Bill Gates said this day would never come.
“The problem is that batteries are big and heavy… But the more batteries you use, the more weight you add - and the more power you need. Even with big breakthroughs in battery technology, electric vehicles will probably never be a practical solution for things like 18-wheelers, cargo ships, and passenger jets. Electricity works when you need to cover short distances, but we need a different solution for heavy, long-haul vehicles.”
On top of that, he even shorted Tesla, believing the company would eventually go bankrupt.
Fast forward to today… and Tesla Semi is about to begin volume production in 2026.
The very thing he said likely wouldn’t work is now going to be rolling out of a factory. And Tesla will keep pushing forward, building the kind of technology that many people once thought was impossible, growing to become the most profitable, largest company in the world.
If Bill Gates is still short, he will be the one going bankrupt.
Look at the map. 338,000+ red dots.
Unique IP addresses trading, distributing, and sharing child sexual abuse material… children under 12.
Do you notice the blue dots? Probably not. Those are the actual investigations.
Law enforcement needs more resources, more support… a bigger rescue team.
This is a fight of good vs. evil, and we are losing.
When I was 13, I carried a secret shame. We were so poor that I often went to school with no food. At recess, while my classmates opened their lunches—apples, cookies, sandwiches—I sat pretending I wasn’t hungry. I buried my face in a book, hiding the sound of my empty stomach. Inside, it hurt more than I can explain.
Then, one day, a girl noticed. Quietly, without making a fuss, she offered me half her lunch. I was embarrassed, but I accepted. The next day, she did it again. And again. Sometimes it was a roll, sometimes an apple, sometimes a piece of cake her mother baked. To me, it was a miracle. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen.
Then one day, she was gone. Her family moved, and she never came back. Every day at recess, I’d glance at the door, hoping she would walk in and sit beside me with her smile and her sandwich. But she never did.
Still, I carried her kindness with me. It became part of who I was.
Years passed. I grew up. I thought of her often, but life went on.
Then, just yesterday, something happened that froze me in place. My young daughter came home from school and said:
“Dad, can you pack me two snacks tomorrow?”
“Two?” I asked. “You never finish one.”
She looked at me with the seriousness only a child can have:
“It’s for a boy in my class. He didn’t eat today. I gave him half of mine.”
I just stood there, goosebumps rising, time standing still. In her small act, I saw that girl from my childhood. The one who fed me when no one else noticed. Her kindness hadn’t disappeared—it had traveled through me, and now, through my daughter.
I stepped onto the balcony and looked at the sky, my eyes full of tears. All at once I felt my hunger, my shame, my gratitude, and my joy.
That girl may never remember me. She may not even know the difference she made. But I will never forget her. Because she taught me that even the smallest act of kindness can change a life.
And now, I know: as long as my daughter shares her bread with another child, kindness will live on.
Credit: Henisha Joubert