These two monsters are directly responsible for the murder of over seven million people.
That wasn’t enough for them. They then stripped you of your most basic human right the right to hold your loved one’s hand, look them in the eyes, and say goodbye forcing them to die alone under evil hospital death protocols.
Then, in a final act of pure sadism, they denied grieving families the dignity of a proper burial, turning sacred farewell into state-mandated humiliation.
Evil of this magnitude cannot go unpunished. It will not.
And anyone who still shields them doesn’t just defend evil they become it.
@potus@FBIDirectorKash@DAGToddBlanche
𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗠𝗣 — 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗜 𝗩𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗛𝗜𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗪𝗔𝗬
Some of you genuinely think Trump supporters believe this man is perfect. That he can do no wrong. That we're in some kind of cult.
We don't. He can. We aren't.
Some of us are just mature enough to say: 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆.
So here it is. My honest list.
𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲:
The social media. The all-caps, impulsive posting, unnecessary jabs. Sometimes the best move is to shut up. Not every fire needs fuel. He could calm situations instantly if he stopped feeding the outrage machine.
The cockiness. 𝗡𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲'𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕. It gets old. Tell me what's being done. Tell me what's coming. Skip the self-praise.
The personal attacks that go on too long. Call out what needs to be called out — then move on.
𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺:
He's real. Not rehearsed. Most politicians are polished and presidential — and it sounds nice — but it's usually fake. Trump is raw, blunt, and imperfect. But 𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀. He doesn't read from a script written by donors and PR teams. In a world full of performance politicians, that honesty is refreshing.
He answers questions and doesn't hide. He doesn't dodge the press. He doesn't disappear for days. He doesn't need a teleprompter to breathe. Even when reporters frame questions to trap him — he still answers.
𝗛𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼. This is why millions still support him. Most candidates campaign on big promises, then magically can't deliver once in office. Trump follows through more consistently than any president I've seen in my lifetime.
He puts America first. You can hate his style — but the results speak. He fights for our borders, our economy, our energy, our sovereignty, our safety. He doesn't bend to global pressure. He doesn't apologize for America.
I don't support Trump because I think he's perfect. I support him because I agree with his mission: 𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗻𝘀, 𝗲𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘄𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝘂𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸, 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁.
Stop pretending the only reason people support Trump is because they're brainwashed. Some of us simply looked at the outcomes — and chose the leader who fights for our country.
Faith. Family. Freedom.
𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 — 𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗷𝗼𝗯 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲.
🔺PAM BONDI JUST PLAYED THE GREATEST TRAP IN POLITICAL HISTORY.
And Congress walked right into it.
Yesterday, Attorney General Pam Bondi sat before the House Judiciary Committee. Standard oversight hearing. Routine questions.
Then she pulled out a document.
Labeled: "Jayapal Pramila — Search History."
The room went SILENT.
⚠️ HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED
The DOJ gave Congress access to the unredacted Epstein files this week. Every member got their own login. Their own computer. Their own session.
What Congress didn't know?
The DOJ was tracking EVERY SINGLE SEARCH.
Every name they looked up.
Every document they opened.
Every file they downloaded.
ALL OF IT. LOGGED.
And Bondi brought the receipts to the hearing.
🔺 THE PANIC WAS INSTANT
Rep. Jayapal called it "spying on members of Congress."
Rep. Raskin accused Bondi of "blatant abuse of power."
Rep. Moskowitz said it was "suspicious and inappropriate."
They're FURIOUS.
But here's the question nobody in the media is asking:
Why are they so scared of their search history?
If you're searching for evidence of crimes against children — you'd be PROUD of that search history.
Unless you're not searching for evidence.
Unless you're searching for YOUR OWN NAME.
⚡ THE GENIUS OF THE TRAP
Think about it.
Bondi didn't just release the files.
She released them on MONITORED COMPUTERS.
Every Congress member who rushed to search the files just told the DOJ exactly:
• WHO they're trying to protect
• WHAT names they're worried about
• WHICH connections they're trying to verify
The ones searching for "flights to the island" = investigators.
The ones searching for SPECIFIC NAMES = protectors.
Bondi now knows who's investigating and who's COVERING UP.
And she showed them she knows.
In front of cameras.
With a smile.
🔺 THE DHS SHUTDOWN — PERFECT TIMING
While Congress panics about their search history, DHS is shutting down SATURDAY.
Democrats blocked the funding bill. House members already left Washington.
The same week Congress gets caught searching Epstein files — they REFUSE to fund the department that investigates trafficking?
They're not defunding DHS to save money.
They're defunding it to STOP INVESTIGATIONS.
⚡ CONNECT THE DOTS
Monday: Congress gets Epstein file access.
Tuesday: Members frantically search for names.
Wednesday: Bondi reveals she tracked everything.
Thursday: Democrats block DHS funding.
Friday: Government shutdown begins.
Five days. One pattern. PANIC.
They walked into the hearing thinking they were in control.
They walked out knowing Bondi has EVERYTHING.
Every search. Every name. Every cover-up attempt.
Logged. Documented. WEAPONIZED.
The hunter became the hunted.
And they did it to themselves.
⟁ DARK TO LIGHT.
Tribute to Scotty Mar and his life's work. Anons only need to take a moment to view my playlist of his Top 17 videos to know he was on point and in the groove. Rest in peace, brother. We will meet again in Valhalla.
https://t.co/mtS89v2VWp
GREG GUTFELD: Scott Adams was the man who interrogated reality and made it talk | Greg Gutfeld, Fox News
They say when you're born, you come into life with no instruction manual.
If we're lucky, we inherit a good set of parents, who set us up with good habits and sound thinking.
We might pursue a religious practice, embrace an education, and learn to think for ourselves.
Others might not be so lucky. Anxious and unsure — we turn to other things to make sense of reality — drugs, alcohol, sex or easy money.
Without a set of instructions, we rely on what we think is our operating system: the ego.
And we protect it with all our might.
It is the ego, after all, that gets us into fights, creates resentments and wastes our time thinking about the past — ignoring the glories of the present. We find ourselves angry and irritable — pissed off at a coworker, cut off from a relative, mad over current events. And it is a devotion to an ego that makes us powerless to predict life's terms or life's turns. We end up more wrong than right, and our ego rages in response.
I came across Scott Adams accidentally, but it couldn't have come at a better time for me.
It was around 2015 or so, and I was hot and bothered by Donald Trump.
My friends and relatives had jumped aboard the Trump train, but I resisted — and resentfully so. I had my reasons for it, no doubt. But I never question what lurked beneath those reasons. Turns out it was self-doubt — the weak armor of an insecure ego.
I found myself dreading work, and angry that nearly all my predictive powers had failed. Every day I would say, "Trump's finished!" and he only got stronger. This wasn't like me.
But one day on Twitter, some soul I'll never be able to thank tweeted a simple suggestion: read Scott Adams. And, in a rare moment, I decided to heed a comment on Twitter. I googled Scott's blog. And it changed my life.
Scott was already a world-famous cartoonist, of course — the creator of "Dilbert." He had a pile of bestsellers.
Scott loved humans, but understood the nature of their pain — caused by how little they understood the reality behind the one they took as real.
But I knew little of that world. And I had no idea what I would discover when I entered the Scott Adams universe — a place where the most profound thinker ruled with a cup of coffee, a goofy grin and a deep understanding of moist robots — i.e. humans.
Scott loved humans, but understood the nature of their pain — caused by how little they understood the reality behind the one they took as real.
While some people would tell you they knew life's secrets in order to impress upon you their brilliance — Scott was only trying to help. It's why Dilbert was so successful. He was expressing the reality behind the reality. And we immediately got the joke.
Reality is subjective. And we see things as we think they are — not how they really are. And we foolishly make predictions based on those assumptions.
We had no answer key to life — and for many of us, that led us to making the same mistakes over and over. But Scott explained to us the conceptual reality behind the physical one — and it was the world of persuasion. He calmly explained how it operates — which in time made it possible to almost predict anything. Once you knew how persuasion worked, you could see around most corners.
This was the difference between Scott and most intellectuals trying to flex their brilliance.
They were interested in reversing reality — but Scott was merely trying to explain it.
And he did that every morning.
It was then, daily, that I listened to "Coffee with Scott Adams" — certain I would glean some valuable insight into the world. And that prediction never failed. He would offer reframes of issues and ideas that would change the way I looked at things.
I remember Scott talking about the joys of being fired.
Having been fired three times in my life — I remember being angry and resentful after each one. Turned out, as Scott pointed out, I should have been grateful — because each firing was a step forward into a better career. My life never got worse after being fired — it only got better.
And this pretty much holds true for everyone. Being unhappy over a firing was based on a faulty assumption that the game had just ended. When, in fact, you were just entering a new level. The game started anew. And you could do anything.
It also helped that he framed getting fired — as well as getting dumped — through the same simple filter: that the relationship was not a good fit. Once you look at losing a job or the girl as "not a good fit," you have eliminated a wound on your ever-present ego. It’s not about you.
And that frees you from the bag of rocks known as bitterness.
The ego is something that we all have and few can control. Usually the ego runs our lives, often into the ground. But Scott reframed it with an analogy — and I quote it often...
Imagine a person asks you to carry an original Picasso down the block to a gallery. You oblige, and the journey is harrowing. You pack up the painting, you wait for the rain to stop, you walk carefully and timidly — step by tiny step — terrified of pedestrians and puddles. Now imagine that same person asking you to carry a potato. Sure, no problem! You throw the spud in your pocket and head out. And if you drop it, no big deal — it's just a potato!
Then comes Scott's kill shot on the ego: Right now, your ego is a Picasso. From now on, think of it as a potato.
And when I did that, I felt a weight lift. I worried less about slights, or embarrassments. If I was wrong, I embraced it. In fact, losing the ego enabled me to see the worth in being wrong — for it merely sharpened my own ideas. I abandoned the sunk cost fallacy and learned to leave stupid opinions behind.
Scott believed in a higher power — that there is more to the world than just the physical reality.
He put his money on a simulation — that God might actually be a programmer. He would often point to an underlying structure that guides us.
I hate that Scott is gone, because he helped me so much. He changed the way I thought, and by doing so made me a happier, better version of myself.
Scott hadn't invented the idea — he was simply discovering things about life and shared them with you. This is why when you listened to his morning show you felt that you were on an anthropological dig, led by an incredibly brilliant archaeologist sifting through today's news, showing us the things that we overlooked — things that point to a reality we didn't know existed. You might call it God. Or a simulation. But it was there all right. A design and a Designer.
Adams pointed to a conceptual reality that lurks behind the physical one. And without understanding that secret knowledge, we are often disappointed and resentful.
When Scott would go to his whiteboard during his podcast, he would explain this clearly and without ego. He used his unique power for good — showing you how to reframe things like laziness, or failure, death, or loss — in ways that bettered your existence.
He often referred to the mind's mental shelf space. And while you cannot stop thinking bad thoughts (which depress you), you can crowd that stuff out and off the shelf with positive thoughts. Which is why he championed positive affirmations.
His treatment for laziness is quick and effective: imagine the outcome instead of the effort.
That tip combined both the affirmations and the shelf space analogy. Right now, your brain is focusing on the effort to do the dishes; when you could be thinking about how great it is that you have clean dishes in the cupboard and a spotless kitchen counter. You think a good thought, which crowds the bad one out — and the outcome is realized.
I am avoiding the real benefit of Scott Adams. Because it hurts. It's friendship. I lost a dear friend, someone I loved. A mentor obviously, but a friend I adored.
In his podcasts, Scott offered his hand to everyone — he would be there, 7 a.m. West Coast time, whether you showed up or not, because he knew that whoever did show up, needed a friend.
I would exercise with Scott's morning show on, daily — for nearly a decade. I would be pumping away on the Peloton, my ears fixated on Scott's observations — pausing every now and then to send myself a note about something amazing that Scott just said.
When my life changed — having a baby — I ended up not being able to listen to Scott live — so I looked forward to the comfort of a podcast banked for later.
I am avoiding the real benefit of Scott Adams. Because it hurts. It's friendship. I lost a dear friend, someone I loved. A mentor obviously, but a friend I adored.
It was a good feeling to remember that, "Oh yeah, I have a Scott Adams I didn't get to!" It might be Scott’s greatest accomplishment — creating a community of gentle, intelligent beings who met every morning to share in a sip of a beverage of their choice. Those who didn't get it… well, too bad.
There are those who remain critical of Scott — but I attribute that to their ignorance. Not ignorance in general, but specific to Scott. They just had no idea what they were dealing with, when they disparaged him. It's like rejecting a gold bar because it's too heavy.
Fact is, the more you got to know him, the more valuable he became.
He was the exception to his own frame known as "The Basket Case Theory" — which stipulated that once you got to know someone you admired or envied — you'd find out they're just as messed up as you.
It was an excellent frame for people with anxiety or shyness. You might think that the unfamiliar people are judging you in that hip restaurant — but really, they're too busy judging themselves. They have their own problems and trust me — you wouldn't want them.
Scott once was posed the question: would you trade your life with anyone? It's a good question for those of us who envy the rich and famous.
But Scott said that you have no idea what the problems are of other people. The rich playboy may have syphilis; the popular actor may be riddled with alimony and addictions; the accomplished artist is almost always a nervous, palpable wreck. It was a simple reframe that helped dispense with jealousy.
But Scott's own life subverted this frame — sure, he had his own problems; but the more you got to know him — that fuller picture made him only that much more endearing.
At a certain point in his life, Scott decided to devote himself to service, and he brought that service up to his dying breath. Instead of extinguishing the flame with assisted suicide months ago — once he felt the love swirling around him — he decided to stick around for our sake.
He wouldn't leave us, not yet anyway.
He even reframed his death: that one's death is a relief for the dying, for their problems have gone. It is we who are in pain, not him.
And it's our selfish pain — that he decided to be there for!
I hate that he is gone, because he helped me so much. He changed the way I thought, and by doing so made me a happier, better version of myself.
I fear I will lose that gift now — with him gone, and I told him so a few months ago.
To which he said, "No, you got it now."
https://t.co/xyEo3WtQFU