🚨 In St. Petersburg’s Hermitage Museum, an entrepreneur seized the imperial throne to address Putin
The man climbed onto the exhibit and began emotionally shouting about bribes, debts, loans, and the collapse of his business empire.
According to Fontanka, when security tried to stop him, he pulled out a knife.
It later turned out the speaker was an IT businessman whose multiple startup projects had gone bankrupt.
Apparently, after that, he decided the imperial throne was the perfect place for a startup pitch.
THIS GUY BUILT AN AUTOMATED PIGEON DEFENSE SYSTEM FOR HIS BALCONY
pigeons kept nesting on his balcony so he engineered a full detection and deterrent system
here's how it works:
1\ camera captures video in real time
2\ an AI model identifies the pigeon in real time
3\ a water gun mounted on servo motors turns toward it
4\ sprays the pigeon automatically
the hardware:
> an orange pi 5 running the detection model
> a disassembled electric battery-driven water gun
> USB camera
> 2 servo motors for aiming
> resistors and a transistor to trigger the water gun
the detection runs on an AI vision model (yolo world v2) using the rockchip 3588's built in neural processing unit.
the best part is that it's not limited to pigeons. because it uses open vocabulary detection, you can reprogram the target to any object. squirrels, cats, raccoons, whatever is messing with your balcony
fully automated, runs 24/7, no manual intervention needed
💥Orbán’s intelligence agencies have been secretly using Webloc — a mass surveillance tool that tracks hundreds of millions of people via smartphone advertising data — making Hungary the first confirmed EU country to deploy it, in likely violation of GDPR. https://t.co/sk3UMli9NN
What the CEO of Rheinmetall said was insulting — yes, shortsighted — yes, but what is more worrying — his words can actually be deadly.
In my country, Rheinmetall is a major contractor — tanks, Skyrangers, an ammunition factory, etc.
But what is more interesting is that questions about our preparedness for a potential drone war were always drowned in a flood of arguments very similar to Mr. Papperger’s. The military establishment, lobbyists, experts — the whole lot — were telling our people that this drone thing is just a fad which will soon go away. And we should be focusing on legacy war fighting, and therefore legacy equipment.
It lead to the acknowledgment that we have almost no ability to detect and to fight the Russian drones.
So maybe relying solely on the military advice from a company selling one kind of equipment wasn’t such a brilliant idea. I just hope that by now we know where we went wrong, and we will find sufficient humility to ask for assistance elsewhere.
And I sincerely hope that the Ukrainian housewives will share their deadly knowledge with us.
This video should unsettle anyone who takes the United States seriously as a nation.
Because it exposes something dangerous: the trivialization of the world's most consequential office. It shows how carelessly the power, credibility, and accumulated moral authority of a superpower can be squandered for a few seconds of viral attention.
In any other major democracy, this behavior from a head of state would trigger a constitutional crisis. Paris would burn. Berlin would convene emergency sessions. In the Nordic countries, resignation would follow within hours. Across functioning democracies, the public, institutions, and political class would recognize this for what it is: an assault on the dignity of the state itself. Leaders are not free to perform as entertainers without consequence. National honor is not personal property, it's held in trust.
But the United States is not just another country with a provocateur in charge. It is the linchpin of global order. It maintains formal alliances and security guarantees with forty to fifty nations. It underwrites the financial architecture, trade systems, and diplomatic frameworks that billions of people depend on daily. When the American president speaks—or posts—it doesn't land as satire, meme, or personal whim. It reads as a signal about what the country is becoming.
American power has never relied solely on carrier strike groups or economic output. It has rested on something more fragile and more valuable: trust. The belief that beneath domestic turbulence lies institutional seriousness, predictability, and a baseline commitment to dignity. That belief is now disintegrating in real time.
Millions of American companies operate globally. They negotiate multibillion-dollar contracts in environments where reputation is currency. Boardrooms in Frankfurt, Singapore, and Dubai aren't debating whether a post was clever—they're asking whether the United States remains a reliable partner. Whether agreements signed today will be honored tomorrow. Whether American leadership has devolved from institutional to purely theatrical.
Consider tourism, which sustains millions of American jobs—airlines, hotels, restaurants, museums, entire regional economies. Soft power isn't an abstraction. It materializes in flight bookings, conference locations, study-abroad programs, and decades of accumulated goodwill. A quiet, decentralized boycott doesn't require government action—only a collective sense that a nation no longer respects itself.
Now picture this image being studied by foreign ministers, central bank governors, defense strategists, and sovereign wealth fund managers. Picture them asking a coldly rational question: How do we write binding thirty-year agreements with a country whose public face will be this, relentlessly, for years to come? How do we plan for the long term when the tone is impulsive, mocking, and unbound by the gravity of office?
This is where the real calculus begins. Trillions in foreign capital depend on confidence that America is stable, credible, and rule-governed. That confidence is now being traded for what, exactly? Applause from an online mob? A dopamine rush from manufactured outrage? Content designed to dominate the news cycle rather than serve the national interest?
Every serious nation eventually confronts this choice: burn long-term credibility for short-term spectacle, or safeguard the reputation previous generations bled to build. The United States spent eighty years constructing an image of reliability, restraint, and leadership under pressure. That image wasn't born from perfection—it came from a visible commitment to standards that transcended impulse.
This isn't a partisan issue. Europeans who value democratic norms recognize something ominously familiar here. Americans—Democrat and Republican alike—who believe in responsibility and restraint should see it too. Power attracts scrutiny. Leadership demands discipline. A superpower cannot behave like a reality TV contestant without paying a price.
The presidency is not a personal broadcast channel. It's a symbol carried on behalf of 330 million people and countless international partners who never voted but whose lives are shaped by American decisions anyway. Every post either reinforces or erodes the idea that America can be counted on when it matters most.
So the question is no longer whether this is offensive. The question is whether this is who America chooses to be: a nation that trades a century of hard-won reputation for viral moments. A country that replaces statecraft with content creation. A republic governed like a season of reality television.
History offers a harsh lesson here. Great powers don't fall because enemies mock them. They collapse when they begin mocking themselves—publicly, proudly, and without grasping the cost until it's far too late.
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Ted Cruz, US Senator: "We should have bypartizan agreement [...] How about we all come together and say let's stop attacking pedophiles?"
Might just be that we all died during the pandemic and this is hell.
Throwback Thursday: in 2022, host Olga Skabeeva shouted at journalist Dmitry Galkin, who predicted that Russia's invasion of Ukraine would cause thousands of deaths per day. Skabeeva said the war will be over the moment Russian troops set foot in Ukraine.
https://t.co/kfYDza8nUH
Our research, based on tens of thousands of personal records, shows that desertion rates in the Russian army have doubled in 2025 compared with 2024. If the trend continues, we estimate at least 70,000 deserters this year - roughly 10% of the entire force deployed in Ukraine: