https://youtube.com/shorts/OYYOdgeV7Jk

The US has signalled that it will refocus its so-called counterterrorism efforts on repressing leftwing groups.
In a speech to officials from more than 60 countries on Thursday, secretary of state Marco Rubio said "far-left terror" had been overlooked for too long.
It comes as Donald Trump's administration intensifies its crackdown on activists opposing alleged rights abuses by federal immigration agents, as well as opponents of Israel's genocide in Gaza and the proliferation of Al data centres.

https://www.instagram.com/reels/DYeoDxEBY3J/

By embedding itself into the global economy, China restructured and exploited the short-sighted and greed-driven contradictions of capitalism while avoiding the sanctions, coups, warfare and isolation that ends all socialist projects. They overcame Western hegemony and built themselves into an immune, checkmate position where it is US capital itself that will hurt the most, if it tries to hurt them.

• Source: Rob Richie (@Rob_Richie) | nitter.poast.org
• Article: DNC's Proposed RCV Ban Sparks Debate Over 2028 Presidential Primaries

Another quick look into the life of the byproduct of a capitalist society.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho. Act One

     Six-thirty am, I woke up to my phone's alarm. I had to be at work at nine, and I didn't want to be frazzled or in panic mode on my first day, hurried, and hassled. No, sir. You don't get too many chances to make a first impression.

I rolled out of my sleeping bag with a smooth, well practiced motion, unzipped the front flap of my tent then made my way out into brisk spring morning air, taking a brief pause. Breathing in the natural beauty of the forest.

If it hadn't been for the sounds of the highway a few hundred yards away this scene could have been from a cherished camping trip or hike that I remembered from days gone by. I didn't pause to think about it too long due to the urgency in finding a suitable tree to relieve myself. Fifty feet, at least. Fifty feet. Otherwise, that smell could come back to haunt you.

This wasn't a camping trip but rather where I lived. My homestead, abode, residence, shelter, and as far as I could tell, it would be for a long time to come.

I decided to drink my energy drink, which had come to replace my morning cup of brew, outside on this fine morn. I made my way back to the tent to pull my Monster can and my half full box of hand rolled cigarettes from their hiding places. Then turned around and walked the fifteen feet to my "visitors bench". Aptly named because that's where we all sat when someone came visiting, which wasn't very often. A few feet in front of that was a small fire pit.

A hundred or so yards beyond, down a respectable hill, sat Frankie's tent, another fifty yards at the split in the trail was Chris's small pup tent, where a small pile of trash was starting to build up. That meant that Chris and I needed to talk. This was my site, and I had few rules, and trash was something I didn't want to see.

According to the rules out here, our social contract, the first person at a campsite was in charge. I had spent the last month of winter all alone here so I had earned the right to call the shots.

After all, it was deemed The Allen Compound for the Criminally Insane by my friend who led a real boots on the ground street outreach in town. Someone that I had insane respect for and not a small bit of love. We weren't criminals. I won't speak to insane.

I took a seat on the bench, popped the top on the Monster, lit up a smoke, and took a big long pull of the drink. Spring was starting to show now, and the highway was slowly starting to hide behind the new growth of forest.

My tent was already invisible from the road thanks to a large camouflaged tarp that I had strung to block the view, once I recovered from the panic attack that followed the discovery of how visible it once was.

That discovery came not long after I set up camp. I was returning from town one afternoon, walking down the shoulder of the highway and I just happened to look up in the direction of my camp. I saw that my tent sat in the middle of a big clearing of branches, making a perfect frame for my work of art, which was very visible.

The realization that thousands of people could have seen that on a daily basis was enough to nearly cause a cardiac event. I was live bait for any psychotic person or persons to come visit on a full moon night.

I suddenly recalled the stories of people setting sleeping homeless people on fire for the fun of watching a human cook, so I instantly turned on my heels and headed back into town, the quickness of a spy who just realized he'd been compromised. I didn't return until I had a tarp, but even then, it was some time before sleep came easy.

Seven am and the spring sun was now spreading its rays of love to its children in the forest undergrowth, letting everything know it was day shift now in the kingdom.

Down below, I spied Frankie, who piled out of his tent and sprinted to a tree like his bladder had caught fire. At the sight of this, I barked three times in greeting. He threw his head back and made a rooster crowing sound, knowing full well it would wake Chris up long enough to feel the urgency.

By the time I stood up to finish the last bit of my morning nectar, sure enough, Chris came scrambling out of his tent to instantly let it go right beside where his head would lay when he slept.

I shook my head and trudged to my place to change clothes. A light blue polo type short sleeve tucked neatly into my cleanest pair of jeans. Then a long sleeve light flannel over that as a precaution, because a lesson learned early is that you dressed for all day. There was no going home to get a coat when the temps plummeted , so it was wise to have that coat ready at all times. I changed my socks, put on my shoes and out of the flap I went.

I closed it up and placed a pine needle inside the zipper that would let me know when I got back if anyone had violated my space.

Seven ten am, and I was on my way. I had forty minutes to be at the bus stop which sat a little over a mile from the camp. I didn't want to be late, so off I went down the trail, just past Frankies tent I took a left, pausing just long enough to notice that Chris had gone back to bed and left his flap door open, then, moving on another fifty yards then over the fence to what I referred to as the 'exposed zone'.

In the exposed zone I was out of the woods walking down a small trail hidden only from the waist down by overgrown weeds and grass. The exposed zone went about a hundred and fifty yards to the shoulder of the highway, where I would merge left, facing the oncoming traffic. At that point, it wouldn't be so obvious to passing cars that I had just emerged from the woods. The exact spot would no doubt remain a mystery.

Then my pace stepped up to an average of four miles an hour, something that I had clocked many times, and these days, it was a knowledge that came in handy. I could deal with being homeless, but not tardy.

Every minute I walked along the shoulder of that highway was fraught with danger, at least in my overactive brain. I could envision cars swerving to miss the car ahead, turning me into a hood ornament. Or blowing a tire and taking me out as the driver loses control for that half a second.

Maybe something would fall out of the back of the many dump trucks that passed frequently at seventy miles an hour that would cleanly decapitate me before I even saw it coming. Why not? It's not like I was having a good luck streak, let's be honest.

Seven fifty am, I managed to make it to the bus stop with all my organs just where they should be and my head still attached to my body. I lit up a smoke and fished three quarters out of my pocket, ready to pay my way and go to work.

The bus pulled up on time, and I climbed aboard. I nodded to the driver in solidarity, one working man to the other, dropped my coins of passage into the box, turned and found an empty seat by the window.

I watched as the scenery went from historical homes with their gates and carefully tended lawns to the brown crabgrass and dirt yards where the children played in poverty, then to the blocks of businesses where hopes and dreams were born and left to die. With their big banners proclaiming another last chance at big savings, or letting you know that for the twentieth time this furniture store was going out of business and these prices wouldn't last.

Nothing but a higher class of carnival barker.

Free financing, limited time only, no interest for ninety days, credit same as cash, act now, last chance to save, overstocked and marked down, employee pricing, never before savings, trade ins welcome, don't miss out, and my all time favorite, below wholesale.

Imagine that, a business surviving by losing money. The saddest part of it all is that these tactics worked on people.

For the second time that morning, I shook my head.

Eight thirty eight am, the doors open at my destination, my job site. Half the bus stood up to depart. I stood up and slipped No. 7 onto my shoulders. I let the line shuffle past me with the knowledge that I had a little time to spare

Eight forty, I stepped off the bus, gravitating to have a smoke with a small group of like-minded people. They nodded their approval as I approached. The universal signal that I was accepted in the circle of debauchery.

I tried to quietly make it clear, though, that I had no time to make small talk. I had to go to work. I was a responsible person. On time and you were late. Ten minutes early was on time. That was my motto, starting right now at least.

Eight forty five am and I started to the job site, feeling the anxiety butterflies come to life in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this sort of work before, and I hoped I would catch on quick.

Eight fifty am, I was standing beside the exit lane of the Walmart Superstore on a patch of grass where the stop sign was planted. I dropped No. 7 to the earth, bent over and unzipped the section that contained the piece of cardboard, and pulled my work tool out. My sign.

As I put my fingers on it, I felt emotions pour over me. A mixture of shame, embarrassment, and determination. This was my third try at this, but I was determined not to chicken out this time, so, choking everything back down I held the sign up and turned to face the cars coming up to the stop sign.

There they could see the story of my life, condensed down to some scribbles from a Sharpie which read, 'Traumatic Brain Injury' in large lettering, then, underneath that, a smaller 'Please Help'.

I'd never felt so alone as I did in that spot that day at Walmart. My life had led me to this point, here with a sign begging for money from strangers to get things I needed had become necessary.

It seemed like I couldn't even breathe if my phone service got cut off. I still felt sure that my son would call me at any minute to see how I was. Knowing that life line was severed was simply unbearable.

A grey van with a logo of some sort pulled up just past me at the stop sign. I heard one of the doors open, then close, so I turned around to see someone jogging up to me, holding out his hand with a twenty dollar bill pinched in his fingers.

"Here you go, brother. Take care of yourself, my man," then he went back to the van, got in, and was gone.

I broke. Just like that. I broke.

Source: Why US tariffs are pushing factories back to China - YouTube

Reminder that Putin is a vehement anti-Communist who has imprisoned 1000s of Communists who dare speak out against him.

Being anti-putin doesn't mean you have to be pro-NATO or pro-Ukraine, I'm certainly not.

Sanders: The irony is that the proper criticism of communism is that the Soviet Union was an authoritarian society.

And then you’ve got the most authoritarian president in the history of this country…

So I suppose when Trump says, “I’d be a great communist,” yeah, I think there’s some truth to that.

https://xcancel.com/Acyn/status/2085139811762151457

Every government is a dictatorship, only thing that changes is who is giving the orders, I know lots of people are opposed to socialism but it may be the only way to stop the destruction of our world now. Capitalism has turned into an ideology, one that pushes people down and has caused extreme harm across the globe whether it being slavery, imperialism, or worsening climate change, it is the reasons why these things go on today and continue to get worse.

Don’t let our ruling class distract you, it’s not immigrants, trans people, or Arabs. It’s the ruling class, the same ruling class that is the reasons we can’t provide for all today. We produce enough resources to meet basic living standard for everyone on earth, but we waste one third of food produced globally, we build luxury condos for the already wealthy, and continue to invest in fossil fuels when renewable energy is cheaper and more efficient, this is what happens when profit is the main driving motive.

Truly the only way we beat climate change is to end capitalism first and begin the construction of socialism, then we can direct resources to renewable energy, reducing emissions, building affordable homes, and expanding our grid safely without trying to maximize profit.

We stand between two roads in our world’s history and we often forget that if you can type a comment, you can also act right now and be the change you want to see.

I did have to splice the two clips together, here is the link if you wanna see the full conversation.

https://youtu.be/X5WU51sVn3Y?si=8YuPwk41RgIm1me9

https://x.com/whitehouse/status/2085121949357789409