Oklahoma: Governor Stitt has officially set SQ848 for a statewide vote on April 6, 2027.
Oklahomans will decide whether the Legislature should call a Constitutional Convention, which could propose changes to our current Constitution or even an entirely new one. Anything proposed would still have to come back to Oklahoma voters for approval.
Our Constitution requires this question to be put before voters at least once every 20 years. The last time it happened was in 1970. In 1994, Oklahomans were asked if they wanted to remove that requirement and voted no.
Stitt has also created a nine member commission to work through how a convention would actually operate, including how delegates would be chosen and how proposals would be presented to voters and what the process would cost.
Their report is due December 31 2026 and will be made public before we vote in April.
PRÄSIDENT PUTINS BOTSCHAFT AN DIE DEUTSCHE REGIERUNG UND DAS DEUTSCHE VOLK
So wird der Gnadenstoß versetzt – ohne Waffen, verbal… 🥳
„Wir wollen euch nicht angreifen! Warum sollten wir? Diese Zeiten sind längst vorbei! Jeder, der noch bei Verstand ist und klar denken kann, versteht das.
Erstens:
Ihr habt bereits Staatsschulden in Höhe von 2,5 Billionen Euro, und kein seriöser Wirtschaftswissenschaftler hat eine Ahnung, wie ihr die jemals zurückzahlen wollt. Und jetzt wollt ihr weitere 1 Billion Euro aufnehmen, um euch gegen uns zu bewaffnen. Wollt ihr, dass das russische Volk diese Schulden bezahlt? Niemals!
Zweitens: Euer Land ist voller Millionen von Migranten, die euch 50 Milliarden Euro im Jahr kosten. Sollte das russische Volk dafür zur Rechenschaft gezogen werden?
Drittens: Ein beträchtlicher Teil eurer Bevölkerung ist so verrückt, dass er glaubt, das Klima durch Fahrradfahren und Insektenessen beeinflussen zu können. Vielleicht ließe sich dieser massive Hirnschaden beheben, aber das würde uns auch etwas kosten.“ viel.
Viertens: – Euer Bildungssystem war einst vorbildlich. Jetzt findet in vielen Klassen praktisch kein Unterricht mehr statt, weil fast niemand mehr Deutsch spricht.
Fünftens: – Eure Infrastruktur verfällt, und ihr kommt mit den Reparaturen nicht voran.
Sechstens: – Eure Eisenbahnen waren einst der ganze Stolz der Welt. Jetzt fahren eure Züge wie in Indien.
Siebtens: – Wir brauchen eure berühmten Ingenieure nicht. Während der Sanktionen haben wir gelernt, dass wir ohne sie auskommen können. Sollten wir sie aber doch brauchen, wenden wir uns an China. Dort sind sie nicht nur billiger, sondern auch besser.
Achtens: – Ihr habt weder Rohstoffe noch Energiequellen. Warum sollten wir also euer Land erobern? Um Probleme zu lösen, die wir sonst gar nicht hätten? Realistisch betrachtet: Selbst wenn ihr uns rufen, kapitulieren und weiße Fahnen hissen würdet, würden wir trotzdem nicht kommen!
Novembre 2023. Le PDG de Disney retire ses pubs de X pour faire plaisir à la meute. Elon Musk, en direct, devant le monde entier : « Go fuck yourself. »
Tout le monde a cru à un coup de sang. C'était un tipping point.
Ce jour-là, Musk a dit tout haut ce que personne n'osait formuler : vous ne m'achèterez pas. Ni avec votre argent publicitaire, ni avec votre chantage moral, ni avec vos campagnes de presse. Le boycott était censé le mettre à genoux. Il a préféré perdre des milliards plutôt que de céder un centimètre sur la liberté d'expression.
Pendant des décennies, le jeu était simple : signaler la vertu en public, faire le mal en privé. Financer des ONG « bienfaisantes » qui détruisent les cultures qu'elles prétendent sauver. Financer des médias qui mentent à longueur de journée, qui ont couvert les grooming gangs pendant des années par lâcheté idéologique, qui ont préparé le terrain culturel où un prof comme Samuel Paty pouvait être décapité pour avoir enseigné la liberté d'expression. Acheter la compassion du peuple avec du greenwashing, pendant qu'en privé, vous n'en avez absolument rien à foutre.
Musk a capté ça il y a des années. Et il a décidé de tout casser.
Résultat, trois ans plus tard, jour pour jour ou presque : SpaceX entre en bourse, plus grosse IPO de l'histoire de l'humanité, et Elon Musk devient le premier trillionnaire de tous les temps.
Never bet against Elon.
Le message à tous les milliardaires de cette planète est limpide. Ceux qui financent la manipulation de masse pour asseoir leur pouvoir, ceux qui achètent les médias, les ONG, les institutions : votre modèle vient de mourir en direct. L'homme que vous avez essayé d'étrangler financièrement vaut maintenant plus que vous tous.
Le « new world order » que les globalistes avaient planifié vient d'avoir lieu. Sauf qu'il n'est pas le leur.
Le nouvel ordre mondial, c'est Elon Musk qui le construit. Et il repose sur une seule chose : la recherche de la vérité. Pas le signal de vertu. Pas la compassion achetée. Pas les mensonges institutionnalisés. La vérité, la création de valeur réelle, et des fusées qui décollent pendant que vos empires de papier s'effondrent.
Go fuck yourself, en effet.
Secretary of War Pete Hegseth announces new changes for military contractors
- Bureaucrats will no longer be able to negotiate defense contracts
-Defense companies now just pay to build their own factories, their own factory expansions, assembly lines, and manufacturing plants instead of taxpayers
- Companies that fail to deliver will be held responsible
- Companies that fail to deliver may be replaced with new contractors
- Defense companies can no longer have taxpayers pay to built their factories and then charge us for the product
- No more cost overruns (this is huge)
“It's simple. We're putting the American taxpayer first by offering you a better deal. We now move at the speed of business, not bureaucracy”
A lot of bureaucrats that have been getting filthy rich off deals are going to be pissed
My daughter got detention for defending her late Marine father — but when FOUR MEN IN UNIFORM walked into the school the next day, the entire building went silent.
"Mrs. Harrison, you have to understand: Grace’s behavior was completely UNACCEPTABLE. We respect your husband’s service to this country, but..." her teacher said.
My 14-year-old daughter sat beside me, her eyes glassy.
The day before, one of her classmates had made a joke about Grace not having a father.
He was a Marine. Grace was only three when we lost him.
So when that girl laughed and said, "Maybe your dad just didn’t want to come back," something inside Grace snapped.
She shot to her feet so fast that her chair slammed to the floor.
Through tears, she shouted,
"My dad was a HERO. Don’t you ever talk about him like that again!"
She was the one who got detention.
She barely said a word the whole way home. That night, I found her sitting on the floor in my husband’s old sweatshirt.
"I’m sorry I got in trouble," she whispered. "I just couldn’t let her say that about him."
My heart cracked wide open.
The next morning, the school called an emergency assembly.
I assumed it had something to do with Spirit Week. A few minutes after the first bell, Grace texted me from the auditorium.
Then my phone rang.
"Mom..." she whispered, her voice shaky. "You need to come."
I stood up so fast I knocked over my coffee.
"What happened? Grace, are you okay?"
There was a long silence on the other end.
"Mom... four men in uniform just walked into the school."
"Hide right now. What’s happening? I’m calling the police!"
But Grace laughed.
"No, Mom, they’re not doing anything bad. You have no idea WHAT JUST HAPPENED! Just get here, please!" she said, before the line went dead.
I didn't bother grabbing my purse. I threw my keys into the ignition, my heart hammering against my ribs, and sped to the high school. When I burst through the double doors of the auditorium, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The room, packed with over eight hundred teenagers, was completely, eerily silent.
Down the center aisle stood four imposing figures in impeccable Marine Corps Dress Blues. The brass buttons caught the overhead lights, and their crisp white covers were tucked sharply under their arms. I recognized the man at the front immediately. It was Staff Sergeant Miller—my late husband’s closest friend and squad leader. I had called him in tears the night before, just needing someone who understood the weight of the disrespect Grace had faced. I hadn't expected him to do *this*.
The principal, Mr. Davis, stood awkwardly at the podium, looking completely out of his depth.
Staff Sergeant Miller didn't wait for permission to speak. He stepped up to the front, taking the microphone from the stand, and his booming, authoritative voice echoed through the massive room.
"We apologize for the interruption, Principal Davis," Miller said, though his tone suggested he wasn't sorry at all. "But we received word that a young lady in this school was being disciplined for defending the honor of a fallen United States Marine."
A collective gasp rippled through the student body. The teacher who had given Grace detention slunk back into her seat in the front row, her face turning crimson.
Miller’s heavy gaze swept across the bleachers. "Where is Grace Harrison?"
Grace stood up slowly from the middle row, still wearing her dad’s oversized sweatshirt.
"Come down here, Grace," Miller commanded gently.
As she walked down the bleacher steps, the three other Marines broke formation and fell perfectly into step behind her, creating an impromptu honor guard. They escorted her to the center of the floor.
Miller turned to face the silent crowd. "Captain Mark Harrison didn't just 'not want to come back.' He gave his life pulling three wounded men out of a burning transport vehicle in the middle of a firefight. I know, because I was one of those men. None of us standing here today would be breathing if it weren't for Grace's father."
The silence in the room was absolute. You could have heard a pin drop. A few rows up, the girl who had made the cruel joke the day before was staring at her shoes, visibly crying.
Miller turned back to Grace and dropped to one knee, bringing himself to eye level with her. He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a gleaming Challenge Coin from their old unit.
"Grace," he said, his voice thick with emotion but loud enough for the microphone to carry. "Your father was the bravest man I ever knew. You stood your ground yesterday, just like he would have. You protected his honor, and now, his squad is here to protect yours. We have your back. Always."
He pressed the heavy metal coin into her palm, stood up, and then all four Marines snapped a crisp, perfectly unified salute to my fourteen-year-old daughter.
Tears streamed down Grace's face, but they weren't tears of anger or shame anymore. She stood tall, squared her shoulders, and returned a clumsy but beautiful salute of her own.
Suddenly, from the back row of the bleachers, a single student stood up and started clapping. Then another. Within seconds, the entire auditorium erupted into a deafening standing ovation. Even Mr. Davis and the teachers were on their feet.
I hurried down the aisle, wiping away my own tears, and wrapped Grace in a massive hug. Staff Sergeant Miller tipped his head to me, a fierce, protective glint in his eye.
Before we could leave the building, Principal Davis rushed over to us in the hallway. He looked thoroughly chastised.
"Mrs. Harrison, Grace," he stammered, wringing his hands. "I... I want to formally apologize. The detention has been completely wiped from her record. We will be handling the bullying incident with the other student appropriately, and frankly, I think our staff needs a heavy refresher on empathy."
Grace squeezed the coin in her hand, looking up at the four men in uniform who had dropped everything to stand by her side. She didn't need to say a word. The message had been delivered loud and clear.
Captain Mark Harrison had left a legacy of courage behind, and that day, an entire school learned exactly what it meant to be a hero's daughter.
Pete Hegseth just announced that the Boy Scouts of America is returning to separating males and females. No more DEI BS.
Never should have happened in the first place.