If Charlie Kirk were still alive, I think he'd bend over backwards to justify the Jesus pic, claiming that Trump was the Second Coming.

I guess that makes Charlie Kirk the false prophet of the antichrist.

I like to imagine that Zohran Mamdani, Socialist African-born Muslim, was literally willed into existence by the collective psychosis of the Tea Party GOP over Obama, like the ectoplasm under NYC in Ghostbusters II

Fixed it.

From the Producers of THE EXPANSE SHOREH AGHDASHLOO READS THE PHONE BOOK WHILE WEARING FABULOUS OUTFITS Included in the image is Ms Aghdashloo in such an outfit, and two phonebooks

I'd watch. Six seasons and a movie.

"Oh damn! This season is the greater Wichita Yellow Pages!"

Lucas began to sink into his chair.

"So, I have to ask, are you going to fucking take this seriously?"

He gulped. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

Lucas looked at the others.

"Hey, you're the one who triggered her," said Alex.

"That's a polite way of saying it," replied Lisa.

Lucas shook his head again.

"When you're in that room, and your fingers are pinching arteries because you're out of clamps, every second matters. And it comes down to you to save their life, because doctors like to act as gods who are infallible and ignore your recommendations."

"You've never seen an entire family brought in with bones sticking out of their skin, struggling to save the children only to sacrifice the parents, have you?"

Lucas shook his head.

"What about triaging people after a tornado, with debris embedded in their bodies?"

He rolled his eyes. "Last week, we had a power spike in the magnetic systems. Scrammed it for an hour."

"Right. So you've never seen the aftermath of an aerocar crash."

The room was silent.

"I got rear-ended once."

"Why are you here, Lucas?"

"Chance to get out of engineering every now and then."

"You engineers and your little thermonuclear bomb. You think you know everything, huh? What was the biggest crises you ever had?"

Lucas placed more gum in his mouth. "So we just gotta have you the hypos and not fuck up the dose. Simple."

Eiko turned away. She raised her eyebrows to Cutler. "He's dead..."

Lisa fixed her eyes on Lucas. "Is this a joke to you?"

"No, ma'am," he dismissively said.

"Happy to help," said Celeste.

"Now, to start, I need to know how extensive your knowledge of human biology is."

"I spent a couple years as a lifeguard," said Alex. "I know CPR."

"Good, but not enough. Nursing is exact, you have to know everything in an instant."

The door opened. Nurse Lisa Fuller entered. "Good morning, everyone."

"Morning, Lisa," replied Cutler.

"Welcome to Nursing 101. As you all know, the Captain wants to ensure we're prepared for a potential mass casualty event. Dr. Phlox has tasked me with making you medical technicians."

#MicroTreks:

Five crewmembers sat at the conference table. Elizabeth Cutler, Alex Cunningham, Celeste Bennett, Eiko Nakamura, and Lucas Camacho were waiting for their instructor. Alex looked at his watch. Lucas stared off while chewing a stick of gum. Only Cutler seemed to take it seriously.

Ship captains trying to get through the Strait of Hormuz now.

We are intentionally making her a flawed character. Also, on a military vessel, doctor/patient confidentiality is overruled if it concerns the safety of the ship, which T'Pol's addiction clearly does. Basically both are right: Lisa that T'Pol is comprised and Archer that there's no replacement.

And she's head nurse because the original head nurse got blown up by the Triannons. Lisa has the most experience and helped train some of the crew to be medics. As I said, by this point, everything's gone to Hell so they can't adhere to a lot of regulations.

One of my friends who's helping on the Xindi project is a nurse and we've partly based Lisa on her own experiences. Basically, serving on Enterprise and under Phlox in particular hasn't been what she'd that it'd be. And at this point in the mission, everything's gone to Hell.

"You're talking about Trip?"

María nodded. "It's going to take time for him."

"What can we do?"

"Be there. That's really all we can do."

"Right."

"My grandmother found me. She calmed me, forgave me. She assured me it wasn't my fault, that it was simply my father's time. Why? Well...that's something I'll have to ask him one day."

"Nice story, María."

"Everyone grieves differently, but we all come out of it in the end."

"Then what?"

"I climbed out my window and ran away. I ran through our neighborhood. I felt more lost than I'd ever felt. Eventually I found my way to my grandmother's church. I hid in the pews."

"How long were you there?"

"A day, I think." She smirked, and Annie reciprocated.

"My brother Jorge came to my room and told me he wasn't coming home. I didn't want to believe him. My dream couldn't be true. Finally he said...he said it was punishment. That I was being bad and that's why he died."

"Jesus..."

"He was 11. I responded by punching him in the nose."

María shifted in the chair. "Did I ever tell you about when I ran away from home?"

Annie shook her head. "No."

"It was after my dad died. For two days, I held hope that he'd be found. But then there were no more survivors of the landslide."

She nodded in acknowledgment.

Annie looked up from her datapad. "Today's Easter."

María turned her head. "I know."

"Surprised you haven't said anything."

"The crew needs stronger words this year."

Annie nodded. "Guess you'll watch the Pope's sermon later."

"Yes."

"Almost a month and we're still so numb."

#MicroTreks:

In the ship's library, María Socorro and Annie Naiman sat in the rust-colored armchairs. They both looked out the single viewport into the infinity of space. Neither was dressed in their uniforms, but in their civvies.

Looking through one of the four windows of the Orion spacecraft, a tiny crescent Earth is illuminated against the blackness of space and grows smaller as the crew journeys closer to the Moon. Part of the window edge is visible; the rest is darkness. [Alt-text slightly revised from ESA/NASA version]

We are so, so small. #Artemis

He means it this time.

The unbridled joy vs visceral disgust makes all the difference

A French general just looked at Trump’s plan to build a runway inside Iran to fly out uranium under active bombing.
His response: “American officials should stop snorting cocaine between meetings.”