nomad knabs

@theedreadqueen @judejon_ @jenny2x4 Seems like the money would be better spent on the actual kid though 🤷🏾‍♂️

@judejon_ @jenny2x4 ….yes. that’s the truth. if you can’t afford to pay 85K for adoption you aren’t financially prepared to take care of a child, especially a disabled child. children are expensive, especially disabled children

Ah! Well, nevertheless

When the President of France visited the United States in April 1960, he asked the FBI to help him find a man. The man he was looking for was an American citizen. He was sixty-four years old. He had been awarded fifteen French military decorations and — six months earlier, in a ceremony in Paris — had been made a Knight of the Légion d'honneur, the highest civilian honor France can give. The medal had been pinned to his chest by the President himself, who had publicly called him un véritable héros français. A true French hero. The FBI located the man within a few days. He was operating an elevator at Rockefeller Center in New York City. The elevator operator's name was Eugene Bullard. He had been born in Columbus, Georgia, in 1895, the son of a man whose own father had been a slave. He had run away from Columbus at the age of eleven, after watching a white mob nearly lynch his father. He spent the next several years drifting through the American South. At sixteen, he stowed away on a German freighter at Norfolk, Virginia. He landed in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there he made his way to London, where he learned to box. By 1913, at eighteen, he was prizefighting in Paris. When Germany invaded France in August 1914, Bullard was nineteen years old. He had no legal obligation to fight. He had no French citizenship. He went to the recruiting office on October 19, 1914, and signed up for the French Foreign Legion. He spent the next eighteen months as an infantryman in some of the worst fighting of the war — at the Somme, at Champagne, at Verdun. He was wounded three times. The third wound, on March 5, 1916, tore open his thigh and left him with permanent damage to his leg. He was twenty years old. The doctors told him he would not return to the infantry. He decided he wanted to fly. In a Paris café in the spring of 1916, while he was recovering, Bullard mentioned to three white American friends that he was thinking of joining the French air service. A Mississippian named Jeff Dickson laughed. Gene, Dickson said, you know damn well there aren't any Negroes in aviation. Bullard answered: Sure do. That's why I want to get into it. There has to be a first to everything, and I'm going to be the first. Dickson bet him two thousand dollars he would not make it. Bullard took the bet. He earned his pilot's license on May 5, 1917. He won the bet. He reported to the front in August 1917 and flew approximately twenty combat missions over the next three months in a SPAD VII. The fuselage was painted with a bleeding heart pierced by a knife and the French phrase Tout le Sang qui Coule est Rouge — All Blood that Flows is Red. He carried, on every combat flight, a small capuchin monkey named Jimmy in the front of his flight jacket. The French press began calling him L'Hirondelle Noire — the Black Swallow. When the United States entered the war in 1917, Bullard immediately applied to transfer to the U.S. Army Air Service. His application was rejected. The U.S. Army Air Service had a policy, in 1917, of not accepting Black pilots. The other American pilots flying for France in his unit, all of them white, were transferred to the U.S. Air Service. He was the only one who was not. For the next twenty years, he was one of the most familiar faces in the Montmartre nightlife of Paris between the wars. He owned a nightclub called L'Escadrille. He spoke fluent French, English, and German. Hemingway drank there. Fitzgerald drank there. Langston Hughes drank there. Josephine Baker performed there. Louis Armstrong was a personal friend. When Germany invaded Poland in 1939, Bullard was forty-four. His fluent German and his ownership of a nightclub frequented by German officers made him useful to the French Resistance. He became an intelligence agent — eavesdropping in his own bar on conversations between German officers who did not know he understood every word. When France fell in June 1940, friends in the Resistance smuggled him across the Spanish border before the Gestapo could arrest him. He came back to the United States for the first time in twenty-eight years. He arrived in New York with thirty dollars in his pocket and a permanent limp. He did not return to a hero's welcome. He returned to a country that had no idea who he was. He worked at a perfume counter. He worked as a security guard. He worked at the Staten Island shipyards. By the late 1940s, he had taken the job that he would hold for most of the rest of his life. He operated the elevator at Rockefeller Center. He was wearing the elevator uniform on the day a producer from NBC came down from the studios upstairs to ask if he was the man Charles de Gaulle had been looking for. A few weeks later, NBC sent a film crew to interview him in the lobby. The studios where NBC produced The Today Show were on the floors above. He had operated the elevator that took the network executives up to those studios every morning for nearly ten years. He had not been recognized as he did it. He went back to operating the elevator the following Monday. He died of stomach cancer on October 12, 1961, three days after his sixty-sixth birthday. He was buried in the French War Veterans' section of Flushing Cemetery, in Queens, in the uniform of the French Foreign Legion. The casket was draped with the French flag. In 1994 — thirty-three years after his death — the United States Air Force formally commissioned Eugene Jacques Bullard as a Second Lieutenant, posthumously. It was the first commission the U.S. military had ever offered him. He had been the first Black combat pilot in American history. The French had been calling him a hero since 1917. The Americans got around to it in 1994.

You got players in the NFL RIGHT NOW who have domestic violence cases and multiple DUI’s. But apparently Caleb Williams painting his nails is sending the “wrong message” to kids. Y’all got it fam.

@Movie_Icon @AdanuKrizz That’s what a power trip looks like

@AdanuKrizz The officers were acting like they were high on something

The kid is clearly having a panic attack but the officer still trying to shoōt.

maybe the secret to having a good life is spending enough time outside to remember that you’re part of nature, not separate from it

I think it’s funny how Christians say “god loves you unconditionally” but then make up all kinds of conditions.

For the love of God, bring back fact-checkers. Bring back copy editors. Bring back public editors. Bring back standards. Everybody tighten TF up.

I know things are bad now but you just have to hang in there until the world ends.

Whenever someone says “According to ChatGPT” or “ChatGPT says,” I just stare at them like they’re quoting a fortune cookie as sacred truth. It’s a language model, not the Oracle. Stop treating it like divine revelation.

@AyobamiWorld @v3toryy Her situational awareness is severely lacking. Plus, she doesn’t seem to know when to stop. All of the insults she levied against him were pointless because he already had his coffee in hand

@v3toryy ‘She should learn a lesson?’ What lesson?

She really was not paying attention to the line moving though 🎬: Not Suitable for Work

@MrSweetwyne @tfupodcast_xx @AdDolphin1 @alegcharles They’re weirdos

@tfupodcast_xx @AdDolphin1 @alegcharles Wait, so Drake fans feel like everyone on the planet has to be a drake fan too? Smh

Keon Polee says he tapped out on Drake after Take Care. ⸻ #KeonPolee #Drake #TakeCare #HipHopCulture #MusicTalk

Your time as a caterpillar has expired. Your wings are ready.

i hope the next global trend will be empathy and critical thinking.

@SEGA Happy Birthday

It’s our birthday today! 🥰 Say happy birthday 😠

Niggas makin fun of Jay Z Afro lets me know how detached with blackness ppl are, even other black ppl. Nigga YOU have the same hair, you tellin me you don’t even know how your own hair works? Makin fun of black ppls hair shows you how white supremacy worked on ALL of us.

Unpopular opinion, but if you’re not an expert on a subject, your opinions on it really do carry less weight than those of experts. It’s not indoctrination or elitism. It’s simply that you don’t know as much about the subject as they do.

Not caring about lyrics will never be the future of hip-hop

A mathematics professor once discovered that the sink in his kitchen had broken. He called a plumber, who arrived the next day, tightened a few fittings, and quickly fixed the problem. The professor was pleased—until he saw the bill. “This is a third of my monthly salary!” he exclaimed. Still, he paid it. As the plumber was leaving, he said, “I understand your situation. Why not join our company? You could earn much more than you do now. Just one thing—when you apply, say you only finished elementary school. They prefer that.” The professor, intrigued, followed the advice. To his surprise, he was hired. The work was simple—occasional repairs, tightening pipes—and his income improved dramatically. Some time later, the company introduced a new rule: all employees had to attend evening classes to complete basic schooling. The professor had no choice but to attend. On the first day, the subject was mathematics. The instructor asked a student to write the formula for the area of a circle on the board. The professor was chosen. He walked up confidently—but then hesitated. He couldn’t recall the formula. Determined, he began deriving it from scratch. The board quickly filled with integrals, derivatives, and complex expressions. After several minutes of work, he arrived at a result: −πr² Unsatisfied with the negative sign, he tried again. And again. Each time, the same result appeared. Frustrated, he turned to the class. Behind him, the other plumbers were whispering to one another: “Switch the limits of the integral.”

the decline in media literacy is killing people’s ability to engage with film and television through a sociological lens. everything gets reduced to “i liked it” or “i didn’t like it” instead of asking what the story is saying about society, power, culture, class, gender, identity, or human behavior.