MoneyCircus

The Brussels bureaucracy is mealy-mouthed on Israel while supplying weaponry and military support in secret. They denounce Russian oil and gas yet buy it via third parties. They support open borders and unfettered immigration — they just won’t say so openly.

@SteveLovesAmmo No. But we can try!

True. I counted and I gave up before SS appeared.

It won't be the Manosphere that teaches men about women's nature.

This is twice the size of a full English bought in a cafe. No way anyone but a pot bellied gourmand ate that at home. But I did eat breakfast through the 1960s and 70s including reconstituted (powdered) egg, spam fritters, tinned tomatoes (with occasional maggots) and fried bread. Talk to someone who was there.

The standard British breakfast in 1970 went roughly as follows. Bacon. Two or three rashers, fried in lard or in its own fat. Eggs. Two, fried in the bacon fat. Black pudding. A thick disc, fried alongside. Sausage. Pork, from the butcher up the road, with a fat content the modern food regulations would now find concerning. Fried bread. White bread, dropped into the pan after everything else came out, soaking up what was left. A grilled tomato. A handful of mushrooms. Baked beans, occasionally, on a slice of toast. Tea. Strong. With whole milk delivered that morning by the milkman in a glass bottle, the cream still on top. This was the meal a man ate before doing eight hours of shift work in a factory, a mine, a foundry, a mill, or a building site. The same breakfast appeared in transport cafés from Glasgow to Plymouth. It was on the table of every B&B in the country. It was what a child got on a Saturday morning if his father was home. The British adult obesity rate in 1970 was approximately 6%. Type 2 diabetes affected around 1% of the adult population. Cardiovascular disease was a leading cause of death, but the population dying of it was, on average, in their seventies. The standard British breakfast in 2026 goes roughly as follows. A bowl of cereal made from extruded wheat, sugar, and rapeseed oil. Skimmed milk poured over it. Or oat milk containing rapeseed oil, calcium carbonate, and gellan gum. A slice of toast from a Chorleywood loaf containing 21 ingredients, spread with a tub of "buttery" containing palm oil. A coffee with semi-skimmed milk on the way to the train. Eaten standing up. In nine minutes. Often half of it consumed in the car. The British adult obesity rate is now 30%. Type 2 diabetes affects approximately 7% of adults and is the fastest-growing chronic condition in the country. Cardiovascular disease still kills more people than anything else, and it is killing them, on average, in their sixties. The bacon did not do it. The bacon was on the plate the whole time.

Pudding pants to the rescue. Again

@JOttoPohl1 Paperbacks also had pages you could cut out and mail in for various promotions.

Paperbacks used to have adverts, usually for cigarettes, back in the day. I remember buying old science fiction paperbacks in the 1980s that had such advertisements in them. I think the books were published in the 1960s for the most part.

The US military is the real cause of climate change. Not your Toyota or plastic straws. Pass it on.

My father worked with people who escaped Pol Pot's killing fields, literally crawled out of the pits where the dead were dumped. I met Khmer Rouge survivors as a child, which is why I have a hard time with the "I'll just opt out of politics" stuff. They want us dead.

Run there’s a shooter Woman : Never let a good bottle go to waste

The land grab, explained perfectly.

Indeed. It turns out that the US has been using geo-engineering weather modification via its radar stations to caus 40 years of droughts in Iran. This emerged, because the weather changed dramatically since Iran destroyed the radar stations on UD bases in the Gulf. It's raining and temperatures dropped sharply. Weather warfare has long been part of the repertoire of weapons used against us. Just look at the sky. That's the trouble when secret services with huge budgets were allowed to exist. What do you expect? Their job is to run secret programs and avoid democratic accountability.

@DailyMail All misleading. The issue is raw milk not just full fat. We drank it at school in the 1970s and were more healthy and independent minded for it.

Why do people still drink skimmed milk? It's packed with more sugar than full-fat and I'd never touch the stuff, says PETER HITCHENS trib.al/mRSFRVm

@MikeBenzCyber Its not just EU this is a global push by UN. It doesn't just apply to US. UN is trying to return information & narrative control back to legacy media or avenues which they can control. Since 1995 theyve been building robust networking in member states ministries, NGOs, education

@TheDuranReal @gjmaybury @AXChristoforou @AMercouris @BarnesLaw I prefer getting RT directly from the source. Seriously. With respect.

Feels like we’re all stuck in a real-life “Dr. Strangeglove”reality where logic is optional, tension is constant, and the line between satire and news has completely vanished. @AXChristoforou @AMercouris @BarnesLaw discuss.

@ValerieAnne1970 I've always eaten eggs, even at the height of the food pyramid propaganda. In the 1970s they lied that potato makes you fat, when it has minerals lacking in rice, pasta and plain bread... Oh, and the @BBC told us to stay out of the sun, which I had to ignore.

A Study Just Published Found That Eating More Eggs Prevents Alzheimer's Disease Risk By 50%. An Egg Is Literally Nature’s Cognitive Multivitamin. Egg yolks are one of the richest natural sources of choline on the planet — a critical nutrient that most adults are severely deficient in. Why choline matters so much: • Essential for brain development, memory, and learning • Building block for the neurotransmitter acetylcholine • Supports liver health and fat metabolism • Highly bioavailable when coming from eggs Just 3 large eggs provide nearly 450mg of choline — almost your entire daily minimum requirement in one meal. Most people get less than half of what they actually need, which is linked to brain fog, fatigue, mood issues, fatty liver, and higher long-term cognitive decline risk. Pasture-raised eggs are the gold standard — packed with extra omega-3s, lutein, zeaxanthin, and superior nutrition. I avoided eggs for 35 years due to severe intolerance. After healing my gut, adding them back has been life-changing for my energy, focus, and mental clarity. Nature already created the perfect brain food. Food is Medicine. Have you noticed improvements in your memory, focus, or energy after adding more eggs? Share your experience below 👇

@ChildrensHD In the 70s, U.S. Navy had over 2,300 studies pointing to potential EMF risks. Dr. Robert O. Becker went on 60 Minutes to sound the alarm.

More Soviet jazz just to stick it to Adorno worshipping American academic Marxists and make them suffer cognitive dissonance. youtu.be/4Q9qxHCFLg0

Failure | by: E.M. Burlingame It hits the way a house settles—quiet as fuck at first. Then the whole goddamn foundation cracks wide open in one sickening snap. You hear it in her voice before your brain catches up: the girl you taught to stand tall is breaking right in front of you. You reach for the kid who used to dance on your boots, and your calloused hands close on nothing but empty air that smells like smoke and the slow poison the world has been feeding her. No matter what the fuck you do, you’re going to get it wrong. I built her a fortress of warnings—be safe, come home early, trust your family—laid every brick with sleepless nights and every scar this life beat into me. But the walls faced inward, and she locked the goddamn door from the inside. Against me. Against the one man who would truly kill for her. No matter what you do, you’re going to hurt someone you’d bleed out for. First time the shadow slides across her eyes she swears it’s nothing. Second time you believe her because you need to. Third time you stop asking—because every question has become another blade driving her further away. Strange goddamn math of fatherhood: every question subtracts another piece of her. The mad world convinced her that the father who'd take a bullet for her is the real enemy. No matter what you do, you’ll fail. I raged at the rot that got inside her. Raged at the sick world that taught her to swallow broken glass and call it sugar. Raged at a silent God while the sickness chewed her hollow from the inside out. But the rage is just grief wearing body armor. Eventually the armor gets too heavy to wear. No matter what you do, you’re going to collapse. There’s a room inside my chest that stays sealed shut now. Her childhood's still in there—preserved like crime scene evidence: gap-toothed grin, macaroni necklace, that small fierce voice yelling, “Daddy, catch me.” I caught her. Every single goddamn time. I’d give anything to catch her again. No matter what you do, you’ll lose her. Pain doesn’t visit. It moves in permanent, unpacks its shit, rearranges the furniture of your ribcage, and hangs heavy black curtains behind your eyes. You learn to make coffee every morning with its cold hands locked tight around your throat. No matter what you do, you’ll never be the same. Some nights I sit in the garage with the engine running. Not because I want to check out, but because I need to feel like I can still turn something off when the whole world feels out of control. The exhaust tastes like the silence after she walked are pissed out that door and never really came back. No matter what you do, you’ll be hated for trying. That afternoon still loops in my head like a worn-out battle tape—her and her friends, chin high and proud in her furiosity, me the great fixer saying, “If you walk out that door…” She walked. The echo finished the sentence and it’s been killing me ever since. No matter what the fuck you do, you go on. So I go on. All the power I have left in this world is to keep waking up every single fucking morning. Even when my chest feels like it’s been caved in with a sledgehammer. Even when the silence in her room screams louder than any fight we ever had. I drag my ass out of bed because one day—God, please, one day—she might claw her way back to sanity. She might need her old man again. And I’ll be here. Broken. Waiting. I feed her cats. I make the car payment. I nod at neighbors whose names I can’t remember anymore because my head’s turned into a mausoleum for the daughter may’ve already been lost. The world doesn’t pause for your failure. It just keeps spinning—loud, bright, and heartless—while you stand in the ashes of everything you couldn’t save, breathing in, breathing out through the smoke. A father made of cinders. Still burning. Still in it. Still showing up.

@BBCNews !

Ontem, dia 24, a prefeitura de Osasco, do prefeito Gerson Pessoa (Podemos), jogou no lixo o acervo de livros da Biblioteca Municipal Monteiro Lobato, que foi fechada em 2020, durante o mandato do prefeito Rogério Lins, com a promessa de uma reforma que nunca veio.