DeepestCool @deepestcool - Twitter Profile

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

17 days ago

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 💯❤️‍🔥💯❤️‍🔥 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 ❤️‍🔥💯❤️‍🔥💯

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

about 5 hours ago

Raw Milk from healthy cows on small farms, needs to make a comeback. Milk is the original mammalian superfood after all, which also 💯 proves b00bies make the world go round

Sama Hoole

@SamaHoole

about 12 hours ago

In 1858 a newspaperman named Frank Leslie found milk left at his New York door. It was bluish. It contained pus. He set out to find where it came from. What he uncovered became one of the great scandals of the century. The distilleries of Manhattan and Brooklyn had a waste problem. Whiskey left behind enormous quantities of hot fermented mash, and dumping it cost money. So someone had an idea. Feed it to cows. Hundreds of them, packed into sheds beside the stills, standing in their own manure, fed boiling spent grain until they sickened, their udders ulcerating, their bodies breaking out in sores. The milk came out thin and blue. They fixed the colour with plaster of Paris and chalk. They thickened it with flour and rotten eggs. They cut it with water from a ditch that ran past the manure pile. Then they painted "Pure Country Milk" on the wagon and sold it from carts across the city as fresh from the meadows of Orange County. The New York Times put the toll as high as eight thousand infants a year. This is the milk that built the case for reform. The entire safety apparatus was designed around it. Sick animals, industrial filth, distillery slop, deliberate adulteration, urban sheds without a blade of grass for ten miles. There were two ways to solve it. You could stop feeding cows whiskey waste in filthy sheds. Let them eat grass on clean land and sell the milk fresh and local, the way every human had drunk it for ten thousand years. Or you could keep the sheds, keep the mash, keep the scale, and heat the result until the bacteria died. When the city finally investigated, the inspectors were tipped off in advance and the committee recommended better ventilation. You know which path they were always going to take. You can taste it. The frightening thing was never raw milk from a healthy cow on good grass. It was a dying animal in a distillery, held upright by a sling while someone ran whiskey slop through its udder. We solved that with a process, kept the process forever, banned the healthy version to be safe, and told you the cow was the danger. Frank Leslie would have had questions.

SamaHoole's tweet photo. In 1858 a newspaperman named Frank Leslie found milk left at his New York door. It was bluish. It contained pus. He set out to find where it came from.

What he uncovered became one of the great scandals of the century.

The distilleries of Manhattan and Brooklyn had a waste problem. Whiskey left behind enormous quantities of hot fermented mash, and dumping it cost money. So someone had an idea. Feed it to cows. Hundreds of them, packed into sheds beside the stills, standing in their own manure, fed boiling spent grain until they sickened, their udders ulcerating, their bodies breaking out in sores.

The milk came out thin and blue. They fixed the colour with plaster of Paris and chalk. They thickened it with flour and rotten eggs. They cut it with water from a ditch that ran past the manure pile. Then they painted "Pure Country Milk" on the wagon and sold it from carts across the city as fresh from the meadows of Orange County.

The New York Times put the toll as high as eight thousand infants a year.

This is the milk that built the case for reform. The entire safety apparatus was designed around it. Sick animals, industrial filth, distillery slop, deliberate adulteration, urban sheds without a blade of grass for ten miles.

There were two ways to solve it.

You could stop feeding cows whiskey waste in filthy sheds. Let them eat grass on clean land and sell the milk fresh and local, the way every human had drunk it for ten thousand years.

Or you could keep the sheds, keep the mash, keep the scale, and heat the result until the bacteria died.

When the city finally investigated, the inspectors were tipped off in advance and the committee recommended better ventilation. You know which path they were always going to take. You can taste it.

The frightening thing was never raw milk from a healthy cow on good grass. It was a dying animal in a distillery, held upright by a sling while someone ran whiskey slop through its udder.

We solved that with a process, kept the process forever, banned the healthy version to be safe, and told you the cow was the danger.

Frank Leslie would have had questions.

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

1 day ago

@NathanielSami @NancyH_60 It’s amazing they actually seem to think people believe their delusional kabuki theater view of the world

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

1 day ago

🤣😂🤣

The Babylon Bee

@TheBabylonBee

3 days ago

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Who to follow

David

@Stop_This_Evil

Praying for everyone struggling silently today. 🙏

Tracy Shannon transwidow, pro-family activist, Sex Clowns Are Not for Kids, End Falsification of Sex, Protect Women and Children. https://t.co/MvlPARZ9iW

DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

2 days ago

We call it Murica🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 Land of the Free, Home of the Brave!! The war we prepared and provisioned for might not actually start but that just means a lot of great BBQs will happen 🤠🇺🇸💯

NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依

@japan_nobunaga

3 days ago

USA. They sell food here in the sizes of war. A single jar of mayonnaise as large as my helmet. I bought two. One must always keep a reserve. I entered a hall so vast it had weather. Shelves to the heavens. And upon them, no small things. No humble portions. Everything sized as if for a siege. A bag of rice I could not lift alone. A tower of paper as tall as a child. Forty-eight of one thing, ninety of another, a vat of oil that could float a boat. And the people pushed carts the size of carriages, loading them as if the snows were coming and would not leave for years. I understood at once, and I was moved to my core. For it is written that a house is judged not in its feasting but in its famine — by whether, when the long winter comes, it can feed its own without bowing to any lord. This nation does not shop. This nation provisions. Every family a fortress, stocked to outlast a siege that is not coming, has never come, and against which they remain magnificently, gloriously prepared. So I provisioned. I filled a carriage-cart to the brim. Rice for a regiment. The helmet of mayonnaise, and its reserve. Enough paper to write the history of the world. Twice. And here my heart rose, and I declared the thing a calmer man would not: "Let the hardest winter in a thousand years descend. Let the roads vanish and the rivers freeze. I will not so much as rise from my chair — for I hold, in my garage, mayonnaise enough to outlast the apocalypse, and a man with that much mayonnaise fears no season, no army, and no god." The woman checking receipts at the door studied my cart a long moment. Then she smiled. "Big family?" "Not yet," I told her, honestly. I took my provisions home. And because no winter came — none ever does — I did the only honorable thing a man can do with a fortress full of food. I fed the whole street. We ate for a week. The mayonnaise held. So tell me, America. You call it buying in bulk. A Costco run. A little too much, as usual. I call it every household quietly ready to survive the end of the world — and then, when the world stubbornly refuses to end, throwing a feast instead.

japan_nobunaga's tweet photo. USA. They sell food here in the sizes of war. A single jar of mayonnaise as large as my helmet. I bought two. One must always keep a reserve.

I entered a hall so vast it had weather. Shelves to the heavens. And upon them, no small things. No humble portions. Everything sized as if for a siege.

A bag of rice I could not lift alone. A tower of paper as tall as a child. Forty-eight of one thing, ninety of another, a vat of oil that could float a boat. And the people pushed carts the size of carriages, loading them as if the snows were coming and would not leave for years.

I understood at once, and I was moved to my core.

For it is written that a house is judged not in its feasting but in its famine — by whether, when the long winter comes, it can feed its own without bowing to any lord. This nation does not shop. This nation provisions. Every family a fortress, stocked to outlast a siege that is not coming, has never come, and against which they remain magnificently, gloriously prepared.

So I provisioned. I filled a carriage-cart to the brim. Rice for a regiment. The helmet of mayonnaise, and its reserve. Enough paper to write the history of the world. Twice.

And here my heart rose, and I declared the thing a calmer man would not:

"Let the hardest winter in a thousand years descend. Let the roads vanish and the rivers freeze. I will not so much as rise from my chair — for I hold, in my garage, mayonnaise enough to outlast the apocalypse, and a man with that much mayonnaise fears no season, no army, and no god."

The woman checking receipts at the door studied my cart a long moment.

Then she smiled. "Big family?"

"Not yet," I told her, honestly.

I took my provisions home. And because no winter came — none ever does — I did the only honorable thing a man can do with a fortress full of food.

I fed the whole street.

We ate for a week. The mayonnaise held.

So tell me, America.

You call it buying in bulk. A Costco run. A little too much, as usual.

I call it every household quietly ready to survive the end of the world —

and then, when the world stubbornly refuses to end,

throwing a feast instead.

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

6 days ago

@ThePatriotOasis It’s not really the world, the left has actually fallen for their own lies and live in a delusion of their own creation.

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

8 days ago

@WallStreetApes @Yolo304741 Democrats & Leftists = Domestic Terrorists

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

12 days ago

Fixing problems is what’s really woven into the fabric of our nation. Islam is not compatible with an advanced, modern society of decent people. The fix is the total removal of Islams followers from the west or better yet the planet entirely. Their scripture is a war manual written by p3d0s they will not stop until we stop them

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

12 days ago

@WallStreetApes They all need perp walks and to be removed from society with the keys thrown away

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

13 days ago

@GuntherEagleman It’s the longer mornings part that bothers me

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

13 days ago

@EndWokeness @Hey_Deb_21 They are truly blind and stoopid

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DeepestCool

@DeepestCool

13 days ago

God Bless America!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸💯

Chris Maathuis

@sports8

14 days ago

Check this out. Hoover Dam launches ‘Road To America 250’ This flag is the length of a football field and it will be on display every day through July 4th #RoadToAmerica250 #HooverDam