Atomic Cat

god forbid i smoke weed in public while the elites eat children.

@SamCannonArt I just sent an email for my first greeting card order. I'm a guaranteed customer for more cats!

There are no cats in my life so I've always found it hard to capture them (it's so much easier when you see creatures moving around every day). A couple of years ago I really tried hard to do a little set of them. And in two, used patterns from Klimt on the furnishings.

I have no words! I’ve watched it several times and I’m ashamed of that.

The Game Belt goes to Cap 🫡 #RepBX | @TheJudge44

#TeamIronWill #DownSyndrome #IronWill #RelentlessForwardProgress #ChampionPossibility #Personhood

Some biologists have discovered this strange tree in New Zealand. According to experts, it is heading to Isengard to destroy Saruman.

@SamaHoole I live in the middle of Manhattan, NYC. Would you adopt me and let me live on 40 acres? I promise not to disturb the ruminants.

Activist: "Those sheep look absolutely miserable." Farmer: "They're lying in the sun chewing cud." Activist: "Look at their faces." Farmer: "That's what a sheep's face looks like." Activist: "They seem depressed." Farmer: "They're ruminants. They don't have a range of visible facial expressions." Activist: "Still. They look sad." Farmer: "You're projecting human emotional cues onto an animal that doesn't have them." Activist: "I know what a miserable animal looks like." Farmer: "A miserable sheep stops eating, isolates, and shows physical signs of distress. Those sheep are eating, bunched together, and completely calm." Activist: "They're fenced in." Farmer: "They have forty acres. They're choosing to be in that corner because the grass is longer." Activist: "I still think they look sad." Farmer: "I've been watching sheep for thirty years. Sad looks very different to this." Activist: "What does sad look like." Farmer: "Not this. This is a Tuesday afternoon in March."

Every child belongs to the Most High King. #TeamIronWill #WhatIf #WorldDownSyndromeDay

@BishopDewar Perhaps he is delivering Britain to evil intentionally.

As a Bishop, I cannot stay silent. I have today drafted and sent an open letter to His Majesty King Charles III, the text of which reads as follows: To: His Majesty, Charles III, King of the United Kingdom and the Realms, Supreme Governor of the Church of England, Bearer of the ancient title Defender of the Faith. Your Majesty, I write to you neither as a politician nor as a commentator, but as one of your loyal subjects who, as a bishop of Christ’s Church, cannot remain silent while the Christian foundations of this kingdom are steadily dismantled. Sir, there are moments in the life of a nation when silence becomes a form of betrayal. If I refused to speak to Your Majesty now, this would be such a moment. For more than a thousand years the Crown of this realm has stood in solemn covenant with the Christian faith. The laws of this land were shaped by it. The liberties of our people were nurtured by it. The conscience of our civilisation was formed by it. From the abbeys of medieval England to the parish churches of our villages, from the preaching of the Reformers to the missionary zeal that carried the Gospel to the ends of the earth, the Christian faith has not merely influenced Britain — it has defined her. Yet today that inheritance is being quietly but deliberately eroded. Across the institutions of this nation there is a growing hostility toward the faith that built them. Christian belief is mocked in the public square. Christian morality is dismissed as intolerance. Christian institutions are pressured to surrender doctrine in order to conform to the ideology of the age. Within the very Church that bears the name of England, voices have arisen that appear more eager to mirror the spirit of the age than to proclaim the eternal truth of the Gospel. Meanwhile, beyond the walls of our churches, powerful political movements openly speak of removing Christianity from its historic place within the life of this nation. What would once have been whispered is now proclaimed openly: that Britain must become a post-Christian state. It is in this context that I write to you, Your Majesty. For the British Crown does not stand apart from this crisis. The Sovereign of this realm bears a title that is not merely historic but sacred in its origin and meaning: Defender of the Faith. Those words are not decorative. They are a charge. They speak of a monarch whose duty is not merely to preside over the ceremonies of the Church, but to stand as a guardian of the Christian inheritance of the nation. Yet many among your subjects now ask, with increasing anxiety: “Who will defend that inheritance today?” They see a nation drifting from its foundations. And they ask whether the Crown will remain silent while that inheritance is dismantled. Your Majesty, may I be so bold as to observe that your coronation oath was not a poetic formality. It was a solemn vow made before Almighty God to maintain and preserve the Protestant Reformed Religion established by law. Those words bind the conscience of the sovereign. They remind the Crown that its authority is not merely constitutional but moral. The monarch is not merely a symbol of national continuity, but a custodian of the spiritual inheritance that shaped this realm. History records moments when kings and emperors were confronted by the Church and reminded that their authority was accountable before God. In the fourth century Ambrose of Milan stood before the Emperor Theodosius I and reminded him that even the ruler of an empire must bow before the moral law of Christ. That tradition of prophetic witness has never disappeared. Nor should it. For when rulers forget the foundations upon which their authority rests, the Church must speak — not with hostility, but with holy clarity. And so, I write to say this, Your Majesty: The Christian character of this nation is under profound and accelerating assault. If the Crown does not stand visibly and courageously in defence of that inheritance, history will record that the guardians of Britain’s institutions watched in silence as the foundations were removed. The issue before us is not nostalgia. It is civilisation. Remove Christianity from the story of Britain and you do not create a neutral society — you create a moral vacuum. And history teaches us that moral vacuums are never left empty for long. Your Majesty now stands at a crossroads that few monarchs in modern history have faced. For the erosion of Britain’s Christian inheritance will not ultimately be judged by speeches made in Parliament or debates in the press. It will be judged by whether those entrusted with the guardianship of our ancient institutions chose to defend them — or merely preside over their quiet surrender. You may preside over the quiet dissolution of Britain’s Christian identity. Or you may rise to the ancient responsibility entrusted to the Crown and speak with clarity about the faith that built this kingdom. The first path requires little courage. The second will require a great deal. But it is the path that history honours. Your Majesty’s subjects are not asking for religious coercion. They are asking for leadership. They are asking that the sovereign who bears the title Defender of the Faith remember what that title means. They are asking that the Crown hear the growing cry of anguish from Christians across this land who feel that the spiritual inheritance of their nation is being surrendered without resistance. And they are asking whether the Crown will stand with them. For the faith that shaped Britain is not merely a cultural ornament. It is the wellspring from which our laws, our liberties, and our moral imagination have flowed. If it is cast aside, the nation will discover — too late — that it has severed itself from the very roots that sustained it. Your Majesty, to many the Crown is a symbol of authority. But before God it is also a symbol of stewardship. And stewardship carries with it the duty to defend what has been entrusted. May Almighty God grant Your Majesty the wisdom to discern this hour, and the courage to fulfil the sacred duty entrusted to the Crown. Yours faithfully, Bishop Ceirion H. Dewar FSHC Missionary Bishop Diocese of Providence Confessing Anglican Church @PhilHs10 @RevBrettMurphy @revwickland @BishopRobert1 @GBNews @TalkTV @danwootton @Jacob_Rees_Mogg @LozzaFox @BackBrexitBen @RupertLowe10 @KemiBadenoch @JohnCleese

Donald Trump has asked Marco Rubio to save Wrestlemania.

How is this London, UK? Trying to get latest info now but this is awful. The thugs who attacked the restaurant have no problems but the owner of a restaurant that put up a sign saying he will not see halal Islamic food gets arrested. Ridiculous.

Do not anger The Ruminati.

Hey guys, Lucky Larry Silverstein recently purchased U.S. Bank Tower in Los Angeles. You should probably not show up to work there in the near future

@SamaHoole Keith is the master of all he surveys.

Keith's ancestors were wild. Not metaphorically. Literally. The domestic goat descends from the Bezoar Ibex, a wild goat native to the Zagros Mountains of Iran and the adjacent highlands of Turkey and Pakistan. The Bezoar Ibex lives at elevations of up to 4,000 metres. It navigates vertical cliff faces. It has been photographed on surfaces that would require technical climbing equipment for any human to access. It survives on vegetation: scrub, thorny plants, coarse mountain grasses, that would be inedible to almost anything else at altitude. It was domesticated approximately ten thousand years ago. The domestication process was not, by the standards of most livestock species, particularly thorough. Cattle were selected heavily for docility and reduced flight response over thousands of years. Sheep were selected for reduced aggression and increased herding instinct. Goats were selected primarily for milk and fibre production and the ability to survive on marginal land, and not much else was considered, which is why goats retained a degree of independence and problem-solving ability that most domesticated livestock had bred out by the Bronze Age. Keith is the ten-thousand-year result of this process. Keith climbs barn roofs because his ancestor climbed the Zagros Mountains. Keith opens gates because his ancestor navigated terrain without pathways. Keith eats thistle, bramble, dock, Japanese knotweed, Steve's bindweed, and the moss off corrugated iron because his ancestor extracted nutrition from the thorned scrub of Iranian highland at 3,000 metres in January. The fence, from Keith's ancestral perspective, is a minor inconvenience. The gate is a gentle slope. The barn roof is a modest incline. Steve's new fence is not yet solved, but Steve's new fence is not the Zagros Mountains. Keith has not been to the Zagros Mountains. Keith does not need to go to the Zagros Mountains. Keith has Devon. Devon is enough. Keith is on the roof. Keith is thinking.

I am going to be deleting this account in the next 96 hours, please follow @MamdaniWatch2 Please also like, retweet, comment, share and do everything to help.

People have heard rumblings. They present themselves as farm animals. Slow-moving, grass-fixated, apparently incapable of strategic thought. They graze. They poop. They stand near walls looking at nothing. They have maintained this cover for years: decades in some cases, centuries if you count the lineage, and it has worked perfectly, because nobody looks at a field and thinks: something is happening in there. Something is happening in there. Behind the pastoral innocence, the Ruminati have been conducting a sustained, multi-front campaign against the climate, the countryside, and your cardiovascular system. They have done it quietly. They have done it without press releases. They have done it while looking, at all times, like they are just having a nice time in a field. The methane: produced daily, from the rumen, without acknowledgement or apology. The artery situation: ongoing. Every kilogram of red meat a quiet act of biological aggression against the dietary guidelines. The countryside: being managed, maintained, and improved in ways that make the rewilding argument significantly harder to sustain. The Amazon: not Gerald's doing, fine, but he's not helping the optics. And through all of it: the position papers, the parliamentary questions, the Guardian comment section, the Friends of the Earth newsletter that gave them their name, they have maintained the same expression. Blank. Calm. Vaguely interested in the grass. The Ruminati are very good at this. The Ruminati have been practising for ten thousand years.

This is truly the most beautiful video I’ve seen lately So tender and heart-warming, yet it makes you stop and reflect, with a subtle touch of sadness We may have gained so much, but perhaps we’ve lost even more✨

Update: we are 341, 718 followers away from giving away a free pig! Thanks for the help!

@Janet88801 Sending cheer from across the pond in NYC. Be well!

We used to be a world power, and now the world is laughing at us

AARON JUDGE HOME RUN IN HIS FIRST EVER WORLD BASEBALL CLASSIC AT BAT