@KnJFBAllDay@Suzierizzo1 How about protecting the 2 and 3year old toddlers?????? Those toddlers are not old enough to use the restroom by themselves. Don’t those little girls need protection from the mentally ill men who think they are women using the women’s restroom. Come on!
I assume you’re referring to my son, Xavier, who has a tragic mental illness caused by the evil woke mind virus you push on vulnerable children. I love Xavier very much and hope he recovers.
My daughters are Azure, Exa (she goes by Y) and Arcadia, and they do indeed love me very much.
SpaceX is actively hiring world-class engineers/physicists for SpaceXAI, even if you have zero prior experience in AI. Smart humans figure it out fast.
Please send an email with ~3 bullet points demonstrating evidence of exceptional ability to [email protected].
In the UK 🇬🇧 , 18-year-old Millie Taplin went to a nightclub for the first time on her birthday.
A stranger offered her a drink, saying, “Try this vodka lemonade.”
She took a sip.
Within seconds, her face went numb, her fingers started cramping and twisting strangely, and her whole body locked up completely.
She was fully conscious the entire time — trapped inside her own body, mentally screaming in panic because she couldn’t move a muscle.
Doctors at the hospital suspected she had been given two unknown substances: one to paralyze her and another to knock her out. Tests couldn’t identify them.
Her mother later shared the story as a warning: “Never accept a drink from a stranger.”
This keeps the flow, tension, and message intact while feeling fresh. Let me know if you want it shorter, longer, or in a different tone!
@joeroganhq Same story with my children. My oldest is fully vaccinated and she has asthma, ADHD, eczema, and takes 7-10 days longer than her 2 year old sister for her to recover from any sickness. My 2 year old is not vaccinated and has no health issues & recovers from sickness in 1 day.
Elon Musk just said saving for retirement becomes pointless in 10 to 20 years. Not speculation. Math.
Musk: “Don’t worry about squirreling money away for retirement in like ten or 20 years. It won’t matter.”
We passed the event horizon. Retirement savings assumes scarcity persists. It won’t.
AI and robotics collapse labor costs to zero. Living costs follow. You’re not saving for security. You’re saving for a world that stops existing.
Musk: “If any of the things that we’ve said are true, saving for retirement will be irrelevant.”
Age of Abundance isn’t vision. It’s physics. Economic laws executing whether you believe them or not.
5,000 days. Fourteen years. Global GDP uncaps. Production approaches infinite. Net worth as concept dies.
Only scarcity left is meaning. Money stops being the constraint.
Timeline is shorter than your brain accepts. Fourteen years. We transition from survival work to Universal High Income in that window.
Event horizon isn’t coming. You’re in it. Operating under old rules while ground disappears beneath you means you already lost.
Production costs hit zero through automation. Everything priced on human labor reprices instantly. Housing. Food. Goods. Services. All reset when scarcity evaporates.
Traditional planning assumes structure persists. Save for decades. Retire on capital returns in scarcity markets. That model shatters when abundance becomes baseline.
You’re optimizing for a world vanishing while the replacement materializes. Your strategy becomes obsolete before you finish executing it.
The retirement you’re building toward assumes costs stay high. They collapse. And your savings designed for expensive scarcity become irrelevant in cheap abundance.
Every dollar you put away for future scarcity is a bet against the transformation already happening. And that bet loses the moment production costs hit zero and the economy you planned for stops functioning.
You’re not preparing for the future. You’re clinging to a past that’s ending whether you accept it or not. And fourteen years from now, the question won’t be whether you saved enough. It’ll be why you wasted time saving for conditions that don’t exist anymore.
For nine months, my wife Brooklyn carried our baby boy knowing he was dying. Three months in, they told us he had severe hydrocephalus. Too much fluid crushing his brain. "Off the charts bad," the specialists at Cincinnati Children's said. So extreme they stopped measuring because it didn't matter anymore.
The MRIs were sickening to look at. They said over 90% chance he'd either die right after birth or survive with such severe brain damage that any quality of life was impossible. We had meetings about breathing tubes. About when to remove life support. About letting our son "pass peacefully."
Brooklyn moved to Cincinnati, lived in a hotel near the hospital in case she went into labor. I drove back and forth, working, trying to hold our family together while planning our baby's funeral. On July 8th, fifteen minutes before her C-section, we had another meeting about the breathing tube. About when we'd need to remove it and let him go to Heaven.
Then Charlie came out crying. The sweetest sound I've ever heard.
He stayed in intensive care until yesterday. Now he's home, doing everything babies do. Normal. Beautiful. The doctors have no medical explanation. His brain somehow cleared the blockage on its own, something they've never seen in a case this severe. Nurses with decades of experience kept saying "miracle" and "divine intervention."
Thousands of people were praying for us. Friends, family, strangers, people we'd never met. I'm practical, I believe in science, but I know God was involved in this. I give Him all the credit.
During those endless nights in Cincinnati, I started woodworking in the hotel parking lot just to keep my hands busy, to stop my mind from breaking. Made small toys hoping one day Charlie might hold them. Listed a few things on the Tedooo app where I'd been selling my work, and strangers started buying pieces they didn't need, sending messages saying they were praying for our son. That community held me when I couldn't stand.
Charlie's here. He's alive. Prayer is real, and miracles still happen.
By Amanda Cain