Cancel Culture needs to die in the Fiery Pits of Hell. If you’re a fan of Cancel Culture, please feel free to unfollow me cause I want nothing to do with your Fascist ilk.

Brûler un pays en brandissant le drapeau d'un autre pays devrait être considéré comme une déclaration de guerre

We really need to stop calling events where people burn buildings down and loot and rob people “protests.”

Hoo-boy, for the love of Hey Zeus almighty, what kind of sub-South Park bullshit is this MS Paint hatchett job? (For reference: Jackson's original still with the MP5K)

Congrats, France. Now the world will wonder about that "unexpected" turn towards the far-right...

“There are days when I manage not to think of anything at all. Not the money... Or the murders... Or Jacob. Days when Sarah and I try to pretend we're just like everyone else... as if none of it ever happened. Those days are few and far between.” A Simple Plan

#NeverForget The worst thing is this happened barely two years ago.

I have a feeling John Carpenter has no clue who anyone in this picure is

This year Netflix is also releasing theatrically THE MOSQUITO BOWL, POSSIBLE LOVE, THE MIS-ADVENTURES OF CLIFF BOOTH and RAY GUNN. Of those they will *not* report any figures at all, so let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet.

Students supported Mao Students supported Castro Students supported Khomeini Students supported Hitler Students supported Mussolini If find yourself blindly supporting every student lead movement, you’ll be wrong very often, in many eras, on many issues.

3 films of this size in five years and they weren’t even shot at the same time is the kind of crazy that warrants a Best Director nomination

La FNAC de Marseille, immense, a été entièrement pillée. Il ne reste que les livres. C’est cocasse pour des jeunes qui voulaient des moyens d’étudier 😏

You've probably seen the video. A young Frenchwoman in Paris, in tears, begging looters to stop. "Why are you doing this? That's not what we stand for." Some accounts are mocking her. "She voted for it." I won't. Because what you see on her face is not stupidity. It's a disease that has infected the entire West, and it has a name: suicidal empathy. The term comes from Gad Saad, an evolutionary behavioral scientist at Concordia University in Montreal. A man who fled the Lebanese civil war as a child, and who knows what it looks like when a society falls apart. His new book, Suicidal Empathy: Dying to Be Kind, is the follow-up to The Parasitic Mind. Here is the thesis, and why it concerns every one of us. Empathy is one of the best things about us. It evolved for a reason: to care for our children, our kin, our tribe. It was calibrated for a world where the people you felt for were the people around you, and where empathy always came paired with its counterweight: the instinct to protect your own and to recognize a threat. Suicidal empathy is what happens when that mechanism misfires. When it fires at the wrong targets, in the wrong amounts, with no brake. When we feel more for the criminal than for his victim. More for the stranger who breaks the rules than for the citizen who follows them. More for how compassionate we look than for what our compassion actually produces. Where does it come from? Four layers. First, biology. Empathy is a spotlight, as the psychologist Paul Bloom put it. It lights up the one face in front of you and leaves everything else in the dark. The crying migrant on the boat is visible. The thousands of future victims of a broken system are statistics. A spotlight is a terrible tool for running a country. Second, our own civilization. The West is the civilization that put the victim at the center of its morality. Christianity taught us to care for the stranger, the poor, the weak. It was one of the greatest moral revolutions in history. But cut off from its other half, justice, responsibility, the duty to protect your own, it turns into something else. Third, ideology. In The Parasitic Mind, Saad described idea pathogens, ideas that hijack our reasoning. Suicidal empathy is the emotional counterpart: an ideology that hijacks our compassion. It sorts the world into oppressors and victims, then demands unlimited empathy for whoever ranks as the victim, whatever they do. Fourth, status. In the age of social media, empathy has become a display. Posting "refugees welcome" costs nothing and earns applause. The bill goes to someone else: the working class, the suburbs, the women walking home at night. The results are everywhere. Criminals treated as victims of society. Sexual assaults by migrants met with lenient sentences. Self-defense branded as aggression. Borders treated as cruelty. Saad's conclusion is simple: a society dies when it would rather display infinite tolerance than use its survival instinct. Now the part I'll add myself, and that few people dare to say. On average, women score higher than men on measures of empathy. It's one of the most consistent findings in psychology, across cultures, and it makes perfect evolutionary sense: for most of human history, the survival of children depended on it. It's a strength. But it means an ideology that weaponizes empathy will hit women harder. And the data shows it: in country after country, young women have moved sharply to the left of young men, especially on immigration. This is where men have a responsibility. Not to mock. Not to lecture. Not to say "she deserved it." Empathy has always needed a counterweight, and that counterweight was the protective instinct: the one that draws lines, says no, and stands between the threat and the people it loves. Men abandoned that role. They were told it was toxic, and many believed it. So they stayed silent at the dinner table, at work, with their partners, sisters, daughters and friends. That has to end. Men have to have this conversation, honestly and with respect: compassion that cannot say no is not compassion. It's surrender. And the first to pay for it are women. Many women already understand this better than anyone. Some of the bravest voices in this fight are women, precisely because they are the first to feel the danger in the street. A civilization rests on a balance: compassion and strength, openness and borders, mercy and justice. When one side swallows the other, the foundations crack. What we are watching in Europe is what happens when empathy has no counterweight left. Look at that young woman again. She isn't the enemy. She's what this ideology made of a generation that was told kindness would be enough. Our job is to make sure she's the last generation that has to learn it this way.

On se demande où on a « foiré » en France. La réponse est assez simple, le point de bascule c’est 1981. Pas 2002, pas 2017, pas Macron. 1981. L’arrivée de Mitterrand. Le moment où la France a décidé, en toute lucidité, de se tirer une balle dans le pied en se convainquant que c’était du progrès social. Avant 1981, la France était encore un pays qui produisait, qui exportait, qui avait une industrie, des entreprises qui osaient investir et des gens qui croyaient encore vaguement au travail. Après 1981, on a nationalisé à tour de bras, on a augmenté les impôts comme si l’argent des autres était une ressource infinie, on est passé aux 39 heures, on a baissé l’âge de la retraite, et on a expliqué aux Français que la richesse se créait en redistribuant celle des autres. Résultat ? Capital qui fuit, franc dévalué, inflation, et le fameux « tournant de la rigueur » de 1983 qui n’a jamais vraiment corrigé le cap idéologique de fond. Depuis, on a perfectionné le modèle : État toujours plus gros, charges toujours plus lourdes, culture du droit acquis plutôt que du mérite, école qui a progressivement abandonné l’exigence au nom de l’égalité des chances, et une immigration de plus en plus déconnectée de toute logique d’intégration réelle. On a remplacé « travailler et produire » par « revendiquer et bloquer ». Et aujourd’hui, on s’étonne que la France soit devenue le pays des 35 heures, des grèves perpétuelles, de la dette à 110 %, du chômage des jeunes endémique et d’une classe moyenne qui se fait asphyxier. Le plus beau, c’est la mauvaise foi. Quarante-cinq ans plus tard, on continue de dire que « ce n’est pas la gauche », que « c’est le néolibéralisme », que « c’est l’Europe », que « c’est la mondialisation ». Non. C’est le moment précis où une majorité de Français a choisi de croire qu’on pouvait vivre durablement au-dessus de ses moyens en faisant payer les autres, et que ça s’appellerait « justice sociale ». 1981 n’a pas tout cassé en un jour. Mais c’est là qu’on a choisi le chemin. Et depuis, on court de plus en plus vite au bord du précipice en se demandant pourquoi on n’arrive plus.🤔🤭

It remains a considerable shame that Timothy Dalton was denied a third film as James Bond. Dalton's Bond was lean, almost lupine, and the menace resided entirely in the man himself. A certain stillness, the controlled intensity of the voice, the way his eyes could harden in an instant, those were his weapons. He could radiate a cold, professional ruthlessness that felt entirely authentic, the sort of quiet lethality one associates with the literary Bond of Ian Fleming's novels. Crucially, he could switch off the coldness. There was charm there, a capacity for warmth that made the ruthlessness more potent by contrast. One never doubted that this was a man who killed when required and who was equally capable of being a civilised gentleman when the Walther was holstered. Dalton's classical training showed to his advantage. The stage-honed ability to modulate presence, to hold a scene with little more than phrasing and stillness, suited the character of Bond perfectly. The danger from him was intellectual and psychological as much as it was kinetic. In that respect he was, to my mind, the closest we have come to Fleming's original conception: the professional secret agent living on the edge, capable of being both refined and feral, not a superhero but a thoroughly dangerous man. The third film that might have completed the portrait was already taking shape when circumstances intervened. By the spring of 1990, Michael G. Wilson and Alfonse Ruggiero had completed a detailed outline treatment for Dalton's third Bond. It opened with a catastrophic explosion at a chemical weapons laboratory in Scotland, set off when robotic devices ran amok. The principal antagonist was Sir Henry Lee Ching, a brilliant, thirty-year-old British-Chinese entrepreneur and electronics prodigy of distinctly unsound mind. His scheme turned on a computer virus capable of paralysing military and commercial systems worldwide, with the approaching handover of Hong Kong supplying both motive and setting. The action would have carried Bond through Hong Kong, Japan and mainland China, culminating in a Die Hard-style confrontation inside Sir Henry's hi-tech high-rise, which Bond would enter via the sewers and waste-pipe before dispatching the villain with a welding torch to the face. The intention was to retain the grounded ruthlessness of Licence to Kill while introducing more ambitious technological spectacle. Dalton later recalled that a script existed which he regarded as "quite a good story," one he would have been enthusiastic to make into "a real scorcher" that synthesised the best of his two completed films. Directors were being interviewed, and the production was advancing when the legal difficulties froze everything. Those difficulties arose after Licence to Kill, when MGM/United Artists, already in financial straits, was being acquired by Pathé Communications under Giancarlo Parretti. To finance the purchase, Parretti proposed to sell off television and home-video rights to the studio's catalogue at sharply reduced rates; the Bond films, still the most valuable asset, were included. Danjaq, the Broccoli family's holding company that owns the 007 rights, sued on the grounds that the proposed sales violated the long-standing distribution agreements originally struck with United Artists in the 1960s. Countersuits followed, and the litigation dragged on, bringing all production to a halt. By the time the matter was settled, Dalton's original contract had expired. He initially indicated he did not see himself continuing. Later, he reconsidered and offered to return for a single picture that would consolidate the strongest elements of The Living Daylights and Licence to Kill. The producers, after a five-year gap, insisted he commit to four or five further films. Dalton judged that "too much, too long" and declined. It is a shame because, in my honest opinion, he was the quintessential James Bond. #TimothyDalton #JamesBond #TheLivingDaylights #LicencetoKill

Huh? This is not a thriller, it’s a road movie drama (about a deadbeat father & a daughter who go looking for the wife that left him). Problem: it barely has any plot & is highly contemplative/existential, which is why they think they can score Pitt some awards. At best.

Send some prayers to one of the greatest henchmen to ever hench, Al Leong, who's in the hospital after suffering from a stroke.

This is what happens when a generation is raised without Final Destination