Visto che @marcotravaglio non va a scuola la scuola va da Travaglio.
Smentiamo fattualmente le baggianate dette a @OttoemezzoTW e che @beppesevergnini non ha saputo contrastare.
E questo anche per @corradoformigli , visto che c’è, dopo la figuraccia con @CarloCalenda
Nel 2010 l’Ucraina ha scelto la neutralità.
La Rada approvò la legge n. 2411-VI:
“L’Ucraina persegue una politica di non allineamento e non aderisce a nessuna alleanza militare.”
https://t.co/0VdH04Bx1T
Nel 2014 l’Ucraina era neutrale, senza basi NATO né richiesta d’adesione.
Eppure Putin invase Crimea e Donbass.
La neutralità non fermò l’aggressione.
ONU condannò l’annessione della Crimea: https://t.co/xVCLxkh3Iy
Il summit NATO di Bucarest (2008) non promise nulla di concreto.
Solo una formula generica: “L’Ucraina e la Georgia diventeranno membri in futuro.”
Comunicato integrale NATO:
https://t.co/hxnUeWGKwr
La guerra del 2014 non fu causata dalla NATO, ma dal tentativo di Mosca di riportare Kiev nella propria sfera d’influenza dopo Maidan.
Russia attaccò un Paese neutrale, non un “satellite americano”.
Analisi CSIS:
https://t.co/FziAIhAmtN
Solo dopo l’invasione la Rada revocò la neutralità (dicembre 2014).
Kiev scelse di cercare protezione nella NATO perché Mosca aveva violato la neutralità.
Legge 35-VIII (revoca neutralità):
https://t.co/W1JWKpOgMB
Il ruolo russo a Maidan
Durante Maidan (2013-2014) Mosca fece pressioni su Kiev perché abbandonasse l’accordo UE.
Agenti FSB e GRU furono segnalati a Kiev nei giorni cruciali.
Foreign Policy:
https://t.co/8XSqWYaYhj
Documenti e testimonianze mostrano l’influenza russa su Maidan: sostegno politico e operazioni d’intelligence a favore di Yanukovych.
Analisi Svidomi:
https://t.co/H8D8NCvl46
L’OSCE ha ricordato che le indagini su Maidan e Odessa si collocano “nel contesto dell’aggressione russa contro l’Ucraina.”
Documento OSCE:
https://t.co/QbHUpbab1t
Violazioni russe degli Accordi di Minsk
Gli Accordi (2014-2015) prevedevano cessate il fuoco e ritiro di armi e milizie straniere.
Mosca li firmò ma non ritirò mai né truppe né mezzi dal Donbass.
Testo ufficiale OSCE:
https://t.co/OIR2KSrdic
ONU, OSCE e UE confermano violazioni russe sistematiche: sostegno militare a Donetsk e Luhansk, armi e personale inviati.
Rapporto ONU (A/HRC/49/71):
https://t.co/j1tgA6cwa3
Storia crisi (Consiglio UE):
https://t.co/xfRInZ0Dui
Standards of Ethical Conduct for employees of the executive branch (5 CFR § 2635.702) state that an employee cannot use their government position or title to endorse any product, service, or enterprise. This applies broadly to the use of official authority to benefit the employee, their family, or associates.
We Had a Chance to End the Conflict and We Chose to Burn It.
In 2005, something historic happened.
Israel withdrew completely from Gaza - not just its soldiers, but also all of its civilians, farms, and settlements. Thousands of Israeli families were uprooted from their homes by their own government. Synagogues were dismantled, greenhouses and infrastructure worth hundreds of millions of dollars were left behind - not destroyed, but handed over to give us a chance to start fresh.
For the first time in our history, we had full control over a piece of land - our own borders, our own cities, our own people, and access to the sea. The world was ready to help. Billions in aid and investment were promised.
It could have been the beginning of a Palestinian Singapore.
But instead of building schools, hospitals, and industries, we built tunnels, rockets, and militias.
Instead of creating hope, we chose hatred.
Instead of turning Gaza into proof that Palestinians can govern themselves, we turned it into proof that we cannot.
When Israel left, the world expected calm, peace, and progress.
What did we give them?
Civil war between Fatah and Hamas.
Executions in the streets.
A terror group seizing power and turning Gaza into a launching pad for endless wars.
And the world still asks: Why doesn’t Israel “just give up the West Bank” too?
Because they already saw what happened the last time they gave land for nothing in return.
The truth is painful, but it must be said:
We were given a chance to build a future and we used it to destroy our own.
We could have shown that we were ready for peace.
Instead, we showed that we were ruled by those who fear peace more than they fear death.
Every rocket fired from Gaza wasn’t just aimed at Israel - it was aimed at our own future.
And now, after all the destruction, poverty, and death, I keep asking myself:
What if, just once, we had chosen life instead of revenge?
We had the opportunity to end the conflict.
But our leaders and too many of us chose to keep it alive.
A message from a Kindergarten teacher:
After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:
“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”
No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”
My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.
When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.
But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.
My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.
And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.
They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.
The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”
As if kindness were a weakness.
Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”
Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.
But this last year broke something in me.
The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.
I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.
So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:
“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”
I sat on the floor and cried.
No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.
I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.
I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.
So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.
Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.
La lamentela del "non si può più dire niente" non è mai stata per la mancanza di free speech.
Il problema vero, il grande dramma, è che se dici una cosa magari fastidiosa, magari offensiva, quello che succede è che la gente ti risponde.
E le critiche, e gli attacchi, puntualmente ti raggiungono e ti rovinano la giornata.
Tu speravi di poter dire quello che volevi senza conseguenze, di ricevere solo consenso, oppure al massimo un grande silenzio. Invece no.
Ed è questa la libertà di espressione.
Vuoi dire una cosa scomoda, anche offensiva? Dilla.
Vuoi fare il duro e spararla grossa? Sparala.
Vuoi provocare? Provoca, va bene.
Si può fare, non c'è lo Stato a vietartelo, non arriverà la polizia.
Ma le persone romperanno i coglioni, sì.
Come tutti i bimbi grandi, devi affrontare le conseguenze di quello che dici, dell'effetto che ottieni.
Non sei sotto la doccia a parlare da solo, dove vinci tutte le discussioni: sei nel mondo vero, interconnesso, dove tutti vengono a sapere le cose.
Non sei il solo ad avere la libertà di rompere i coglioni: anche gli altri possono. E lo faranno.
Questa, è la libertà di espressione.
Stacce.
They are trying to silence us,!! visibility is almost zero!!
let's break it🙌
Do you support Ukraine?🇺🇦
let's stand together 🫂
show your voice😉🙌
Drop 🇺🇦 flag in comment
@CalltoActivism ...I don't know what else Trump needs to say or do to prove to even the most hardcore MAGA fans that he's a tyrant aiming for dictatorship...
🚨🪖🇫🇷🇷🇺 Mentre tutti i media italiani seguono minuto per minuto la rotta della Flotilla e delle sue imbarcazioni, il Blog ritiene più utile e importante dal punto di vista geopolitico ricostruire quanto accaduto a bordo di un'altra nave: la petroliera russa Borocay. Militari francesi, incappucciati e armati, presidiano ora il ponte dell'imbarcazione. È una storia che può trasformarsi in un giallo di portata internazionale. Buona lettura agli iscritti al Blog:
https://t.co/fTqoOpqtXG
Capisco Travaglio: raccontare cazzate è il suo mestiere, non ha alternative.
Quello che non capisco sono Barbero e Orsini.
Professori universitari, gente con la cattedra, eppure da un po’ fanno concorrenza ai bar dello sport in tema di geopolitica.
Prima l’Ucraina, adesso anche la Polonia: sembra la saga delle “cazzate a puntate”.
Come fai a non ridergli in faccia?
La prossima volta che invitano Barbero a parlare di Medioevo a Quark, verrà spontaneo chiedersi se spunterà con un grafico sulla NATO nel 1200.
Come si potrà prenderlo sul serio senza pensare alle sue uscite pubbliche? Si è scavato da solo una fossa professionale.
Capisco la passione per il complottismo e l’anti-occidentalismo, ma se hai un lavoro rispettabile, perché buttarti nel cabaret politico?
Vuoi sfogarti? Apri un conto anonimo in Twitter.
Ma andare in TV a fare l’opinionista? È come giocarsi la carriera a La Corrida.