This is a brilliant video created by @donwinslow
Trump has lived a lifetime of criminal activity and deceit, now siding with dictators and pedophiles, while Republicans protect him to stay in power.
Stop this authoritarian takeover! Vote!
#VoteBlueToEndThisNightmare#DV1
He is back! The best agent the world has ever seen, people are saying, Donald Trump has been briefed by none other than President Jimmy Carter himself. His mission is clear.. well, more or less. Tehran 1978 is waiting. Agent 047 is going on a mission of his lifetime.
Also starring:
- Elon Musk as Q;
- Karoline Leavitt as Miss Moneypenny;
- Melania Trump as.. as Agent Melatonin
Enjoy the mission, ladies and gentlemen. One thing is for sure - It's going to be unforgettable.
This is just the 1st episode of the upcoming series. Subscribe for more. Links to my YouTube channel and merch are in the comments.
Created using @higgsfield_ai AI platform. Enjoy!
In 104 AD, Roman engineers broke ground on a bridge over the Tagus River in what is now Alcántara, Spain 🇪🇸
No concrete. No steel rebar. No modern adhesive. Just granite blocks, cut and fitted with a precision that still puzzles civil engineers today.
The bridge took roughly two years to complete. When it was finished, Emperor Trajan commissioned an inscription for a small temple at its center. The inscription read, in part: a bridge that will last forever.
He was not wrong.
The Puente Romano de Alcántara stands today, nearly 1,920 years after the last stone was placed. Trucks cross it. Tourists walk its six arches. The Tagus still runs beneath it.
The arches rise 48 meters above the river. The longest single span stretches 28 meters. Engineers who have studied the structure note that the granite was quarried locally and transported without the benefit of mechanized equipment, yet the tolerances between blocks are measured in fractions of a millimeter.
The Romans used a technique called opus incertum for the core fill and dressed the exterior faces in ashlar granite. The arches rely on the geometry of the voussoir, wedge-shaped stones that transfer load outward through compression rather than fighting it with tensile strength. Roman engineers understood that stone is strong in compression and weak in tension. Modern concrete is the opposite problem managed differently.
The bridge has not had an easy 1,920 years. It was partially destroyed in the 8th century during the Muslim conquest of Iberia. Rebuilt. Damaged again in the Peninsular War in 1812 when a span was blown up to slow Napoleon's forces. Rebuilt again.
Each time, the original Roman stonework remained. Each repair grafted itself onto the Roman core.
In 1988, heavy flooding struck the Tagus valley. A modern concrete bridge downstream, built decades earlier, collapsed. The Roman bridge did not move.
There is a phrase in Spanish engineering circles, not quite a joke: si quieres que dure, que lo hagan los romanos. If you want it to last, have the Romans build it.
The Puente de Alcántara is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is classified as one of the finest examples of Roman bridge construction in the world.
Almost two thousand years old.
Still open to traffic.
Still exactly where they left it.
The span that was blown up in 1812 to stop Napoleon was rebuilt using the original Roman technique. The Roman sections have outlasted every repair made to them.
#drthehistories
WATCH: Fuel truck moves during refueling of an Air China Boeing 747-89L at New York's JFK Airport.
The unexpected movement of the refueling truck caused damage to the fuel port and a fuel leak.
Bir kadın, kocası işteyken bir ilişki yaşar.
Sevgilisiyle yatakta birlikteyken, 13 yaşındaki oğlu içeri girer, ikisini görür ve izlemek için dolaba saklanır.
Sonra koca eve gelir ve kadın, oğlunun zaten orada olduğunu fark etmeden sevgilisini de dolaba koyar.
Oğul: "Burası çok karanlık."
Adam: "Evet."
Oğul: "Benim bir beyzbol topum var."
Adam: "Güzel."
Oğul: "Satmak ister misin?"
Adam: "Hayır, teşekkürler."
Oğul: "Babam dışarıda duruyor..."
Adam: "Tamam, peki, ne kadar?"
Oğul: "$250"
Adam: "Tamam."
Şimdi çocuk, kapı zili her çaldığında dolaba saklanıyor. Üç hafta sonra aynı şey tekrar oluyor, yine oğul ve sevgili dolapta birlikte.
Oğul: "Burası çok karanlık."
Adam: "Evet."
Oğul: "Benim bir beyzbol eldivenim var."
Adam, geçen seferki oyunu hatırlayıp sinirlenerek sorar: "Bu sefer ne kadar?"
Oğul: "$750"
Adam: "Tamam."
Birkaç gün sonra, baba oğula der: "Hadi beyzbol oynayalım, topunu ve eldivenini al."
Çocuk: "Olamaz, eşyaları sattım."
Baba: "Ne kadara?"
Çocuk: "$1000."
Baba: "Bu çok fazla, arkadaşlarını böyle kazıklarsın ha! Eşyaların değerinden kat kat fazla. Hemen kiliseye gidiyoruz ve günahlarını itiraf edeceksin."
İkisi kiliseye gider ve baba çocuğu itiraf odasına koyar.
Çocuk: "Burası çok karanlık."
Rahip: "Şu boktan numarayı bir daha başlama!"
~bamasaltymarine
A guy had been having an affair with an Italian woman for two years.
One night she says, "Honey, I'm pregnant."
The guy almost faints. He's thinking, "My marriage is over.
So he says, "Listen, I'll give you a lot of money if you go back to Italy, have the baby there, and keep everything a secret. I'll even send child support until the kid turns 18."
She says, "Okay, but how will you know when the baby's born?"
He says, "Easy. Just mail me a postcard and write one word on the back. Spaghetti. I'll know exactly what it means."
Seven months later, he comes home, and his wife says, "Honey, you got the weirdest postcard today.
He says, "Just give it to me." He reads it. His face turns ghost white. He grabs his chest and drops like he just saw his credit card bill.
His wife picks up the postcard and reads it. It says, spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti. Three with meatballs, two without. Send extra sauce.
A police officer pulls over a speeding car...
The officer says, "I clocked you at 80 miles per hour, sir."
The driver says, "Gee, officer, I had it on cruise control at 60; perhaps your radar gun needs calibrating."
Not looking up from her knitting, the wife says: "Now don't be silly, dear, you know that this car doesn't have cruise control."
As the officer writes out the ticket, the driver looks over at his wife and growls, "Can't you please keep your mouth shut for once?"
The wife smiles demurely and says, "You should be thankful your radar detector went off when it did."
As the officer makes out the second ticket for the illegal radar detector unit, the man glowers at his wife and says through clenched teeth, "Darn it, woman, can't you keep your mouth shut?"
The officer frowns and says, "And I notice that you're not wearing your seat belt, sir. That's an automatic $75 fine."
The driver says, "Yeah, well, you see, officer, I had it on, but took it off when you pulled me over so that I could get my license out of my back pocket."
The wife says, "Now, dear, you know very well that you didn't have your seat belt on. You never wear your seat belt when you're driving."
And as the police officer is writing out the third ticket, the driver turns to his wife and barks, "WHY DON'T YOU PLEASE SHUT UP??"
The officer looks over at the woman and asks, "Does your husband always talk to you this way, Ma'am?"
"Only when he's been drinking, officer.'
In 2006, workers digging a road in Belgium unearthed the body of a soldier who had lain hidden for nearly ninety years.
Most of the battlefield dead were buried in haste, tumbled into shell holes with no time for ceremony. But not this one.
This young man had been laid to rest with unmistakable care — and when they learned who had done it, and why, it broke their hearts...
The place was Polygon Wood, near Zonnebeke, in Belgium's Flanders Fields — ground soaked in the blood of the First World War. A construction crew, breaking earth for roadworks, struck something their machines were never meant to find. Not rock. Not clay. Bones.
In this corner of Belgium, that is not as rare as you might think. More than a century after the guns fell silent, the soil around Ypres is still giving up its dead. The workers stopped at once and called the man who is summoned for exactly this: Johan Vandewalle, a Belgian battlefield archaeologist who has spent his life recovering the fallen of the Great War, and who runs a little café and museum nearby.
Over the following days, Vandewalle and his team carefully uncovered not one soldier but five, all young Australians, buried together where they fell. They would come to be known as the "Zonnebeke Five." Four of the bodies had suffered badly in the earth. But the fifth was different.
The fifth soldier had been wrapped, with great care, in a canvas groundsheet — the standard-issue sheet a soldier used for shelter. The wrapping had protected him so well that his remains, even his boots, were remarkably intact after ninety years. And there was one detail that stopped the excavators in their tracks.
His arms had been folded gently across his chest.
No one does that in the frenzy of battle unless they love the man they are burying. This was not a body dumped in a crater. This was someone laid to rest, tenderly, by a hand that grieved. Someone had knelt in that hell and taken the time to do it right.
The question was: who was he, and who had buried him with such love?
In time, several of the Zonnebeke Five were identified through DNA, matched to living relatives back in Australia. The soldier in the groundsheet was Private John Hunter — known to his family as Jack — of the 49th Battalion, Australian Infantry, a young man from the town of Nanango in Queensland. And when his family's story was traced, through the memories passed down by his niece, the truth of that tender grave finally emerged.
Jack Hunter had not gone to war alone. He had a brother.
His name was James Hunter — Jim — and he was Jack's younger brother. The two of them, boys from the same Queensland home, had enlisted and ended up serving side by side in the very same battalion, in one of the most terrible battles of the most terrible war the world had ever known.
To understand what Jim did, you have to understand where he did it.
The fighting around Polygon Wood in September of 1917 was part of the wider campaign history remembers as Passchendaele — a byword for horror even by the standards of the First World War. The land had been shelled into oblivion. Trees were reduced to blackened splinters. The earth itself had been churned into a bottomless soup of mud and water, so deep that wounded men sometimes drowned in it before anyone could reach them.
It was into this that the Hunter brothers advanced, on the 26th of September, 1917.
Somewhere in that chaos of shellfire and machine guns, Jack was hit. And his younger brother Jim reached him.
Jack died there, in Jim's arms.
What Jim did next is the reason we tell this story at all. He was in the middle of an active battlefield. Shells were still falling. Another attack could come at any moment. Every instinct of survival screamed at him to move, to take cover, to save himself. Instead, Jim stayed with his brother's body — and he buried him.
He wrapped Jack in his groundsheet. He folded Jack's arms across his chest, the way you would lay out a loved one for a proper funeral. He dug a grave as best he could in that waterlogged ground, and he laid his brother in it, and he did his utmost to mark the spot so that he could one day come back and find him.
But Passchendaele did not let anything stay marked. The next barrage reshaped the ground. The rains filled the craters. The mud closed over everything. And by the time the battle had moved on, the little grave was gone, swallowed by the churned and ruined earth.
Jim Hunter survived the war. He went back, afterward, and searched for the place where he had buried his brother — but it had vanished, erased along with the whole shattered landscape. In time, he returned home to Australia. He carried Jack with him for the rest of his life, always believing, always hoping, that one day the two of them would somehow be reunited.
He died without ever finding his brother's grave. He never knew that anyone ever would.
And then, decades after Jim was gone, a road crew broke ground near Polygon Wood — and Jack came back into the light at last, still wrapped in the groundsheet his brother had folded around him, his arms still crossed where his brother's hands had placed them.
In 2007, Private John "Jack" Hunter was reburied with full military honours at the Buttes New British Cemetery, only a short distance from where he had fallen. He has a proper headstone now, carved with his name. It reads: "Beloved son of Harry and Emily Hunter, Nanango, QLD. At rest after being lost for 90 years." And his name was removed from the great Menin Gate memorial to the missing — because he was no longer missing. He had been found.
Johan Vandewalle could not let the story rest there. So moved was he by what one brother had done for another that he set out to build a permanent memorial to it — and to all the brothers who fought and suffered and died side by side in that war. In the years that followed, an Australian sculptor named Louis Laumen created the centrepiece: a life-size bronze of Jim cradling his dying brother Jack in his arms.
That memorial stands in Zonnebeke today, and people travel from Australia and around the world to see it. They stand before the two bronze brothers, and they read the story, and very often they weep — because the loss of seventeen million souls in that war is a number too vast for the human heart to hold, but one brother refusing to leave another is something we understand completely.
Jack and Jim Hunter were not statistics. They were two boys from a Queensland town who grew up together, and went to war together, and in the end lay only a groundsheet apart across ninety years.
One brother would not leave the other behind. And in the end, neither did history.
Had you ever heard the story of the Hunter brothers? Tell us below. And here's one for today: is there a story of devotion between brothers or sisters in your own family that has stayed with you all your life?
Lawyers should never ask grandmas a question if they aren’t prepared for the answer!
In a trial, a small-town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, an elderly grandmother, to the stand.
He approached her and asked, "Mrs Jones, do you know me?"_
She responded, "Why, yes, I do know you, Mr Williams._ I've known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you're a big disappointment to me''
''You lie, cheat on your wife, manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realise you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you''
The lawyer was stunned! Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs Jones, do you know the defence attorney?''
She again replied, "Why, yes, I do. I've known Mr Bradley since he was a youngster. He's lazy, bigoted, and has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him."
The defence attorney almost died.
The judge asked both lawyers to approach the bench and, in a quiet voice, said:
"If either of you rascals asks her if she knows me, I'll send you to jail for contempt of court.''
Miles de marroquíes llegaron en camiones y autobuses a la frontera de Ceuta.
No es una crisis migratoria, es una marcha verde orquestada por Mohamed VI.
Thousands of military-age men were brought in trucks to the Moroccan-Spanish border in Ceuta. Most of them freed criminals pardoned by the king yesterday!
Notice the Moroccan officer assisting them. This was all coordinated by the Moroccan government.