Becky K

who's looking??
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Rohit @heyrohitai]

🚨 Anthropic just showed a 27-minute workshop on how to actually do prompts for Claude.

Taught by the people who built it.

Free. No registration. No paywall.

I've seen $300 courses that don't cover what they teach in the first 8 minutes.

Watch the session

[Story Web @Ezekle1]

My son brought home a classmate who smelled like stale smoke and wore the same faded hoodie four days in a row.
My son, Leo, is nine. He came home on a Tuesday and said, "Mom, can Julian come over? He says his house doesn't have Wi-Fi, and we have that big social studies project due."
Julian showed up an hour later. He was a wiry kid with unkempt hair and sneakers held together by silver duct tape. He flinched slightly when I reached out to take his jacket.
"Are you hungry, Julian?" I asked.
He just nodded. He ate three grilled cheese sandwiches without once looking up from the plate.
While the boys worked, I noticed Julian didn’t have a backpack. He had his school papers tucked into a plastic grocery bag. His worksheet was filled with mistakes, but the paper was wrinkled from where he had erased and tried again a dozen times. He was trying so hard.
"Julian, would you like me to look over your answers?" I offered.
"My dad usually does it," he said softly, staring at the table. "But he’s... busy lately." The way he said "busy" made my chest ache.
Leo whispered to me in the kitchen later, "Julian’s dad is really sick, Mom. He doesn't come out of his room much. And his mom hasn't lived there in a long time."
The Red Flags
Julian started coming over every single day. He was always starving. Always polite. He never asked for a thing, but he looked at our pantry like it was a treasure chest.
One evening, 8:00 p.m. rolled around and Julian made no move to leave. He just sat on the edge of our sofa, staring blankly at the TV.
"Julian? Is your dad going to be worried about you?"
"He’s resting," he whispered. "He rests most of the time now."
The red flags were screaming. I drove him home that night. The apartment complex was dim, and his unit was freezing. His father, Ray, answered the door. He was rail-thin and had a cough that sounded like it was tearing him apart. "Sorry," Ray rasped. "I work a late shift... I have to sleep during the day. Julian knows the drill."
He was lying. There was no job. He was simply too ill to be a father.
I didn't call the authorities right away. Instead, I just started showing up. I brought over dinner because I "accidentally made a double batch." I offered to pick Julian up for school because "we were driving past anyway." I bought Leo new boots and coincidentally bought a second pair "in the wrong size—can Julian use them?"
The Spare Room
Ray finally broke down one Saturday afternoon. "Stage four lung cancer," he whispered, leaning against his doorframe. "No insurance. I lost the job months ago. I’m just trying to keep the lights on until... until I can’t. Then he goes into the system."
"What if he didn't?" I asked.
My husband and I aren't wealthy. We live paycheck to paycheck like most people. But we had a spare room.
Ray moved into our house two months ago. We set up a hospice bed in the downstairs den. Julian moved into what used to be my sewing room upstairs. It isn't a legal adoption. It isn't a state-mandated foster placement. It’s just... what you do when someone is falling.
Ray has very little time left. He spends his afternoons watching Julian and Leo play games from his bedside, tears tracing lines down his sunken cheeks. "He’s finally being a kid again," Ray whispers. "I thought I’d lost that for him."
Last week, Julian called me "Mom" by accident while asking for a glass of water. He turned bright red. "I'm sorry, I meant—"
"It's okay, sweetheart," I said, pulling him into a quick hug.
Ray saw it from the doorway. He squeezed my hand later that night. "Thank you," he mouthed. "Thank you for letting me stay long enough to know he’ll be okay."
The Lesson
I don't know what the legal battles will look like when Ray passes. I don't know how we’ll afford two teenagers in a few years. All I know is that right now, there are two boys doing homework at my kitchen table. One of them finally has shoes that don't need tape.
Sometimes saving a life doesn't require a cape or a grand speech.

[Prof. Dr. Kaan Yılancıoğlu @drkaanyl]

Şu egzersiz lenfatik drenajı, tüm vücutta kan akımını arttıran, neredeyse tüm vücudu çalıştıran belki de dünyanın en iyi egzersizi ... 👇

[Becky K @becksfun]

3-3-3 Anxiety Coping Evidence https://t.co/xZ65KQxJYK

[The Straits Times @straits_times]

Four-year-old among 46 hospitalised after eating bread from Vietnam bakery https://t.co/3aMVh2f48D

[Becky K @becksfun]

@LargeFamDad Er.... it is not fun when they reach puberty and go through the grouchy, "I want to be independent", know-it-all years. Which is ironically, the same number of years when you have enjoyed their childhood... So much that you forget why the hell did I have kids??!!

[Paul White Gold Eagle @PaulGoldEagle]

In 2011, a neuroscientist at MIT named Dr. Li-Huei Tsai made a discovery that should have been on the front page of every newspaper on Earth.

She exposed mice with advanced Alzheimer's disease to a flickering light pulsing at exactly 40 Hz — forty flashes per second. Nothing else. No drugs. No surgery. Just light at a specific frequency.

Within one hour, the amyloid-beta plaques in their brains — the protein deposits that define Alzheimer's — began to dissolve. Not slow. Not gradually. Within sixty minutes.

After seven days of daily 40 Hz exposure, plaque levels dropped by 50%. The mice regained memory function. Their neurons began firing in synchrony again. The brain's immune cells — microglia — activated and started clearing the toxic buildup like a cleaning crew that had been asleep for years.

The study was published in Nature. The most prestigious scientific journal on the planet. Peer-reviewed. Replicated. Confirmed.

That was 2016. It is now 2026.

40 million people worldwide have Alzheimer's. The pharmaceutical industry generates $13 billion per year from Alzheimer's drugs that do not reverse the disease. Not one of them. They slow it. Maybe. Temporarily. At $26,000 per year per patient.

A 40 Hz light costs less than a dollar to produce.

Dr. Tsai is still at MIT. Her research continues. Phase III human trials are underway. But you will not see this on the evening news. You will not hear your doctor mention it. You will not find it in any pharmacy.

Because a frequency that costs nothing cannot sustain a $13 billion industry.

The light is 40 Hz. The frequency is real. The science is published. And 40 million people are still waiting for permission to use it.

[Becky K @becksfun]

@MothershipSG Wah! That's bad 😔

[Becky K @becksfun]

‘Autism Doesn’t Need a Cure’: Trump’s Message Rankles People Living With the Disability #TrumpLiesToTheWorld
#TrumpUneducated
https://t.co/ISP6OXncjM

[Becky K @becksfun]

@TheBoomBaby @SidKeVichaar 😳 this comment.... no need to post such generalized and racist opinions. The crash is still under investigation

[Becky K @becksfun]

@cryptoramen @pannchoa 😆😆😆

[Debra Palmer @palmerdebra]

#gobackintime

[Becky K @becksfun]

@piss148299401 @MothershipSG The problem is, those who are intellectually challenged are likely the ones who go to ITE. While the bullies are academically challenged but street smart. Sad for the ones being bullied, they need support and empathy, and not to be taken advantage of and bullied

[Becky K @becksfun]

https://t.co/aGGCtLhBxE
#Microsoft #massoutage #outage

[Becky K @becksfun]

@jenrenee @Matt_Pinner Lol, I see a tired or stoned ostrich too 😂

[Becky K @becksfun]

@SWgurl_88 Thank you! 😊

[Becky K @becksfun]

This video is freaky!! Not sure if real or work of AI? Anyone knows? #HurricaneSeason #Tornado

[Becky K @becksfun]

Do you text more like Baby Boomers or Gen Z? Take this quiz to find out https://t.co/4xMoW5khhH

[Becky K @becksfun]

Tom Cruise photo looks unreal. Is it PS?? #tomcruise

[cinesthetic. @TheCinesthetic]

Tom Cruise and Will Smith on top of the Burj Khalifa skyscraper in Dubai.