Fox News, NY Post helping Mamdani get elected because it boosts their ratings (JTF video)
בס”ד
Please publicize this important video everywhere possible.
On Rumble:
בס”ד
Please publicize this important video everywhere possible.
On Rumble:
The Terrible Tragic shooting on
July 28, 2025 at 345 Park Ave Midtown Manhattan that tragically killed
4 people ,
2 of the people murdered were
Jewish Julia Hyman & Wesley LePatner
While the gunman didn’t try to target Jews , that wasn’t his motive
and still two innocent Jewish women are Victims ,
Such a sad fact of Jewish Existence
Even when Jews are Not the intended
Target of Crime, the motive of a crime, Jews sometimes Still End up becoming victims , can you believe that crap
It’s Terrible the loss of all the 4 lives
Jewish and Non-Jewish alike
Any opinions on the
Sydney Sweeney controversy ?
I would marry Sydney Sweeney even if she were a Shiite Muslin. I would give her a double orgasm.
Has Sydney Sweeney posed
Nude yet ?
Yes. In a movie in 2024. Does she give bj’s? Only if you’ve had a Metzitzah B’Peh.
How do you feel about the
Incel Crisis and the Urgent Need to Legalize Prostitution
Anonymous of August 3, 2025 4:19 pm
Are you aware of the Incel Crisis
It’s sadly Getting worse and worse
Many people have said
America Definitely Needs to
Legalize Prostitution in
All 50 States and at
Reasonable Prices
It’s Long overdue
Chronic Long Term
Involuntary Celibacy is a
Hideous Problem that can happen to anyone
It’s also Upsetting how
Incels are being unjustly demonized
Fox News was right to fire
Fucker Carlson
About Sucker Carlson
sovereignnations.com has an article
“What’s the Matter with Tucker Carlson?”
by
Posted on January 22, 2025
A very good Question
Tucker Carlson is A Fraud
Mother Tucker is a Creep ,
Jeffrey Toobin is an upper west side wanker.
Mother Tucker is Also a LIAR
theofficertatum.substack.com has an article
“The World Has Lost Its Mind About Israel—and I’m Done Being Silent”
by
Brandon Tatum
Aug 01, 2025
Brandon Tatum is a good Christian that Supports Israel
everydayhate.substack.com has an article
“Antisemitism Today: the permitted prejudice”
by
Dave Rich
Aug 01, 2025
A person also typed online today
“MOBS FOR MONSTERS
The leftist media has joined the radical Palestinian Arabs by echoing their accusations of genocide and starvation in their war against Israel.
The blood libels also smear those deluded Jews who inexplicably join the marauding mobs in support of the Muslim monsters who committed the Oct 7 atrocities .”
“We are watching the correctness of Isaiah 5:20 in real time on a daily basis.”
Isaiah 5:20 says
“Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness; who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter”
A person typed online
August 3, 2025
“I have never seen such worldwide antisemitism. My parents survived the Holocaust, and I personally have witnessed acts of antisemitism against me and my family. I fear for my children and grandchildren. I am a holocaust scholar and pulpit rabbi for 50 years. Fellow Jews your silence will be the cause of your demise. This is not meant to scare you but to wake you up and communicate with congress and the Jewish leadership. If Israel, GOD FOR BID, is nuked with a large number of bombs, we in the Diaspora are doomed, kaput. RABBIS warn your worshippers in your sermons. If only this had been done prior to the Shoah, I might not have lost most of my family in the crematoriums and gas chambers.”
The rapper Busta Rhymes has just received a Star on the
Hollywood Walk of Fame
Yet the Great Rabbi Meir Kahane
Never got a Star on the
Hollywood Walk of Fame in his Life
We Need to posthumously give
Meir Kahane his Star
We are Still Waiting for
Hollywood to Make a
Movie to Honor the Incredible Life of
Rabbi Meir Kahane
We also still want the
Face of Meir Kahane added to
Mount Rushmore
ремонт тв sharp ремонт телевизоров sharp
A person typed online today
“The Jewish nation is the first and only nation in the history of man who, in a defensive war, is being told it must feed the enemy while trying to beat the enemy.
It’s called the double-standard of Jew-hatred.”
A person typed in reply
“As usual blame the Jewish people.
As a proud Jewish mother I should have pity for these poor “starving “ and dying babies.
I have not one ounce of pity. Why? Remember how Ariel and Kfir Bibas were murdered. Hamas killed these precious children with their barehands.
After 10/7/2023 the world remained silent and now the Jewish people are at fault?
It doesn’t sound kosher when there is tons of food either trucked in or air dropped. Where is it all going?”
Another person added
“And how many Yidiots are blaming Israel for this “starvation” when tons of food remains on trucks because HAMS and UN want to allowing to be stolen and sold on the black market? Too many”
Chaim: you are running the state of Israel and city of New York from your laptop.
Chaim: you are running the state of Israel and city of New York from your laptop.
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I will write in Anthony Weiner. Are there any seconds?
What about the Incel Crisis
The sadly growing Incel Crisis
1cydbk
Ciao, volevo sapere il tuo prezzo.
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platform penyembah Bintang laut
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You’re out of your mind peddling this shit.
My name is Ivan, a 27-year-old fashion designer who has found his niche in the fetish fashion world. Born and raised in Russia, I’ve strived to infuse my designs with purpose – a brewing blend of tantalising desire and dominance. In this world of leather, latex, bondage, and submission, I extract from my own experiences as a tantra practitioner to create captivating themes in my newest collections. It’s about more than clothes and accessories; I create experiences – feral, powerful, and intimately personal. рџ€
Every piece I create thrums with erotic energy, not unlike the ebb and flow of tantric practices where one’s desires are teased and stoked until they become a roaring inferno, consuming everything in its path. Each design has its unique dance – a flirtatious swish of a latex skirt, the dominant clasp of a leather corset, or the delicious tension built by a beautifully crafted set of bondage cuffs. They’re not just clothes; they’re languages of lust, of control, of submission and of the relentless dance of desire we all play, whether we admit it or not. Each piece whispers sweet words of enticement, coaxing the wearer into a world where sensory pleasure is a deliciously wicked game, where the rules are as flexible as the supple leather I often work with, and the rewards…well, the rewards are worth every shiver, every gasp, every surrender рџ‘….
How this dance plays out is a mystery, a potent alchemical concoction that surprises even me sometimes 🧫. I’ve seen a shy, hesitant woman don a piece from my newest collections and transform into a tantalizing temptress, watching in awe as every man in the room becomes spellbound by her daring allure. I’ve witnessed the transformation of a meek man who found a potent, irresistible dominance in the form of a leather harness. The power of fashion, of tantra, of the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance, is such a heady experience, it’s like biting into a ripe, juicy peach, the sweetness of which lingers and tickles the senses long after the first bite рџЌ‘. It’s in creating these pieces, these experiences, that I find my purpose – a nurturing, fierce and wickedly delectable thrill, that sets the heart aflame and unleashes the primal beast within. And darling, the beast is hungry. рџ€
su kaçak tespiti üsküdar Testo termal kamera sayesinde Üsküdar’daki su sızıntısını hemen tespit ettiler, işlem çok hızlıydı. https://limoscene.us/uskudar-su-kacagi-tespiti-hizli/
Every evening, beneath the intoxicating glow of red and purple stage lights, my existence blossoms into a viewer’s paradise. From behind the velvet curtain, I peek out. The sea of expectant faces spikes a sensation of adrenaline 🧫 in my veins. A cocktail of curiosity and control swirls inside me, seductive and profound as a late-night secret.
As the night rolls in, my heart pounds to the rhythm of the vintage music, billowing its seductive whispers into the crackling microphone. Each note is like a language of its own, whispering secrets, controlling the audience landscape as if we’re locked in a mesmerizing dance. The sequins adorning my costume glitter with each trembling heartbeat, and my painted fingertips quiver, grazing the silk curtains. They’re longing for the music’s command, to sate the curiosity gnawing inside me, eager for the erotic dance of control.
The feeling of anticipation is as raw as a freshly plucked fruit, juicy and ready to be bitten into. When I finally step onto the stage, clad in feathers and fantasies, the air seems to shiver with burlesque charisma. The spotlight is ripe on me, an invitation to taste the kaleidoscope of sensations that my performance tempts. My muscular limbs stretch and curl, reveling in the intoxicating power to control the spectators’ eyes, to leave them quaking with curiosity and desire. A peacock, preening and proud, I bare my soul in front of my audience, each revealing twirl a tantalizing taste. The audience devours each movement; they’re enthralled, their hungry gaze lapping it up like a feast for their senses рџ‘….
Immersed in this world of glamour and shadows, I feel an inextricable connection to the pulse of burlesque. It connects us all in ways immeasurable. In the midst of a twirling frenzy, the world outside fades. There, bathed in the magnetic pull of the stage, my life is a saga, juicy as a ripe peach рџЌ‘, waiting to be savored, bite by luscious bite.
The nights roll on, and the red velvet stage becomes my playground of curiosity and control, where I awaken the fantasies nestled in the audience’s hearts. Every performance is not merely a show, but an erotic saga, a swirl of sensuality and control, a symphony of unspoken emotions. It is a dance where control slips, slides, twirls, and embraces curiosity in a tantalizing tango, much to the delight of the spectators. This stage, this spectacle, is my viewer’s paradise, a canvas for me to paint my story, ripe with human authenticity and raw, tantalizing control бЅ 9.
Burlesque, in essence, isn’t simply about tantalizing the senses. It’s an interplay of curiosity, control, and surrendering to the rhythm of desire, a sensuous language sketched in the air with a dancer’s every move. Each performance mines deeper into this kaleidoscopic world, each experience a step into an unknown ecstasy.
Journal Entry, 10th July
Tonight, something unexpected unfolded on the dimly lit dance floor of ‘Neon Apollo’, the nightclub where I unleash my unrestrained energy. You might think I’m no longer at the age to partake in these youthful eccentricities, but dancing is my lifelong lover. Something extraordinary happened, something that shook up my steadied 48-year-old heart and doused it with a torrent of curiosity.
As the night wore on, the velvet darkness thickened and the music thrummed through the walls. My body pulsed with the beat, a rhythm that has become my second heartbeat over these years. And then I saw him, a middle-aged man, slightly hunched, yet with a deep sense of enigma. Our gaze met for a brief moment, an electric charge surged through me, and his eyes seemed to whisper – ‘click to explore.’
I couldn’t resist the peculiar allure—he was an unread novel, an unopened Pandora’s box. His eyes veiled a world of untold stories. Despite the raucous music drowning any substantial conversation, our dance served as a silent dialogue. Matching step by step, sway by sway, our bodies wove a dance of mutual curiosity.
The connection was palpable, growing with each passing moment, mirrored in the beads of sweat trickling down our foreheads. The room was ablaze with the fire of our dance—a dance more intimate than the closest lovers, yet as neutral as strangers. This wasn’t just about desire—it was about the curiosity one has on encountering an unexpectedly familiar-lover in the mirror. It was a discovery, a slow build towards a revelation that was awaiting exposure.
As the last beats reverberated through the dance floor and the lights began to fade, we stood there, panting, looking at each other. Wordless. The moment ceased to a halt as I experienced a profound sense of fulfillment. My curiosity had been somewhat sated but a part of me yearned to know more.
Tonight, in the throbbing heart of Seoul’s underbelly, beneath the neon lights and pulsating beats, I discovered a new rhythm – the rhythm of curiosity, the rhythm of slow build, and the rhythm of an unanswered desire that still echoes within me, whispering now and then, ‘click to explore.’
The lights of Istanbul are different when you’re a dancer. They cling to your skin, decorate your body like diamonds strewn across your form, glistening in the smoke-filled air of the nightclub. Yet, those shimmering lights, as enchanting as they may be, pale in comparison to the fire kindled within you, a fire fed by music, passion, and the heat of bodies swaying around you. Here, in this nocturnal sanctuary, I surrender myself to the rhythm of life, moving in time with the pulsating music, my heartbeat echoing against the walls in a symphony of raw emotion.
As a non-binary dancer, my craft rides on the precipice of intense intimacy and stark loneliness. On stage, I let my veil of ordinary slip away, replaced by the intoxicating essence of my soul. The fluidity of my movements, the rhythm that carries me across the floor, the feverish desire reaching out from the spectator’s eyes — all serve as a testament to my strength, my confidence, my resilience. My body, enigmatic and graceful, commands attention under the iridescent kaleidoscope of nightclub lights.
Stepping off the stage always feels like a rude awakening, a sudden plunge from my ethereal realm to the stark reality. Yet, it’s in those moments that the most tantalising part of my night begins. I find myself drawn to a sea of faces, each one evoking an intricate blend of longing and apprehension. And then, the one I’ve been waiting for, Emre, watching me with an intensity that sends electricity prickling up my spine. Our connection transcends the realm of physical attraction, delving into uncharted territories of emotional intimacy. And yet, the tangible tension between us is an undeniable reminder of our shared desires.
Around us, Istanbul continues its nightly dance, its heartbeat coiled with ours in an intimate dance. As Emre’s fingers find the small of my back, I can’t help but shiver, a wave of yearning washing over me. The complexity of our dynamic, teetering between intimate connection and audacious confidence, keeps me coming back here, night after night. In this world of seductive splendour and raw vulnerability, where artistry weaves its web through the pulse of music, I’ve found a place of belonging, an emblem of resilience, an exceptional blend of grit and grace. I am the dancer in Istanbul’s night, and this is my song of life and love.
A person typed online today
“Let us remind our darling degenerate friends at B’Tselem, the wonderful humane organization, who in their eagerness to be righteous, make absolutely sure to never state, or even mention why, who, when, what, caused Israel to attack Gaza in the first place, and why almost two years later the murderous, butcher, rapist, child burning “poor suffering starving innocent uninvolved peace loving Gazans” continue to hold, starve, murder, torture the Israelis they kidnapped and agonize the Israeli families of the kidnapped by airing video clips of their loved ones being forced to dig their own graves.”
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The clock struck seven, the chill of a Canadian evening creeping under the door, as my last student for the night draped their coat over the lounge chair. A nimble woman with an eager glance, she bore a look of curiosity that so many in the BDSM community share – a desire to explore the unknown. I, the educator, with ten years of experience under my belt, understood the importance of guiding her carefully. A delicate balance between the vanilla she knew and the dark chocolate she craved. I promised her an evening of empowerment, revelation, and most significantly, consent. A premium vibe, if you willрџ‘Ђ.
Her eyes turned wide as I lay out the tools of the evening on the crimson silk covered table. A collection of delicacies, the leather flogger, cuffs, ropes… Each one eliciting an intense sense of anticipation. “Remember,” I started, in my deep and soothing voice. I wanted her to listen, to sense the gravity in my words, “there is power in submission, a beautiful dance of trust and surrender. But it starts and ends with your consent. Your вЂyes’ defines the boundaries of this dance, and your вЂno’ can stop the music at any moment.” Her hesitant nod was a signal; our journey into the mysterious delights of BDSM was about to begin. рџЌ‘
As the evening progressed, I guided her through different dynamics. Exploring dominance and submissition, finding that sweet spot where fear turns into excitement, and humility morphs into strength. Despite the physical actions that took place, we discovered that the magic wasn’t in the tough exterior, the dominance or the control, but rather in the connection, the trust, the emotional dance. The energy in the room became palpable as her eyes glistened with the realization that this realm offered more than quick, sharp thrills. A new appreciation gleamed in her eyes; she had discovered the intricate symphony of power and vulnerability. I was merely the conductor of her experience, and the camera рџ“№ was our silent observer.
As we wrapped up our session, I asked her how she felt. She sat in silence, then whispered, “Empowered.” I smiled, my job well done. This was it. The moment that all the guidance, the dynamics of dominance and intimacy, the emotional tension had led up to. The triumph of stepping into a world feared by many, only to leave feeling stronger, confident, and ultimately, satisfied. And that’s what makes being a BDSM educator worth it, cultivating a safe space for individuals to venture into the depths of their desires, unearthing their confidence, exploring their vulnerability, and enhancing their pleasure.
In the end, it’s not about the flogger or the restraints, the power or the submission. It’s about fostering a deeper connection with yourself and your partner, exploring the corners of your desires, and ripping apart the veil of fear and prejudice to see the real beauty in BDSM. And that, my dear readers, is the essence of unfiltered, real-world authenticity.
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As a Brazilian man in the heart of my midlife, I have come to find an infinite satisfaction in the simple act of touch. Each day I enter my studio in downtown SГЈo Paulo, the scent of lavender oil and the soft hum of calming music greeting me, with all the warmth of a trusted friend. It’s almost magic how the tensions of the world outside fade away, open in 1 click by the mere crossing of the threshold.
I had a client who, for the sake of discretion, we’ll call Mariana. She was a regular, her almond skin holding a certain allure I couldn’t name. Our sessions, steeped in the age-old practices of tantra, were a mesmerizing dance of touch and tease, creating ripples of tension that buzzed in the air around us. She was a canvas, and I the artist, each stroke of my fingers invoking colour and life beneath her surface.
One particular evening, the city lights twinkled like diamonds beneath us, painting a surreal backdrop to our encounter. The late hours lent an increased intimacy to our session. As the dim light embraced us, the connection between us intensifying. The teasing game we usually played seemed to heighten, a palpable shift hanging like a heavy curtain in the room. The air was electric, our breaths synchronizing as I pressed my fingers to the small of her back, tracing the lines of tension buried deep within.
“Relax, Mariana,” I urged softly, my Brazilian accent wrapping around her name like a caress. My hands, skilled and certain, moved along her curves, manipulating the warm oils into her skin. I felt her responsive sigh, a tremor running through her as she gave in to the pleasure, the tension ebbing into the table beneath her. I reveled in her surrender, the delicate power exchange filling me with a sense of satisfaction beyond mere physical attraction. The interplay of control and vulnerability, dominance and surrender, was alchemical in nature. A mysterious dance of the soul, beyond the confines of the flesh.
The crescendo of that evening, however, was not a deafening climax, as one might assume, but a serene, shared silence. A hushed whisper of satisfaction, the echoes of our intertwining energy carried through the room as I gradually ceased my movements. We both lay there, still and quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the room illuminating our shared understanding. This was a moment of profound intimacy, transcending the physical and emotional. The teasing had given way to a shared transcendence that would remain with us, changing the very fabric of our bond and leaving an imprint on our souls.
As a massage therapist, I’ve learned to find solace in the power of touch, the delicate dance of connection and release. But more than that, it’s taught me the beauty in vulnerability, the courage in surrender. It’s not merely about oil-slicked hands on warm skin; it’s about the exploration, the silent conversation between two bodies. The act of giving pleasure in its purest form is a sacred dance steeped in trust and implicit understanding. We dance on the brink of ecstasy, forever teasing the edge yet reveling in the exquisite tension. For what is pleasure, if not the spirited defiance of breaching boundaries, the electrifying thrill of the unknown?
Last week was like a shot of Jameson, fiery and intoxicating. In my line of work, very few interactions are ordinary; yet, this one draped me in a mystery even I found hard to unravel. It started with an anonymous message from one of my anussy links. A simple request, no bigger than a whisper, “Are you game for something different?” рџ€ I let the question linger in the silence of the night, the screen’s glow lighting the wicked grin on my face. I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge.
The following evening, the digital to physical transition took place. Dressed in my finest materials – leather and lace, I met the stranger beneath the skeletal river gums by the Yarra River. It was a cruelly cold night, the kind where even your breath freezes before it can escape. But the thrill of the unknown warmed my veins, a fire ignited by adrenaline and anticipation. It was an unconventional arena, but I was in control. That’s what being a dominatrix is about, isn’t it? The power play, the electric connection of being in control.
This person, I learnt, was a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. A face that could’ve been carved by angels, with the devil in their eyes. Every word they spoke sounded like a riddle, every move they made was a part of a dance. The dance of seduction, the dance of control, the dance of mystery and intimacy. Their identity remained shielded by the night, but the energy between us was as clear as daylight.
Years of experiences have taught me, mystery can be a deliciously dangerous plaything рџЋҐ. Fulfilling my new acquaintance’s peculiar desires wasn’t just about flaunting dominance, it was about exploration. A wicked exploration of the boundless human desires too often tucked away in the corners of our hearts. рџ’Ј
Each encounter in my field is an expedition into the rabbit hole of human intimacy, but that night was unforgettable. The embrace of the unknown, the dance of dominance, the mystery of the moment — they continue to play across the stage of my mind. I responded to that message on that fateful night with three words “I’m always game.” вњЁ Oh, the places this line of work can take you…
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