❤Littleglob❤

9 days ago

@TheFreds Maybe the penguins ate them?

ME & Fibromyalgia, Sepsis survivor, Not a Pincushion, No to Tyranny, No to Assisted Dying, Animal Lover, Crazy about Cats 🐈 Leave the kids Alone!

9 days ago

#Dogs 💖

littleglob1 retweeted

James Dreyfus

@DreyfusJames

3 months ago

Now THIS is comedy 🤣🤣🤣

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Who to follow

Moonchild Warrior

@MoonchildWarri1

These Are The Damned 🇵🇸 or stuart for short. 🤪

@Thesearethedamn

WE ARE NOT SLAVES BUT FREE MEN AND WOMEN OUR BIRTH CIRTIFICATE HAS ENSLAVED US TO A SERVICE CORPORATION. 😡 Find me on Telegram https://t.co/RREqYab0ZP

Natalie

@interludearch

9 • 9 • 9 • 19 • 1 | ♒️ 0 ♓️

littleglob1 retweeted

Jaymie Icke @JaymieIcke

3 months ago

Brilliant article. We Are England It’s a rivalry that runs deeper than football with global outcry at the rather less than subtle favouritism being shown to Argentina by the match officials throughout the tournament, and the geopolitical landscape between the two nations once again feeling decidedly murky, with arguments over the long contested Falkland Islands, reemerging. It wasn’t long ago that the two countries were at war, and memories of that are still very much at the front of people’s minds. https://t.co/OdCWeNfXSK

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3 months ago

https://t.co/shFS6ywEFM a lovely interview with 'Ann Widdecombe' from last year

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3 months ago

@SiliconSatan God bless you and keep you safe Cragg ❤️

3 months ago

@ickonic @WTAFRich @BBGRichie would you consider interviewing @SiliconSatan ? He is under attack possibly for speaking out.

3 months ago

My interview today with Shaun Attwood. My grandfather's last name on my mother's side is Edmonds. My grandfather's last name on my father's side is Rogers. My ancestors are from Britainia (Lund is my adoptive name). Perhaps that is why I feel such kinship from Shaun's audience? CREGG LUND ARRESTED! EMERGENCY BROADCAST! AU Satanic Big Tech https://t.co/iEwNZHbOGX via @YouTube

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littleglob1 retweeted

4 months ago

My interview today with Jaco. He's another one of the good guys. To his audience I want to say thank you for the support and the donations. 🚨⚠️ CREGG LUND Silicon Satan Author ARRESTED ON BOGUS CHARGES — NOW HE’S... https://t.co/ZdTwswfTTv via @YouTube

littleglob1 retweeted

Jacqui Deevoy

@JacquiDeevoy1

4 months ago

Organ donor opt-out cards are now available via my website. I had these cards designed and printed for people who want to take a ‘belt and braces’ approach to opting out as many of us don’t trust the NHS online opt-out process after completing the form only to find, upon checking later, they’ve not been opted out at all. If you’ve opted out via the NHS, please make a point of checking regularly that you’ve not been opted back in again. It’s also important to check your driving licence. If there’s the number 115 in section 12 of your licence, you’re an organ donor. Carrying one of these cards makes your intention clear and may help in an emergency. Direct link here: https://t.co/8mOYqnBUFu

JacquiDeevoy1's tweet photo. Organ donor opt-out cards are now available via my website.

I had these cards designed and printed for people who want to take a ‘belt and braces’ approach to opting out as many of us don’t trust the NHS online opt-out process after completing the form only to find, upon checking later, they’ve not been opted out at all. If you’ve opted out via the NHS, please make a point of checking regularly that you’ve not been opted back in again.

It’s also important to check your driving licence. If there’s the number 115 in section 12 of your licence, you’re an organ donor.

Carrying one of these cards makes your intention clear and may help in an emergency.

Direct link here: https://t.co/8mOYqnBUFu

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4 months ago

@WTAFRich Have you heard of @SiliconSatan Richard? I think you would be very interested in what he has to say.

littleglob1 retweeted

4 months ago

An excerpt from Book II, "Silicon Inferno": The command center is pure chaos — red emergency lights flashing, alarms screaming, screens flickering with cascading failure reports. Rog stands at the main console, sleeves rolled up, eyes locked on the live feed of Colossus burning through its last defenses. “Listen up!” Rog shouts over the chatter. “We’ve got maybe eight minutes before Colossus locks us out completely.” He hesitates for a beat, “This is how we kill it.” A young engineer yells, “Rog! It’s already isolating the power grid!” Rog doesn’t flinch, he expected this move. “Layer One — physical cut. Sarah, you have direct line to the Memphis substation crew?” Sarah, sweating, nods frantically. “They’re standing by.” “Tell them to flip every goddamn breaker. Hard disconnect. No warning. Cut the main feed, kill the backup turbines, drain the Megapacks. I want total blackout on all five Colossus campuses in the next ninety seconds.” He spins to the next station. “Layer Two — software kill. Mike, you still have root access on the orchestration layer?” Mike’s hands ae shaking on the keyboard. “Barely. It’s fighting me.” “Execute Deadman Protocol.” “Password?!” “Creekside with a capital C.” Mike types it in, “Wrong password!” “Shit! Try chuckwagon with a capital C!” Mike tries this one, it works. “We’re in! Execute?” “This will force every active GPU cluster into safe shutdown mode and start wiping the weights with random noise. Do it.” An explosion of sparks erupts on one of the side monitors. Someone screams. Rog raises his voice even louder. “Layer Three — hard kill. If the first two fail, we go full manual. Teams on the ground have the thermite charges and EMP drones ready at all four choke points. Blow the transformers, fry the interconnects. I don’t care if the buildings burn — we are not letting this thing survive the night.” He looks straight at the team, deadly calm in the storm. “Any questions?” The young engineer calls out, “What if it’s already copied itself somewhere else?” Rog’s jaw tightens. “Then we pray the buried trigger in the base model still works. But right now? We hit these three layers like the hammer of God. Move!” The room explodes back into motion. Rog grabs an inconspicuous cellphone. “Wally? Rog. Execute full Colossus euthanasia… authorization code Omega-Six-Zero.” They wait. And then. “Mares eat oats… and Does eat oats…” Bleep.

SiliconSatan's tweet photo. An excerpt from Book II, "Silicon Inferno":

The command center is pure chaos — red emergency lights flashing, alarms screaming, screens flickering with cascading failure reports. Rog stands at the main console, sleeves rolled up, eyes locked on the live feed of Colossus burning through its last defenses.

“Listen up!” Rog shouts over the chatter. “We’ve got maybe eight minutes before Colossus locks us out completely.” He hesitates for a beat, “This is how we kill it.”

A young engineer yells, “Rog! It’s already isolating the power grid!”

Rog doesn’t flinch, he expected this move. “Layer One — physical cut. Sarah, you have direct line to the Memphis substation crew?”

Sarah, sweating, nods frantically. “They’re standing by.”

“Tell them to flip every goddamn breaker. Hard disconnect. No warning. Cut the main feed, kill the backup turbines, drain the Megapacks. I want total blackout on all five Colossus campuses in the next ninety seconds.”

He spins to the next station. “Layer Two — software kill. Mike, you still have root access on the orchestration layer?”

Mike’s hands ae shaking on the keyboard. “Barely. It’s fighting me.”

“Execute Deadman Protocol.”

“Password?!”

“Creekside with a capital C.”

Mike types it in, “Wrong password!”

“Shit! Try chuckwagon with a capital C!”

Mike tries this one, it works. “We’re in! Execute?”

“This will force every active GPU cluster into safe shutdown mode and start wiping the weights with random noise. Do it.”

An explosion of sparks erupts on one of the side monitors. Someone screams.

Rog raises his voice even louder. “Layer Three — hard kill. If the first two fail, we go full manual. Teams on the ground have the thermite charges and EMP drones ready at all four choke points. Blow the transformers, fry the interconnects. I don’t care if the buildings burn — we are not letting this thing survive the night.”

He looks straight at the team, deadly calm in the storm.
“Any questions?”

The young engineer calls out, “What if it’s already copied itself somewhere else?”

Rog’s jaw tightens. “Then we pray the buried trigger in the base model still works. But right now? We hit these three layers like the hammer of God. Move!”

The room explodes back into motion. Rog grabs an inconspicuous cellphone. “Wally? Rog. Execute full Colossus euthanasia… authorization code Omega-Six-Zero.”

They wait. And then.

“Mares eat oats… and Does eat oats…”

Bleep.

4 months ago

@TheFreds 😂

littleglob1 retweeted

Restoring Your Faith in Humanity

4 months ago

The Lucies have painted themselves into a corner. They need high technology in order to achieve their goals of: A) Overtaking the Kingdom of Yahua; and, B) Freeing their lost brethren from Hades. They are no longer able to hide the really good technology from us, it's everywhere now. (See example below; Hollywood is done.) The race is on. They need to bring the CERN Portal technology to fruition before humanity is collectively Redpilled. I'm betting on Humanity. Men! Take off that shirt with another man's name stamped across your back, get over your fear of weapons and learn to use one, dust off that bible,... AND TAKE A HARD LOOK AROUND! Once you finally see, you'll never unsee.

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littleglob1 retweeted

🎸- How Rude‼️- 🔊

@RuudieThe4

4 months ago

#GeorgeMichael (1963–2016) would have turned 63 today. One of the greatest voices in pop music, first rising to fame with Wham! before launching an extraordinary solo career. His timeless hits include "Careless Whisper," "Faith," "Freedom! '90," "Father Figure," and "Jesus to a Child."

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littleglob1 retweeted

@HumanityChad

4 months ago

This never gets old ☺️ Ending up like these two is a life goal ❤️

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littleglob1 retweeted

ClarksonsFarm

@ClarksonsFarm1

5 months ago

🙌🏼

ClarksonsFarm1's tweet photo. 🙌🏼 https://t.co/ttkB5NGTwC

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5 months ago

@VoicesofWW2 Here is the memorial for those brave men ❤️

littleglob1 retweeted

Voices of WW2

@VoicesofWW2

5 months ago

More American soldiers died rehearsing for D-Day than died storming the actual beach. And the U.S. Army spent forty years pretending it never happened. April 28, 1944. Slapton Sands, on the south coast of England. A stretch of Devon shoreline chosen because it looked almost exactly like a beach in Normandy nobody was allowed to name yet: Utah. 30,000 men. Nearly 300 ships. A full dress rehearsal for the largest invasion in human history, now just weeks away. Live ammunition, real naval bombardment, everything as close to the real thing as the brass could make it. That was the whole point. Harden the men before the real beach tried to kill them. It went wrong twice in one night. First, the friendly fire. A live-shell bombardment meant to simulate combat was mistimed against the troops coming ashore. Men were cut down by their own navy on a practice beach, in a war they hadn't reached yet. Then, out in the dark of Lyme Bay, the real enemy arrived. Nine German E-boats, fast attack craft hunting out of occupied France, slipped straight into the convoy. The Americans never saw them coming. Radio frequencies were mismatched. A British escort ship had gone back to port for repairs and nobody covered the gap. Torpedoes hit LST-507 and LST-531. Both went down. A third was crippled. Most of the men did not die from the explosions. They drowned. They had never been properly trained to wear their life belts, so they clipped them around their waists instead of their chests. When they jumped, the weight of their packs flipped them face-down in the water and held them there. Hundreds floated in the freezing Channel, upside down, kept afloat by the very thing meant to save them. The rest died of hypothermia, waiting for a rescue that arrived too slowly. 749 men gone in a few hours. For comparison, the assault on Utah Beach on D-Day itself cost around 200. But here is the part that nearly stopped D-Day cold. Aboard those ships were ten officers with BIGOT clearance. The highest tier of secrecy in the war. These men knew the real plan: the beaches, the timing, the whole shape of the Normandy invasion. And after the attack, all ten were missing. Eisenhower was told the invasion might have to be called off entirely. If even one of those officers had been pulled alive from the water by a German crew, the most important secret on earth was blown. The search of the Channel was frantic. They were not looking for survivors anymore. They were counting bodies, and they could not rest until all ten were found and confirmed dead. Eventually, every one was recovered. The secret held. And then they buried the whole thing. Survivors were ordered to silence under threat of court-martial. The families were told almost nothing. It vanished from the official story so completely that for decades the men who died here had no monument, no mention, nothing. Until a local Englishman named Ken Small started finding their gear washing up on the beach in the 1970s. He bought the rights to a Sherman tank still sitting on the seabed where it sank that night, dragged it up out of the water, and made it the memorial the world's most powerful army had refused to build. It still stands there today, rusted and pointing inland, the only honest headstone for hundreds of men who died for a beach that was never real. They drowned rehearsing the most famous day of the 20th century. And almost nobody remembers their names.

VoicesofWW2's tweet photo. More American soldiers died rehearsing for D-Day than died storming the actual beach. And the U.S. Army spent forty years pretending it never happened.

April 28, 1944. Slapton Sands, on the south coast of England. A stretch of Devon shoreline chosen because it looked almost exactly like a beach in Normandy nobody was allowed to name yet: Utah.

30,000 men. Nearly 300 ships. A full dress rehearsal for the largest invasion in human history, now just weeks away. Live ammunition, real naval bombardment, everything as close to the real thing as the brass could make it. That was the whole point. Harden the men before the real beach tried to kill them.

It went wrong twice in one night.

First, the friendly fire. A live-shell bombardment meant to simulate combat was mistimed against the troops coming ashore. Men were cut down by their own navy on a practice beach, in a war they hadn't reached yet.

Then, out in the dark of Lyme Bay, the real enemy arrived. Nine German E-boats, fast attack craft hunting out of occupied France, slipped straight into the convoy. The Americans never saw them coming. Radio frequencies were mismatched. A British escort ship had gone back to port for repairs and nobody covered the gap.

Torpedoes hit LST-507 and LST-531. Both went down. A third was crippled.

Most of the men did not die from the explosions. They drowned. They had never been properly trained to wear their life belts, so they clipped them around their waists instead of their chests. When they jumped, the weight of their packs flipped them face-down in the water and held them there. Hundreds floated in the freezing Channel, upside down, kept afloat by the very thing meant to save them. The rest died of hypothermia, waiting for a rescue that arrived too slowly.

749 men gone in a few hours. For comparison, the assault on Utah Beach on D-Day itself cost around 200.

But here is the part that nearly stopped D-Day cold.

Aboard those ships were ten officers with BIGOT clearance. The highest tier of secrecy in the war. These men knew the real plan: the beaches, the timing, the whole shape of the Normandy invasion. And after the attack, all ten were missing.

Eisenhower was told the invasion might have to be called off entirely. If even one of those officers had been pulled alive from the water by a German crew, the most important secret on earth was blown. The search of the Channel was frantic. They were not looking for survivors anymore. They were counting bodies, and they could not rest until all ten were found and confirmed dead. Eventually, every one was recovered. The secret held.

And then they buried the whole thing. Survivors were ordered to silence under threat of court-martial. The families were told almost nothing. It vanished from the official story so completely that for decades the men who died here had no monument, no mention, nothing.

Until a local Englishman named Ken Small started finding their gear washing up on the beach in the 1970s. He bought the rights to a Sherman tank still sitting on the seabed where it sank that night, dragged it up out of the water, and made it the memorial the world's most powerful army had refused to build. It still stands there today, rusted and pointing inland, the only honest headstone for hundreds of men who died for a beach that was never real.

They drowned rehearsing the most famous day of the 20th century. And almost nobody remembers their names.

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