Thingamachinga 🤏🏻👶🏻

@dawnofthefemme That just rolls off the tongue doesn't it

the concept of living thru the reality of your 8 month old son already emulating patriarchal conditioning, and having to go thru it knowing no amount of stern education will bypass the male misogynistic socialization rituals society has in place…

if you’re not yet an antinatalist, just go to any tiktok comment section of a boy mom

@bypawan84 @ChandlerForPB Wow finally someone making sense in this whole thing! I knew it was jealous inbred Pakistani's behind make all these lies

Lol; a pakistaní woman, Jajajajajaja jajajajaja jajajajajajaja jajajajajaja jajajajajajaja jajajajajaja, these inbreds words and their hate against Indians. Indians ( the liberals and wokeis of India) , hear this out, whatever pandering, whatever Aman ki Asha, these inbreds are mindless zombies whose only purpose is to do Gazwa-e-hind, women, kids and men every Pakistani, saala quam pura harami hai

This is a FOREIGN SERVICE OFFICER with the U.S. State Department admitting that politicians pressured them to approve visas despite them knowing they didn’t meet the standards. We also know that under Biden at least a million Indians crossed the Southern Border illegally. I am fully vindicated and every single Indian needs to leave immediately.

@pudvicharan @KamVTV Thank you Prudvi Charan for your unbiased take on this

@KamVTV Growth changes places, that’s true everywhere. But blaming one community isn’t the answer. Indian families are working, contributing, and building lives just like anyone else.

People are just now noticing how much Frisco, Texas has changed, but I lived it. I lived in Frisco when it was a two lane dirit road and open land. People called us the boondocks and rednecks. My own family didn’t even want to come visit. That’s how rural we were. Then around 2011, I was walking my daughter to elementary school and noticed something I hadn’t seen before — about 200 families were walking their kids to school past my house. Qenoticed a huge shift in who was moving in. There were hundreds of Indian families in the area, all at once, and the brand-new subdivision nearby was filling up quickly. We never had subdivisions. We were country. We found out it was BLESSED and the city of Frisco had billboards in India advertising our small town. That’s when it really hit me that Frisco was changing fast and no one was doing anything about it. Car crashes rose because folks couldn't drive well here. It was wild. Kids had to be told to be safe on bikes. Since then, the growth hasn’t slowed down. What used to be quiet and spread out turned into packed neighborhoods, constant development, and a city that feels completely different from what longtime residents remember. Plus corruption. People are just starting to notice now because the change isn’t subtle anymore, it’s everywhere. My daughter graduated high school in Frisco in 2024 and once she did, I got the hell out. Sadly, what Frisco started is all moving out to where I live now, in the country. Even in Celina, they are killing wild bunnies and it's killing peoples dogs. The Culture is clashing sadly. No on wants that. The indians I know. who moved here 30 years ago have assimilated. Some young families are trying. But most don't want to. Every Texan I know wants to get along. But are fed up. People are profiting and they’re all in government positions. I don't live in Celina, but my friends do. It's basically turning into a civil war. This is not the state I was born in.

@RamboVanHalen I like your stories and style, Rambo

AT THE END OF THE ROAD There was this guy around town. Let’s call him Steve. Steve was a retired National Park Service ranger. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way Steve had a massive stroke. He had enough dexterity to pilot his electric wheelchair around town. He’d bounce from coffee shop to coffee shop. Maybe he went other places too, but I’d see him at coffee shops. I do a similar thing. The coffee shops of our small mountain west city are where I prefer to work and write. And I bounce around too. Every few hours I feel like I need a break, so I go. And I walk or bike or drive to the next place. I have a circuit. And so did Steve. So he’d roll from place to place. Sometimes his wheelchair would run out of batteries, and the girls at the coffee shop would call his wife. Everyone knew Steve’s wife. I met her once, but I can’t remember her name. She’d get the call from the baristas and pick him up in the van. Steve wanted to talk to anyone and everyone. But there was a problem—he couldn’t speak. They call that Broca’s aphasia. It indicates damage in the Broca’s area of the frontal lobe. And he could barely gesture. You’d ask him a yes or no question and he couldn’t nod his head. But the one thing he could do was raise his fist in a “right on” type gesture. I’d see him and say something, “Hi Steve, isn’t it a beautiful day?” He’d reply with a raised fist and nonsensical vowel sounds—and something else too. There was a twinkle of joy in his eye. He couldn’t smile but there was a twinkle. Sometimes there was another glimmer in his eye. It wasn’t joy. It was frustration and sadness. I’d see it when he tried to communicate and couldn’t. Because although Steve couldn’t speak, he understood every word. But he had no way of reciprocating. No way of talking. No way of conversing. But he figured out a workaround. Steve had two things around his neck. One was his disabled bus pass. The other was a black USB drive on a lanyard. I was confused the first time he offered me the drive. I generally don’t make a habit of accepting USB drives from strangers—especially severely disabled strangers in wheelchairs. The baristas, always ready to jump in and translate for Steve, assured me that not only was it was okay but it would be worth my time. I inserted the drive, and what I found was a portal. It was the story of Steve’s life in photographs. I don’t know how many photos there were. A least in the 100s. Maybe there were thousands. It started in his childhood somewhere in the American Midwest, but at some point—I’m guessing the late 1970s—it became a chronicle of his life in the outdoors. There were pics of Steve on top of mountain peaks, and skiing, reaching passes with heavily laden frame backpacks, and whitewater rafting trips through the Grand Canyon, and alpine fields of wildflowers, and pics of Steve the ranger giving tours at various national parks, and Steve hanging by ropes from cliff faces, and alpine rescues, and fighting forest fires, and fishing, and campfires, and friends. I had many questions, but refrained from asking—because I knew he couldn’t answer. So instead I’d make comments. I’d comment about things like the beauty of his mother, or how I owned the same Eureka Timberline tent. Each comment would be answered by his indistinguishable grunt and a raised fist. I also commented on his physique. Because let me tell you—Steve was jacked. There was one pic of Steve on top of a climbing pitch. He’s shirtless, in corduroy climbing shorts (the kind that Patagonia used to sell) with a climbing harness, a rack of carabiners and pitons across each shoulder, climbing hammer at his hip, tan skin, an unkempt beard and long sun bleached hair held back by a bandana around his forehead. But his physique stuck out. Six pack abs, ripped muscles, popping veins. Not an ounce of body fat. Again, this dude was JACKED. I asked a rhetorical question, “You’ve never spent a day of your life in the gym, have you?” I got a grunt and a fist. Because of course he’d never been to a gym. The mountains were his gym. When you’re an injured climber, or a lost hiker, this is the dude you want to see coming to rescue you. I told him that too. And I got another raised fist. It’s hard to say how long we looked at his photos. Maybe an hour? Maybe longer? But by the end he was satisfied. Satisfied he’d told his story. And it wasn’t just his story. This was proof of his life. Proof of who he was. Proof of who he IS. He wasn’t a man content to stay home and be cared for by his wife. He’d always explored. And he kept exploring—despite his disability. He went as far as he could. Only limited by his bus pass and the battery in his wheelchair. Steve was also determined to tell his story. To shout to the world, “Here I am. I have conquered the mountains and the rivers and the cliffs and the snows and I have rescued countless hikers and recovered bodies of dead climbers and fought forrest fires and I AM STILL HERE.” This is what men do. We explore. And we conquer. And we tell the story. Even when the story can’t be told with words. Especially if the story can’t be told with words. *** I was parked at the side of the highway. Rigging up to go fishing. It’s a quiet highway. Maybe a car every 20, 30 minutes. Fly fishing has an etiquette. It’s a bit different from place to place and river to river, but general rule is you stay as far away as possible from the next guy. You don’t want to spook his fish, but more importantly you don’t want to interrupt his solitude. On this particular river, which flows next the highway, the rule is one truck per turnout. If there’s a car in the turnout then you drive until find an empty turnout. And then it’s yours. And nobody is going to bother you (unless they’re complete noobs). So, I was a bit surprised when a car pulled up behind me in the pullout. My gun was on the tailgate. I was changing out the loads from hollow points (my regular city carry) to a mag full of hard cast lead rounds. Hard cast bullets penetrates better than hollow points, and they break right thru thick bone like the skull of a bear or the breastplate of a moose. If you want to stop an animal attack you need to hit the vitals—the lungs, the heart—and hard cast lead will do it (or at least that’s what they say—thankfully I’ve never had to test it in person). So the car rolls up. Small SUV. Looked like a rental. I could tell it wasn’t another angler trying to muscle in on my spot, so left the pistol on the edge of the tailgate and walked over the say hello. A young woman rolled down the window. The worried look on her face told me she had a question. She probably wanted to know how far to the next gas station. Far, I would have told her. Go back to town, I would have told her. But I didn’t get the chance to tell her anything. So she rolled down the window and with a thick German accent she said “Excuse me—“ But that’s as far as she got. The boyfriend (or husband?) in the drivers seat locked eyes with the gun on my tailgate. His face dropped and he shouted something in German (probably “GUN!”). He put the rental car in gear, and peeled out of the turnout—spraying me and my truck and my fly rod and my pistol with rocks. And that’s too bad. Because they seemed like nice people. And we could have had a nice conversation, I would have asked them where they were from and how long they were driving around the states. And I could have given them directions and told them where to go and where to eat and where to find that fun roadside Americana stuff that the Eurotrash love. I would have told them about the gun too. And about all my close calls with wildlife. And about all my close calls with meth-heads. And about how rural America has been absolutely devastated over the past 30 years, and how the once urban problems like drug related robbery has infested every part of this once great nation. So hence the pistol on my tailgate. I could have told them other things too. About why, despite dangers like moose and meth heads and bears and lightning and falling in the river and drowning, I still do this. But that’s typically not a conversation you have with strangers on the side of a mountain road. That’s not the venue to discuss my compulsion to explore, and investigate, and understand this world—even if it’s hard and uncomfortable and sometimes a bit dangerous. No, that’s not a discussion you can really have—mainly because they won’t understand. And I’d sound crazy if I tried to explain it. These topics are best not presented directly. You have to do it through abstract things—like art. Or maybe just a photo. Or maybe a collection of photos. Nothing special—just holiday snaps. And then maybe they’d know something about me. About who I am, and about why I’m here on the side of a road loading a pistol. But they didn’t stick around for that. They drove off. They probably weren’t in the mood for a story. They just wanted to see America. And find some down-home diner with a jackalope on the wall, or a place to buy an ill-fitting overpriced cowboy hat. So it’s probably for the best that they drove off. And it’s probably best they did it quickly, without time for me to explain myself. Because now they have their own story. It’s about the time they ran into a savage gun wielding American on the side of a lonesome highway in the Rockies. They’ll be telling it for years. And maybe they’re telling it now. They’re telling the story of the thing that happened on the way to the end of the road. *** A life outdoors—a life outside. Because there’s so much to conquer in the American West. It was boundless when Steve was a young man, and it’s boundless even today. There are still places where no man has walked. You can find this today. You don’t need fancy gear. You don’t even need a gun. Just drive to the end of the road and start walking. Then see how far you can go—and how far you can climb. On the way to the end of the road, everything else melts away. The politics, and the wokeness, and the girlbosses, and the economy, and the stupid wars, and the retarded tax system, and the rigged stock market, and your lying cheating business partner, and your lying cheating lawyer you’re paying to sue your lying cheating business partner. That all starts fading once you drive out of town. And it’s dead and gone by the time you get to the end of the road and start walking. It all disappears. None of that bullshit matters now. And maybe it never did. All that’s left is you and the unknown that’s begging you to explore it. This is what Steve found. Because maybe there was nothing for him to conquer in the cities—at least nothing worth conquering. Because again, none of that shit matters when you get to the end of the road. I would have loved to have that conversation with him. About why he went to the mountains—to the wilderness. But that conversation isn’t going to happen now. *** I wish I would have kept Steve’s photos. I could have dragged the entire folder to my desktop. The photos weren’t hi res. It wouldn’t have been much data. I’d like to show you his photos. Steve would have liked you to see them. But I didn’t keep them. I hadn’t seen Steve around in quite some time. So I started asking around. One of the baristas informed me that he’d passed. Of what, she wasn’t sure. I imagine it was some ailment the symptoms of which he couldn’t articulate to a doctor. Or maybe it was another stroke. But maybe the reasons don’t matter so much. Because all men die. That’s just our fate. What maters is what we do when we’re here.

@PistachioJones6 @WomanDefiner We're gonna drop a nuclear bomb on their precious little mountain

@WomanDefiner Are we allowed to go beat up the tour guides for it?

Lol, Everest had 5000 rescues off the mountain this year because tour guides were purposely giving them food poisoning or straight up poisoning them.

@Stephen45532051 @prattprattpratt Can someone lend this guy their dad for a week? He's overdue

@prattprattpratt I wish my childhood and current favourite video game character wasn’t played by a bigoted Christian POS, go indoctrinate your kids some more you god loving freak

❤️🍄

@1488tnd @GodCloseMyEyes Someone put a bet on Kalshi on whether he plays catch with his kids before the end of the summer

@GodCloseMyEyes Imagine this guy is your dad

aaron rupar is so dedicated to following everything that trump does that he only missed one day of coverage since he began. and that day was july 13, 2024 when trump was in butler, pennsylvania.

@TonerousHyus @SpiritofPines It's super duper important to him according to his pinned post lmao

@SpiritofPines I’m sorry it bothers you so much.

Media is very much unwittingly doing trump favors today running around going “are you mad good sir? Are you a madman? How can you blow up bridges sir, what about muh humanity sir?”

@uncledoomer Looks pretty good

just finished this foundation for a client. tacked on some extra to the invoice too because he said it was his dream home and he was willing to pay for the best

@tingxiao7 @ChristianHeiens don't fuck this up for us

@ChristianHeiens This is fake news. The best thing for Iran is for ppl around the world to know what is going on.

Dear Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps, The Middle Eastern and Indian undersea internet cables are absolutely essential to American military power. This is the last thing Americans would want to lose. We would be totally destroyed without access to online content published from these regions.

@Moazzam87723103 @JamesPaxon2 @LokiJulianus Post concrete house

@JamesPaxon2 @LokiJulianus bitch your leaders are literally pedos who rape your children and remove their teeth so they cannot bite and you vote for em and defend them. stfu goy, go suck jwsh balls and while your wife's bf is fcking her. cant defend your children and women. really tuff little bro.

I'm kinda confused: why didn't Iran fly out to where they knew the pilot was? Why were they searching for him on foot?

@Josu72676294522 @JayTC53 @JessicaTarlov It's true. We should just dismantle our military so this never happens again

@JayTC53 @JessicaTarlov They wouldn’t have had to rescue the soldiers had they not started a war you dick head. Those soldiers would have been better off without this trauma now and PTSD they’re sure to have.

What an embarrassment this man is.

@BuckFuttington @ignatius_en Sounds like another successful Job Corps story to me

@ignatius_en My brother went to Job Corps for about a year, and literally everyone there was either a braindead slob, degenerate, or straight-up criminal Like there was a guy who got caught stealing tens of thousands of dollars worth of pills and selling them on the streets.

For those thinking this sounds bad, it really isn't. I've wasted years of my life cooperating with Job Corps people and it is hands down a fucking federal scam on the same level as fake daycare centers. You got these fucking job centers all over the place and not a single person hired. I worked with three different losers; an obese gay man, an obese woman, and an obese elderly woman - all of them incompetent. The biggest issue they have is just not wanting to work with YOU. You can call them, set up appointments, try to do anything and they'll talk to you like something is up - but holy shit, they'll ghost the shit out of you on the day of the meetup. The gay fat guy I got lucky with and this rotund piece of garbage took me to a fucking park and we walked around for 25 minutes. I asked "So, ideas on finding me work?" This mother fucker couldn't say anything, just talking about his hobbies like I gave a shit. It was basically a date. The fat old lady pissed me off the most. I took an Uber out where she wanted despite originally agreeing to meet me somewhere more convenient. I got out there, the bitch fucking ghosted me. I called repeatedly, I was furious. Called again on Monday, my number was blocked. These fucking people... I went up their offices, every one of them is a barely furnished rental building and the people inside don't even know what's going on. Just receptionists. The people who work there - aren't even there! I never trusted or worked with Job Corps ever again. Wrote them off as a scam service that I feel no sympathy for if they get shut down.

@TommyJayNine @PirateCharts @ignatius_en @myth_pilot It's true. I was the crazy black lady

@PirateCharts @ignatius_en @myth_pilot Bullshit AI slop story. Your Dad's an idiot for not invoicing them & then suing if it's true.

@philocthulhu @Bowtiedplayer

@thingamachinga @Bowtiedplayer

Imagine being Iran's leadership right now You once were the feared boogie man of the Middle East. Instead, you get the complete shit kicked out of you for 5 weeks straight, your entire navy sunk, your supreme leader killed, and you FINALLY shoot down 1 plane This is finally your moment. You can parade the pilot on TV and use him as negotiating leverage But instead, Air Force Pararescue puts boots on the ground on your home turf, we basically build a whole patrol base including a Forward Air Refueling Point, kill hundreds of your dudes, something goes wrong with one of the C-130s at the FARP on our way out, we're not even cortisol spiked so we simply just fly in another plane and blow up the old one instead of even bothering to do any maintenance just because of how much money we have that we can simply buy a new plane Good grief. I haven't seen a beatdown this bad since Will Stancil got molested by Grok. This is honestly embarrassing for the IRGC at this point. That was LITERALLY your home territory where you know all the terrain and have home field advantage, we have never done real boots on the ground operations in Iran before, and you still lost. Everyone throw up the set right now

@philocthulhu @Bowtiedplayer Not our fault. You should have bought Bitcoin 15 years ago

@Bowtiedplayer Imagine watching a billion dollars a day get pissed way as the world's economies haemorrhage and thinking this is all going to plan. I am paying usd $2.10 a frigging litre thanks to this cluster fuck. That is $7.95 a gallon, so yanks strutting is bloody annoying really.

@daniel_zaz56988 @JeetYeeter @Howlingmutant0 @iDaddyJay Actually there is and his name is Dan Nainan youtu.be/fDht6aCfRvo?si…

@JeetYeeter @Howlingmutant0 @iDaddyJay They're is a reason why there is no indian chris rock or Patrice o neal

I hate that non blacks think nigga is a synonym for bro

@GGDogTheRaped @PubWanghaf And boosted

@PubWanghaf Vaxxxed?

Guess he won’t be doing that again :) Burn in hell, towel head

@Gautier1945623 @Dylan9613258913 @BraedenSorbo @AFRICANDEMOC It happens to the best of us

@Dylan9613258913 @BraedenSorbo @AFRICANDEMOC My bad im an idiot.. that's life bro. King one day. Clown the next one.🤡

AMERICAN ICE TRAINED BY MOSSAD instantly killed an innocent man

@DavidZsutty @Anarseldain @MuscularBoomer I like your thinking David

@Anarseldain @MuscularBoomer I'm naturally a morning person but also because degenerates are less active during daytime, especially the morning. Which is a nice perk in California. But I shouldn't have to think like that.

The left are literally carrying out political assassination attempts. If you look at a black person in a way they don’t like, they’ll stab you. White cops are sent to prison when black habitual criminals overdose. The left wanted Rittenhouse to be prison raped. You’re retarded and blind. The left has ensured that there is more “casual violence” in America than there was in medieval Oxford. It’s impossible to escape that casual violence, as it takes both physical and political forms. Mamdani literally campaigned on things like taxing Whiter neighbourhoods more, and won because the left imported 1/3 of NYC’s population from the third world. White tax dollars were stolen to give to troonism in nigeria or guatemala or what have you for years. The left literally stole an election in front of our eyes and imprisoned peaceful protestors. The global economy shut down because a Chinese lab didn’t secure a virus, and CDC officials with investments in that lab covered it up, and then had people fired or fined or arrested for not following their vague, nebulous procedures, including not wanting to take a medical experiment. A man in Maryland was arrested and had to fight to defend himself in court because he didn’t wear a mask when he went to vote. Activist judges are, every single day, releasing heinous criminals from prison specifically *so* they will attack someone else, hoping that the victim will be White. SCOTUS may very well rule that Chinese surrogate farms and third-world birtherism must be allowed under a nonsensical invention called “birthright citizenship.” You are consistently the dumbest poster in these spheres and your angers, your awes, all stem from the fact that you are either a dishonest actor, or you are cluelessly oblivious.