Dit is vergelijkbaar met een parade van Mosloms op straat die hun ontbloot torso slaan.
this is the ssme s Moslims marching on the streets bearing their naked chest.
So Pope Leo XIV, despite his American origins and an invitation to today’s 250th US anniversary celebrations, said no
Instead, he went to Lampedusa 🇮🇹 — standing on a rock like a seagull, papal skullcap in the wind — to honor migrant victims and send a strong message to Europe…
Meanwhile in Dearborn, Muslims are reportedly demanding that churches stop ringing their bells on Sunday.
“This is a Muslim-majority city and you have to respect us. According to Sharia, church bells cannot be louder than our Islamic call to prayer.”
Do not give them an inch!
@NewYorker When your neighbor gives you a job, and you use this to enter his home and murder his elderly mother, torture and r@pe his wife and daughters and kidnap his babies, don't be surprised when he doesn't give you a job again.
The Gestapo broke down her door on a cold morning in October 1943.
Suzanne Spaak did not run. She had been expecting this.
She was born in Brussels in 1905, into a wealthy Belgian banking family. Her husband Claude was a celebrated playwright. Their life in Paris was one of luxury and intellectual company. She knew René Magritte. She dined with the thinkers and artists of Paris. She wore fine clothes and lived in an elegant apartment near the Palais-Royal, neighbors with the novelist Colette.
She was safe, comfortable, and had everything to lose.
Then came 1942, and the Nazis began emptying Paris of Jewish families. Children separated from parents. Families loaded onto trains.
Suzanne could not walk past.
She started small. Took in one child. Fed her. Found her a safe home. Then another came. Then another. By 1943, Suzanne was running a full network. Creating false papers. Moving children across France to families willing to take them in. Working with the Red Orchestra resistance network. Using her wealth, her connections, and her aristocratic privilege to save lives.
In October 1943, the Gestapo broke her network. Someone had talked under torture. Names were given. Addresses exposed.
Before they came for her, Suzanne passed the list of every child she had hidden, every address, every name, to a trusted underground contact. She protected them one last time.
For nine months in Fresnes Prison, she was tortured, interrogated, and condemned to death. She never gave up names. Never betrayed anyone.
On her cell wall, she scratched words that are still quoted today: ""Alone with my thoughts, there is still freedom.""
On August 12, 1944, thirteen days before American tanks rolled into Paris and the city rang with celebration she would never hear, Gestapo officer Heinz Pannwitz walked into her cell and shot her. She was 39 years old.
Every child Suzanne hid survived the war. Some had children of their own. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. Families that exist today because one woman looked at suffering and could not ignore it.
In 1985, forty-one years after her death, Yad Vashem recognized Suzanne Spaak as Righteous Among the Nations.
Most people have never heard her name.
There is a street in Paris named after her. A plaque where she was executed. A book her daughter wrote documenting her life.
She died just close enough to touch freedom. Just far enough to miss it.
Now you know her name.
-I'm 51 years old and I've been wanting a short haircut; today I took the plunge, but the people close to me don't like my new look and are giving me a hard time. Your opinion means a lot to me. Thank you so much