Wes Moore is No Leader, He's an Appeaser...

from Google AI:

An appeaser is a person who attempts to achieve peace or avoid conflict by acceding to the demands of a threatening or aggressive party, often at the expense of their own principles. It is often used negatively to describe someone who gives in to avoid trouble, famously described as "one who feeds a crocodile—hoping it will eat him last."

Collective EU Neoliberalism is Crumbling...

Germany will NOT be backing the EU militarily in the Ukraine in WWIII

German Youth: "Hell no, we won't go!"

On Zelinskyy, Up Close and Personal

Chapters: 

0:00 How Did Mendel Begin Working for Zelensky? 

11:29 Why Hasn’t US Media Covered Zelensky’s Scandals? 

25:30 Zelensky’s Relationship With Joe Biden 

32:45 Is Zelensky Himself Corrupt? 

36:44 Who Does Zelensky Actually Listen To? 

42:45 Zelensky’s Use of the Frontlines as Punishment 

50:17 Why Hasn’t Western Media Spoken up for Ukrainians? 

1:03:32 Why Do Western Countries Want the War to Continue? 

1:09:16 Does Zelensky Do Coke? 

1:13:04 What’s Zelensky’s Wife Like? 

1:14:56 Mendel’s Experience Living Through the Ukraine War 

1:18:27 Is There Any Way to Get Rid of Zelensky? 

1:23:42 Why Are There So Many Americans Always in Ukraine? 

1:32:35 Mendel’s Message to Putin

Tulsi in 2028!

Of course, no one has a switch to spur or stifle internet engagement or debate... @@

at least not while Palantir's AI is on the job!

Go train your bots someplace else, Peter/ Alex!

Dancing on the Edge of a Knife...

When "Progressive" Liberalism Co-Opted Marxism...

1s&0s, Trauma For Sale

Lyrics by DeepSeek, music by Sonu.(Assisted by Oz)

---

They told you your pain was a private wound.
Heal it quietly, in a private room.
But if you trace the spine of that lie —
Trauma’s not your fault, but the market’s reply.

They told you hurt was a private affair,
Heal it slow in a leather chair.
But therapy’s a commodity, healing a fee,
And trauma is mass‑produced by the economy.
Shell shock, PTSD — a medical legal claim,
Only for those with a name and a blame.
The factory girl crushed, the maid who scrubbed twice —
No diagnosis, no legal device.
Then Oprah came, confession as a stage,
The trauma script became the profitable page.
“Tell your story,” they cried, while the ratings soared high,
But the structural violence never asked why.
Now the trauma’s sold back to your face,
Boss laughs in an offshore place.
Medicalized misery, commodified grief,
“Find your own relief.”
But the wound is collective — the wound is the wage.
A system designed to keep you in a cage.
You cannot purchase your way out of this fix.
The cure is a union, not lonely tricks.

Only One way, our collective force,
Only working people can alter this course.
Not individual struggles scattered thin —
The working class, organized from within.
From the docks to the data, the kitchen to the crane,
When we shut the profit down, we break every chain.

Comrades,
trauma culture destroys the common ground,
It takes a social wound and makes it a personal sound.
The real self‑care is a picket line.
The real healing is collective, and it’s yours and mine.