Remember childrenâthis tactic is really annoying to the police, so YOU SHOULD NOT become floppyâitâs frustrating to them and makes them look bad and is a waste of resources and no one wants thatâŚ
My name is Abdelmajed.
I never imagined Iâd be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knewâmy home, my safety, my communityâwas ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries.
Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying theyâll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and itâs become a daily battle just to survive.
Iâve seen things I never thought possibleâstanding in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everythingâmy home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope,
but itâs almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, Iâm trapped in a warzone with no way out.
Iâm reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chanceâjust a chanceâto live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
My name is Abdelmajed, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Everything I once knew has been taken awayâmy home, my safety, and the people
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety.
Even the smallest donation will make a differenceâit could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. Youâre not just helping me escape a war; youâre giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Do you understand what I'm saying?" shouted Moist. "You can't just go around killing people!"
"Why Not? You Do." The golem lowered his arm.
"What?" snapped Moist. "I do not! Who told you that?"
"I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People," said the golem calmly.
"I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr Pump. I may beââ all the things you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!"
"No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Do Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.
Imagine having been born in 1905... And all your life it doesn't fucking stop. The Great War, the Spanish Flu, and then you go out of your mind for 7 years. Everyone is traumatised and nothing matters. Then another crash. And then the rise of fascism, and the War to end all Wars didn't and it's 1945 and you're just about still there. You may have fought or ferried the boys from Dunkirk or sabotaged the Nazi occupiers or worked in the factories and put out fires during the Blitz and you're lucky to be alive, because not all your friends made it. But you are and finally, fucking finally, it stops. It stops. You are tough as nails and you can put that strength to work into building something and you do, and people have cars and can buy icecream and you have a pension fund and the kids have money of their own and no nightmares.
I want that for us. I so want that for us. I want to be the generation that has seen fucking everything and is like a MRSA bug and unfazed and when that Cheeto finally dies, I want us to. Plant the gardens and clean the seas because we can and we want to and we remember some joy, some time of trust even when it got broken and we can say to the 20 somethings "let us show you what we can build, how it can feel."
And maybe Gen beta will take it all for granted like the boomers did, but we can give Gen Z and Alpha some peace because we, and Gen Z and Alpha have seen the Dark Times and fuck that noise.
musk is going to die in a Tesla explosion in 6 months after sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and we will never get a conclusive answer on whether it was a CIA car bomb or just a normal Tesla malfunction
as of now sheâs facing 15 years in jail for âthreateningâ the ceo of the insurance company that denied her claim. and isnât that ironic? since women always get told that âthreats donât mean anything unless thereâs actionâ when it comes to reporting stalkers, ex and present partners who threaten abuse. but now a threat warrants this disproportionate action?
I saw him interviewed and the reporter asked why he thought people were willing to pitch in so much money and he tried not to smile then said something to the effect of, "companies use money to exercise free speech, maybe people are trying to do the same."
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