Daycare calls me. That's never good.
For them.
Daycare: "your son hurt his elbow and won't move his arm. Can you come take him to a doctor's office?"
Me (ex Special Forces Medic): "A real doctor is on the way to you now. I am 6 mikes out. Alert me of status changes."
I arrive at daycare. I locate the patient. 21 month old male. Scene is not safe. I drag the patient to cover and concealment behind a seesaw, away from the other small terrorists in the AO.
I begin my assessment. Blood sweep negative for massive hemorrhage. Mental status: conscious and verbal but confused (answers "dada" when asked for blood type). One breath every 2 seconds. Bilateral rise and fall of the chest. Strong carotid pulse, strong bilat radial pulse.
Teeth and tongue intact no blood no mucus no dip or foreign objects. Eyes PERRLA, negative JVD/trach deviation, C-spine intact upon palpation.
Heart sounds strong upon auscultation. Percussion negative for hemo-T. Abdominal quads normal upon palpation. Pelvis negative for book sign.
Arms and legs negative for crepitus. However, Patient indicates discomfort in right arm upon palpation and supination/flexion of the elbow.
Nursemaid's elbow.
I begin interventions. Supination/flexion technique complete at 1215. Palpable clunk on successful reduction. I write the time on his chest in Sharpie. I tape a popsicle to his hand and tell the patient to suck but do not bite/chew. I write "1 x popsicle (10g sugar)" on his chest in Sharpie.
I reassess the patient after performing interventions then package the patient for handoff to daycare/higher level of care. I yell at daycare over the Blackhawk in my head: "21 month old male!!! Nursemaids elbow!!! Treated with supination/flexion technique at 1215!!! Patient has 1 x popsicle onboard!!"
Daycare: "sir please leave."
Me: "you should have called my wife."
Saying this once more for the people in the back. HOARD your physical media. HOARD your hardware. HOARD your armaments. HAVE redundancies. HAVE solar, HAVE satellites, HAVE a garden, HAVE a meat guy, etc. You are not CATTLE. You are a HUMAN with AGENCY. Do not be a digital slave.
ESTO ES UN PALANTIR GRATIS Y SE INSTALA EN UN SOLO COMANDO.
se llama OSIRIS.
abres un globo 3D en tu navegador y ves, en tiempo real:
→ +10.000 aviones en el aire
→ +2.000 satélites
→ cámaras CCTV de todo el mundo
→ incendios, terremotos, tráfico marítimo
→ 13 zonas de conflicto activas
todo en una sola pantalla.
y no se queda ahí.
trae un toolkit OSINT dentro:
port scanner, DNS, WHOIS, análisis de dominios.
Palantir cuesta millones.
esto es:
→ open source
→ MIT
→ docker compose up
→ listo
la mayoría de fuentes funcionan sin meter ni una API key.
por qué te importa:
el tipo de inteligencia que antes solo tenían gobiernos...
ahora la levantas tú en tu portátil en 5 minutos.
ideal para periodismo, seguridad o verificación.
repo 👇
🚨🇦🇱 BREAKING: Day 21 of mass protests in Tirana, Albania
✊️🇦🇱Over 350,000 people have taken to the streets, no longer asking, demanding Edi Rama’s resignation for selling Albanian land and Sazan Island to oligarchs and Kushner.
✊️The people have crossed the point of no return.
⚡️The old Albania is dying in these streets.
✊️🇦🇱NEW ALBANIA is rising.
#Albania #FlamingoRevolution
He's worth billions. He could own anything.
Instead, Tim Sweeney collects what most billionaires ignore: wild places.
Forests. Mountains. Rivers. Over 190,000 acres across the eastern United States, with 50,000 acres in North Carolina alone—making him one of the largest private land conservationists in America.
Most people know him as the CEO behind Fortnite and Unreal Engine, the technology that powers entire digital worlds. But quietly, for nearly two decades, he's been preserving real ones.
It started in 2008. When the economy crashed and land prices collapsed, Sweeney saw what others missed: an opportunity to rescue forests before bulldozers could. He started buying.
One of his first major saves was Box Creek Wilderness—7,000 acres of untouched forest in the Blue Ridge foothills, home to 130+ rare species that had no other refuge. A power company wanted to run industrial lines straight through it. Sweeney fought them, bought the land for around $15 million, and placed a permanent conservation easement—meaning it can never be developed. Ever.
But here's what makes it extraordinary: he wasn't hoarding land for himself.
He was thinking like an ecologist.
His real vision became something bigger: stitching his properties together into conservation corridors—long, unbroken stretches of wild land with no roads and no houses, so animals and plants can move freely across the mountains. Especially as climate change pushes vulnerable species to seek higher elevations where they can survive.
And then he did something that surprised everyone.
He started giving it away.
In 2021, Sweeney donated 7,500 acres in the Roan Highlands to the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy. The largest private land donation in North Carolina history. No fanfare. No building with his name. No press conference.
Most people who play his games don't even know he's one of America's most significant private conservationists.
When asked why, he doesn't make speeches. He says it plainly:
"If you can protect land permanently, it will outlast any one person."
There's a profound wisdom in that.
The man who creates worlds with code—where forests materialize with a keystroke and mountains shift in seconds—understands better than almost anyone why the real ones are irreplaceable.
A virtual forest can be rebuilt in seconds. A real one takes centuries to grow and minutes to destroy.
While millions of players drop into the imaginary islands he created, Sweeney is busy securing the actual ones—the watersheds, the ancient forests, the hidden habitats where black bears roam free and rare salamanders thrive in mountain streams.
He could buy anything in the world. Instead, he's buying the wild places—and making sure they stay wild.
Some legacies are built with code. His might be built by leaving the forest alone.
The hardware store closes at 6PM.. It's 5:58 when a kid walks in. The kid can't be more than sixteen. Soaking wet and shaking from the rain...
"We're closing." Tom says.
"Please. I just need a lock. For a door."
Something in the kid's voice. Terror. Desperation.
"What kind of lock?"
"I don't know. Just one that keeps people out."
The kid's got a black eye. Fresh. The kind that's still swelling.
Tom doesn't ask. Just walks to aisle seven. Shows him the locks. The kid reaches for the cheapest one, $8.99.
"That one's garbage," Tom says, "Won't stop anyone determined."
He hands him a deadbolt. Heavy duty. $34.99.
The kid's face crumbles. "I only have twelve dollars."
They stand there. Store empty except for them.
Tom takes the deadbolt to the register. Rings it up. "Twelve dollars."
"But,"
"Sale price. Today only."
The kid knows there's no sale. Knows this old man is lying. Tries not to cry and fails.
Tom bags it. Adds a screwdriver. Free.
"You know how to install it?"
The kid shakes his head...
They drive in Tom's truck. Don't talk. The kid directs him to a rundown duplex on the east side.
Upstairs apartment. Door frame cracked. Old lock broken, hanging loose.
Tom installs the deadbolt. Takes him fifteen minutes. Tests it. Solid.
Hands the kid both keys.
"Someone tries to get in, you call 911. You hear me?"
The kid nods.
Tom's halfway to his truck when he hears it, "Why?"
He turns around. The kid's standing in the doorway, backlit, holding those keys like they're made of gold.
"Why did you help me?"
Tom thinks about his own son. Twenty years ago. Different city. Same desperate eyes. Didn't make it.
"Because you asked," Tom says simply.
He drives home. Doesn't tell his wife. Doesn't think much about it.
Three weeks pass.
A woman comes into the store. Tired eyes but smiling. "Are you Tom?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"My son told me about you. The lock you sold him." She's crying now. "His father, my ex-husband, he's not a good man. That lock kept us safe until I could get the restraining order. Until we could breathe."
She hands Tom an envelope. "It's not much. But it's the thirty dollars we owed you, plus a little more."
Tom tries to refuse. She won't let him.
"You didn't just sell him a lock," she says. "You saw him. You saw us. When we were invisible."
After she leaves, Tom opens the envelope. Sixty dollars. And a note from the kid:
"Installed three more locks for neighbors who needed them. Taught myself how...
"Going to trade school next year. Maybe I'll work in a hardware store someday. Be someone like you. -Marcus"
Tom's manager notices him crying by the register.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Tom says. "Just... yeah."
That night, Tom stayed two minutes past closing. Then five. Then ten.
In case someone walks in at 5:58PM. Soaking wet. Desperate. Needing more than just a lock.
Tom learned something.
The last customer of the day may be the most important one we ever serve.
Republicans are in charge because we promised:
to Make America Healthy Again.
to start No New Wars,
to put people above corporations,
to put America above foreign countries,
to release the Epstein files,
to not spy on citizens,
to eliminate fraud,
what the hell happened?!
🚨 The Nashville Zoo is asking for the public's help fighting a new 69,000‑sq‑ft data center that could disrupt endangered species’ breeding programs with constant noise, lights, & 24/7 industrial activity.
397K+ people have already signed the petition.
I saw a post on Reddit that said that “The underlying purpose of AI is to allow wealth to access skill while removing from the skilled the ability to access wealth.” And I don’t think I’ve ever seen AI described so incisively.
The legendary American actor and comedian Bill Murray once did something unforgettable during a late-night taxi ride.
After learning that his cab driver was a saxophone player who worked 14 hours a day and rarely had time to practice, Murray told him to grab his sax from the trunk and sit in the back seat.
Murray then took the wheel and drove all the way from Oakland to Sausalito while the driver played music.
Along the journey, they even stopped for some late-night barbecue, turning an ordinary cab ride into a memory neither of them would ever forget.
the same God who programmed tiny kinesin proteins to know exactly where to go inside your cells isn’t confused about where your life is headed.
that thought alone brings me peace.