lori foley

This is WILD 🤯 Russian wrestler hit a flying squirrel down 3 points AT THE BUZZER for the win 😱

@sfj8888 Any idea why NYSP were up in the air 15 minutes ago. Seems like they were looking or following someone?

Larceny just occurred at Walmart 1200 Marketplace Dr #HenriettaNY #ROC

Something tells me they wouldn't have a problem if it was a demonic symbol. I'm so ready for the power structure to change to the Kingdom of Christ! Good on Dominican Massiel Taveras!

You want masculinity? Go get your teeth knocked out while you score the winning goal in overtime in the Men's Olympic Hockey Gold Medal game (with "Freebird" playing), then get drunk in the locker room with the head of the FBI on cheap Mexican beer, while singing all the words to Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red White and Blue" and then while still drunk the President calls to invite you to the State of the Union address in two days and without pause you say "yes." THAT is masculinity. Not this garbage.

Buffalo is a border city. We can, and should, do this.

USA vs CANADA This has got me fired up 🔥👇🏼

Me & the fellas pulling up to the bar at 7am on Sunday for USA vs Canada

You can just take a picture of your medical data or upload the file to get a second opinion from Grok

4 YEARS SINCE THE 2022 SUPERBOWL HALFTIME SHOW & IT STILL REMAINS UNTOUCHED.🐐

Dave Grohl, from the Foo Fighters, brings a little boy up on stage, asks him what song he knows on guitar, and he starts playing “Enter Sandman”. The crowd goes insane

I love how every generation seems to find a way to dance to this song.✨💃🕺🎶

Foo Fighters' Dave Grohl Pulls Young Fan Onstage — Kid Shreds Metallica's 'Enter Sandman' This Kid > Bad Bunny for Super Bowl Halftime

Tonight while announcing hockey at UG, this guy was constantly dancing in the empty section behind the net, so I suggested we play Gangnam Style in the hopes that something like this would happen. He did not disappoint. 🕺

CHAOS ERUPTS IN ROCHESTER as Rylan Hartley LIGHTS UP Steph Charbonneau in the open floor

No one pushed harder than me to have the Epstein files released and I’m glad that has finally happened. I had very little correspondence with Epstein and declined repeated invitations to go to his island or fly on his “Lolita Express”, but was well aware that some email correspondence with him could be misinterpreted and used by detractors to smear my name. I don’t care about that, but what I do care about is that we at least attempt to prosecute those who committed serious crimes with Epstein, especially regarding heinous exploitation of underage girls.

Four Old Men. Two Wheelchairs. One Beach. Alan Alda’s 90th Birthday January 28, 2026. Alan Alda turned 90. His family planned a safe celebration at home. Cake. Balloons. Grandkids. Alan said no. “I don’t want a party,” he said. His daughter frowned. “Dad… you’re turning ninety. This is a big deal.” “I know,” Alan said. “But I don’t want to celebrate here.” “Then where?” Alan didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to the beach.” The room went still. “The beach?” “Dad, you’re in a wheelchair.” “You can barely stand.” Alan smiled. That smile. The Hawkeye Pierce smile — the one that always meant something stubborn was coming. “So?” By that afternoon, he had already decided who was coming. “The four of us,” he said. “The last four.” Gary Burghoff. Jamie Farr. Mike Farrell. And himself. The final survivors of the 4077th. “No cameras. No interviews. No speeches,” Alan said. “Just us.” The phone calls began. Gary answered first. “Happy birthday, old man! Ninety!” “Thanks. I need you to drive.” “Drive where?” “To the beach.” A pause. “Alan… you’re in a wheelchair.” “So are facts. They don’t stop me either.” Gary laughed. That Radar laugh Alan had known for over fifty years. “Fine. But I’m not pushing you through sand.” “I’ll crawl if I have to.” “You’re insane.” “I’m Hawkeye. Same thing.” Jamie Farr was next. “The beach?” Jamie said. “I’m ninety-one and in a wheelchair.” “Then we’ll have two wheelchairs at the beach.” “Like a parade?” “Like a victory lap.” Jamie laughed until his voice cracked. “You haven’t changed since 1972.” “And you’re still Klinger.” “Fine. I’m in.” Mike Farrell sighed the moment he answered. “Let me guess,” he said. “You want me to push your wheelchair.” “Yes.” “I’m eighty-six. I use a cane.” “BJ Hunnicutt once saved a man with dental floss,” Alan said. “You’ll manage.” Long pause. “…Fine.” January 28. 6:00 a.m. Gary arrived in a rented van. Two wheelchair spaces. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. At Alan’s house, his daughter hovered. “Dad, are you sure?” “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” “What if something happens?” “Something is always about to happen at ninety,” Alan said. “Might as well happen at the beach.” Jamie was waiting outside his house. Wheelchair. Sunglasses. Hawaiian shirt. “You coordinated outfits?” Gary asked. “It’s tradition,” Jamie said. “The 4077th always matched.” Mike showed up next. Also in a Hawaiian shirt. Four old men. One van. Heading west. On the drive, memories filled the air. Harry driving too fast. Larry bringing his own wine. Radar making everyone cry. Klinger never sleeping. When the MASH* theme song came on, no one spoke. After it ended, Alan said quietly, “That song used to annoy me.” “Now?” “Now it just reminds me how lucky we were.” At Malibu, reality hit. Wheelchairs don’t work on sand. Jamie grumbled. Mike rubbed his back. Alan stared at the ocean. Gary disappeared. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with two lifeguards and two beach wheelchairs. One lifeguard whispered, “My grandmother watched MASH* every night.” It took time. Transfers were slow. Hands trembled. Bones protested. But they made it. To the water. Alan closed his eyes. The sound of waves. Salt in the air. Sun on his face. “I forgot what this felt like,” he said. They talked about the ones who weren’t there. McLean. Wayne. Larry. Harry. Bill. David. Loretta. Jamie finally broke the silence. “Let’s race.” Two wheelchairs. Two pushers. One rock. They raced. They tied. People on the beach stared. A teenager asked, “What are those old guys doing?” His mother said, “Living.” As the sun set, Alan spoke. “This might be the last time.” No one argued. “That’s why it matters,” he said. “Because we know.” He made a wish. “One more year.” “One more adventure.” “Korea. Together.” They promised.

This is why America needs Greenland.

This is from the NFL's official account before this weekend's games. Notice the four quarterbacks they put closest to the Lombardi trophy. All four of their teams won and will be playing to go to the Super Bowl. This is not a coincidence.