Dad/mental health advocate/political junkie/community volunteer.
In solidarity w/ those who prefer to choose their Pronouns: he/him.
In crisis? #Look4theHelpers
📍South Sudan | Renewed fighting is driving a sharp rise in life-saving medical evacuations. In the first six months of 2026, our teams have evacuated 266 wounded patients.
This is more than 50% higher than the same period last year, as civilians face escalating violence, displacement and growing pressure on health services.
🎥📸 Journalists can download new footage, photos and interviews from our media newsroom 👉🏽 https://t.co/DqhaV8vlJj
In 1997, House of Nanking was already a San Francisco institution, known for long lines and a strict rule: everyone waits their turn.
Kathy's parents, immigrants named Peter and Lily Fang, had opened the restaurant back in 1988.
Kathy Fang, the owner's teenage daughter, was working in the kitchen that day.
She spotted a familiar face standing in line. Keanu Reeves, fresh off his 1994 hit Speed and playing bass in his band Dogstar, was one of her favorite actors.
She begged her father, Peter Fang, to let him skip the line.
Peter refused immediately. At House of Nanking, movie stars waited just like everyone else. Over the years, the restaurant had also fed filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola, billionaire entrepreneur Marc Benioff, and comedian Kathy Griffin, all without a single exception to that rule.
Here's what most people miss: Peter didn't actually know who Keanu Reeves was.
He walked over to explain the house rules, then suddenly turned and shouted across the restaurant, "Kathy, come take a picture! It's him! It's Sean Connery!"
Kathy was mortified. She apologized to Reeves on her father's behalf.
Reeves, true to his reputation, didn't miss a beat. He thanked Peter and said he was deeply honored to be mistaken for an actor as talented as Sean Connery.
Kathy grabbed a disposable camera and snapped one quick photo before he left.
That single print went up near the restaurant's front window. It stayed there, fading a little more each year, for more than 23 years.
Regular customers noticed it without ever knowing the full story behind it.
Then, in February 2020, Keanu Reeves came back to San Francisco to film The Matrix Resurrections.
House of Nanking had been quietly chosen as one of several filming locations for the fourth Matrix film. Kathy, now an adult running the restaurant alongside her father, was 36 weeks pregnant at the time.
The family had to sign a stack of NDAs before they even learned which movie was involved, keeping the secret for weeks while the restaurant operated as usual.
At 5 a.m., a full Hollywood production crew arrived to transform the restaurant into a film set.
Crew members carefully removed every photo and newspaper clipping from the walls, reproduced each one to avoid legal issues, and placed them back in the exact same spots.
That included the faded, 23-year-old photo of Kathy and a young Keanu Reeves.
Then Reeves himself walked in.
He hadn't come for publicity. He simply wanted noodles, and to see Kathy again.
The two of them recreated their original photo, standing in nearly the same spot, 23 years after the first one was taken.
The new photo eventually made it onto the big screen, hanging quietly on the wall behind Neo in the finished film.
It became a small, deliberate Easter egg that most viewers scrolled straight past without noticing.
Kathy and her father fired the same plate of yang chun noodles roughly 20 times that day, just to keep it steaming hot for each take.
Director Lana Wachowski insisted the restaurant look exactly as worn and lived-in as it always had, despite the futuristic subject of the film.
The Matrix Resurrections was released in December 2021, a full year after that quiet visit.
Years later, Kathy and her father would go on to publish a cookbook featuring more than 100 family recipes, including the yang chun noodle dish that made it onto the big screen.
There was one more twist tied to that day.
Kathy and her husband had planned to name their unborn son Hawk. After the experience of watching the film come together around their family restaurant, they changed his name to Neo instead.
The side-by-side photos, one from 1997 and one from 2020, eventually spread online.
People weren't drawn to it because of celebrity nostalgia.
They were drawn to it because nothing about Keanu Reeves had changed in the way that actually mattered.
He hadn't leveraged his fame to skip a line. He hadn't treated a mistaken identity as an insult. He hadn't shown up for press attention decades later.
He simply came back for the noodles, and for the people who once treated him exactly the same as everyone else waiting outside the door.
Two photos, taken 23 years apart, in the same narrow doorway of the same family restaurant, ended up saying more about character than any interview ever could.
Damn, Iran did not waste a second, they had this diss track ready to go, with the exact final score, after trump's cheating ways jinxed and screwed our US Men's Soccer Team.
He's turned the whole world against us.
The song is 🔥, tho.
In 1997, actor John C. McGinley’s son, Max, was born with Down syndrome. Shortly after, John's talent agent pulled him aside to deliver what was framed as practical advice: Do not talk about this publicly. Keep it quiet. People will stop hiring you.
For some, that might have sounded like reasonable career preservation. Protect the livelihood, avoid the spotlight, and pretend nothing had changed.
John’s response was immediate. He fired the agent.
Then, he did the exact opposite of what he had been told. He brought Max everywhere. Red carpets, talk shows, film sets, and public events. Wherever John went, Max was right beside him. At a time when society still largely preferred to keep individuals with developmental disabilities out of sight, John made a different choice. He made his son visible. Openly, proudly, and entirely without apology.
What began as a father's protective instinct grew into decades of fierce advocacy. John became one of the country's most recognizable voices for Down syndrome awareness. He spoke at global conferences, testified before Congress, and fought hard for employment law reforms that created real opportunities for people with disabilities to work, earn, and live independently.
During this journey, a reporter asked John a question that revealed far more about society's biases than it did about Max. The reporter asked if John ever wished his son were normal.
John didn't hesitate. He replied that Max was normal. The question wasn't. It was a blunt rejection of the idea that a person’s worth is measured by how well they fit into a narrow, conventional box.
Decades have passed since that conversation. Max is now 27 years old. He works, navigates his community, and lives an independent life filled with possibilities that the critics in 1997 never could have imagined for him.
Reflecting on their journey, John often says that Max never limited his life. He expanded it. Through his son, he learned what love, patience, and true commitment require.
The world signaled early on that it would have preferred Max to remain hidden in the shadows. John spent nearly three decades ensuring that the world looked Max right in the eye. Some fathers protect their children by shielding them from the world. Others protect them by refusing to let the world look away.
True inclusion begins when we stop treating differences as deficits. Max didn't need to change to fit into the world.
The world needed to change to make room for Max.
In 1997, actor John C. McGinley’s son, Max, was born with Down syndrome. Shortly after, John's talent agent pulled him aside to deliver what was framed as practical advice: Do not talk about this publicly. Keep it quiet. People will stop hiring you.
For some, that might have sounded like reasonable career preservation. Protect the livelihood, avoid the spotlight, and pretend nothing had changed.
John’s response was immediate. He fired the agent.
Then, he did the exact opposite of what he had been told. He brought Max everywhere. Red carpets, talk shows, film sets, and public events. Wherever John went, Max was right beside him. At a time when society still largely preferred to keep individuals with developmental disabilities out of sight, John made a different choice. He made his son visible. Openly, proudly, and entirely without apology.
What began as a father's protective instinct grew into decades of fierce advocacy. John became one of the country's most recognizable voices for Down syndrome awareness. He spoke at global conferences, testified before Congress, and fought hard for employment law reforms that created real opportunities for people with disabilities to work, earn, and live independently.
During this journey, a reporter asked John a question that revealed far more about society's biases than it did about Max. The reporter asked if John ever wished his son were normal.
John didn't hesitate. He replied that Max was normal. The question wasn't. It was a blunt rejection of the idea that a person’s worth is measured by how well they fit into a narrow, conventional box.
Decades have passed since that conversation. Max is now 27 years old. He works, navigates his community, and lives an independent life filled with possibilities that the critics in 1997 never could have imagined for him.
Reflecting on their journey, John often says that Max never limited his life. He expanded it. Through his son, he learned what love, patience, and true commitment require.
The world signaled early on that it would have preferred Max to remain hidden in the shadows. John spent nearly three decades ensuring that the world looked Max right in the eye. Some fathers protect their children by shielding them from the world. Others protect them by refusing to let the world look away.
True inclusion begins when we stop treating differences as deficits. Max didn't need to change to fit into the world.
The world needed to change to make room for Max.
This is really stupid, and it’s not getting enough attention.
The Trump administration is pulling a working $368 million ocean monitoring system out of the water, equipment taxpayers already bought, built, and sank into the deep ocean.
And they are doing it right when the oceans are behaving in ways that alarm the scientists who study them.
Record-breaking temperatures.
A system of Atlantic currents that may be lurching toward collapse.
The response?
Yank out the instruments and walk away.
That is not budgeting. That is smashing the gauges while the engine is on fire and calling it efficiency.
For what? The Trump administration dressed it up as a “nimbler approach” and “smart lifecycle management,” which is fancy nonsense for “we shut it off and hoped nobody would ask why.” There is no return-on-investment analysis. They cannot show taxpayers save a dime, because the gear is already paid for and the science it produces protects real money and real lives.
The kicker: the same people killing the monitors want to mine the deep sea for minerals. So they are destroying the only tools that could measure what that mining does. That is not an accident.
That is the point. You cannot see the damage if you break the instruments first.
https://t.co/MzE4AW1QBv
82 years ago today Scotty from Star Trek was shot 6 times during D-Day while fighting for Canada during WWII. On June 6, 1944, James M. Doohan of Vancouver, later of Sarnia, landed at Juno Beach while serving in the Canadian Army. He was wounded six times later that day by friendly fire and later became best known as Scotty on Star Trek. 🇨🇦
P.K. Subban has fulfilled his $10 million commitment to Montreal Children’s Hospital — the largest donation by an athlete in Canadian history ❤️
A decade-long promise kept, with approximately 100,000 children helped. Respect 🫡
Watching Carney and Poilievre go at it in Parliament is starting to feel uncomfortable. Not in a dramatic way, just in the way it feels when someone is clearly out of their depth and keeps pressing anyway.
Carney knows the file. When he answers, he answers the actual question. He doesn’t need to perform outrage or repeat a catchphrase three times and call it a rebuttal. He just explains things, clearly, because he understands them.
Poilievre comes in loud and confident, same as always, and that works great on a campaign trail or a Facebook video. But in a room where the other guy actually knows what he’s talking about? The gap shows. Every time.
The frustrating part isn’t even the politics. It’s watching someone confuse intensity for competence and expect nobody to notice the difference. People notice.
This stopped being a left vs right thing a while ago. Now it just looks like one guy who did the reading and one guy who thinks he doesn’t have to.
You hate Mark Carney because he’s a Liberal. Fine.
But I keep hearing “he’s done nothing” from people who can’t name a single policy. So here are the receipts from his first 12 months:
1 - Killed the consumer carbon tax. Gone on day one.
2 - Scrapped the EV mandate. Replaced it with a $5,000 rebate and choice.
3 - Reversed the capital gains tax hike.
4 - Passed the One Canadian Economy Act (C-5) to tear down interprovincial trade barriers.
5 - Cut 40,000 federal jobs with a plan to actually shrink government.
6 - Slashed immigration targets to match housing and infrastructure capacity.
7 - Hit NATO’s 2% target with $82B in new defence spending.
8 - Launched Build Canada Homes + a Major Projects Office fast-tracking 20+ projects.
9 - 26 international trips, China canola tariffs reduced, $97B in foreign investment secured.
Read it again: carbon tax gone. EV mandate gone. capital gains reversed. immigration down. defence up. trade barriers down. government trimmed.
You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to vote for him.
But saying “he’s done nothing” after that list isn’t analysis, it’s selective memory.
#canpoli #cdnpoli #LIB2026 #markcarney
You willfully ignored All the warning signs. You the cut off your nose to spite your face and now tiptoe through the enormous roll you played? How do you even still have a job?