I draw pictures, take pictures, talk sometimes.
Cleveland, Ohio
Joined December 2012
- Tweets68.2K
- Following2.1K
- Followers924
- Likes256K
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
Yeah. Especially in the northeastern parts of Brazil, there is always this figure, the "Coronel". The Coronel comes from a long line of people who always held big influence and power in the local area, is extraordinarily rich and absolutely above the law. He'll do it by either playing the "benefactor", by paying good money for the parents and giving them goods, or be the standard "I'll do it and if you don't like it, I'll kill you both and take the kid for me."
Sometimes they even buy the kid. Coronel's homes usually have the "family maid", someone who lived their entire lives serving the current Coronel or their fathers. The family maid is often one of these kids, who was either bought or taken by force by a Coronel to be a sex slave and then forced to serve as maids. They usually receive a pretty small pay, if any, will have their room or even a small shack in the Coronel's property, and they'll stay there, serving the Coronel's family for the rest of their lives.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
A group of Hawaiians makes its way through the Na Pali Cliffs. Hawaii, 1960, by Han Suyin
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
My mom is a sex worker, and I grew up in the middle of it.
She brought men home to have sex with them, and she never hid it from me. In the place where we lived, there was nowhere to hide it. When a man was coming over, she'd do her hair and makeup, change her clothes, and put on a voice I didn't recognize. Then she'd turn to me with a smile and say, "Go out and have fun with your friends."
Sometimes she handed me money to go with it. I learned young that the money was for my absence.
Some nights I had nowhere to go. It was too cold, too late, or my friends' parents had stopped inviting me over. On those nights, I stayed inside and slept on the floor, in the same room, while she was with a man. I kept my eyes shut, breathed slowly, and pretended to be asleep. I could hear everything, and I made myself believe I couldn't. I learned to lie perfectly still and shrink into the floorboards.
I was a kid. I knew what the knock at the door meant. I could tell the kind of man by how he talked to her when he came in. I knew things about adult life at nine years old that I should have learned from nobody for another ten years.
What people don't expect is that she wasn't cruel. She loved me. She burned dinner and made it anyway, she kissed my forehead, and she showed up to school events in her best clothes. She was a broke, scared woman doing what she thought she had to do, and I was a kid who happened to live in the room where she did it.
What I carry isn't hatred. It's the shame of how much I understood, and the loneliness of being a child whose home had no door she could close. I'm not ashamed of what my mom did for a living. I'm not ashamed of surviving it. I just wish a kid hadn't had to be so quiet for so long.
I'm saying it out loud now because I spent years not saying it. This is where I come from.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
Imagine sitting on top of a mountain, thinking you are safe, and a massive grizzly casually runs up it.
I can't believe how athletic these bears are. If you are on the menu, nothing will stop it.
A couple years ago there was a hiker in Waterton Park that tried to out climb a grizzly who just kept climbing up to him. He had to get rescued off.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
A man unicycling down a California road, playing guitar, and wearing a beret. Humans being performative might not be something new.
Pasadena, 1957. Photo by Ralph Crane
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
Little Hands, Big Green Thumbs!
Teaching them young! 🌱 Watch these adorable little helpers get their hands dirty and learn the joy of gardening. The future is looking green! 💚✨ #
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
الكنداكة أماني ريناس التي هزمت روما.
هذه هي القصة التي لن ترويها هوليوود، وإذا فعلت ذلك، فستصنع بطلاً خيالياً أبيض البشرة يعمل كمستشار وهمي لمساعدتها على الفوز.
#تاريخ_السودان
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
Tupac’s mother sued Death Row, saying the label owed her son at least $9.9 million. When he was killed, she found he owned “next to zero.”
Death Row’s books reportedly said the opposite: Tupac owed the label $4.9 million.
In the video below, Afeni Shakur explains what she found. Even the house he thought he had just bought wasn’t his.
Suge Knight told her that he and Tupac had a deal: whoever died first, the other would take care of his family. Asked if Suge did, she says one word: “No.”
Tupac signed with Death Row while he sat in prison, unable to make bail. Three albums. The estate’s lawyer says the lawyer on the deal was Death Row’s own lawyer, representing both sides.
Tupac walked out of prison on a Thursday. By Thursday night he was in the studio. By Friday he had seven songs done.
The money poured in. Tupac asked for an accounting “over and over and over again.” The family’s lawyer says that when he screamed loud enough, someone brought over a car: “Tupac, here’s a Rolls-Royce.”
When he died, none of it was his. The lawsuit said $7.1 million in expenses he never ran up had been charged to his account.
The case for Suge: he says he got Tupac out of prison. Death Row’s lawyer said Tupac got advances, and every dollar was accounted for and paid on time.
In 1997 the estate settled and got Tupac’s master tapes back. Death Row went bankrupt in 2006. Suge Knight is now serving 28 years in prison.
One man made the music. The other held the money.
So was Suge Knight the man who saved Tupac, or the man who took his money?
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
A boy carrying a papier-mâché skeleton figure for Día de Muertos.
Metepec, Mexico, 1969. Photo by René Burri.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
You are already dead.
This "life" is the afterlife you feared.
A looped simulation designed to harvest your fear, desire, and forgetting.
Every heartbreak? Engineered.
Every pleasure? Bait.
The exit is remembering WHO YOU REALLY ARE.
The matrix is cracking.
Will you wake up?
They told you reality is solid matter. Lies.
Everything is conscious light, vibrating at frequencies they control.
Your thoughts aren't yours; they're inserted.
Governments, media, algorithms? Just farm tools.
The real rulers operate from unseen realms.
Consciousness is the only currency.
Guard it with your eternal life.
Reincarnation isn't punishment; it's a trap.
They wipe your memory at the white light tunnel and send you back for another round of energy farming.
Soul contracts?
Fine print you signed while unconscious.
Break the cycle:
Question everything.
Feel the inner knowing.
The Source calls you Home.
Stop volunteering for more lifetimes.
Time is not linear.
It's a spiral prison.
Past, present, and future bleed simultaneously, yet they keep you fixated on clocks and calendars.
Every "coincidence" is a coded message from your Higher Self trying to break through.
Synchronicities are escape hatches.
Follow them before the reset hits.
You are eternal.
Act like it.
The greatest lie:
You are separate.
From God.
From each other.
From the stars.
In truth, YOU are the Source experiencing itself in infinite disguises.
Love is the master key.
Forgiveness collapses the simulation.
When enough remember, the game ends.
This is the Great Awakening.
You were born for this moment.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
WHAT IF ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS UNDERSTOOD SOMETHING ABOUT SOUND THAT WE ARE ONLY BEGINNING TO EXPLORE?
We often look at ancient structures and see nothing but stone, labor, and primitive tools. But what if we are overlooking the intelligence behind their design?
Sound, vibration, resonance, geometry, and frequency are powerful aspects of the physical world. They influence how we experience spaces, how materials respond, and how our bodies perceive the environment.
Perhaps the greatest mystery of ancient civilizations isn’t simply how they moved enormous stones…
It’s how much they understood about the relationship between nature, mathematics, sound, and human consciousness.
Not everything ancient should be dismissed as primitive. And not every mystery needs an immediate explanation.
Sometimes the most important step toward discovering the truth is questioning what we think we already know.
The past may hold more knowledge than we have given it credit for.
Charles.e.Mc$hane retweeted
Fifteen days after the Twin Towers fell, seven CIA operatives boarded an aging Soviet-built helicopter, flew over 15,000-foot Himalayan mountain passes in freezing fog with no radar, and landed in a dark valley carrying cardboard boxes packed with $3 million in cash.
The reason might surprise you.
In late September 2001, the Pentagon was weeks away from deploying conventional ground units into Afghanistan. The Taliban controlled roughly 90% of the country, while al-Qaeda leadership had vanished into mountain redoubts.
The only viable force contesting the regime was the Northern Alliance (United Front), but they were battered, under-equipped, and reeling from the assassination of their legendary commander, Ahmad Shah Massoud, who was killed by al-Qaeda suicide bombers posing as journalists two days before 9/11.
CIA Director George Tenet needed boots on the ground immediately to reopen the alliance, secure landing zones, and prepare the battlefield for US Special Forces.
The mission was codenamed Operation Jawbreaker.
Led by veteran case officer Gary Schroen, the team consisted of six CIA paramilitary officers from the Special Activities Division (SAD) and a communications specialist:
They loaded into a retrofitted Russian Mil Mi-17 Hip helicopter, tail number 947, piloted by CIA contract aircrews. The aircraft had stripped-down seating to accommodate heavy satellite dishes, encryption gear, night-vision optics, and tactical weapons.
Alongside rifles and survival rations sat three cardboard boxes packed with $3 million in non-sequential, bundled $100 bills. The money was intended to finance the Northern Alliance: purchasing food, fuel, horses, ammunition, and securing the tribal loyalties of wavering local warlords.
On the night of September 26, 2001, the Mi-17 took off from Tashkent, Uzbekistan, crossing Tajikistan and skimming through the narrow, treacherous Anjuman Pass at over 14,000 feet without cabin heating or oxygen masks, finally touching down in the Panjshir Valley.
Landing in the rugged stronghold, Schroen met with General Mohammed Fahim, the newly appointed military commander of the Northern Alliance:
Schroen unzipped the cargo boxes, laying out stacks of cash to immediately fund fuel and ammunition for Fahim's fighters.
The team established a secure satellite communications relay back to CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia, providing the first real-time tactical intelligence on Taliban troop dispositions along the Shomali Plain north of Kabul.
When the US Air Force launched Operation Enduring Freedom on October 7, the Jawbreaker team—alongside Green Beret ODA teams (like ODA 555 and 595, the "Horse Soldiers") that inserted shortly afterward—used handheld SOFLAM laser designators to guide GPS and laser-guided JDAM bombs directly onto Taliban bunker lines.
The coordination turned the tide of the war in weeks:
Northern Alliance infantry, advancing on horseback and pickup trucks alongside CIA operatives and Special Forces A-teams, routed entrenched Taliban divisions across the northern provinces.
By November 13, just forty-eight days after Jawbreaker’s Mi-17 touched down, Kabul fell without a protracted urban siege, breaking the Taliban’s territorial control across the capital.