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A new inspector general report says the Secret Service missed more than 100 radio transmissions from local law enforcement about the suspicious man who would later be identified as Thomas Crooks. One hundred. Pure insanity. https://revolver.news/2026/07/two-years-after-a-bullet-nearly-killed-president-trump-a-new-report-reveals-an-unthinkable-truth/

Prediction: now that with GLM / DeepSeek & more we will see very good LLMs available open weight, and even more when the GPU/RAM insanity will be contained, the open source agents landscape will create *much* better tools that we are used to use today. For instance: #LLM #OpenSource #AI #Nospecificcountrycodesarementionedinthetweet.

Final part in the series by @tomaspueyo. Belgium is singled out for special insanity, even for European standards: "⁠⁠In 2022, less than 10% of Belgian visas were for work! Of those, only 2 percentage points were for high-skilled work or research! Madness!⁠⁠ ⁠⁠So where do https://t.co/ccxFa4uHmB #Belgium #Visas #WorkOpportunities #BE

Insanity: Music star Wolfgang Niedecken calls for an assessment of banning the AfD, as the party always focuses on the negative! Oh, so... If one doesn't smile cheerfully at the downfall of Germany, should one now also be banned? Because of such arrogant celebrities. (Original: Wahnsinn: Musik-Star Wolfgang Niedecken fordert die Prüfung eines AfD-Verbots, da die Partei immer den Fokus auf das Negative legen würde! Achso... Wenn man zum Untergang Deutschlands nicht fröhlich lächelt, soll man jetzt auch verboten werden? Wegen solchen arroganten Promis) #PoliticalDebate #Germany #FreedomOfSpeech #DE

Insanity: The head of the Chancellery, Thorsten Frei from the CDU, is just announcing that the Germans must prepare to work longer! The retirement age must rise! My question: Why should anyone work longer? To generate even more taxes? (Original: Wahnsinn: Der Chef des Kanzleramts Thorsten Frei von der CDU verkündet gerade, die Deutschen müssen sich darauf einstellen länger zu arbeiten! Das Renteneintrittsalter müsse steigen! Meine Frage: Warum sollte irgendwer noch länger arbeiten? Um noch mehr Steuern zu erwirtschaften,) #RetirementAge #WorkLifeBalance #TaxationDebate #DE

🚨#BREAKING: Charlotte Hornets’ basketball player, LaMelo Ball, will NOT FACE A SINGLE CHARGE after he drove his Hummer directly into oncoming traffic in Charlotte NC, smashing another vehicle. This is absolute insanity... NO CHARGES AT ALL????!!!!! JUST WATCH THE VIDEO!!!!!! https://t.co/nlJD2yLkPJ -

One year ago today, after ten years of persecution, two near-assassinations, and the unrelenting wrath of the corrupt political class, an earthquake shook the depraved establishment to its core: President Trump achieved history’s greatest and most astounding political victory. America saved. Providence fulfilled. In these last 12 months, in rapid succession, it’s been one reversal of decline after another, one colossal win for America after another — record border security; record deportation; record crime reduction; record inflation reduction; record tax reduction; record native job growth; record investment; record slashing of the trade deficit; record deregulation; record energy production; the dismantlement of DEI, trans insanity and woke supremacy; dethroning the deep state and the tyranny of bureaucracy; the revitalizing of our national patriotism and glory in this our 250th year; the resurrection of American culture, including the designation of English as the official language of the United States; the reassertion of American sovereignty, hegemony, strength and Western Civilization; the reawakening of the Monroe Doctrine and implementation of the Trump Doctrine; ending 8 wars; restoring the unrivaled might and lethal dominance of the American Armed Forces — and using those force to secure our interests and our borders and to crush the cartels and foreign enemies of the United States; and the thrilling dawn of a new American age of superiority in space, technology, medicine, automation, computing, manufacturing and the grand industries of the future as we once again reach for the limits of our infinite destiny. This IS the Golden Age of America. -

Parting Ways (The Day The Music Died) The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air.  The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness.  Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge.  The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him.  Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways.  They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity.  Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it.  Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed.  The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.   Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling.  Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out.  Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger.  A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence.  The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day.  The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won.  And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep. The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade.  Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time.  They returned to what they knew was the inevitable. They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives.  Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves.  Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave.  Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery.  Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant. But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent.  Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago.  That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep.  All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind. And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices:  “This will be the day that I die…”

Parting Ways (The Day The Music Died) The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air.  The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness.  Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge.  The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him.  Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways.  They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity.  Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it.  Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed.  The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.   Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling.  Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out.  Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger.  A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence.  The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day.  The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won.  And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep. The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade.  Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time.  They returned to what they knew was the inevitable. They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives.  Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves.  Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave.  Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery.  Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant. But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent.  Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago.  That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep.  All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind. And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices:  “This will be the day that I die…”

Parting Ways (The Day The Music Died) The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air.  The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness.  Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge.  The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him.  Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways.  They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity.  Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it.  Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed.  The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.   Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling.  Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out.  Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger.  A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence.  The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day.  The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won.  And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep. The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade.  Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time.  They returned to what they knew was the inevitable. They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives.  Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves.  Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave.  Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery.  Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant. But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent.  Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago.  That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep.  All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind. And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices:  “This will be the day that I die…”