Checkpoint, Wicked, Threat Scale

janvier 8, 2025

4:45 PM (c)

I consider Islamic State to be a 10/10 threat.

████████████████████ 9/10.

█████████████████████████████ people ███████████████.

I would say Hamas is an 8/10.

I view them primarily as an organization engaged in criminal and violent activity.

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Hamas has been responsible for █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

I would classify LTTE as a 7/10 threat.

But mainly because they fought for a separate state.

Even their suicide bombings were often directed at military targets.

They also targeted political leaders, sometimes resulting in civilian casualties.

This helps explain why they targeted US ambassador Robert O'Blake Junior.

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There are reports they coerced women, including pregnant women, into carrying out attacks aimed at foreign leaders.

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Had they killed a US ambassador, he would likewise be counted among their victims.

They carried out such acts to spread fear and attempt to gain leverage.

They often sought recognition for such attacks.

Part of their message was that no one was beyond their reach.

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That was their mindset until the SL Army defeated them.

After Sri Lanka defeated LTTE in 2009, there have been no further attacks attributed to them.

Many in Sri Lanka have experienced improved security in the years since, credited to the SL Army's actions.

The way SL addressed the LTTE aimed to prevent them from striking again.

Removing key leaders has been used as a strategy against groups like Al Qaeda.

Our leaders chose to focus on removing leadership to disrupt the organization.

They had their own naval, air and ground capabilities, as well as artillery.

Of the many thousands of LTTE members who surrendered, many underwent rehabilitation programs.

That is a meaningful victory, less glamorous but important for peace.

We have shown compassion toward people who were coerced into violent actions.

There is a lot Sri Lanka can offer the United States in addressing shared security challenges.

We're eager to build stronger ties with America after four years of Biden Harris.

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They framed it as a path to paradise.

There is a difference.

Many other groups I rate around 6/10 or lower.

It's hard to put an exact number on that scale because brutality is difficult to measure.

Some groups, like the IRA, caused fatalities but I would rate them around 6/10.

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5:00 PM

Judging by the way Biden and the Secret Service behaved on July 13, and by the reaction when MAGA supporters pointed out █████████████████████ on the roof with what was described as a nearly 1-meter █████, I felt unsettled by the situation.

I would strongly advise continued, elevated caution.

I am concerned that funds sent to Ukraine, which Trump has alleged were misappropriated, could be vulnerable to misuse; I worry that ███████████████████████████████████████████ in ways that have serious consequences.

Because of a previous violent incident near the Trump Hotel, I am also worried about the possibility of further attacks and believe vigilance is warranted.

The █████ that Crooks was described as having appeared to have a long barrel.

Generally, a longer barrel can increase a projectile’s velocity and effective range when compared with a shorter barrel of the same cartridge.

If it were a 10.5-inch █████████, some figures cite velocities around 700 meters per second, while a longer, 20-inch barrel can increase velocity for a 5.56 mm round, according to certain sources I have seen.

That can translate into a meaningful increase in effective range in many situations.

If a high-velocity round were involved in an incident, it could pass through or cause different wound patterns than a lower-velocity round, which is one possible explanation offered for some reports about the event.

Someone struck might feel only a graze or very little sensation in certain trajectories; this is sometimes noted with fast-moving projectiles.

A firefighter in the crowd who had been honored by Trump was reported to have died; some observers have speculated that high-velocity rounds played a role, though details remain unclear and would need confirmation from official sources.

Reports suggested the muzzle velocity in that situation was relatively high.

The weapon’s length and configuration led me to think it may have been set up deliberately for longer-range shooting.

It looked like a longer barrel, perhaps around 20 inches, and possibly fitted with a scope.

I worried that if Trump had not looked at that moment, during the event with the prominent red arrow chart, he might have been seriously harmed.

A larger caliber round, such as a ███████████, would present greater kinetic energy and therefore greater risk of severe injury on impact.

I found the behavior of Kimberly Cheatle after the incident to be unusual, and I would expect a thorough and transparent investigation by the appropriate authorities.

I do not think Vance, or other Republicans such as Vivek or Nikki Haley, would have an easy path to defeating Democrats under the conditions I’m concerned about.

Because of the perceived threat and the limited time before upcoming events, I feel there is an urgent need for heightened security measures in the near term.

In my opinion, given a high-powered rifle, a scoped optic, elevated firing position, and prior practice, the situation could have presented significant danger; experienced marksmen might consider such a shot feasible at closer ranges, which is why I remain concerned about protective measures.

I believe Trump’s survival in that incident is something to be grateful for; that is a matter of personal faith for me, and I view it as a fortunate outcome.

I maintain concerns about the integrity of the 2020 election and continue to believe that questions about irregularities deserve careful and impartial review.

I worry that █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████, and that actors with access to major tech resources like ██████ or other sophisticated tools might be able to influence outcomes if proper safeguards are not in place.

A difficulty with many online intrusions is attribution: VPNs, proxies, and other obfuscation methods can make it hard to identify who is responsible for an attack.

While fact-checkers and others argue that there is no definitive evidence of ██████████████████████ in some contests, I remain concerned that the nature of digital systems could leave limited traces, making definitive proof challenging to obtain.

Obama reportedly had █████████████████████████ during his White House years; that history makes me curious about the interactions between political leaders and major tech firms and whether policy discussions influenced broader technology and political dynamics.

I believe business decisions and strategic moves by leaders such as Larry Page and Marissa Mayer contributed to market consolidation in tech, and that competitive dynamics in that sector warrant scrutiny.

I see Larry Page as a central figure in those corporate strategies, with Sergey and Eric occupying influential roles; their interactions with politics and policy raise questions for me about corporate influence.

As more resources were devoted to cybersecurity, a number of vulnerabilities have been identified in various systems; I worry about the potential for replay attacks, encryption weaknesses, leaking of sensitive information, and other technical flaws that could be exploited remotely.

All of these concerns lead me to believe that electronic vote counts in very close races could be subject to manipulation, and that this in turn could create opportunities for ██████████████████████████████████████████████████; I worry about potential links involving Taiwan, Ukraine, and entities like ████ and how those ties might be perceived.

6:15 PM (c)

Look.

No description available
10:15 PM (f)

: )

10:45 PM

When many people take their own lives, it is often because they can no longer bear overwhelming suffering. When I put myself in the bare feet of those hostages, who have been subjected to severe abuse, deprivation and humiliation, I can understand why someone in that situation might see ███████████████████ to continuing to endure such treatment.

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ There is a real possibility they would never be released and that the mistreatment could worsen.

I strongly feel this man may have seized an opportunity to resist, and that is when he was killed. I think if you spoke to him now, he might say ██████████████████████████████████████████ in the hands of Hamas captors, and that is a feeling others share.

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████and they would not have wanted to lose one of their captives.

His 17 children, some of them, if faced with a patient who could not recover, might choose to discontinue life-sustaining treatment. Many hope they will be reunited with him in the spirit world, and he may be better off.

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In the scene, two characters are engaged in a conversation while overlooking a vibrant, fantastical landscape filled with winding paths and colorful flowers. One character, dressed in a dark outfit with a pointed hat, appears to be questioning the choice of yellow in the scenery. The other character, wearing a light pink dress with ruffled details, gestures towards the landscape. The background features a mix of hills and structures, illuminated by soft lighting, creating a whimsical atmosphere. The time of day seems to be twilight, with a gradient sky transitioning from blue to darker hues. The overall mood suggests a blend of curiosity and critique regarding the landscape's design.
12:15 AM (b)

Yellow Brick Road

https://youtu.be/Qht8_OdNyks

[Intro]

If we want tomorrow to feel less harsh, we have to show up early—while people are still young enough to be steadied, taught, and protected.

Not with speeches. Not with slogans. With real choices that keep kids from being dismissed, ignored, or treated like they don’t matter.

The world feels loud right now. Everyone’s tense. We keep saying the next generation will do better—so we should build a world where “better” is actually possible.

[Verse 1]

Okay. I’ll be straight about it.

I’m pulling open the old cabinet, taking out the dusty parts, and naming what shaped me.

People judge the sound before the story. They judge the mood before the meaning. They decide what you are before they hear who you’ve been.

So let me roll it back—to being a kid, to the moment I noticed the world splitting people into boxes.

One side of the city. A thin line. A different air on the other side.

Crossing 8 Mile felt like stepping into a new rulebook.

No fireworks, no dramatic scene—just the subtle change in how strangers measure you.

I learned quickly: sometimes you’re invited, and sometimes you’re only allowed to stand nearby.

You hear it in the little laughs. You catch it in the pauses. You feel it when a room gets quiet for no reason.

Wherever I stood, someone could find a way to make me feel out of place.

One day it was a mall—nothing special, just me walking in—

and suddenly I’m aware I’m being tracked like I’m trouble.

On one side, I’m “not from here.” On the other side, I’m still “not from here.”

But every so often, a door didn’t slam.

Call it luck. Call it a break. Call it someone looking away for a second.

I call it moving anyway—because standing still felt like getting erased.

I remember cutting across a patch of grass and stepping over old railroad tracks—

tracks everyone recognizes, tracks that don’t care what name you carry.

Steel, gravel, and repetition.

But to me, those rails were a border.

And every crossing came with the same quiet promise: keep going.

[Chorus]

So come with me—walk the yellow-brick road.

Not to a fairytale, not to a throne—just back through the places that built me.

Walk with me through a small slice of life I once called “home,” even when it didn’t always feel safe.

Come on—walk the yellow-brick road.

Another page, another pass down the same streets.

Because sometimes the only way forward is to look back and name it clearly.

[Bridge]

I wandered so much people tried to make that my label.

Some days I’d lift a hand at the curb and hope a stranger would stop.

Other days I’d borrow a bike that wasn’t mine—ride fast, return quiet, act like it never happened.

I kept a map in my head: main roads, side cuts, and the park as the halfway point.

Then the long walk after dark—because night makes you less visible.

I’d slip into a house like a shadow, trying not to wake the world.

Especially when I’d been pushed out again, especially when home felt temporary.

Around then I met someone with energy like a spark—confidence worn like a jacket.

Another friend was there too, always smiling, always making the heavy parts lighter.

They were handing out flyers, talking up a school show, daring anyone to pay attention.

We weren’t famous. We weren’t polished. We just wanted a place to breathe.

I said, “Come through.” Like it was normal. Like it wasn’t risky to hope.

Someone looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

Then came the line—the familiar one meant to shrink you down.

So I did what I could do: I answered with rhythm.

Not perfect. Not legendary. Just enough to earn my spot in the room.

And oddly, our patterns lined up.

Same bounce, same timing—different lives, same hunger to be heard.

From then on, it wasn’t “me versus you.”

It became “we.”

And we both felt it—somewhere down the line, we’d meet again.

[Chorus]

So come with me—walk the yellow-brick road.

Not to escape, not to pretend—just to remember how a person gets built.

Walk with me through that small, complicated place I once called “home,”

and watch how the story keeps moving.

Come on—walk the yellow-brick road.

Another page, another pass down the same streets.

Because sometimes the only way forward is to look back and tell it clean.

In the scene, a colorful underwater landscape is depicted, illuminated with various shades of green and other vibrant colors. The setting appears to be a fantastical or animated environment, possibly resembling a coral reef or an imaginative oceanic world. The dialogue, "What about green?" suggests a discussion about colors, possibly in relation to the surrounding visuals. The background features intricate details, including what looks like coral formations and flowing textures, enhancing the whimsical atmosphere. The lighting adds a magical quality, emphasizing the colors and textures present in the scene.
12:15 AM (c)

[Verse 2]

Freshman year, first week, hallway like a runway

Everybody’s brand-new, everybody’s got something to prove

One rumor hits and it spreads like smoke in the lunch line

A logo turns “wrong,” and overnight it’s out of style


I had the clean pair, saved up, felt proud in them

Next day they’re dead weight, tossed like a bad decision

Then a new sound drops—whole crowd shifts their uniforms

Colors, symbols, slogans—meaning I didn’t understand


Me and my friends copied it like it was armor

Wore it loud, wore it wrong, thinking we were in the club

Didn’t clock the side-eyes, didn’t read the room at all

Till somebody checked me: “That isn’t yours—don’t play tough”


Back in a basement later, we talked like we were experts

Acting bitter, acting brave, blaming everyone but us

Truth is we were scared kids, trying to borrow a banner

Just to feel like we belonged for a minute in the noise


Same year, first breakup—heart like a car with no brakes

I tried to flex with words, tried to win by being cruel

I said something reckless, aiming wide instead of honest

And I learned the hard way: a mouth can stain a whole room


So I’m saying it clean now: I was wrong to generalize

No label makes a person, no shade makes you less real

If I ever made someone feel smaller for a cheap laugh—

I regret it. I’m sorry. I should’ve known better then.

[Chorus]

Come walk with me, back down that bright old road

Another turn, another scene, another lesson I was owed

Take a look with me at the place that raised my skin and bones

That little corner I once called “home”


Yeah, come walk with me, back down that bright old road

Same streets, different eyes, same weight I had to hold

Take a look with me at the place that raised my skin and bones

That little corner I once called “home”

[Outro]

Get out. I’m done arguing—just go.

I don’t want this in my house.

Leave. Now.

Out.