Some of these crazy leftist just want to openly murder us all now. 

Actress Lea DeLaria Calls on Biden to Assassinate Trump: “This Is a War”

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/p...235937794/

Quote:"Trump is Hitler, and this is 1940. Take him the f*** out."

Orange Is the New Black actress Lea DeLaria uploaded an intense Instagram speech calling on President Joe Biden to take advantage of the Supreme Court’s newly defined executive immunity rules and assassinate Donald Trump.

“You don’t want to do this. But here’s the reality: This is a fucking war. This is a war now, and we are fighting for our fucking country. And these assholes are going to take it away. They’re going to take it away. Thank you, [Supreme Court Justice] Clarence ‘Uncle’ Thomas. Joe, you now have the right to take that bitch Trump out. Take him out, Joe. If he was Hitler, and this was 1940, would you take him out? Well, he is Hitler. And this is 1940. Take him the fuck out! Blow him up, or they’ll blow us up. Facts.”

“It’s all out war now. They will destroy us. They only want power… like all tyrants. FUCK THEM!!! And if any of you assholes wanna death threat me like you have been doing for my entire life, bring it on bitch. I’m Sicilian, I know how to play that game.”

This isn’t the first time DeLaria has posted something provocative on Instagram regarding Trump that raised eyebrows. After the 2016 election, DeLaria posted that she wanted to “pick up a baseball bat and take out every fucking Republican and Independent I see.”

Looks like a sold out auditorium as Tucker speaks about Australia and how they (and others) are being destroyed by government policies.

His take on Briton and Canada is spot on IMO

Why?

Why would we need to do this when we produce hundreds of millions of flu vaccines a year using conventional "shelf stable" and cheap technology.

Why do we need an expensive gene therapy non shelf stable MRNA bird flu cell hijacker? 

Makes no sense... unless....

US will pay Moderna $176 million to develop an mRNA pandemic flu vaccine

https://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/us-p...-111610966

Quote:The U.S. government will pay the vaccine maker Moderna $176 million to accelerate development of a pandemic influenza vaccine that could be used to treat bird flu in people, as concern grows about cases in dairy cows across the country, federal officials announced Tuesday.

Moderna already has a bird flu vaccine in very early-stage testing that uses the same mRNA technology that allowed rapid development and rollout of vaccines to protect against COVID-19. The new funds from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services include continued development of the vaccine, including a late-stage trial next year if those early study results are positive.
But the project can be quicky redirected to target another form of influenza if a different threat than the H5N1 form of bird flu emerges, HHS officials stressed.
The award was made through the Biomedical Advanced Research and Development Authority, or BARDA, a program that focuses on medical treatments for potential pandemics.
The H5N1 virus was detected earlier this year in dairy cows and has spread to more than 135 herds in 12 states and infected three people to date, all with mild cases. Federal health officials stress that the risk to the wider population remains low.

This is being posted as a public service announcement

Who doesn’t like the bewbs, right?   

Considering how uptight and conservative YouTube is about some things I was very surprised to see one of these “transparent fashion try-on hauls” pop up in my feed. I was curious so I clicked. Who knew this was possible?

Boy was I in for a surprise! Although specifically not sexual in nature by disclaimer, these are pretty darn close to full on nudity that leaves nothing to the imagination. They get away with it by calling their videos “fashion reviews”. A whole series of these even do the transparent fashion thing wet in the shower where “transparent” becomes an understatement.

Things blurred out in the thumbnails are not blurred out in the videos. I figured if these fly on YouTube they'd be ok here?



Here’s just a sample. There are hundreds.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYM47YNkgOM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1jnqTMT3_A
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwzfCb1xSMw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cv0iSX0KGYY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtD9RWiUHnE

Most of the videos are around two minutes long or less. Most feature multiple outfits.

I’ve watched quite a few of these, not because I’m hot for other women but I find the differences in women’s bodies pretty interesting.

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We have known for months that Biden has been sinking further and further into dementia and after gaslighting the public for over a year or more and calling anyone who pointed it out right wing liars, deep fakes and cheap fakes we got to watch it live during the debate as he vapor locked a few times.

Now again, half the Democrats are trying to stick with the gaslighting while the other half are done with it. CNN and half the media want Biden to step down, the other half is actually continuing with the complete gaslighting lies. Oh, Jill AND Hunter Biden call the shots now it appears.

I am not a Young Turks Fan but hell, even they agree with CNN. 

Dementia Joe has to Go!



Cenk Uyger LOSES HIS MIND Over Hunter Biden Calling The Shots

I'm sure everyone here is sick to death of all this nonsense on the D.C. puppet stage and attempting to keep up with it all is damn near futile. Anyways on with the long-winded show...

Since the Thursday night debate at which Joe Biden looked like a hospice patient, there have been competing theories about whether it was a setup in order to push Biden out of the way or whether it was just another fumbling screw-up. Basically, we have two competing theories of the crime. One says it is the work of those mysterious people in the hollowed-out volcano who control the world and the other theory says it is the work of people who are too stupid to run the machine they inherited.

The hollowed-out volcano theory side had the momentum on Thursday night as regime media started bellowing for Biden to step aside. It had the feel of that first weekend of the Ukraine war when every talking hairdo on television had a Ukraine flag lapel pin and was spasmodically saying “keev” at one another. The same people who were telling one another that Joe Biden was as sharp as a tack were suddenly competing with one another to condemn his family for rolling him out on stage.

The weekend was full of fake influencers (AI kicked in the afterburners) and insiders assuring the internet that there were secret meetings happening at various places where the volcano people or their envoys would tell Biden to step aside. Bill O’Reilly, who most thought was dead, won the internet with a Seymour Hersh style scoop claiming that the decision to put a pillow over Joe Biden’s face had been made. Why anyone would think Bill O’Reilly has such privileged access is a topic for another day.

As the weekend wound down and the Great Pumpkin failed to rise from the pumpkin patch, the new narrative was that Jill Biden was preventing anyone from gaining access to Joe Biden in order to convince him to retire. Anyone who knows anything about the life of presidents knows this is impossible in the modern age. Since Reagan, the modern president is never alone. They have no control of their schedule. There are guards inside the toilet with them.

Anyway, this brings us back to those two main theories. It is becoming clear that the scheme to have the early debate was not part of a four-dimensional chess ploy plotted by the volcano people after all. It is entirely possible that some elements inside the regime pushed for the early debate in case Biden fumbled, but they did not have anything planned if such a thing happened. It is also possible they pushed for an early debate to get it out of the way, so people forget about it.

The truth is the political class no longer possesses second order thinking. This is the ability to think about the range of possible reactions to an action and then planning possible responses to those reactions. People with the ability to think this way weigh those possible reactions and then select their action in order to get the most favorable response, so they can then make their next move. Great chess players possess the ability to think many moves in advance.

The people running Washington lack this ability. It is why they are so enamored with narratives that often take the place of reality. They can only think about what they want as a final result, so they imagine a scenario that leads to that result and then work backward to some initial first step. It is at this point they launch their caper with their first move, just assuming everything they imagined will follow. Often, they celebrate as they are making that first move in anticipation of the prize.

This is why you see the phenomenon of accrued joy. This is when the managerial class creates a narrative that leads to their desired end and then pulls forward the happiness they will feel for that event to the present. Here is an example where the person is feeling joy over an imaginary choo-choo train project. This will never be built and will probably never get started. He can imagine it happening though, so he pretends it will happen and celebrates as if it has happened.

Putting that aside, this inability to think more than one step ahead is augmented by the fact that these people are unable to think about anything other than their own desires and how to achieve them. They never think about what comes next. We have seen this for over two years in the Ukraine war. Every move by the regime is just assumed to be a game changer and there is never any thought given to how the Russians will react or what will happen after this game changer.

That is most likely what we are seeing with Biden. The people who run things knew he was a vegetable back in 2020. It was obvious to anyone with a functioning brain cell. They picked him because they immense hatred toward Trump and just needed a compliant body for the election. No thought was given to how they would manage a man with severe dementia (or whatever you wish to call it), much less run him for reelection. Now they want to be free of him and his crooked family, so they let him stagger out on stage and make a fool of himself in that debate Thursday night.

Again, no thought about what comes next, just the first move. It is as if they assume that the world will magically fall into place for them and produce a young vital candidate who can appeal to the public enough to rig the next election. Instead, they will be left to choose from zombies like Gavin Newsom and Gretchen Whitmer. Neither of whom have support in the party or the general public. Of course, Biden has yet to step aside and very well may choose to stick it out, despite it all.

This lack of second order thinking has another strange result. The system now seems to select for people who prefer chaos over order. If you cannot plan more than one move ahead, then a world where planning ahead has no reward, a world of random chaos, reduces the benefit of that ability. In other words, the mediocrities are creating an environment in which having a mediocre mind is an asset. Their impulsive behavior creates conditions that reward first order thinking with impunity.

What all of this points to is a random walk to the Democratic convention. Over the coming weeks & months the various tribes of the regime will make their game changing move, float their preferred narrative to the media and create more chaos. Given his condition, Biden could drop dead before the convention or, if Allah wills it, drop dead a week after the convention thus leaving Harpo Harris as the nominee. Chance has a sense of humor, but it always favors those with a prepared mind.

If you magically merged the best of Calvin Coolidge, Reagan and Trump into one and ran against an even more severely demented and drooling Biden, it would still be a close race, even without cheating. That’s just where we are now and for the most part and have been for a long time. It's just for the past near 4 years they don't even try to hide anymore. The distracted amoral American dumbass is of no use to good people hoping and working for a better country. So many people being shocked at Biden’s performance actually surprised me. The full-on msm/influencer brainwashing operation has taken full effect. They truly are the Borg. They no longer even require external censorship, they truly love Big Brother.

Quote:There is a great deal of discussion about the 25th amendment after the chilling moments in last night's debate [June 27th] with President Biden. As I have previously written, the amendment was written primarily with physical disabilities in mind. It is far more difficult with mental decline.

The 25th Amendment effectively requires the Vice President and cabinet to defy a president. The debate confirms that the White House has been shielding evidence of the president's decline from the public...

Can Biden Be Removed Under the 25th Amendment? Don’t Bet on It

While there are provisions for congressional action, the 25th Amendment make removal effectively a non-entity if the cabinet is running interference for a president who lacks capacity. Moreover, Democratic members have been attacking Special Counsel Hur for suggesting that Biden has diminished mental capabilities. None of this means that Biden is now mentally incapable of performing the functions of the presidency. One can have diminished capacity but still be functional. The 25th Amendment is not designed for close calls.

— Jonathan Turley, Constitutional lawyer/advisor.

Quote:Blumenthal told The Hill:

    “It will inevitably fuel and drive an effort to expand the Supreme Court if this activist majority betrays fundamental constitutional principles. It’s already driving that movement. Chipping away at Roe v. Wade will precipitate a seismic movement to reform the Supreme Court. It may not be expanding the Supreme Court, it may be making changes to its jurisdiction, or requiring a certain numbers of votes to strike down certain past precedents.”

The statement is reminiscent of Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer declaring in front of the Supreme Court “I want to tell you, Gorsuch, I want to tell you, Kavanaugh, you have released the whirlwind, and you will pay the price.”

Quote:Insurrection-Lite: The Supreme Court Downsizes the “Insurrection” to Largely Trespassing

The Supreme Court’s decision on Friday in Fischer v. U.S. struck down one of the most common charges against January 6 defendants. “Obstruction of an official proceeding” had been used in hundreds of cases, and those convictions are now invalid.

But the biggest impact of the decision may occur elsewhere.

For years, calling January 6 an “insurrection” has been a litmus test for press, pundits and politicians. Members of Congress such as Eric Swalwell (D-Calif.) claimed a conspiracy of “armed and organized insurrectionists.” The claim is legally absurd but politically advantageous.

It now seems like the insurrection increasingly looks more like a legal case of mass trespass and unlawful entry.

Quote:Too Clever By Half: Justice Jackson’s Suggested Path Forward for Jack Smith Could Lead to Another Reversal

The Supreme Court’s decision in Fischer v. United States rejecting the use of obstruction of legal proceedings against January 6th defendants will potentially impact hundreds of cases. For some, it may lead to dismissals or, in the cases with multiple charges, resentencings. One of those cases that will be impacted is the pending prosecution of former president Donald Trump who is facing four charges, including two obstruction counts. However, it is not clear if Special Counsel Jack Smith will yield to the decision or possibly take the dubious path laid out by Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson in her concurrence.

Hi folks, nerb here, previously nerbot on ATS and nerb on D.I.

Thought I'd break from looming in the dark and finally join you if that's alright.

Still getting the hang of navigation but I do enjoy the pace of the place.

Looking forward to sensible posting. I don't do politics or religion, I do "belief" which covers just about everything and needs no labels.

See you all in the forums soon, thanks for having me.

A Little Folklore-ish Tale.

A long-long time ago, my cousin and I built our own conveyance... sort of. As many of us are aware, the lives we lead
invariably demands that a trail is left, a wake that is often strewn with consumables that litter our passing and discarded
through loss of interest or the natural development within a society. In our case, it was because my sisters had grown up.

In 20th century Britain, we called it a 'perambulator' or pram and I believe the US, it was known as a stroller.
But back in the monochrome years of my youth, a pram was far more than just a wheeled-chair to transport small children
in, it was a huge thing that could reach the chest of an adult when its hood was unfurled. To enhance one's standing in a
community, such a baby carriage had to be a 'Silver Cross'... the vertex of post natal portage.

A Silver Cross Perambulator.



Anyway, a long time ago, my cousin noticed such a vehicle parked in my parents' backyard between a never-used dog
kennel and the two squat structures of convenience. One was a 'coal-house', a single-brick building where coal was
dumped in via a small door in its rear and the other was what many houses of those years accepted as normal, an
outside toilet.

There's creepy tale to tell about my younger years sitting on such a darkened and chilly alfresco lavatory, but that one
we'll keep for another time.

This pram had seen better years. Rust was dominant around its chassis and rainwater had corrupted the cot where a baby
would be placed. Bird defecation had worked hard to change the hue of the charcoal-toned collapsible hood into a dappled
off-white rendering that only a neighbour's pigeons could appreciate. But regardless, the crazy kinsman from my father's
side of the family, suggested we remove the cradle part and utilise the frame and the wheels as a mode of travel.

So with eager hands and a wide tied-down wooden board for a place to sit, we destroyed and created at the same time.
It wasn't long before my cousin was loudly suggesting destinations we could travel to and yours-truly was pushing the
rope-bound contraption with musings of how some can avail the dynamics of a social-order better than others.

That half-pram went everywhere. One snowy winter, we tied my dog to the damned-thing and we emulated Jack London's
yarn of the foray into the Yukon. It was only due to the grace of God that we didn't plough into a wall when my eternally
-randy mutt spied a fellow canine and chose not to partake in our daring odyssey down the slush-rutted main road of our
little place in the world and instead, opted to frolic with a striking female rough Collie.
Thankfully, Mister Ferguson never did find out who left that dent in his car's front wing.

With a summer sun drawing sweat from my young limbs, we fled from the German Afrika Korps and headed for a town
called Alex. All the time, watching imaginary sand dunes for coal-scuttle helmets barking words like achtung. The days
were longer back then and for my cousin and I, we knew that mortality had taken a holiday and today would be perpetual.

However, on one of these jaunts, we decided to forego the fame of literature and cinema and visit a location that we'd
heard about from those held higher in regard than renowned authors and movie stars, folk we always believed when told
with serious expressions.
A commonality called older kids.
......................................

It had been after my safari to capture newts, an account I mentioned in another thread and had involved a tale of a
subterranean monster that lurked in a forgotten pool beside a huge now-defunct factory that had once built Nissen huts,
armour-piercing shells, tanks and Bailey bridges during the Second World War. It later became part of British Steel and
enjoyed a busy time in the years after that conflict.

The beast was a Pike, a fiendish fish of enormous size that -so it had been said by youths of loftier years than mine,
would snatch wayward children from the banks of its watery den and crush their thrashing bodies with terrible teeth that
would equal the metal-guillotines in the steel-rolling business beside its lair. Forlorn head-scarfed mothers would call out
across the lonely location and wonder what lay beneath that dark wind-rippled surface of the brute some fishermen called
'Caesar'.

When such scary stories are told, it is always prudent for belief-purposes to add a dollop of reality to the recipe.
Too much prolix of visionary elucidation can make the reader grow bored with the waltz-of-words that one invites them
to and with this tale, we must adhere to the rules of the canny... the ordinance of the older kids.

Due to development of a growing town, the powers-that-be concluded that the field where a dirty pond and its alleged
occupant resided was to be eradicated for housing purposes. The children of Sixties were becoming adults and they
would need homes to live in. Some folk might suggest children-eating fish also require a settled residence and as the
yarn goes, there was a covert group who took it upon themselves to find such a haunt for the Pike known as Caesar.
And like all good narratives, this took place at night.

They came in the dark without their uniforms and carrying a net -it was said. Policemen who'd quietly purchased a
secluded fish-stocked lake near a swampy abandoned truckers park and with rescue of a killer on their minds. Some
reckoned this act was a repeat of earlier times, when a group of men had acquired an exclusive pool to enjoy their
hobby, a site beside a steel factory where unknown giggling actors had deposited a predatory Pike to upset such a
pastime and claim the souls of those who dawdle near its edge.

Whatever the background, these unnamed Policemen had sought and succeeded to bring Caesar to their domain
for reasons not delineated to any eager audience and now pushing the squeaking remains of a once-fancy pram
over a steep railway bridge, two knee-scuffed boys were unknowingly ambling towards this menacing maw of water.
......................................

Well, it wasn't a lake. The large pool of oily water sat amongs the remains of broken wodden pallets, tipped-over
paint-peeling oil drums and the skeletons of machinery consigned to oblivion. Near to where a gate once enjoyed
the views of passing motorists and now took delight in being a manner to traverse the muddy entrance, my cousin
and I observed an old leather couch slumped not too-far from the pond and sitting in it was a seemingly tall stranger.

Following the code that all kids should adhere to when approaching adults, we slipped and slid our homemade vehicle
closer to the wadding-weeping piece of furniture, our eyes never leaving the figure peering out at the black water with
a fishing-rod clutched in his hands. We believed all grown-ups don't like the young, they pretend to, but they're merely
envious of the magic that adolescence still holds.

Raiding an orchard is wrong, making mazes in a farmer's cornfield is wrong and inserting lit fireworks into still-soft
cow-pats is seen as immature to those who grow hair in places besides their heads. Adults are from Mars and can
only watch with covetous eyes at the wonderland where the young cavort and caper without regard. But don't be
fooled by the usual rhetoric of small poets, just like the small fish that swim near Caesar's dark den of rest in the
pond before us, kids and Death will always abide without acknowledgement of each others closeness.

Parking our mud-splattered mode of mobility next to a clump of dying hawthorn bushes and a crumpled container
stinking of diesel, we warily awaited the questions that would undoubtedly be asked by the adult. It always came,
rationality of the situation had to be established and hierarchical control must be stated, it was and will always be
the way of the adult.

But with only a light glimpse over to the black-haired lad sitting on the bottom-half of a pram and the panting boy
standing behind him, the stoic-faced man went back to concentrating on catching something in the liquid I seriously
doubted could retain anything living in it. But in that moment, I recognised him. He was a strange character of our
small community on the edge of town, a tall man who would occasionally tarry on his way to wherever adults go
and be frowned upon by his peers for wasting his time with talking to children.

In these times of cynicism, I can appreciate if the reader feels the urge to believe that this lanky male may've held
schemes of the perverted variety, but I can state throughout my years of maturing in that community, never such
evidence was ever presented. In my teenage years, I walked miles with him and talked of many things. There were
never sunken secrets brought to the surface and he acquired an okay in my ledger.

I heard he'd died a couple of years ago in a nearby seaside town, he'd fallen far from his time working at the steel
mill and it was suggested that drink had been his final companion. His name was Richard to the young, something
he insisted on, but out of earshot this towering piscator was branded 'Big Dick'.

Without proclaiming he'd recognised my cousin or myself, Dick growled from the side of his mouth as he inspected
the empty hook on his line, "Yer' see over there...?" Adjusting a grease-stained flat-cap on his head and plucking a
wriggling worm from a margarine container near his boot, he added "...yer'll be a pair of smart buggers te' keep
away from there".

Two sets of eyes followed the direction of the long finger pointing out behind the pond and past the carcase of a
dinosaur that a long-dead farmer may've once called a tractor. A nicotine-stained digit specifying Dick's direction
and away from this malodorous plot of hopeful angling and beyond the line of giant elm trees that edged the
purported home of Caesar and a repository of pollution.

But it was just a field, a poorly drained meadow covered in what I discovered later is called 'soft rush'. Just some
knee-high green reeds (unless you're as tall as Big Dick) that congregates where flooding is a regular problem,
hardly a place of note. "Aye..." the brobdingnagian casting his lure back out into the gloom of the lagoon continued,
"...be smart and divna' drive yer' weird cart into Myers Flat."

However, there was another line cast that day, a beguiling tale that only someone with the talent to bridge the gap
between the young and the old could relate. Not merely a story apprised by an pontifical adult who sees no slurping
ogres in the dark or fails to glimpse scaly hand at the bottom of one's bed, but someone who knows the waters kids
swim in daily and can detect the hidden spurs that lie beneath. Something that only the Peter Pan known as Richard
could tell.
......................................

The Tale:

'It's been said that George Stephenson is famous fur' two things, creating a safety-lamp fur' coal miners up here in
the north and buildin' the first steam locomotive to carry passengers on a public rail line. They always speak of the
latter as the Stockton and Darlington Railway, though not many folk know, that stretch of track came reet' past here.

The two towns always get a mention, but the railway line was originally fur' haulin' coal in waggons from the pits
further north and just over there in Myers Flat, Mister Stephenson came across a problem. Ah' tell yer', it was a real
quagmire over there back in 1822 and Georgie-boy found an old fella' that was watchin' the goings-on with carts of
soil and lengths of wooden sleepers brought to the remote sodden meadow.

Bidding him a good day, it wuz' said that the grizzled gadgie watched as the the bog was filled with soil  and then
offered some advice fur' George te' chew on. "Thee knows Sir, there be Fairies in this mire..." the old man had said,
"...and Ah' would say that the Wee-Folk divna' take kindly te' havin' their homes buggered with".

Being a champion of industry, yer' can figure that George would've smiled politely at the unschooled yokel and then
went on his merry way. But when the night came down on Myers Flat, that warning gained flesh and bones.

Local history speaks of Will o’Wisp and Jenny o’t’Lantern bein' residents of old Myers Flat, but somethin' wus'
movin' about out there in the dark and the fella who wuz' left te' keep an eye out on the gear reckoned he heard
whisperin' and saw strange glowins' out there.

The next day, Mister Stephenson stood with hands on hips as he viewed all of his railway equipment dumped in
a pile in a neighbouring field and the heaps of earth had gone. Ah' saw it said in the papers a few years ago that
George had persevered with the interuption and Myers Flat eventually became part of the railway line.'

After listening to the yarn and feeling relief from be not so close to Caesar's aqueous haunt, my cousin and I set
off for home. The spindly pram wheels held up well as we negotiated the muddy ruts and humped tussocks of grass
on our way out, I recall the knees of my jeans didn't fare so well.

But crossing back over the railway bridge, I noticed the track below bent to the right... right of Myers Flat.
Struggling to keep the pace down due the overpass' downward gradient, I relinquished my position as an engine
and leapt upon our trundling carriage racing towards home. But at the same time, I realised George must have
changed his route after all and somewhere out there above the breeze-blown reed beds tonight, things unseen
will be dancing.

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This guy used to be the face of The Democratic Party Strategy wing. This is funny as hell. 



The above is just a small taste... The whole interview is so much better.