John Boyle

[The Wolfe Tones 🇮🇪 @wolfetones]

Thank you Glasgow!

[Donegal Daily @DonegalDaily]

Expansion plan unveiled by McCafferty’s in Donegal Town https://t.co/uruP4QKSIs via @DonegalDaily

[The Daily Record @Daily_Record]

Doctor says 'world's most anti-inflammatory food' is ‘better than ibuprofen’ #aff
https://t.co/vQI1k7uD9s

[The Scottish Sun @ScottishSun]

Ex-Scottish Premiership star admits 17-month campaign of abuse against wife

https://t.co/djBSwksCxo

[BBC News (UK) @BBCNews]

We invited a man into our home at Christmas and he stayed with us for 45 years https://t.co/V2ZYmeclw5

[Om Nom @Cut_The_Rope]

📏fun fact #1: it's the biggest Om Nom that you can get.

Can you suggest a fun fact #2???

Available for pre-order from @youtooz now!

https://t.co/ekvlIk9QB8

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.

Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.

One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.

Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.

Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"

"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."

He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."

The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."

Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.

But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,

"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."

So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.

Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."

Let this story reach more hearts....

Credit: Mary Nelson

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

For nine months, my wife, Brooklyn, carried our baby boy. And for nine months, we lived in a place between hope and heartbreak.

Early in the pregnancy, we learned something was terribly wrong. Around the three- to four-month mark, doctors told us our son had severe hydrocephalus — fluid building so rapidly in his brain that it pushed everything aside. They used to call it “water on the brain,” but the simplicity of the name didn’t soften the reality.

We were eventually referred to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, where some of the best fetal specialists in the country met with us. And they gave us the kind of news no parent is ever prepared to hear.

His condition was so severe, so extreme, that they stopped measuring. There was no point, they said. The MRI images were devastating. We were told there was a greater than 90% chance our son would either:

• Die shortly after birth, or
• Survive with such profound cognitive impairment that life — real life — would not be possible.

We sat through meetings no parent should ever sit through. Conversations about breathing tubes. About how long to try. About the moment we might have to make the decision to let him go.

Brooklyn moved to Cincinnati to be close to the hospital. I drove back and forth — working, caring for our daughters Sophie and Lily, and trying to keep our home standing while our world felt like it was falling apart.

Then came July 8th.

Just 15 minutes before Brooklyn’s C-section, we sat with doctors again and discussed when — not if — we might have to remove life support and let our son go to heaven.

I don’t have words for that kind of pain.

And then — Charlie Edward Schnarr entered this world crying.

A strong, loud, defiant cry.

The most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

He stayed in the NICU until yesterday… and now we are home. Together. Holding him. Loving him. Watching him breathe. Watching him live.

He has mild ventricular enlargement we will keep an eye on — but otherwise?

He is thriving. Eating. Wiggling. Yawning. Gripping our fingers. Looking around at a world that was never supposed to be his.

The doctors have no explanation. They said his brain somehow cleared the blockage on its own — something none of them have seen in a case this severe. The word that kept echoing through the NICU from seasoned nurses and top specialists was the same:

“Miracle.”

“Divine intervention.”

They said it. Not us.

We know thousands of people — family, friends, coworkers, strangers — were praying for our son. I believe with everything in me that God heard those prayers. That He placed His hand on Charlie. That He said, not this one.

I will spend the rest of my life thanking Him.

To every person who prayed for us — every text, every message, every whispered intention — thank you. You carried us when we were too exhausted to carry ourselves.

Prayer is real.
God is real.
And miracles… they still happen.

With a full and grateful heart,

—Nick

[Hash Tayeh @HashTayeh]

An Israeli prisoner in Gaza
Alexander Turbanov, gave a surprising statement from occupied Israel upon his return:

“Your kindness will forever be etched on my soul.
I spent 498 days among you.
Despite the oppression and aggression you endured,
I learned from you the true meaning of manhood, pure bravery, humanity, and respect for values.
Even in captivity, you were free,
while I, being free, was a prisoner.
You protected my life.
Like a father treats his sons with love,
you cared for my dignity, health, and honor.

Though I was in the hands of people fighting for their land and stolen freedom,
and while my government was committing the worst genocide against a besieged nation,
you neither starved me nor humiliated me.

I saw the real meaning of manhood in your eyes.
I understood the value of sacrifice by living among you.
I saw you smiling even in the face of death,
against an enemy armed with weapons of mass destruction,
while you had nothing but your own bodies.

Even if I tried, I couldn’t find the words
to truly express your worth and status,
or to reflect my astonishment and admiration for your noble character.

Does your faith really teach you to treat prisoners this way?
How great is that belief
that raises you to such a level
where all man-made laws of human rights fall apart,
and all protocols of war pale in comparison to your example.

Even in the harshest of times, your justice and mercy stood out —
not just as slogans,
but in your actual behavior.
You never compromised on your principles,
no matter how dark the circumstances were.

Believe me, if I ever return,
I will live among you as a dedicated student,
because I have learned the truth from your people.
I have realized that you are not just the owners of the land,
but the owners of principles and justice.”

[The Daily Record @Daily_Record]

BBC's new 'must watch' thriller series details from cast list, episode dates and filming locations https://t.co/orNuT8dQzB https://t.co/orNuT8dQzB

[Om Nom @Cut_The_Rope]

run Om Nom run

[The Daily Record @Daily_Record]

'I used one kitchen ingredient to remove 14 years of grease from my oven glass'
https://t.co/uAwom6rjjF

[Greg Hadfield @GregHadfield]

EXCLUSIVE: The full details about how Labour MP Peter Kyle triggered a 4am police raid on a constituent — for writing to him about Israel’s genocide.

https://t.co/ULRKDWIEq0

[Lisbon Lion @tirnaog_09]

Celtic fans at Dunfermline in 1968 for the league clinching match. 27,000 squeezed into the ground with a further 20,000 locked out. Health and safety were not the top concerns in those days.

[Om Nom @Cut_The_Rope]

a candy a day keeps Om Nom okay

[Ali Abunimah @AliAbunimah]

I’m free! I wrote this on the plane and I’m posting it just after landing at Istanbul. On Monday evening I was brought to Zurich airport in handcuffs, in a small metal cage inside a windowless prison van and led all the way to the plane by police. This is after three days and two nights in a Swiss prison cut off from communication with the outside world, in a cell 24 hours a day with one cell mate, not even permitted to contact my family. On Saturday in a police interview in the presence of my lawyer they accused me of “offending against Swiss law” without ever telling me what crime I had committed in Switzerland or listing any charges. As far as I know I have not been charged with any crime whatsoever and I was held in “administrative detention.” On Sunday morning, they took me from my cell for questioning by Swiss defense ministry intelligence agents without the presence of my lawyer, and they again refused to allow me to contact her or my family. I refused to talk to them without my lawyer and told them take me back to my cell. During my imprisonment I refused every meal and every cup of coffee or tea they offered me except the last meal, after I knew I would be going home. I accepted only water, which is the right of every human being. All of this was after I was abducted off the street around 1:30pm on Saturday while on my way to the Palestine teach-in by undercover agents, handcuffed, forced into an unmarked car and sped straight to the prison. My “crime”? Being a journalist who speaks up for Palestine and against Israel’s genocide and settler-colonial savagery and those who aid and abet it. I came to Switzerland at the invitation of Swiss citizens to talk about justice for Palestine, to talk about accountability for a genocide in which Switzerland too is complicit. But while I was hauled off to prison like a dangerous criminal before I even had a chance to say a word, the Israeli president Isaac Herzog, who declared at the start of the genocide that there are no civilians in Gaza, no innocents, received a red carpet welcome in Davos, a carpet soaked in the blood of the more than 47,000 known victims of the genocide and the thousands more still under the rubble, or who died of deliberately inflicted starvation and denial of medical care. And on this very day Netanyahu freely travels to Poland to make a mockery of the Auschwitz commemoration despite an outstanding ICC arrest warrant. That is the perverse, unjust world we live in. This ordeal lasted three days but that taste of prison was more than enough to leave me in even greater awe of the Palestinian heroes who endure months and years in the prisons of the genocidal oppressor. More than ever I know that the debt we owe them is one we can never repay and all of them must be free and they must remain our focus. The police gave me my phone back only at the gate of the plane so I’m only seeing now the extent of the overwhelming support and solidarity from all over the world. I’m deeply grateful to each and every person who stood up for me. I’m especially grateful to my lawyer Dina Raewel and her team, to our friends in Zurich who I learned afterwards demonstrated outside the prison, to my family and my colleagues at EI and so many others. I honestly had no idea what was happening outside that concrete room! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I want to tell the whole story of what happened, perhaps in an @intifada livestream in the next day or two, because I think it’s important for people to know the depths to which their Western so-called “democracies” have sunk in the abject service of genocidal Zionism. Right now I’m glad to be on my way home. I’m looking forward to hugging my mom and dad, taking a shower and sleeping in my own bed. Journalism is not a crime! Speaking out for Palestine is not a crime! Standing against racist genocidal Zionism is not a crime! Say it with me:

From the River to the Sea Palestine Will Be Free! ❤️🇵🇸✌️

[BookBub @BookBub]

The surprising Kindle hack that 15 million readers already know about... 👇

[The Scottish Sun @ScottishSun]

People urged to protect bird feeders from garden pests with 75p kitchen staple

https://t.co/JohRWM4iqF