Bre

I mean I guess I dance and love myself but can we go get drinks later too....

[𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓽 ✈️ @mldiffley]

In the past 10 minutes I’ve seen a cop yelled Fuck the Spurs, Spiderman doing pull-ups on scaffolding, a girl with an angelic voice singing Empire State of Mind on a boombox, and a dad help his 8 year old son light a Wemby jersey on fire. There are no other cities in the world

[THE GARDEN IS ROCKING @MSG_Rocking]

Magic Johnson on how special this Knicks team is:

Magic: “I don’t wanna hear no talk about Giannis, or no other player coming to this team. This is a great team. I’ve watched a lot of basketball. The way these guys love each other. Play for each other. Pull for one another. You’re not gonna see this anywhere else. The, grit, the toughness that’s how they beat you. Together.”

Stephen A: “You’re telling me, this team, as presently constructed, you wouldn’t change—”

Magic: “Nope.”

Stephen A: “Even if they don’t win the Finals, no changes?”

Magic: “You keep em together and make small changes. This team knows how to play so well with each other. And off of Brunson. Everybody is comfortable in their role. KAT could start for another team tomorrow. OG can go to another team and be a star. But he’s good to play his role. Bridges too. And Hart, no 2 guard rebounds like Josh Hart. So you’ve got the pieces, and they’re all happy.”

Stephen A: “But—”

Magic: “Now, if you trade for Giannis, how many dudes you gotta give up just to get him? It’s a different team now. The whole team changes.”

Stephen A: “That’s true.”

Magic: “This team. I love this team. I love the Knicks. They play basketball right. Don’t change.”

[BrooklynDad_Defiant!☮️ @mmpadellan]

I don't know about you folks, but I don't want ONE PENNY of my hard-earned tax funds going towards paying off January 6th scumbags who beat cops.

Not one penny.

[Five Times August @FiveTimesAugust]

The Epstein case is so bad the government gave you a war, a new virus, and aliens to keep you distracted from it. Sit with that as long as you need.

[WALKER🪂 @maxl1am]

God ate when he created sleep, what a beautiful concept

[Blue Georgia @BlueGeorgia]

Hillary Clinton: You have held zero public hearings, refused to allow the media to attend them, despite espousing the need for transparency. You have made little effort to call the people who show up most prominently in the Epstein files. And when you did, not a single Republican member showed up for Les Wexner's deposition. This institutional failure is designed to protect one political party and one public official, rather than to seek truth and justice for the victims and survivors.

[Yanna Thee Astrologer 🩷 @AVenusianVirgo]

Wine drunk.
T shirt and a thong.
R&B playing.
Cooking pasta.
In MY place that I live in by myself.

Happy mf Friday.

[BrooklynDad_Defiant!☮️ @mmpadellan]

I know we've all gotten used to trump's deranged daily rants, but hearing him repeatedly say "I can do anything I want... I can DESTROY the country" is unnerving, and way worse than Biden's bad debate.

He gets worse every day.
And none of this is normal.

[Brian Krassenstein @krassenstein]

Still waiting on those Epstein Files.

[n @myloversprayer]

2 months left in the year… time flies when ur smoking a lot of weed and trying not to actively kys

[Caroline Renard @carolinerenard_]

This is just the beginning of how they will use AI.

[REPUBLICANS AGAINST MAGA @michaelt5656]

This is the kind of turnout we need for the midterms!

[Travis Akers 🇺🇸 @travisakers]

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.

[Kamala Harris @KamalaHarris]

What we are witnessing is an outright abuse of power.

This administration is attacking critics and using fear as a weapon to silence anyone who would speak out. Media corporations — from television networks to newspapers — are capitulating to these threats.

We cannot dare to be silent or complacent in the face of this frontal assault on free speech.

We, the People, deserve better.

[JustTheFacts! ⚓️ 🇺🇸🦅 @JustTheFacts_68]

This… 👇👇👇👇👇

[Bre @PrettyBbyBre]

@hmd_mhmd9832 It won’t be the last

[𐌕 @fwtimini]

Women are actually very understanding if you’re honest with them, especially if they like you. You don’t even have to do all that lying.