious, and “manifesting abundance” while ordering tacos on DoorDash for the fourth time this week.
It’s not the economy — it’s the lifestyle.
Wake up, turn off your subscriptions, make your own coffee, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll smell the truth.
First Noel retweeted
The year is 1873. Your wife tires easily and reads too much. The doctor prescribes the rest cure: six weeks flat in bed, no books, no visitors, fed on milk, forbidden to sit up without his permission. The man who devised it is the most famous nerve specialist in America, and the women come out of it quieter, which is taken as the cure.
The year is 1915. The hospital has a new way of delivering your child. Morphine, then scopolamine, and the mother wakes two days later with a baby she cannot remember having. They call it twilight sleep. The women are strapped into padded cots so they do not hurt themselves while they scream, and the straps are the modern part. The babies arrive blue and slow to breathe.
The year is 1945. The truck comes down your street fogging DDT, and the children run behind it in the white cloud because the man on the back says it is harmless. At the beach it is sprayed over the bathers on their towels. It goes on the cattle, over the barn, and across the kitchen table.
The year is 1948. Your son has trouble with his ears. The doctor slides a rod tipped with radium up each nostril and holds it there for the best part of ten minutes, and you bring him back three more times. Hundreds of thousands of American children get the same treatment. The cancers arrive in their fifties.
The year is 1962. The health visitor tells you breastfeeding is old-fashioned and the formula is scientific. By 1972 fewer than one American baby in four is breastfed at all. The formula is skimmed milk and sugar, with the milk fat taken out and vegetable oil put in.
The year is 1971. The family planning clinic fits a small plastic crab called the Dalkon Shield. Its tail is a bundle of fibres that wicks bacteria up into the womb. 2.8 million are fitted in America before it is withdrawn, and the company goes bankrupt under the claims. It had been sold as safe and superior.
The year is 1983. The doctor says your arteries are the butter's fault. The dripping tin goes in the bin, the yolks go to the dog, the margarine goes in the fridge, and you have the heart attack anyway, on skimmed milk, having done everything right.
The year is 2001. Your 15-year-old is low, and the doctor prescribes Paxil, because the trial in the journal says it is effective and well tolerated in adolescents. The raw data, reanalysed 14 years later, shows more suicidal thinking on the drug than on the sugar pill. The company pays $3 billion to settle. Nobody rings the house.
The year is 2009. The government has spent around £500 million stockpiling Tamiflu for the pandemic, on the strength of the manufacturer's trials. When the trials are finally prised loose five years later, the drug shortens flu by about half a day and nothing shows it keeps anyone out of hospital. The stockpile goes out of date in a warehouse.
The year is 2026. The doctor has ten minutes and a screen. The number is high, so the tablet is for life. The weight is high, so the injection is for life. The meat is bad for the planet and the oil is good for the heart, and the person in the chair is as certain as everyone who ever sat in it.
Every one of those was settled, by a committee, in a journal, with a doubter somewhere being laughed at. The rest cure, the straps, the fog, the rod, the formula, the crab, the margarine, the trial, the stockpile. All of it certain, all of it printed, all of it done to somebody who had asked for help.
You were never the one who was wrong. You were the one it was done to, and the only person in the story who did as they were told every single time.
The apology comes a generation late, in a footnote, addressed to nobody.
The next one is being drafted now.
First Noel retweeted
NEW: Gov. Ron DeSantis gifted POTUS a custom gold coin upon his arrival to Florida. Asked the President to come show it to us…
It’s engraved with a smiling image of the President flipping the bird and reads “YOU MISSED BITCHES”
First Noel retweeted
Someone should ask Johns Hopkins. They had me perform brain surgery for decades.
First Noel retweeted
Any explanation @nytimes? Unlike Mr. El-Sayed, Dr. Carson was actually licensed to practice medicine.
First Noel retweeted
Oregon politician Nafisa Fai just held a rally in MN, speaking Somali, with an American flag UPSIDE DOWN.
Enough with the pretending already.
These are not Americans.
First Noel retweeted
An upside down American flag behind a candidate asking for American votes. Nafisa Fai told voters exactly how she sees this country.
First Noel retweeted
I’m French. I want to talk to Americans who are about to vote Democrat. Not to insult you. To warn you.
I come from your future.
In France we did everything your progressive politicians promise. Free healthcare, free college, generous welfare, strong unions, heavy regulation, high taxes on the rich, a state that takes care of everything. Public spending close to 57% of GDP, one of the highest on the planet. On paper, it’s the dream.
Here’s what it looks like from the inside. France hasn’t passed a balanced budget since 1974. Our debt is above 3,300 billion euros. Interest on that debt is becoming one of the biggest items in the national budget. Our hospitals are collapsing despite record funding. Our schools rank lower every year. Young people with degrees can’t afford an apartment in the city they were born in. Our best engineers leave for London, Zurich and San Francisco. And the rich you wanted to tax? They left too, and took the jobs with them.
The promise was protection. The result is stagnation.
The worst part is that nobody in France voted for decline. Every single step sounded generous, compassionate, reasonable. One more program. One more regulation. One more tax to fund it. Each step alone makes sense. Fifty years of them, and you wake up in a country that can no longer build a nuclear plant on time or keep its streets safe.
I love America because it’s the one place on earth where people still believe they can build something from nothing. I came to Silicon Valley as a self-taught kid and it changed my life. That spirit is the most precious thing your country has.
Before you vote, ask yourself one question: is the program you’re voting for making America more like America, or more like France?
Trust me. You don’t want to be France.
Je n'ai jamais été aussi optimiste. Pas malgré le chaos actuel, mais grâce à lui.
Je vais vous expliquer pourquoi l'empire du mensonge construit par la gauche depuis cinquante ans va s'effondrer, et pourquoi ce n'est pas une opinion mais une question de physique.
Tout commence avec un mouvement né sur X il y a quelques années : l'effective accelerationism, ou e/acc.
Au départ, c'est une idée presque thermodynamique. L'univers a une tendance de fond : la matière s'organise pour capter et dissiper l'énergie de plus en plus efficacement. Une cellule fait ça. Une forêt fait ça. Une civilisation fait ça. Le marché, la technologie et le capital sont les formes les plus avancées de ce processus. Ce sont des machines à transformer l'énergie en intelligence, en abondance, en complexité.
La thèse e/acc est simple : il ne faut pas freiner cette dynamique, il faut l'embrasser. Plus d'énergie, plus de calcul, plus d'innovation, plus de croissance. Monter sur l'échelle de Kardashev au lieu de s'excuser d'exister. En face, il y a les « décels » : ceux qui veulent ralentir, réguler, taxer, interdire, culpabiliser. Ceux qui voient le progrès comme une menace à contenir plutôt qu'une force à libérer.
Mais il y a une dimension de l'accélération dont presque personne ne parle. L'accélération n'est pas seulement un moteur. C'est un filtre.
Pensez à n'importe quel organisme. Un corps humain en bonne santé peut courir. Il accélère, son cœur pompe plus fort, ses muscles consomment plus d'oxygène, et tout fonctionne parce que le système est bien conçu. Maintenant, prenez un corps malade. Des artères bouchées, un cœur fragile, des organes qui ne communiquent plus entre eux. Faites-le courir. Il ne va pas plus vite vers la santé. Il va plus vite vers l'infarctus.
L'accélération ne corrige pas les défauts d'un système. Elle les amplifie. Un système sain qui accélère devient plus fort. Un système dysfonctionnel qui accélère meurt plus vite.
Et c'est exactement ce qui est en train d'arriver au projet que je vais appeler par son nom : le projet globalo-socialiste. Celui porté par les démocrates américains, par la technostructure de Bruxelles, par les entités supranationales qui n'ont de comptes à rendre à personne, par un réseau d'ONG financées par l'argent public pour dicter la morale aux peuples qui les financent.
Regardez ce que ce projet a produit.
Des États obèses qui prélèvent plus de la moitié de la richesse produite et qui délivrent des services publics de plus en plus dégradés. Des écoles qui n'apprennent plus à lire mais qui apprennent à culpabiliser. Des hôpitaux à bout de souffle malgré des budgets records. Une immigration massive sans aucune exigence d'assimilation, présentée comme une chance par ceux qui n'en subissent jamais les conséquences. Une désindustrialisation organisée au nom d'une écologie punitive qui délocalise la pollution en Chine et l'emploi avec. Des normes, des normes, et encore des normes, jusqu'à ce qu'il devienne plus simple de créer une entreprise à Austin qu'à Lyon. Une justice qui excuse le coupable et soupçonne la victime. Une censure qui avance masquée sous le nom de « lutte contre la désinformation ». Et une jeunesse à qui l'on a expliqué que son pays, son histoire et sa civilisation étaient des crimes à expier.
Ce n'est pas un ensemble de bugs. C'est la conception elle-même.
Maintenant, changeons d'image. Voyez ce système comme un moteur.
Un bon moteur, c'est de la précision. Des pièces qui s'emboîtent, un minimum de frottements, une énergie qui se transforme en mouvement. Le marché libre, la propriété, la responsabilité individuelle, la monnaie saine : c'est ça, un moteur bien conçu. L'information circule par les prix, chaque erreur est sanctionnée, chaque bonne idée est récompensée.
Le moteur socialiste, lui, est mal conçu dès le départ. Il ne tourne pas sur la création de valeur mais sur sa redistribution. Il ne récompense pas la performance, il la taxe. Il ne laisse pas les erreurs mourir, il les subventionne. Résultat : ça frotte partout. Ça chauffe. Ça grince. Chaque pièce use la pièce d'à côté.
Et que font ceux qui pilotent ce moteur ? Au lieu de le reconcevoir, ils changent les pièces. En permanence. Une pièce cède, on en remet une neuve. Encore une. Encore une.
Ces pièces de rechange, vous les connaissez. Elles s'appellent la dette publique et la planche à billets.
La France a dépassé les 3 300 milliards d'euros de dette et n'a pas voté un budget à l'équilibre depuis le milieu des années 70. Les États-Unis ont franchi les 37 000 milliards de dollars. Les banques centrales ont maintenu des taux à zéro pendant des années, imprimé des montants que plus personne ne sait se représenter, et quand l'inflation est arrivée, elles ont fait semblant d'être surprises. Milton Friedman l'avait pourtant dit il y a cinquante ans : l'inflation est toujours et partout un phénomène monétaire.
Chaque crise, on rachète du temps avec de l'argent qui n'existe pas. Chaque problème structurel, on l'arrose de liquidités pour masquer le bruit du moteur. Mais les frottements sont toujours là. Ils s'accumulent. Et la facture des pièces de rechange finit par coûter plus cher que le moteur lui-même : la charge de la dette devient l'un des premiers postes de dépense de l'État français.
Pendant des décennies, ce moteur mal conçu a pu tourner à 3 000 tours par minute. Lentement. Bruyamment. Mais il tournait. Le monde allait assez doucement pour que le bricolage permanent suffise à masquer l'absurdité de la conception.
Et puis l'IA est arrivée.
L'intelligence artificielle, c'est l'accélération la plus brutale de l'histoire humaine. Ce qui prenait des années prend des mois. Ce qui prenait des mois prend des jours. Des entreprises de dix personnes font ce que faisaient des entreprises de mille. Le capital, les talents et les idées se déplacent à la vitesse de la lumière vers les endroits où ils sont bien traités.
L'IA vient de faire passer le moteur de 3 000 à 20 000 tours par minute.
Posez-vous la question qu'un ingénieur se poserait. Que se passe-t-il quand on fait monter à 20 000 tours un moteur mal conçu, rafistolé de partout, qui frotte à chaque rotation ?
Il explose.
Pas parce que quelqu'un l'a saboté. Parce que la physique ne négocie pas.
Et c'est exactement ce que nous voyons en ce moment, sous nos yeux.
L'insécurité qui gagne des villes entières qui étaient paisibles il y a vingt ans. Le conflit de Gaza importé dans nos rues et instrumentalisé par une gauche qui a troqué l'ouvrier contre le clientélisme communautaire. La misère qui revient dans un pays qui a pourtant un des taux de dépense publique les plus élevés au monde. Des classes moyennes qui travaillent et n'arrivent plus à se loger. Une France fracturée, où l'on parle désormais à voix haute de risque de guerre civile.
Ce ne sont pas des accidents. Ce ne sont pas des « crises » successives sans lien entre elles. Ce sont les pièces du moteur qui commencent à voler.
C'est la conséquence logique de cinquante ans de socialisme international : un système qui a détruit la responsabilité, la frontière, la monnaie, l'école et la fierté, et qui découvre qu'à haute vitesse, tout ce qui a été détruit ne peut plus être compensé par une ligne de dette supplémentaire.
Et c'est là que je deviens profondément optimiste.
Parce qu'une fois qu'on a compris ça, on comprend aussi que leur projet a une date de fin. Pas une date politique. Une date physique. Un système qui consomme plus qu'il ne produit, qui punit ceux qui créent et récompense ceux qui détruisent, qui finance son présent en hypothéquant l'avenir de ses enfants, ne peut pas durer indéfiniment. Il n'est pas soutenable par construction. L'IA ne fait qu'avancer l'échéance.
Le mensonge a besoin de lenteur pour survivre. Il a besoin que les conséquences arrivent assez tard pour qu'on puisse accuser quelqu'un d'autre. Dans un monde à 20 000 tours, les conséquences arrivent immédiatement. Le mensonge n'a plus le temps de se cacher.
Alors, que faire quand le moteur explose ? On en construit un nouveau. Et cette fois, on le conçoit correctement.
Écoutez Elon Musk. Un homme qui a reconstruit l'industrie spatiale, la voiture électrique et l'infrastructure satellite en partant d'un principe simple : revenir aux premiers principes. Ne pas demander « comment on a toujours fait », mais « qu'est-ce qui est physiquement vrai ». C'est exactement ce dont nos États ont besoin : arrêter de rafistoler et repartir de la base.
Écoutez Javier Milei. Un homme dont tout le monde se moquait, arrivé à la tête d'un pays ravagé par un siècle de péronisme, et qui a pris la tronçonneuse au sens propre. Ministères supprimés, dépenses coupées, inflation écrasée, excédent budgétaire retrouvé. Il a prouvé une chose que la gauche jurait impossible : on peut démonter le moteur socialiste et le peuple peut le soutenir.
Écoutez Milton Friedman. Relisez-le. Tout était déjà là. La monnaie, la liberté de choisir, la responsabilité, les effets pervers de l'intervention publique. Il disait que si l'on confiait le Sahara au gouvernement fédéral, il y aurait pénurie de sable en cinq ans. On a ri. On a confié le sable. On a eu la pénurie.
Revenez à une hiérarchie et au respect du beau. Une civilisation ne tient pas que sur des chiffres. Elle tient sur l'idée qu'il existe des choses supérieures à d'autres. Que l'excellence vaut mieux que la médiocrité. Que le mérite compte. Qu'une cathédrale est plus belle qu'un parking. Que transmettre est un devoir et pas une oppression. Le relativisme a été l'arme culturelle de ce projet. Le retour du beau, du vrai et de l'exigence en sera l'antidote.
Et enfin, faites le Nuremberg du communisme. Le nazisme a été jugé, documenté, enseigné, et il est devenu moralement indéfendable. Le communisme, avec ses dizaines de millions de morts, ses goulags, ses famines organisées et ses peuples réduits en esclavage, n'a jamais eu ce procès. On peut encore porter un t-shirt du Che dans une université sans que personne ne cille. Tant que ce procès historique et moral n'aura pas eu lieu, l'idéologie continuera de muter et de revenir sous de nouveaux noms. Il faut nommer les crimes, les enseigner, honorer les victimes, et rendre cette idéologie aussi infréquentable que celle qu'elle prétendait combattre.
Le monde qui vient sera plus rapide, plus exigeant et plus impitoyable avec les systèmes mal conçus. C'est une terrible nouvelle pour ceux qui ont vécu du mensonge.
Et c'est la meilleure nouvelle de notre génération pour tous ceux qui veulent construire.
Le moteur va exploser. À nous de dessiner le suivant.
First Noel retweeted
I did a movie called Black Hawk Down.
If you haven’t seen it, you probably should.
Importing these people into the USA is insanity.
Somali gangs blamed for shooting at Minneapolis homecoming game that left 2 wounded, fans fleeing in panic trib.al/HDV9yUZ
First Noel retweeted
This is Ro Khanna’s house in Virginia…
The root of corruption is money in politics.
Do you support @kenmartin73 grassroots initiative to ban Super PAC money, including AIPAC, in Democratic primaries?
House Democrats support below, except we would not have kicked John Lewis out at 75.
