lisa lisa

Longtime bartender, no 2 legged kids only 4 legged kids. Animals good. GOP not so good. Please no DM’s !!!

[Antidepressant Content @depressionlesss]

Ducks playing hide and seek and then laughing about it is the funniest thing you'll see today

[🇺🇸 🦅Simple Man 🦅🇺🇸 @Soaringeagle45]

Out of the mouth of little ones…🤣😂

1) NUDITY I was driving with my three young children one warm summer evening when a woman in the convertible ahead of us stood up and waved. She was stark naked! As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my 5-year-old shout from the back seat, 'Mom, that lady isn't wearing a seat belt!'

2) OPINIONS On the first day of school, a first-grader handed his teacher a note from his mother. The note read, 'The opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily those of his parents.'

3) KETCHUP A woman was trying hard to get the ketchup out of the jar. During her struggle the phone rang so she asked her 4-year-old daughter to answer the phone. 'Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now. She's hitting the bottle.'

4) MORE NUDITY A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself in the women's locker room. When he was spotted, the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing towels and running for cover. The little boy watched in amazement and then asked, 'What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a little boy before?'

5) POLICE # 1 While taking a routine vandalism report at an elementary school, I was interrupted by a little girl about 6 years old. Looking up and down at my uniform, she asked, 'Are you a cop?
Yes,' I answered and continued writing the report.
'My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask the police. Is that right?'
'Yes, that's right,' I told her.
'Well, then,' she said as she extended her foot toward me, 'would you please tie my shoe?'

6) POLICE # 2 It was the end of the day when I parked my police van in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy staring in at me.
'Is that a dog you got back there?' he asked.
'It sure is,' I replied.
Puzzled, the boy looked at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he said, 'What'd he do?'

7) ELDERLY While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds. She was unfailingly intrigued by the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass. As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, 'The tooth fairy will never believe this!'

8) DRESS-UP A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned, 'Daddy, you shouldn't wear that suit.'
'And why not, darling?'
'You know that it always gives you a headache the next morning.'

9) DEATH While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church, our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, his 5-year-old son and his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and cottonwool, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased.
The minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said: 'Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into the hole he goooes.' (I want this line used at my funeral!)

10) SCHOOL A little girl had just finished her first week of school. 'I'm just wasting my time,' she said to her mother. 'I can't read, I can't write, and they won't let me talk!'

11) BIBLE A little boy opened the big family Bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages. 'Mama, look what I found,' the boy called out.
'What have you got there, dear?'
With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered, 'I think it's Adam's underwear!'

[William Daniels @MrBillDaniels]

This June marks 75 years of marriage! And funny enough, it went by so fast. To celebrate, we're offering discount bundles in our online shop for the month of June. Want to read my book? Read Bonnie’s, too! Hers is the real page turner, but I may be biased https://t.co/Cm3iGs7RiB

[Christopher Webb @cwebbonline]

In case you forgot what it looks like when a real president gets the love at a game.

You know, when the crowd actually wants the president there.

[Crazy Vibes @CrazyVibes_1]

November 1971. Chiswick, West London.
Erin Pizzey is 32 years old. She is not a lawyer. Not a politician. Not a doctor.
She is a woman who talked Hounslow Council into lending her a cold, rundown building on Belmont Road — a former community hall — for almost nothing. Her original plan was modest. A warm room. A cup of tea. Somewhere for mothers with young children to simply get out of the house.
Then the door opened.
A woman stood in the entrance. She was covered, head to foot, in bruises. She was holding two small children. She was shaking.
She didn't want tea.
She needed somewhere to hide.
Erin let her in. She didn't turn her away. She didn't tell her to call the police.
Because Erin had already called the police. They told her the same thing they told every woman in Britain at the time: they could not enter a private home over a "domestic dispute." That was the law. The home was private. What happened inside it was a family matter.
When Erin contacted a female civil servant to report what she was seeing, the response was astonishing. The woman told her flatly: "There wasn't a problem of battered wives until you made one."
Erin put down the phone. Then she went back to her residents and made sure they were fed.
Within weeks, 40 mothers and children were sleeping in four tiny rooms. No funding. No staff. No legal authority.
She didn't stop.
By 1973, word had spread through quiet whisper networks — one woman telling another, "There is a place. Go to Chiswick. She won't turn you away." That same year, Erin hosted the first National Women's Aid Conference in the UK. Women from across Britain arrived, and they all recognized the same thing at once: what she had built needed to exist everywhere.
In 1974, the council set a maximum of 36 residents. At peak times, 150 women and children were living inside those walls — sleeping on floors, on chairs, in hallways. The building smelled of cooking, fear, and something else entirely: relief.
Erin was taken to court for overcrowding. She appealed all the way to the House of Lords.
She kept the doors open the entire time.
That same year, she wrote a book. Scream Quietly or the Neighbours Will Hear. It was the first published account of domestic violence in British history. It used real stories from real women inside the shelter. Overnight, a problem that had no official name was on front pages from London to New York.
The movement spread. Refuges opened across the UK. Then Australia. Then Canada. Then the United States. The pattern she created in four small rooms in West London — no blueprint, no permission, no funding — had been replicated in hundreds of shelters across the Western world.
MP Jack Ashley stood up in Parliament and said: "It was she who first identified the problem, who first recognised the seriousness of the situation and who first did something practical."
She was ranked 14th in a poll of the 100 women who shook the world. She was awarded the Italian Peace Prize. She received a CBE. The charity she founded — Chiswick Women's Aid, which became Refuge — grew into the largest domestic violence charity in the United Kingdom, with over 460 employees and an annual income of more than £33 million.
Erin Pizzey passed away on October 4, 2025, aged 86.
She never stopped.
It all began with one woman, one borrowed building, and an absolute refusal to say no.
Forty women and children showed up with nowhere to go.
She made room.

Share this if you believe one ordinary person, refusing to look away, can build a shelter that holds the whole world.

Follow us Lost in Yesterday

[Beauty of music and nature 🌺🌺 @Axaxia88]

A moose unexpectedly encounters a herd of cows on the South Dakota prairie 🫎 💓

It’s a fascinating moment as he slowly sits down, while the curious cows gradually gather in a half-circle around him, as if they were carefully “studying” who this strange visitor is and where he might have come from.

[Johnny Midnight ⚡️ @its_The_Dr]

Never heard her talk normal before!

[TrumpWillLookGreatinOrange #resist🇺🇸🦅 #FBR @BDNTWLGIO]

Every race now:

Democratic candidate: military veteran, Christian who attends church, married to the same person, no affairs, no scandals, no criminal record, normal net worth middle class, represents the 99%

“Commie” “Godless” “anti America”

Republican candidate:
No military service, 3 ex wives, criminal indictments, sexual assault settlements, paid for mistress’s abortion, career politician, corruption scandals, 3 houses, undeclared stock trades, puts trumps feelings and criminality above the state or country, no bid contracts to their friends and family members, owned by the 1%

“True man of God” “patriot” “separate the man from the policy”

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

In the summer of 2010, David Fajgenbaum was everything a young man could hope to be.
He had been a Division I college quarterback. He spoke multiple languages. He was in his third year at one of America's top medical schools, the University of Pennsylvania. He had his whole life mapped out in front of him.
Then his body turned on him.
Almost overnight, his organs began failing. His lymph nodes swelled. He was exhausted beyond anything he had ever felt. Within days, he was rushed to the emergency room. Weeks of testing followed. Finally, doctors gave it a name: Castleman disease — a rare and catastrophic condition where the immune system attacks the body's own organs.
There was no cure. There was barely a treatment.
A priest came to his hospital room and read his last rites.
David said goodbye to his family.
Then, somehow, an aggressive round of chemotherapy pulled him back from the edge.
But it didn't hold. Within three years, he collapsed again. And again. And again. Five times in total, he came to the edge of death. Five times, chemotherapy bought him a little more time.
After the fifth collapse, his doctors sat with him and said the words no patient wants to hear: his body had received the maximum amount of chemotherapy a human being can survive. If he relapsed again, there would be nothing left to give him.
He would die.
Most people, hearing that, would have spent whatever time remained saying goodbye.
David Fajgenbaum picked up a medical journal.
From his hospital bed, between treatments, he began doing something no patient had ever done before — systematically studying his own disease with the full knowledge of a trained physician. He analyzed thousands of pages of his own medical records. He tested his own blood samples, looking for patterns invisible to everyone else because no one else had both the data and the desperate motivation to find them.
And he found something.
In his lymph node samples, a specific protein signaling pathway called mTOR was firing at abnormally high levels — essentially sending the immune system into a frenzy that destroyed his own organs. It was a clue no one had spotted because no one had looked in quite that way before.
Then he searched for something that could stop it.
He found it in an unlikely place: a medication called sirolimus, already approved and available, commonly used to prevent organ rejection after kidney transplants. No one had ever tried it for Castleman disease. But on paper, its mechanism was a near-perfect match for what David had found in his own blood.
Under his doctor's supervision, he began taking it.
Within days, his symptoms vanished.
Not improved. Vanished.
The man doctors had given up on walked out of the hospital. He finished medical school. He married his girlfriend Caitlin. He became a father. He became one of the youngest faculty members ever to receive tenure at Penn Medicine.
And then he turned around to face everyone still waiting in the dark.
He founded the Castleman Disease Collaborative Network, building the first global research effort for a disease that had none. He launched Every Cure — an organization that uses artificial intelligence to search all existing approved drugs for hidden matches with diseases that currently have no treatment. The idea is simple and revolutionary: there are over 1,500 approved drugs in the world and over 7,000 diseases with no treatment. The cures may already exist. They just haven't been matched yet.
Over 15 years, Fajgenbaum and his partners have helped advance 28 repurposed drugs — 14 directly led by him. MedicalXpress
A priest once came to read him his last rites.
Today, David Fajgenbaum has authored over 100 scientific papers, appeared on TIME's list of the world's most influential people in health, and continues to take his small sirolimus tablet every single morning the pill he found himself, in the darkest room of his life, when no one else was looking.
He didn't wait to be saved.

[Dailymeow @Dailymeoww1]

A shopkeeper in Turkey came across a cat that was thought to be lost.

The cat was so well cared for and so big that the man who found it couldn't hide his surprise and said,

"What do you feed this cat? I've never seen such a big cat in my life. It probably eats a whole sheep every week. I'm even having a hard time holding it. Whoever owns this cat, please contact me." 😂🐱

Isn't this cat really so adorable? 🥺❤️

[Morbid Knowledge @MorbidKnowledge]

In 1993, a car crash took Mary Ann Franco's sight. Twenty-three years later, she tripped over tiles in her kitchen and accidentally got it back.

Franco, a former nurse from Okeechobee, Florida, lost her vision in 1993 after a car accident damaged her spine and she suffered a stroke on the operating table during the emergency surgery that followed.

“Nothing. I couldn't see anything. However hell felt, I felt like I was there," she said.

She refused to let it stop her. For two decades she took up painting, drawing, and skydiving. "So you can't see, so what? Get up and get moving," she said.

In 2016 she tripped on uneven tiles at home and injured her spine again. Surgeons operated to realign her vertebrae.

When she woke up she could see the St. Lucie River from her hospital window. "Out the window, I could see the trees. I could see the houses," she said.

Her first words to the nurse were: "I can't believe this."

Her neurosurgeon Dr. John Afshar called it a true miracle.

His theory is that the original crash kinked an artery restricting blood flow to the part of the brain controlling vision, and the 2016 surgery unknowingly unkinked it. He has never seen it before or since.

Franco had seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren she had hugged and kissed for years but never seen.

[Crazy Moments @Crazymoments01]

A woman who had relied on her dog through two years of chemotherapy finished her final cancer treatment, and the very next morning he began pressing his nose against the same spot on her chest and whimpering without stopping. She assumed he was reacting to the change in routine until three days of the same behavior pushed her to call her doctor and ask them to check the area. 🥺 They found a new tumor so small it wouldn’t have appeared on any scan for another two months — by which point it would have been nearly impossible to treat. Her dog had spent two years beside her through every treatment, and the day it was over he made sure she wasn’t finished fighting just yet.

[𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 - 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 - 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞⭐️❤️ @NgocThach74]

123456789, the teacher who designed the formation is amazing; the movement is always minimal.

[🌸🎵 Beautiful Melody 🎶💖 @Ducnghia16]

The husky that slid from behind the couch!! I lost it😅😂

📽️ How to call your dog

[Dailymeow @Dailymeoww1]

Photos of two close friends, James and Loki, taken 17 years apart.

17 years apart... And still side by side 🥹❤️

İG🎥: davidattenborouggh_fandom

[The Husky @Mr_Husky1]

At 12:30 AM on July 11, 2022, Nick Bostic was twenty-five years old and driving through empty streets in Lafayette, Indiana, after an argument with his girlfriend — the kind of night where you need to move and think. Windows down, going nowhere in particular.
Then he saw a small flame coming from a house on Union Street.
He hit the brakes. Reversed. Pulled into the driveway. He had no phone with him. He tried to flag down a passing car. Nobody stopped. He ran to the back door and started yelling: is anybody home? Is anybody in there?
Halfway up the stairs he found them — four people: an eighteen-year-old woman named Seionna Barrett carrying a twenty-month-old baby, and two thirteen-year-old girls behind her, terrified and confused. He led them out the back door and into the yard.
Four people safe.
Then Seionna started looking around frantically. Her face went pale.
I can't find Kaylani. Her six-year-old sister. Still inside.
The fire had spread. Flames were visible from multiple windows. Black smoke poured out. Nick looked back at the house and ran back in.
He searched room by room, calling for Kaylani. The smoke was pitch black — he could not see his own hand. The heat was overwhelming. He considered jumping from a window while he still could.
Then he heard crying. A child. Downstairs. In the living room. The worst part of the fire.
He wrapped his shirt around his face and ran toward the sound. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through the smoke until he found her. Kaylani Barrett. Six years old. Alone in the darkness.
Going back downstairs was no longer possible. His only option was up — back upstairs, find a window, jump. He carried Kaylani to a bedroom and punched through the glass with his bare fist. Blood ran down his arm. Her leg became tangled in the window blind cord. He forced himself to stay calm, carefully untangled her while the house burned around them.
He positioned Kaylani on his left side, himself on his right, and jumped from the second floor.
He hit the ground hard. A deep laceration on his right arm. Burns across his body. Smoke inhalation that would put him on a ventilator for three days. Lafayette police officers arrived just as he landed — their body cameras captured him stumbling forward, handing Kaylani to them, collapsing on the curb, asking one question over and over:
Is the baby OK? Please tell me the baby is OK.
Kaylani had a small cut on her foot from the glass. All five people were alive.
Nick was airlifted to Eskenazi Hospital in Indianapolis in critical condition. Doctors were not certain he would survive. Three days later he was released. His lungs were still damaged. His arm was heavily bandaged. He was alive.
He did not want to be called a hero. He told reporters he was just doing what anyone would do — that if he were the one trapped he would be hoping the driver passing by would consider doing the same.
In May 2024, nearly two years after the fire, Nick Bostic received the Carnegie Medal — the highest civilian honor for heroism in the United States and Canada, awarded since 1904 to those who enter extreme danger to save others. Of the more than 120 years the medal has been awarded, only 10,355 people have received it.
Kaylani Barrett is eight years old now. She calls Nick her guardian angel.
He still lives in Lafayette. Still drives past houses. When asked about that night, he always says the same thing: it was all worth it.

For those thinking about what Nick Bostic's decision — to go back inside when he had already done more than anyone could ask — shows about where genuine courage comes from: what does his question from the curb, is the baby OK, show you about what was actually driving him through that burning house?

[DulceBiatch @BiatchDulce]

Leaving this right here.

[Mr PitBull Stories @MrPitbull07]

In 1958, a divorced single mom got fired from her secretary job for being a bad typist.

21 years later, she sold her side hustle for $47.5 million.

And her teenage helper would go on to help invent MTV.

Her name was Bette Nesmith Graham.

Before she became a millionaire inventor, she was a struggling single mother in Dallas with no college degree and very few options.

She married young during WWII.

By 22, she was divorced, raising a son alone, and trying to survive on secretary jobs.

She eventually became an executive secretary at Texas Bank & Trust.

There was just one problem:

She was a terrible typist.

The bank had recently installed new IBM electric typewriters that made correcting mistakes almost impossible.

One typo could mean retyping an entire page.

Her son later remembered watching her sit at the kitchen table in “tears of panic,” terrified she’d lose her job.

But Bette had another skill.

She painted holiday window displays at the bank for extra money.

One day, while painting over a mistake on a window, she had a realization:

“An artist never erases mistakes. They paint over them.”

That night, she went home and mixed a white liquid in her kitchen blender using tempera paint.

She poured it into a nail polish bottle.

The next morning, she used it to cover typing errors.

It worked.

For five years, her boss never noticed.

Other secretaries did.

Soon, women from offices across the city were asking for bottles.

Bette started making batches at home with help from her teenage son, Michael, and his friends.

She called the product “Mistake Out.”

Then came the twist.

In 1958, she accidentally typed the name of her side business onto a company letter.

Her boss fired her immediately.

It became the best thing that ever happened to her.

She renamed the product Liquid Paper and focused on it full-time.

Orders exploded.

By the late 1960s, she was selling over a million bottles a year.

By the 1970s, 25 million bottles annually.

Then she did something even more unusual:

She built one of the most progressive workplaces in America.

Her company offered:
• child care
• continuing education
• leadership roles for women
• jobs for disabled workers
• integrated staffing

This was decades before most corporations even considered those ideas.

In 1979, with failing health, Bette sold Liquid Paper to Gillette for $47.5 million.

Six months later, she died at age 56.

Half her fortune went to women-focused charities.

The other half went to her son.

That son was Michael Nesmith.

Yes the same Michael Nesmith from The Monkees.

And with the money from Liquid Paper royalties, he funded a small experimental cable TV project called PopClips.

It featured short films set to music.

PopClips became the direct prototype for MTV.

So one woman’s “typing mistake” helped create:
• a multimillion-dollar company
• one of America’s most progressive workplaces
• and the blueprint for the modern music video era

Bette Graham proved something her old boss never understood:

The mistake wasn’t the failure.

It was the opportunity.

[Joel Montfort @jmontforttx]

A deputy in Brazoria County, TX, watched a few teenage boys work out in a park a recent evening. When they noticed him, they became worried and left. He followed them back to one of the boys' homes and flipped on his lights. The scared driver pulled into his garage, hoping for help from his dad. The deputy walked up and shot him dead. He was unarmed.
https://t.co/mTzf4VeXu0