Darkness had no need Of aid from them--She was the Universe.-Byron

A barren land near you
Joined December 2024
The Distorted Saint I have a choice to make, To decide which pain to live with, The shock of what might happen, Or the ache of what never will, I must have the mind of the dead, to ignore both of these, the insults thrown by people, and the glory given by the same, I kill the imposter in me, So I can make peace with myself, who are you today distorted saint? saint of distortion, saint of the in-between, Distorted Saint, Not the martyr kind, not the halo kind, Just the fractured Kind, One who stepped out of a cracked mirror, and decided the shards looked better as clothing You wear the broken glass like silk, each edge catching light that isn’t there, refusing to smooth the edges, refusing to soften the cut. No prayers, no penance, just the quiet click of becoming, another attempt to name you, another failure that feels like worship. You are the saint who blesses contradiction, who canonizes the unresolved, who stands half-covered, fully armed, with nothing but your own refusal to choose. Saint of distortion, you make the static holy. Saint of the in-between, you make the fracture feel like home. So I stand here with my dead man’s mind, killing the imposter again and again, until the only thing left wearing the shards is me— learning to walk like you, learning to stare like you, learning that peace is not the absence of pain, but the willingness to wear it as clothing. Distorted saint, fractured and shining, I choose the ache of becoming over the shock of staying the same. Who am I today? Whoever steps out of the mirror next. -DistortedSaint
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This actually works on a lot of women Use it wisely
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In Zohran Mamdani's New York, people are now being attacked for walking their dogs. Because dogs are “haram” in Islam. This is what happens when Muslims take over. People have to wake up before it’s too late.
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"WYATT, ARE YOU BECOMING A DAMN JEW BOY?” - Doc Holliday to Wyatt Earp, April 1882 Yesterday we commemorated the 145th anniversary of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, the event which made Wyatt Earp famous that we remember him by. But, as always, there's more to the story...and it's kinda jewish. Lol Over his 80-year life, Earp lived all over the Western American Frontier: Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, Missouri, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming, California and even Alaska. He worked in at least 10 different lines of business: farming, stagecoach driving, freight hauling, railroad construction, law enforcement, gambling, saloon management, real estate, mining, and horse racing. He also had documented involvement with brothels and later worked as an occasional film adviser in Los Angeles in the early days of Hollywood. Wyatt Earp's life embodies the very essence of the grand sweeping legend of America, bridging the gap from the wild & untamed frontier to the polished & modern American metropolis—so it makes sense that we'd remember him and tell his stories. He is all of us. But also, when it comes to Wyatt Earp, there's a little more to the story, an "X factor" that gives him a little wind-aided lift from Hollywood. That "X factor" was basically his jewish wife and her jewish family. His long time partner-wife of 47 years, Josephine Sarah Marcus, was a jewess born in New York to Prussian jewish immigrants. As a teenager, she'd gone west to seek out her own Great American adventure. Their paths crossed in Tombstone, AZ, the site of the aforementioned gunfight. At the time, she had been shacked up with Sheriff Johnny Behan. While it's not known exactly how she met Wyatt, it's thought that they might have been introduced by the local jewish merchant and newspaperman Sol Israel. After the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, Wyatt's brother Morgan Earp was ass*ssinated in retribution. Wyatt, Doc Holliday and Co. went on their famous "Vendetta Ride" to find the killers and deliver some good old frontier justice. When Wyatt was done pursuing and killing those whom he held responsible for ass*ssinating Morgan, he fled to New Mexico to avoid legal problems while things cooled down. There he stayed with another jewish merchant & politician named Henry Jaffa, the first mayor of Albuquerque. Jaffa apparently had a mezuzah (jewish scroll of scripture) in his doorway that Wyatt would ritually observe. It was at this point that while they were having dinner at a local restaurant, Doc Holliday had had enough and said, "Wyatt, are you becoming a damn jew boy?" Earp was incensed & reportedly stormed out—and that's where the two parted ways and wouldn't see each other again for several years. Many decades later, in the final chapter of his life, Wyatt and Josephine moved to Los Angeles to try their luck in Hollywood. Their plan was to sell Wyatt's story and get a movie made. He became a consultant on various movie westerns, and got to know early Hollywood royalty like John Ford and apparently even a very young John Wayne. But Wyatt died before anyone took up his story. After he died, Josephine continued to curate his life story, and reportedly gatekept any negative portrayals of Wyatt (possibly by threat of lawsuit or by cutting off access to information. How jewish is that? Lol). She was also reportedly responsible for minimizing her jewish identity and Wyatt's jewish connections in portrayals of them in books, magazines and movies. For example, one account has him attending a Marcus family seder (jewish passover dinner) in San Francisco wearing a kippah. Can you imagine: Wyatt Earp in a kippah? Trading in the cowboy hat! Lol. Ann Kirschner, the jewish biographer of Sarah Marcus Earp quipped "Wyatt Earp had more Jewish friends than Sarah did." it's easy to see why Josephine kept that stuff quiet and out of the "Approved Narrative!" lol They're both buried in a jewish cemetery. So now you know the "rest of the story," and why Wyatt Earp has received—and continues to receive, at least in part—such favorable treatment by Hollywood. ****** I like to envision a deleted scene from "Tombstone" where Val Kilmer delivers that line to Kurt Russell, "Wyatt, are you becoming a damn jew boy?” Would have been absolute gold. Maybe someone with video AI skills can make that happen? A brief look at Wyatt & Josephine Earp, and their treatment by Hollywood:
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A battle that you win cancels all your mistakes. - Machiavelli
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Onism
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Lord, please have mercy on me, a sinner. Luke 18:13
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This guy recorded himself walking around a Blockbuster for a movie night in 1993 and it's pure nostalgia
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Let's get Grimdark! Starting in about half an hour, we get lost in the Warp. Plus, I made some little tweaks and changes to how things look. Hope you like it. xitter.cf/i/broadcasts/1RJZzBYXy…
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Until the Cops' own pensions are at risk from the lawsuits, nothing will change
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Untitled, Zdzisław Beksiński, Oil on Hardboard, 1972
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A cat owner decided to adopt a kitten for their lonely cat, this is them the next day… 😂
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“They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jer. 17:8
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Cathedral of Unquiet Light Stone ribs rise into a vault of night, ribs that once held the weight of praise and now hold only the slow collapse of silence. Rain finds every seam. It falls in the nave like a congregation that has forgotten how to stop. Through the broken rose, a single pane of glass still burns— deep rose, cobalt, the old gold of saints— and the dark itself is stained. Colored shafts lean across empty pews, touch the dust until the dust becomes kneeling shapes that never rise. They have no faces. They have only the posture of waiting. In the side aisles the monks move as they always moved: shadows longer than their robes, hoods empty, feet that make no sound yet leave the cold a little colder. They pass the ruined choir stalls where the wood still remembers the weight of hands that turned pages no one can read. One pauses where the lectern stood. His mouth opens. Nothing comes out but the shape of a psalm and the soft collapse of plaster behind him. Above the altar the remaining glass keeps its private weather. A saint’s hand, still whole, pours light onto the cracked stone as if the blessing had never been withdrawn, only delayed. The ghosts of the faithful turn their heads toward that thin, colored mercy. Some lift hands that pass through one another. Some remain bent, listening for a bell that has not rung since the last roof beam fell. Outside, the wind walks the cloister like another monk, and the glass, for a moment, shivers with a light that is not the moon’s. Then the dark gathers itself again around the kneeling dust, around the gliding hoods, around the single pane that refuses to go out. -DistortedSaint
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Born in the depths of winter, a symbol of life and light spoken out of darkness; a presence of softness, peace, and comfort. Broken and resurrected in the spring, you are the blueprint of life reborn, anchoring us in hope and new beginnings. The high heat of summer reflects your fierce fidelity through the fires, paired with a playful heart that remembers how to dance. The painted canvas of autumn mirrors your endless creativity, teaching us the beauty of letting go and the grace found only in change.
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despite all my comic art, my biggest impact on the internet to date, is this meme.
"What was your biggest impact on the internet?" this singular drawing
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The year is 2003. You just woke up at 3:30. This is probably on your TV screen.
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