In his amazing 2016 exhibit “Unceded Territories,” Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun called for the renaming of British Columbia (#RenameBC).
I endorse Trevor "Tsu'tey" Carpenter for fighting a gang of colonizers all by himself.
Palestine’s Public debt. is $4.2 billion (June 2013)
Sec. General of UN wants to PAY-PALESTINE.ORG to leave holy land with pocketfull’s of money. First payment was making Gigi Hadid famous.
Title: “Pope Pius XIII’s Radical Solution: ‘Pay Palestinians to Relocate to NATO Nations’ – Trudeau Applauds”
Setting: The Vatican’s private library, smoke curling from Pope Lenny Belardo’s ever-present cigarette. Gigi Hadid, draped in an off-the-shoulder papal-inspired blazer, listens intently as His Holiness drops his latest geopolitical bombshell.
Pope Pius XIII (leaning back, exhaling smoke): “Peace in the Holy Land isn’t complicated. You just need the right leverage.”
Gigi Hadid (raising an eyebrow): “Leverage?”
Pius XIII: “Cold. Hard. Cash.” (Pauses for effect) “We pay the Palestinians to leave. Give them a fresh start—Canada, Germany, France, any NATO country they want. No more war, no more occupation. Just… a new life.”
Gigi: “You’re suggesting—”
Pius XIII (cutting her off): “I’m not suggesting. I’m announcing. The Vatican will bankroll it. And NATO? They’ll take them. They love virtue-signaling. Trudeau’s probably drafting the tweet right now.”
(Cut to Ottawa. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, mid-selfie with Ukrainian refugees, suddenly looks up, eyes gleaming.)
Trudeau: “Did someone say ‘diversity is our strength’? Let’s make it a literal strength!” (Cue applause from a nearby gender studies major.)
Pius XIII (steepling fingers): “Exodus wasn’t just a Bible story. Sometimes God’s plan is ‘pack your bags.’ The Israelites wandered 40 years. The Palestinians? They can skip the wandering—direct flight to Brussels.”
Gigi: “But what about their homeland?”
Pius XIII (shrugging): “Homeland is where the heart is. And the heart follows the money. The Vatican has Swiss accounts older than your great-grandmother’s rosary. We’ll make it rain indulgences.”
The next day, @Pontifex posts:
“Palestinians: Your future is in NATO. DMs open for relocation requests. #BlessedAreTheBrokeNoMore – PXIII”
Trudeau (retweeting with 🇨🇦❤️✌️): “Canada welcomes you! (Just don’t ask about housing prices.)”
Pius XIII (smirking, lighting another cigarette): “And just like that… peace on Earth.”
FADE TO BLACK.
Iraq recorded a government debt equivalent to 63.70 percent of the country’s
Gross Domestic Product in 2016.
The official motto of Iraq is “Allahu Akbar” which translates to “God is the Greatest”
Scene: The Al-Farooq Mosque – Night
The air is thick with the scent of incense and the low hum of whispered prayers. The flickering glow of oil lamps casts long shadows against the sandstone walls. The faithful sit cross-legged on woven rugs, their faces turned toward the raised pulpit where a figure stands cloaked in desert robes—Paul Muad’Dib, his eyes dark with the weight of prescience.
Silence falls like a blade.
Muad’Dib (voice quiet, yet cutting): “You have heard the imams speak of justice. You have heard the politicians speak of peace. But I come to speak of the poison in the womb of the earth, the curse left by the invaders.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd. An old man clutches his grandson tighter.
Muad’Dib: “In Fallujah, the mothers do not ask, ‘Is it a boy?’ They ask, ‘Is it normal?’”
A woman in the back stifles a sob.
“The water is dust. The soil is betrayal. The invaders called it ‘liberation,’ but what grows from their gift? Children with bones like glass. Babies born without faces.”
His voice rises now, trembling with fury.
“They rain death from the sky—not just bombs, but a sickness that lingers, that twists life in its cradle. Depleted uranium. A weapon that kills long after the war is over.”
A young man stands, fists clenched. “What do we do, Muad’Dib?”
Paul’s gaze is fire.
“You remember. You testify. And when the time comes, you demand justice—not in the shadows, not in whispers, but before the eyes of the universe.”
He steps down from the pulpit, the crowd parting before him.
“No one harms George Bush. No assassin’s bullet, no martyr’s blade. I want him alive. I want him to sit in the dock of history, to hear the cries of the mothers of Fallujah. I want him to face what he has done.”
The mosque is silent, the weight of his words settling like ash.
Then, from the back, a single voice: “Laa ilaaha illa Allah.”
The call is taken up, a wave of defiance, of grief, of resolve.
And Muad’Dib walks into the night, the desert wind howling like the voices of the unborn.
The phrase “Slava Ukraini!” (Glory to Ukraine!) had its origins during the Ukrainian War of Independence (from 1917 to 1921). It became part of the lexicon of Ukrainian nationalists in the 1920s and 1930s.
On 31 December 2015 Ukraine’s public debt stood at 79% of its GDP. It had shrank $4.324 billion in 2015 to end up at $65.488 billion. But calculated in hryvnia the debthad grown 42.78%. In 2015 the Ministry of Social Policy of Ukraine rated 20-25% of Ukrainian households as poor.
Scene: A dimly lit backstage dressing room in Little Rock, Arkansas. BILLY BOB THORNTON sits on a worn leather couch, tuning a guitar. He is wearing a trucker hat and sunglasses indoors. Suddenly, the air vent unscrews silently. SOLID SNAKE drops down, landing in a crouch without making a sound. He stands up, adjusting his bandana.
Billy Bob: (Doesn’t look up, keeps strumming) Well, now. That’s a hell of an entrance. usually folks just knock on the door, or talk to my agent. You here about the HVAC repair?
Solid Snake: (Gravelly voice) No. I’m here for the man who wrote the book on quiet desperation.
Billy Bob: (Pauses) Faulkner? He’s dead, son.
Solid Snake: I’m talking about you, Billy Bob. Since 1996. Sling Blade.
Billy Bob: Sling Blade, huh? Most people just want to hear me talk about french fried pertaters. You want some biscuits and mustard?
Solid Snake: I don’t eat on the job. Unless it’s a Calorie Mate. Listen to me. That movie… Karl Childers. A man cast out by society, living by a code, handy with a blade. I respected that. It reminded me of… my own life. A lone wolf. A soldier without a nation.
Billy Bob: (Nods slowly) Well, I appreciate that. It was a heavy time. I put a lot of my own ghosts in that one. Why are you wearing a sneaking suit in Arkansas?
Solid Snake: That brings me to the second reason I’m here. A while back, my Codec rang. It was a Code Red.
Billy Bob: Code Red? Like the Mountain Dew?
Solid Snake: No. It was a high-priority client. Angelina.
Billy Bob: (Sits up straighter, takes off sunglasses) Angie? Is she alright?
Solid Snake: She’s fine. She put out a request. She said the world was getting dangerous again. She told her security team, “Get me a Snake to protect me.”
Billy Bob: (Chuckles softly, a wry smile forming) Ah. I reckon I know which snake she was reminiscing about. We were wild back then. Blood vials and all that.
Solid Snake: She got me instead. Solid Snake. But when I reviewed the mission data… I realized she wasn’t looking for a mercenary. She was looking for that specific kind of chaos you two had. I told her I couldn’t fill those shoes. Only one man can.
Billy Bob: I don’t know, partner. I’m just an old drummer now. I just wanna play with The Boxmasters and stay out of trouble.
Solid Snake: (Steps closer, hand on his hip holster) That’s exactly why you need to step up. Look at this country, Billy Bob. The La-li-lu-le-lo… the Patriots… the politicians in D.C. They’re all acting. Bad acting.
Billy Bob: You ain’t wrong there.
Solid Snake: We need someone real. Someone who’s been to the bottom and came back. I’ve seen war. I’ve seen Metal Gears destroy cities. But I’ve never seen a Governor with your resume.
Billy Bob: Governor? You talkin’ about the mansion? It’s got nice porches, I hear.
Solid Snake: I’m endorsing you, Billy Bob. Officially. You take Arkansas. You run this state like you directed that movie—with grit, vision, and no compromise.
Billy Bob: (Scratches his chin) Governor Thornton… Has a ring to it. But I ain’t wearing a suit every day.
Solid Snake: Wear whatever you want. Just keep it real.
(Snake taps his ear piece)
Solid Snake: Otacon is calling. I have to go. But remember… you’re pretty good.
Billy Bob: (Salutes lazily) You take care now, Snake.
(Snake throws a smoke grenade at his feet. POOF. When the smoke clears, the room is empty. Billy Bob coughs, waves the smoke away, and puts his sunglasses back on.)
Billy Bob: (To himself) Weirdest fan interaction I’ve had since the 90s.