if you live near water invest about $100 in some fishing supplies no way to get proteins if everything shuts down all of a sudden stores closed and rent is due sell fish you catch especially if you have no experience with a new world order lmao how you gonna eat and stay housed? also cast a net down and catch 10 fish at a time -takes about 20 min of youtubes to learn the basics of fishing and most of it goes into saltwater and freshwater easily or instead of youtube you can spend hours on a boat in the middle of nowhere with a deranged/psychotic step father teaching you how lol they want you all hungry and without money and a home and job so catch fish and if you can invest in hundreds of items you can barter in case anything gets like this shit (tealights/lighters/thumbflashlights/sewing kits/solar anything/strike anywhere matches etc) they love pulling apocalypsecore on everyone when they least expect it there is a lot of 25 year shelf life lentils and stuff out there so save for a rainy day hahaha just forget about your feasts and then have a huge lentil feast in 25 years but they probably last way longer than that lol
take on survival and bugout or ww3 supplies as a practice you spend $30-$50 a month on to better yourself in case anything happens out of you control I would not trust all these fucken creeps to help you since they know everyone will just revert to sex work lol on top of fishing you could sell baked goods like pancakes and bannock door to door u wont be doing this forever or anything it could just be 20 weeks on ur own sorta deal and everyone will have to get super resourceful quick or ur fucken done think about what people will need in times of collapse the elites will be comfortable in their palaces and what the fuck will u do 1) ur fail safe method of having skills as a janitor has collapsed since six months prior they ended all benefits and since there is no food stores open and nobody is working so go to step two 2) sell prepared baked goods like bannock and pancakes 🥞 and hard to find items go door to door -also 3) sell freshly caught gutted fish as well these will fetch a high price since most people do not have fishing supplies or even know how - so think long and hard if u have a skill in something like cooking or cutting hair u will be set4 life but like 90% of people out there just cutoff welfare and disability do not have any transferrable skills in chaos and will just riot lol don’t be like them be nice buy and trade in things people will need - be resourceful think about things for awhile and plz try not to eat anyone’s face lol
di.fm premium is worth it just for the minimal and d&b stations on their own but techno and underground techno and chillout EDM is good too well worth the $11 a month they have a chrome app and you can also upload their PLS to like gom or whatever too or just play from their site I dont even know how many stations they actually have at least 25+/50+
During the siege of Leningrad, as hunger and cold claimed lives daily, a cat named Vaska became an unexpected savior for one family. Not a hero in uniform, but a four-legged guardian with sharp eyes and silent paws. Each morning, Vaska would venture out to hunt. His owner, a woman with a determined gaze and hands weathered by winter, waited with her child in her arms. Whatever Vaska brought back—a mouse, a bird, or sometimes just a handful of feathers—they would use to prepare a stew that helped them survive another day. Vaska would sit quietly by the stove, watching patiently. At night, the three of them would huddle under the same blanket, sharing warmth and silence. One day, before the air raid sirens sounded, Vaska began to meow and pace restlessly through the apartment. Without needing words, his owner understood the warning: she grabbed what little they had and hurried to the shelter with her daughter. Minutes later, bombs rained down. Once again, the cat had saved them. Throughout the harsh winter and spring, the woman would scatter crumbs to lure birds, while Vaska, thin and quiet, continued hunting with surprising skill. For months, his instincts provided the fragile nourishment that kept the two women alive, who looked at him as if he were a furry angel sent from heaven. When the siege finally ended and the city slowly returned to life, his owner never forgot Vaska’s sacrifice. Even with food on the table, the best portion was always reserved for him. She would stroke him gently and whisper, “You saved us.” Vaska died in 1949 and was buried as a cherished family member, with a cross bearing his name: Vasily Bugrov. Years later, his owner was laid to rest beside him, and eventually, her daughter joined them too. Today, the three rest beneath the same earth—just like those winter nights, under the same blanket that forever bound them together.
Oxford, England. December 14, 1650.Anne Greene was a young domestic servant whose life became a public spectacle—not for anything she did, but for what happened to her body.Anne worked at Dun's House in Oxfordshire, a manor belonging to Sir Thomas Read. She was poor, unmarried, and like many servants, vulnerable to the advances of men above her station. When she became pregnant—likely by a member of the household—her fate was sealed.In 1650s England, pregnancy outside marriage meant disgrace, dismissal, and almost certain legal suspicion. For poor women, there were no good options.Anne concealed her pregnancy as long as she could. When she gave birth in secret, the infant was stillborn or died shortly after birth. When the tiny body was discovered, Anne was accused of infanticide.Under England's harsh concealment laws, any unmarried woman whose pregnancy ended in an infant's death was presumed guilty of murder—even if the child had never drawn breath. The law assumed that secrecy meant intent to kill.Anne was swiftly tried, convicted, and sentenced to death by hanging.On December 14, 1650, Anne was led to the gallows before a large crowd. Public executions were spectacles—entertainment, moral lessons, warnings to others.The noose was placed around her neck. The platform dropped.Anne hung there, suspended, slowly strangling. Hanging in that era didn't break the neck cleanly—it was slow suffocation, sometimes taking many agonizing minutes.Her friends, standing in the crowd, did the only mercy they could: they pulled on her legs to add weight, hoping to hasten her death and end her suffering faster.She hung there for nearly half an hour. When she finally stopped moving, the executioners cut her down.Her body was given to physicians at Oxford for anatomical dissection—a common fate for executed criminals. Dissection was considered an additional punishment, a violation of the body even after death.Doctors William Petty and Thomas Willis prepared to begin their work. They laid Anne's body on the table. They made their initial examinations.And then Anne stirred.She wasn't dead. She was alive.The physicians who moments before had been preparing to dissect a corpse now worked frantically to save a life. They used every technique they knew: warming her body, applying cordials, bloodletting, massaging her limbs.Against all expectation, Anne Greene recovered.News of her survival spread like wildfire through Oxford and beyond. People didn't interpret this as a medical accident or anatomical anomaly.They saw it as divine intervention.God had spared Anne Greene. Her survival was a miracle, a sign that she had been wrongly condemned, that Providence itself had intervened to save an innocent woman.Public opinion, which had condemned her just days before, now rallied to her defense. How could anyone execute a woman whom God Himself had saved?The authorities had no choice. Anne Greene was formally pardoned. Her conviction was overturned. Her death sentence was nullified.She was legally dead—and then legally restored to life.Anne didn't just survive. She lived on. She married. She bore children. She became one of history's rarest documented cases: someone who was executed, declared dead, and then returned to live a full life.Her case was meticulously documented by the physicians who revived her, creating a detailed medical and legal record that still exists today.Anne Greene's story exposes the brutal intersection of poverty, morality, and women's bodies in early modern England.She was a servant with no power. Likely pregnant by someone who would face no consequences while she faced death. Subject to laws that assumed guilt based on social status rather than evidence. Executed for a crime that might never have occurred.Her only crime may have been being poor, female, and unlucky.But her survival became something remarkable: proof that even in an era of absolute authority and rigid social hierarchy, sometimes the impossible happens.Whether you interpret her survival as medical accident, divine intervention, or sheer biological resilience, the outcome was the same:Anne Greene refused to die when she was supposed to.And in doing so, she became living evidence that the law, the church, and society could all be wrong.Her story reminds us that behind every historical statistic about executed criminals, infanticide laws, and capital punishment are real people—often the most vulnerable, the poorest, the women with no voice.Anne Greene got her voice back when she drew breath on that dissection table.She got her life back when public sentiment forced authorities to acknowledge the miracle.She got her future back when she married and had children.From condemned criminal to medical miracle to pardoned woman to wife and mother—all because she survived thirty minutes hanging from a gallows and woke up when physicians were preparing to cut her open.History remembers Anne Greene not as a murderer, but as the woman who came back from the dead.And reminded England that perhaps their laws about women, poverty, and morality needed reconsideration.
She owned 9% of Hawaii. She could speak English but refused. She lived in a grass house by choice. And she made sure her people could never be erased. Her name was Princess Ruth Keʻelikōlani. And she spent her entire life proving that you could hold power in two worlds while refusing to abandon the first. Born in 1826, Ruth descended from the highest Hawaiian royal bloodlines on both sides. She was aliʻi—nobility—in a way that commanded respect before she ever spoke a word. She grew up watching her world disappear. Christian missionaries arrived when Ruth was a child, determined to save Hawaiian souls by erasing Hawaiian culture. They banned the hula. They condemned traditional religion. They insisted Hawaiians dress like New Englanders, speak English, and abandon the gods their ancestors had worshipped for a thousand years. The kapu system, the traditional religious and social order that had governed Hawaiian life, had been officially abolished in 1819, before Ruth was even born. By the time she came of age, most of the Hawaiian royal family had converted to Christianity. Most. Not Ruth. She continued practicing the old religion. She honored the traditional gods. She performed rituals that had been declared forbidden. And she did it openly enough that everyone knew—but she was too powerful for anyone to stop her. Because Ruth was not just royalty. She became the Royal Governor of Hawaiʻi Island, one of the most powerful political positions in the kingdom. And she had a rule that drove Westerners absolutely mad. She would not speak English. Not in public. Not in private. Not ever. She understood English perfectly. She could read it, comprehend complex political discussions conducted in it. But she refused to speak it. If you wanted to talk to Princess Ruth, you spoke Hawaiian. If you could not speak Hawaiian, you brought a translator. She did not care if you were a missionary, a businessman, a diplomat, or royalty from another country. Hawaiian, or nothing. Imagine the audacity of this. It was the 1860s and 1870s. American and European businessmen were systematically taking control of Hawaii's economy. The Hawaiian language was being suppressed in schools. Hawaiian children were being punished for speaking their own language. And here was Princess Ruth, one of the most powerful women in the islands, sitting in her grass house, forcing English speakers to find translators if they wanted an audience with her. Because yes—Ruth owned a beautiful Western-style house. She had the wealth to live however she wanted. She chose to live in a traditional Hawaiian grass house. A hale pili. The kind of home her ancestors had lived in for generations. Not as a museum piece. As her actual home. She slept there. She held court there. She entertained guests there. She made it clear: I can afford your world. I choose mine. By the 1870s, Ruth had become the largest private landowner in all of Hawaii. She controlled approximately 353,000 acres—roughly nine percent of the entire Hawaiian island chain. Nine percent. Of an entire island nation. She had power that most people could not comprehend. She could have used that power to assimilate, to profit, to align with the Americans and Europeans who were taking over. She used it to stay Hawaiian. But Ruth was not naive. She knew what was coming. She could see American business interests tightening their grip. She watched the Hawaiian monarchy weakening. She understood that within a generation, Hawaii itself might not survive as an independent kingdom. So she made a decision that would echo through the next one hundred fifty years. When Ruth died in 1883, she left everything—all 353,000 acres, all that power, all that wealth—to her cousin, Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop. Bernice used that land to create a trust. And from that trust came the Kamehameha Schools—educational institutions specifically for Native Hawaiian children, funded by the land Ruth left behind. Today, Kamehameha Schools is one of the wealthiest private schools in America, serving thousands of Native Hawaiian students. It exists because Ruth Keʻelikōlani refused to sell out, refused to assimilate, and refused to let her land be divided among people who did not understand what it meant. Think about what Ruth did. She lived through the systematic destruction of her culture. She watched her religion banned, her language suppressed, her people dying from foreign diseases, her kingdom being sold piece by piece to foreign businessmen. And she responded by living louder. She spoke Hawaiian when everyone said speak English. She lived in a grass house when everyone said live Western. She practiced the old religion when everyone said convert. She governed with traditional authority when everyone said modernize. She was not performing nostalgia. She was performing resistance. Every time a Western businessman had to find a translator to speak with her, that was resistance. Every time she walked out of her Western mansion to sleep in her grass house, that was resistance. Every time she refused to explain herself in English, that was resistance. She used her power not to gain more power in the Western system, but to create space where Hawaiian culture could continue existing when everyone said it should die. And then she left nine percent of Hawaii to ensure Native Hawaiian children would have education, opportunity, and connection to their culture long after she was gone. Princess Ruth died in 1883, ten years before the Hawaiian monarchy was overthrown, fifteen years before Hawaii was annexed by the United States. She did not live to see the end of the kingdom. But she lived long enough to create something that would outlast it. Today, over 140 years later, Kamehameha Schools continues operating on the foundation she built. Thousands of Native Hawaiian students have been educated there. Hawaiian language and culture programs thrive there. The land she refused to sell still serves the people she fought for. Most Americans have never heard of Princess Ruth Keʻelikōlani. But every Hawaiian student who walks through the gates of Kamehameha Schools walks on land she protected. Every Hawaiian language speaker today benefits from the space she carved out when speaking Hawaiian was an act of defiance. She owned nine percent of Hawaii. She could have sold it, profited from it, used it to secure her own legacy in the Western world. She gave it all away to protect Hawaiian children who had not even been born yet. That is not just generosity. That is vision. She understood that you fight colonization not just with weapons or politics, but by refusing to become what they want you to be. Ruth lived in a grass house because grass houses were Hawaiian, and she was Hawaiian, and no amount of Western wealth would change that. She spoke Hawaiian because Hawaiian was the language of her ancestors, and letting it die would be letting them disappear. She practiced the old religion because those gods had protected her people for a thousand years before the missionaries arrived. And she left her land to Hawaiian children because she knew that land is identity, and education is survival, and the only way to win against colonization is to make sure your children remember who they are. Princess Ruth Keʻelikōlani died in 1883. But she is still winning. Because every time a Hawaiian student graduates from Kamehameha Schools, every time someone speaks Hawaiian in public, every time Native Hawaiians reclaim their culture—that is Ruth's legacy. She refused to disappear. And then she made sure her people could never disappear either. #PrincessRuth #HawaiianHistory ~Old Photo Club
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They are creating millions of "epstein files" out of thin fucking dimensional air the funny thing about it all is none of it is real you are all fucken in on a huge massive psyops and joke its all an excuse to put us all under house arrest by the state and royal families its not about how much files is released its about how disgusted you present yourself to be with the elites class -these people operate within 10-20 different beings
THIS "man" is not dying - he will rule over us for aprox. 3000 more years
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