#harness data

[cubera2024]

Best Way to Engage Your Audience with Cubera’s Identity Graph Service in Bangalore

Discover the best way to optimize your marketing with Cubera’s Identity Graph Service in Bangalore. Gain a complete view of your customers by integrating data from multiple sources, allowing for precise, personalized campaigns. Boost your targeting accuracy by 30% and increase customer engagement by 40%.

Curious to learn more? Explore Cubera’s Identity Graph and see how unified customer data can transform your marketing strategy today!

[buildoblivion]

there is something so essentially ‘jonny sims’ about the consequences of mag200 being not just the dissemination of eldritch fear entities but also those very same entities being farmed by a soulless civil service department that runs on caffeine and vitamin d deprivation

[downfallofi]

I wonder, is it true or is it just misinformation, that bit about the "People you may know" bar being people that have been stalking your Facebook profile. Because if true, then seeing your old best friend from back home created a burner account and then would have been looking at your page just really highlights the divide. Like my dude, our group chats had been drying up even before RJ landed in jail/possibly going to prison for his domestic, like we just stopped talking. We grew apart. And it doesn't stop breaking my heart to watch my old friends drift like they have, but that can surely be helped at any time if you just talked to me, the shit is a two way street, right? But nah. At the end of the day though, it's not an uncommon experience for people to fall away from me, I am becoming a little embittered and less willing to trust and let people in even when I know I need to; if friendships you'd had since sixth grade can just dry up to the point where one side quantifiably feels nothing, and if every person you attempt to befriend now ends up ghosting you, on a long enough timeline, then what's the point? Like I'm not worth it.

[edgythoughts]

What If Humans Could Communicate via Brain-to-Brain Networks 2025

What If Humans Could Communicate via Brain-to-Brain Networks 2025

The idea of humans communicating through brain-to-brain networks might sound like a page out of a science fiction novel. But as technology advances, this concept is edging closer to reality. Imagine being able to send a thought directly to another person’s mind without saying a word, typing a message, or making a sound. In 2025, researchers are actively exploring the science behind this vision, blending neuroscience, artificial intelligence, and advanced communication systems. This blog explores how such a futuristic communication system might work, its potential benefits, ethical implications, and what the science currently tells us about this mind-to-mind interface. Understanding Brain-to-Brain Communication To grasp how brain-to-brain networks might operate, we first need to understand the basics of brain communication. Our brains function using electrical signals and chemical messengers called neurotransmitters. Every thought, memory, or decision is encoded in complex patterns of neural activity. Brain-to-brain communication would involve decoding these patterns, translating them into signals, and sending them to another brain where the signal is decoded and experienced. Researchers have already demonstrated rudimentary versions of this in labs. For example, studies have shown that brain signals from one animal can influence behavior in another, or that basic information like a simple yes or no can be transferred between human subjects using brain-computer interfaces (BCIs). The Technology Behind the Vision Several technologies would have to come together to enable brain-to-brain networks: - Neural recording devices: These read brain activity in real time. - Signal processing algorithms: These decode brain signals into digital language. - Wireless transmission systems: These send the signal to another brain. - Neural stimulation devices: These stimulate neurons in the recipient’s brain to reconstruct the original message or intent. In 2025, we’re seeing rapid development in each of these areas. Companies and research institutions are building non-invasive BCIs that are safer and more practical than earlier versions. Meanwhile, AI is being used to improve signal decoding accuracy, allowing more complex thoughts or ideas to be recognized. Real-World Applications If brain-to-brain networks became a reality, the potential applications would be enormous: - Education: Students could absorb information more efficiently by directly receiving it from instructors. - Medical Communication: Patients with disabilities, such as those suffering from ALS or locked-in syndrome, could express themselves freely through thought. - Teamwork and Collaboration: Teams could share complex ideas instantly, enhancing productivity in creative and scientific projects. - Emergency Services: Instant silent communication between rescue workers or military personnel could save lives in critical situations.

Ethical Considerations With great power comes great responsibility. Direct brain communication raises serious ethical questions: - Privacy: Could someone access your thoughts without permission? - Security: What if someone hacks into your neural network? - Consent: How do we ensure people aren't forced into unwanted mental interactions? - Identity: Would shared thought blur the line between individual minds? Governments, ethicists, and scientists must work together to create regulations that protect people while enabling technological growth. Challenges and Limitations While the concept is fascinating, several major hurdles remain: - Signal Complexity: Human thoughts are incredibly complex, and decoding them accurately is still difficult. - Data Volume: Transmitting neural signals involves massive amounts of data. Efficient, real-time transmission is a technical challenge. - Brain Variability: Each person’s brain is different. One person’s “neural code” won’t be the same as another’s. - Psychological Effects: Receiving someone else’s thoughts could alter your own thinking patterns, raising questions about mental integrity and autonomy. Are We Close to Achieving This? In 2025, we’re not yet communicating entire thoughts or emotions directly from one brain to another. However, the groundwork is being laid. Experimental brain-to-brain communication between humans has already been demonstrated for simple tasks. Scientists are now working on expanding this to more complex forms of information. Institutions like the University of Washington and companies like Neuralink are investing heavily in research that could one day make these mind-to-mind connections a reality. A Future Connected by Minds If this technology matures, it could usher in a new age of human connectivity. Relationships could deepen, misunderstandings could reduce, and collaboration could become almost frictionless. However, these possibilities come with the weight of deep ethical and social responsibility. We must ask ourselves not only what is possible, but what is acceptable. Just as language shaped human history, brain-to-brain networks could redefine what it means to be human. But as with all powerful tools, the challenge lies in using it wisely. — If you're interested in understanding more about how the brain works and how technology is shaping the future, check out the Wikipedia article on Brain–computer interface: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brain–computer_interface — Want to explore more of our thought-provoking blogs? What If We Could Harness Energy from Black Holes https://www.edgythoughts.com/what-if-we-could-harness-energy-from-black-holes-2025 What If Time Travel Became Scientifically Possible https://www.edgythoughts.com/what-if-time-travel-became-scientifically-possible-2025 Read the full article

[greasersinpoodleskirts4cumshots]

BEIJING

Ni hao ma

Pinyin for rendering ideographs for rapid data read or write access in computers. Pin-Yin.

Fu - happy

[datascraping001]

Google Search Results Data Scraping

Google Search Results Data Scraping

Harness the Power of Information with Google Search Results Data Scraping Services by DataScrapingServices.com. In the digital age, information is king. For businesses, researchers, and marketing professionals, the ability to access and analyze data from Google search results can be a game-changer. However, manually sifting through search results to gather relevant data is not only time-consuming but also inefficient. DataScrapingServices.com offers cutting-edge Google Search Results Data Scraping services, enabling you to efficiently extract valuable information and transform it into actionable insights.

The vast amount of information available through Google search results can provide invaluable insights into market trends, competitor activities, customer behavior, and more. Whether you need data for SEO analysis, market research, or competitive intelligence, DataScrapingServices.com offers comprehensive data scraping services tailored to meet your specific needs. Our advanced scraping technology ensures you get accurate and up-to-date data, helping you stay ahead in your industry.

List of Data Fields

Our Google Search Results Data Scraping services can extract a wide range of data fields, ensuring you have all the information you need:

-Business Name: The name of the business or entity featured in the search result.

- URL: The web address of the search result.

- Website: The primary website of the business or entity.

- Phone Number: Contact phone number of the business.

- Email Address: Contact email address of the business.

 - Physical Address: The street address, city, state, and ZIP code of the business.

- Business Hours: Business operating hours

- Ratings and Reviews: Customer ratings and reviews for the business.

- Google Maps Link: Link to the business’s location on Google Maps.

- Social Media Profiles: LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook

These data fields provide a comprehensive overview of the information available from Google search results, enabling businesses to gain valuable insights and make informed decisions.

Benefits of Google Search Results Data Scraping

1. Enhanced SEO Strategy

Understanding how your website ranks for specific keywords and phrases is crucial for effective SEO. Our data scraping services provide detailed insights into your current rankings, allowing you to identify opportunities for optimization and stay ahead of your competitors.

2. Competitive Analysis

Track your competitors’ online presence and strategies by analyzing their rankings, backlinks, and domain authority. This information helps you understand their strengths and weaknesses, enabling you to adjust your strategies accordingly.

3. Market Research

Access to comprehensive search result data allows you to identify trends, preferences, and behavior patterns in your target market. This information is invaluable for product development, marketing campaigns, and business strategy planning.

4. Content Development

By analyzing top-performing content in search results, you can gain insights into what types of content resonate with your audience. This helps you create more effective and engaging content that drives traffic and conversions.

5. Efficiency and Accuracy

Our automated scraping services ensure you get accurate and up-to-date data quickly, saving you time and resources.

Best Google Data Scraping Services

Scraping Google Business Reviews

Extract Restaurant Data From Google Maps

Google My Business Data Scraping

Google Shopping Products Scraping

Google News Extraction Services

Scrape Data From Google Maps

Google News Headline Extraction   

Google Maps Data Scraping Services

Google Map Businesses Data Scraping

Google Business Reviews Extraction

Best Google Search Results Data Scraping Services in USA

Dallas, Portland, Los Angeles, Virginia Beach, Fort Wichita, Nashville, Long Beach, Raleigh, Boston, Austin, San Antonio, Philadelphia, Indianapolis, Orlando, San Diego, Houston, Worth, Jacksonville, New Orleans, Columbus, Kansas City, Sacramento, San Francisco, Omaha, Honolulu, Washington, Colorado, Chicago, Arlington, Denver, El Paso, Miami, Louisville, Albuquerque, Tulsa, Springs, Bakersfield, Milwaukee, Memphis, Oklahoma City, Atlanta, Seattle, Las Vegas, San Jose, Tucson and New York.

Conclusion

In today’s data-driven world, having access to detailed and accurate information from Google search results can give your business a significant edge. DataScrapingServices.com offers professional Google Search Results Data Scraping services designed to meet your unique needs. Whether you’re looking to enhance your SEO strategy, conduct market research, or gain competitive intelligence, our services provide the comprehensive data you need to succeed. Contact us at info@datascrapingservices.com today to learn how our data scraping solutions can transform your business strategy and drive growth.

Website: Datascrapingservices.com

Email: info@datascrapingservices.com

[cheaphousespending]

Harnessing AI for Carbon Neutrality – Center for Data Innovation

As policymakers consider initiatives to address climate change, artificial intelligence (AI) presents a promising avenue for innovative solutions. Indeed, many sectors are using AI to reduce carbon emissions, such as optimizing traffic flows, manufacturing efficiency, and supply chains. In addition, AI is key to integrating renewable energy sources in the electric grid, including by forecasting…

[sociolabs]

Unleashing Success: Sociolabs, the Best SEO Company in Los Angeles

[habilelabs]

In this era, Big Data is playing an increasingly important role in helping small businesses to grow. Let's examine how harnessing the power of big data.

[lucyrose191]

CALM IN THE STORM| H.SPECTER

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Wife!reader

Summary: The entire firm knew how temperamental Harvey Specter was and whenever he was in one of those moods, they knew it was going to be a painful day, until they found the only thing that could calm him down.

Warnings: none.

Suits Master List

Harvey Specter could be described as many things; arrogant, rude, uptight, stone-faced and most certainly hot headed. It wasn’t hard to piss him off but it was certainly difficult to calm him down and once his mood was ruined the entire day was doomed.

It was quite frankly anyone’s worst day whenever Harvey wasn’t in a good mood because they always took the brunt of it and there was no way to fix it.

Or so they thought.

If there was one thing anyone would say about Donna Paulsen, it was that she knew everything, which meant she knew exactly what would calm Harvey Specter down.

His wife.

Y/N Specter wasn’t a lawyer, she was an aerospace engineer which was just as, if not more impressive than being a lawyer and Harvey Specter worshipped the ground she walked on.

After watching Mike Ross leave Harvey’s office with near tears streaming down his face, Donna had enough and picked up the phone.

Y/N’s attention was momentarily drawn away from her computer at the sound of her office phone ringing but continued looking through data as she answered "Y/N Specter speaking."

A sigh of relief was heard through the line before Donna’s voice filtered through. "Y/N! Thank god! I don’t know what the hell is up Harvey’s arse today but he’s nearly made Mike cry three times and it’s only 10 o’clock, can you please come and save us," her husband’s secretary practically begged.

Y/N smiled, leaning back in her chair, work forgotten. This wasn’t the first time she had received a phone call like this and she found it hilarious just how much fear her husband built within people, he was a real softy around her.

Luckily for her, she had a lot of freedom in her role, she had proven herself for many years before that she was now able to come and go from work as she pleased, being fully trusted that no matter how often she was here her work was always done.

"I won’t be long," she said before hanging up, not wasting time in grabbing her things to make her way to her husband’s workplace.

As she walked towards her husbands office, Y/N bit down her laughter as she saw the obvious signs of relief on everyone’s faces as she walked by.

"Y/N you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Donna greeted her as she approached her desk, "He’s miserable in there."

Y/N looked through the glass into her husbands office and found that the redhead was telling the truth, the heavy frustration on her husband’s face was hard to miss.

She gave Donna a smile before making her way into Harvey’s office.

The man sighed heavily hearing his office door open, not looking up from the case file open in front of him. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Y/N smiled, “and does that include me?”

Harvey’s head snapped up at the sweet, smooth tone of his wife’s voice, feeling the tension in his shoulders deflate just from her presence. "Y/N?”

“Hey handsome." She smirked slightly, walking around his desk, he turned in his chair just as she stood in front of him.

He looked up at her in the same way he always did, there was nothing but pure love in those eyes, “What are you doing here?"

Y/N smiled lovingly at him, stepping forward to stand between his legs, wrapping her arms around the back of his head. “You’re scaring your colleagues.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, sitting up to rest his hands on her waist. “They’re ridiculous.”

Y/N hummed, “maybe, but how could I deny the chance to come and see you?”

“Fair point, I can understand the struggle of not seeing my handsome face for a couple hours,” Harvey replied, dead serious, smiling as his wife rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder.

“What’s got you all worked up, darling?” She asked.

Harvey released a deep breath, sparing a glance to the case sitting open on his desk. “I didn’t even want to represent the guy but Jessica knows him, I know him to be a complete prick."

Y/N thought for a moment before inviting herself further into his space, forcing her way into his lap, not that he was complaining, he just tightened his grip around her, leaning back into his chair. “Well, how about I treat you to lunch?” She proposed.

Harvey smiled tiredly. “I’d love that, baby." He replied, earning a bright smile from his wife who leaned forward to press a loving kiss to his lips before standing back up, pulling him up with her,

“Come on then, we’ve kept Ray waiting long enough.”

The smile on Harvey’s face was a stark contrast to the frustration he had been hounding earlier and it was all down the angel in front of him who wouldn’t even allow him to grab his coat, too persistent in dragging him through his office door.

As they made their way out of the building, they paid no attention to the uncomfortable weight that seemed to lift from everyone’s shoulders.

One thing for sure is that the entire firm were relieved for the existence of Y/N Specter.

[elsa16744]

Data with Purpose: Unveiling the Transformative Potential for Positive Change

In the dynamic landscape of the digital age, where information flows ceaselessly and connectivity knows no bounds, SG Analytics emerges as a trailblazing torchbearer in the realm of harnessing data with an unequivocal purpose. Far beyond the conventional realms of data analysis, we are orchestrating a symphony of meaningful transformation, orchestrating data's symphony into a resonating force that propels profound and sustainable change across industries, societies, and beyond.

Empowering Positive Change Through Purpose-Driven Data

At SG Analytics, we are not merely deciphering data; we are imbuing it with intent and purpose. Our voyage commences with a fundamental acknowledgment of the transcendental capabilities of data, extending its influence beyond mere profit margins and delving deep into the very fabric of societal well-being. By synergizing the cutting-edge prowess of advanced analytics with the profound insights of domain knowledge, we uncover the hidden gems of wisdom embedded within data. Through the prism of "Data with Purpose," we catalyze a sweeping wave of transformative change that touches industries, societies, and lives.

Beyond Insights: The Essence of Positive Data Transformation

The notion of "Harnessing Data for Good" encapsulates our steadfast dedication to shaping a world that thrives through the impactful deployment of data. We are not merely deciphering trends; we are deciphering novel pathways towards the betterment of lives. Our team of seasoned experts functions as alchemists, transmuting raw data into strategic blueprints that pave the way for success. By harnessing data for good, we are nurturing an environment where innovation blossoms, sustainability is not just a concept but a reality, and growth becomes synonymous with equitable progress.

Embark on an Illuminating Expedition of Purposeful Data

Immerse yourself in the captivating universe of "Data with Purpose" by navigating through our dedicated page. Here, we unfurl the tapestry of our pioneering initiatives that serve as living testaments to the potential of data, when wielded with mindfulness. Traverse through our thoughtfully curated case studies, each weaving a story where data-driven decisions have translated into palpable improvements for businesses, communities, and the larger canvas of society.

SG Analytics cordially invites you to partake in our grand symposium of purposeful data utilization, where the pages of history are being inscribed with the indelible ink of positive change. As we steer industries, policies, and societies towards the north star of progress, one meticulously analyzed data point at a time, we extend an earnest invitation for you to join hands with us in architecting a world that thrives through data's potential harnessed with resolute purpose.

Read More:- https://www.sganalytics.com/data-with-purpose/

[locationscloud]

Check out how locations data helps in effective site planning. This blog will make you understand the importance of precise location insights and how it empowers the optimal space utilization, improved planning strategies leading to success in every industry. https://www.locationscloud.com/harnessing-location-data-for-effective-site-planning/

[natsaffection]

Innocence. pt 1 | N.R

Older!Sargent!Natasha x Younger!Soldier! Reader

Warnings: None for now.

Word count: 5,1k

A/N: First of three parts is here! This one covers the very beginning, what we mostly go through during the first few days after leaving the comfort. The pacing might feel a bit slow while reading, but in person, it’s like you’ve already been there for weeks… and your body definitely isn’t thanking you.

The aircraft swayed just slightly with turbulence, but you barely noticed. You were sitting straight-backed in a seat along the right wall, harnessed in, hands resting atop your gear bag like you were afraid to let go of it. Your fingers itched with nerves, not the kind that made you panic, but the kind that made you wait. Watch. Think too much. You weren’t afraid. Not really. You were just…aware. Of everything.

The soldier across from you had his eyes closed, music bleeding faintly from one side of his headset, something with guitar, low and steady. Two others sat a few rows down, murmuring to each other over a bag of sunflower seeds, occasionally laughing too loud before catching themselves. One guy was bouncing his leg fast, his helmet tipped forward like a makeshift blindfold.

Everyone had a way to sit with their nerves. You just stayed still.

You watched the red glow of the overhead light paint everything in harsh shadow, hard edges on uniforms, tight lines across tense mouths. You could smell oil and canvas, gunmetal and worn leather. The air was dry, and warm. Somewhere far ahead, you knew the pilot was calling out distance markers. They were close.

And out there, already on the ground, already waiting..was her. Staff Sergeant Natasha Romanoff. Your new commanding officer. And the one woman you weren’t sure you knew how to impress…but desperately wanted to try.

Four Weeks Earlier

You stood stiffly at the desk, file in hand. The officer on the other side, some square-jawed sergeant you barely knew, was looking at you like he’d just broken bad news and didn’t want to say it twice.

“I’m sorry.” he said, “Aplha-One didn’t select you. High marks, yes. But they’ve got their own standards.”

You stared at the floor. Your mouth was dry. It wasn’t fair to cry, this was part of the game, you knew that..but still. You’d killed yourself for this unit. Two years of discipline, sweat, tests, sacrifices. Aloha-One was the goal.

“However…” he continued, sliding a second file toward you. “You scored extremely high in tactical reasoning and zero-error protocol under stress. Another team saw your data.”

You looked up slowly. “They want you in Echo 9. SSGT Romanoff’s division.”

Your fingers twitched on the edge of your folder. “Echo 9?”

“They don’t recruit often. But when they do, it’s for a reason. You caught someone’s attention.”

You hesitated. You’d heard the stories, Romanoff’s unit was covert, fast-moving, low profile. Their ops were real, and rarely spoken about.

Alpha-one had been the dream. But Echo 9? That was…something else. You blinked back the sting in your eyes and nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Back to Present

You rolled your shoulders gently. You kept looking at the door, the one that would open and spill you into dust, hot wind, and the start of whatever came next. You’d land near an isolated base camp in a desert region, you knew that much. Some recon op tied to sensitive cargo and possible extraction. High alert. Your first true deployment outside the wire.

Your chance to see her.

You’d only met twice, once during evaluation, and once during the fastest, coldest briefing you’d ever been through. Romanoff had scanned you like she already knew everything, your past, your stats, your tells. Like you’d already said enough by standing in front of her.

Two Weeks Ago

You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of your paper mess, balancing your tablet on one knee and typing with your thumb. A to-do list bloomed across the screen:

• Cancel lease

• Storage unit rental

• Forward mail to Mom

• Emergency contact

• Get tactical gloves (broken stitching)

• Sell old field jacket

Your fingers paused. You looked around the space, still half-lived in. Walls still had photos. Fridge still had magnets. The place didn’t feel like it was missing you yet. But you were already halfway gone.

A few hours later, your best friend Harlow came over to help you pack. You stuffed gear into crates and duffels, argued over which mugs to leave behind, and finally just collapsed onto the couch, still sweaty from lifting boxes.

“I can’t believe they picked you..” Harlow teased, nudging you.

You threw a pillow. “Screw off.”

“No, really. Romanoff? Echo 9? That’s wild. You’re gonna have stories.”

You smiled faintly. “If I come back with stories, it means I didn’t mess it up.”

Harlow looked at you. “You won’t mess it up. You’re meant for this.”

Back to Present

You let out a slow breath, fogging the air just slightly. Someone nearby tightened a strap; someone else cracked their knuckles.

Almost there. And somehow, in the middle of all this..the adrenaline, the altitude, the silence between heartbeats, you felt something else rise in your chest.

Pride.

With a sharp hiss, the hydraulic doors cracked open, and in the same instant, it hit you- The heat. It slammed into your face like a physical wall, dry, thick, pulsing with sun-baked intensity. Your breath caught for a moment, involuntarily. Not from shock, but from the weight of it. It wasn’t just hot, it was the kind of heat that crawled down the back of your neck, sat in your boots, and stole the moisture from your lungs.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the brutal midday glare. The light was white. So bright the sand looked like it was glowing. A wasteland of tan and beige, mountains ghosting in the distance, like mirages wavering in the heat lines. Your boots clunked against the ramp as you followed the line of soldiers off the aircraft, dust already collecting around your ankles.

“Welcome to hell.” someone muttered behind you. You didn’t reply. You just kept walking, adrenaline mixing with sweat.

The group gathered in formation just beyond the landing zone, sweat already beginning to pool beneath gear not meant for this kind of sun. The tarmac shimmered. A breeze kicked up, hot and sharp with the scent of sand, diesel, and sweat. A tall man in a scorched tan uniform approached, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Listen up!” he barked. The chatter died instantly. “Today’s the twelfth. It’s 122 degrees out. That’s forty-nine Celsius for you metric-lovers. Hydrate, don’t pass out. You’re not heroes if you collapse on Day One.”

Someone coughed behind you. A few nods. The air was too hot for anything more. The man paused, then added with a dry smirk, “Romanoff’s waiting at Command. You’ll meet her shortly.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted, not from the sun this time, but from the name. Romanoff.

You felt a twinge in your chest. Sharp, curious, alert. “She really as hot as they say?” someone to your left whispered under his breath. His voice was low, but not low enough.

“Oh, she’s more than hot..” another guy replied, cracking a grin. “They say she can kill a man and give him a boner at the same time.”

Several soldiers chuckled, their laughter quick, dirty, laced with the kind of bravado that only came when they thought they were out of earshot. Your jaw tensed. You didn’t know Natasha well, yet..but something about the casual, sexual tone made your stomach twist. This wasn’t the kind of place you joked like that. Not about your people.

Then, a silence. It didn’t come slowly. It snapped into place like a rope pulled tight. You turned just slightly. There she was.

Natasha was walking toward you, slow and composed, each step measured, boots kicking up puffs of dust in her wake. Her uniform fit like it was cut for her alone, sleeves rolled up, tags tucked in, not a wrinkle on her. She carried no visible weapon, but no one needed proof.

She was the weapon.

Every soldier in the group straightened, even those who didn’t realize they were doing it. And her eyes, flat, cold, and controlled, landed directly on the man who’d made the joke.

“Name?” she asked, voice like ice under fire.

The guy swallowed. “Uh…Private Miles, ma’am.”

She walked up to him. Close. Too close. Their boots were almost touching. You couldn’t see her eyes anymore, but you saw his. They widened a fraction. His shoulders stiffened. The grin was gone.

“Private Miles..” Natasha said softly, voice barely above a whisper, “if I ever hear you speak about another soldier that way again, especially one in my command, I will personally make sure your transfer home includes a medical dishonorable discharge, and a broken jaw to explain it.”

The air around you didn’t move. Even the breeze seemed to stop. Miles stood like a statue. No response. No breath.

“And if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘as hot as they say,’” she added, stepping just slightly closer, her tone a thread away from venom, “I suggest you test your theory in a combat scenario. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Then she stepped back. “Eyes front.”

The entire group snapped to attention. You felt your pulse in your throat. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. It was like watching lightning strike just beside you. Romanoff turned to face everyone now, still calm, still unreadable.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Romanoff.” she said, tone level, eyes scanning the line. “You’re now part of Echo 9. That means your record matters less than your performance. You are responsible for each other. If you want to act like civilians, I suggest you turn back now.”

No one moved.

“Training begins tomorrow at 0500 (5:00am). Briefing starts at 0430 (4:30 am) sharp. You’ll receive bunks and assignments from base command in the next ten minutes. Hydrate. Unpack. Do not be late.” She paused. “Dismissed.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the base structure, heat swirling behind her in shimmering waves.

No one spoke for a long time. You swallowed, throat dry as bone. You couldn’t tell if your heartbeat was from the sun, or from her.

The base wasn’t much to look at, a sprawl of beige and metal, containers turned into housing, makeshift fences, worn banners catching the wind like tired flags. The ground was cracked and sun-bleached, the heat radiating off the concrete like an invisible second sun.

You followed the thin trail of other soldiers toward the housing row. A clipboard had been shoved into your hands moments after Romanoff’s departure, listing your bunk number and clearance ID. A container near the outer edge. Far enough from command to feel temporary. Close enough to hear the weight in every bootstep.

When you reached it, you paused. The container was basic, standard military housing. Matte green. Bolted shut with a manual handle. But it was yours. At least for now. You lifted the latch and stepped inside. Cooler air hit your face immediately, not cold, but not scalding either. A cheap mercy.

Inside, there were two narrow bunks, one metal locker each, a shared footlocker in the center, and a cracked mirror bolted above a dented sink. Sparse, lived-in, but clean. And someone was already unpacking on the left side.

She was bent over her duffel, sorting through rolls of gauze, small vials, medical wraps, her dark hair pulled into a messy low bun. She looked up when you entered and grinned.

“You must be Y/l/n.”

You blinked. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The girl stood, wiping a smudge off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m Rae. Rae Bishop. You snore, you die.”

You laughed, tension bleeding out of your shoulders almost instantly. “Fair enough.”

You shook hands, firm, quick. That unspoken military rhythm already forming. You tossed your bag onto the right bunk and began peeling off your outer vest, already feeling a small pool of sweat at the base of your spine.

Rae slid a canteen across the small desk toward you. “You look cooked. Drink.”

You did. It was warm, but water was water. “You infantry?” Rae asked, hopping up to sit on her bunk, boots still on.

“Combat operations.” you replied, settling on your own bunk and unlacing one boot. “Support and recon for Exho 9. You?”

“Medic.” Rae said, tapping the red cross patch on her shoulder. “Second rotation. Got here three weeks ago.”

You raised a brow. “So you’ve already survived Romanoff?”

Rae grinned. “Barely. She’s not as scary when she’s not slicing you open with her eyes. But yeah..she’s the real deal.”

You nodded. You knew that already. The image of Natasha walking through the dust, silencing that joke with only a look and a sentence, it was burned into you.

“What made you volunteer?” Rae asked.

You hesitated for a second. “Wasn’t my first choice. But this unit…feels like it might be the right one after all.”

Rae smiled knowingly. “Same.”

A knock at the metal door broke the moment. Three short raps. You exchanged a quick glance.

Rae swung the door open. Three guys stood outside, dusty, still geared-up, grinning. You recognized two of them from the aircraft. The third held a dented pack of cards in one hand and a pack of instant ramen in the other.

“Y/l/n..” the tallest one said, “we’re playing cards in the rec tent. You in?”

Rae raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Wow, no invite for me?”

“You don’t lose gracefully.” one of them shot back.

You hesitated. The memory of that crude joke on the tarmac flashed in your head. Your mouth tightened slightly, and you crossed your arms, thoughtful.

“I don’t usually hang out with people who make sex jokes about our CO.”

The smiles wavered, just for a second. One of the guys, younger than the rest, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was Miles. He’s…well. He’s eating dinner alone tonight.”

The third guy nodded. “Look, no pressure. But you seemed chill. No one’s looking to mess around or anything. We’re just…unwinding.”

There was a beat of silence. The hot wind pushed dust across the open door. Inside, the cool air hummed. Then you sighed. “Alright. But if you deal me crap cards, I’m walking.”

Laughter broke out immediately, easy and welcome. Rae grinned and flopped back onto her bed. “Tell ‘em I taught you everything.”

The rec tent was barely lit, strings of mismatched bulbs hung along the corners, buzzing softly. Folding chairs surrounded a center table, already cluttered with cards, crumpled wrappers, and one old speaker playing lo-fi beats someone swore helped with morale.

You took a seat, your body still adjusting to the tempo of the place, the slight vibration of generators, the scent of old coffee, the shift in your nerves from edge to ease. You played three rounds. Lost one. Won two. Someone made fun of your poker face, or lack thereof, and you shot back with a sarcastic quip that made Rae snort water through her nose.

They didn’t talk about Romanoff again. They didn’t talk about war, or blood, or fear. Just music. Home. The taste of actual food. The way sand got everywhere. Laughter felt strange at first — awkward and too loud in the open air, but then it settled in like warmth.

Before you knew it, the sky outside the rec tent had turned from gold to steel blue. Then to black.

0500 Hours

The alarm pierced the air like a bullet. You flinched upright in your bunk, adrenaline kicking before your brain caught up. Your heart was hammering. For a second, you had no idea where you were.

The room was still dark, bathed in faint blue light from the small LED clock bolted to the wall. Your eyes tracked across the plain metal ceiling. The thin sheets twisted around your legs. The sound of Rae breathing across the room. Dust floating through a stream of early light filtering between the blinds.

Then, heat. That dry, ever-present warmth, already crawling in through the container’s thin insulation. The heavy scent of sand and sweat. The sound of footsteps, boots outside the wall. A voice barking out a name. A door slamming.

Camp.

Deployment.

It came back all at once. You exhaled and scrubbed a hand over your face. The ache in your spine was from the unforgiving bunk. The itch on your skin? Dust. Always dust.

You dressed quickly, muscle memory already forming after a single day. Tactical undershirt. Lightweight fatigues. Boots laced to regulation tightness. Canteen clipped, ID tags tucked, comm unit ready.

Rae stirred behind you. “Tell Romanoff I’m alive..” she muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You smirked. “No promises.”

You stepped out into the early dawn air. The sky was a hazy pink, sun just starting to rise over the distant ridges. Heat was already forming, like a warning curled around the horizon.

The training yard was a square of cracked earth and sandbags. Half the unit was already assembled, some stretching, others checking weapons or reviewing briefing notes on slim tablets. Conversations were low, sparse, and cautious.

You spotted Martinez, Johnson, a few others. Miles stood off to the side, arms crossed, avoiding everyone’s eyes. A knot of anticipation hung in the air.

Then.. “She’s here.”

Every head turned. Natasha walked across the yard with zero wasted movement. Black tactical vest over sun-bleached fatigues, combat boots spitting dust behind her. Hair tied back. Calm, controlled. Not out of breath. Not rushed. She stopped dead center.

“Morning.” she said. One word. It hit harder than any shout. Everyone straightened.

“You’ll be split between physical combat, strategy, survival theory, and behavior conditioning. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s early. No, I don’t care. This unit doesn’t carry excuses.”

She turned toward a group of soldiers. “First pair-up. Hand-to-hand.” She scanned them once, then landed on her target.

“Miles.”

He stepped forward stiffly. She waited.

“…Ma’am?”

“I said combat sparring. Step up.”

He did. Hesitant. You felt the buzz ripple through the unit. Everyone knew exactly what this was about. Then Natasha looked at you.

“Y/l/n. You’re with him.”

Your stomach flipped, but not in fear. Your fingers twitched at your sides. Excitement, fire, something warm rising in your chest. You stepped forward, facing Miles.

He frowned. “We’re doing this for real?”

Natasha tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Unless you’d prefer to sit this out.”

He flinched, barely, but got into a ready stance. Defensive. Hesitant. His center of gravity too high. You didn’t wait. You stepped in, low and fast. A feint to the right, testing him. He flinched. His hands came up late.

Then he swept under, pivoted his foot..And stopped. He didn’t finish the strike.

But Natasha did. In a blink, she stepped in from the side, grabbed Miles by the collar with one hand, and drove her knee hard between his legs. The sound he made wasn’t even a word. He crumpled, knees buckling, face contorting in shocked pain as he hit the dirt.

A beat of silence. Natasha turned, looking directly at the rest of the men. Voice like ice melting on steel. “Women are underestimated in combat more often than I can count. Happens in the field. Happens in training. But do it in my unit, and you’ll learn the difference between cocky and unconscious.”

She didn’t smile. Not exactly. Just a slow, razor-edged smirk as she turned to you. “Well done. Switch partners.”

Training settled into a brutal rhythm. Mornings began with sparring and PT, climbing walls, crawling through obstacle courses, sprinting under the punishing heat. By midday, it was tactical theory. Sand-tables, holographic maps, mission simulations. Natasha drilled you on terrain advantage, split-second decisions, blind recon.

“Enemies don’t come at you clean.” she said once, pointer hovering over a digital battlefield. “They come when your boots are stuck in mud and your comms are down. Think beyond perfect conditions.”

Afternoons were dedicated to behavior conditioning. How to read a room. Spot a liar. Break a pattern. It wasn’t just about physical training, it was mental warfare.

One session was held in a metal container rigged with sound loops and flashing lights. Designed to simulate chaos. You had to complete logic tests under pressure.

You nearly failed the first time, until Natasha stood behind you and said, calmly, “Breathe slower. Find the rhythm. You control your mind, or the mission controls you.”

By the third day, you were keeping pace. Faster. Sharper. And more confident. The soldiers around you began to notice. Some nodded as they passed. Rae snuck you protein bars and coffee tablets. Even Martinez, cocky and sarcastic, offered to swap gear tips.

Miles? Still avoiding eye contact. You didn’t mind. Not when every sunrise started with that burst of nerves, and every night ended with sore muscles, heavy lungs, and the knowledge that you belonged here more than you ever did anywhere else.

DAY 6

The room was built to look like an alleyway. Cracked walls. Sandbags. Smoke machines filling the air with grit and haze. Speakers embedded in the ceiling blared distant gunfire and shouting, sirens wailing in timed bursts. The simulation chamber was used for high-stress ops training, strategy under pressure, team maneuvering, and live tactical decisions. Everything tracked. Every shot. Every step. Every second.

You crouched low, rifle to your shoulder, sweat soaking your collar. Your breath was fast, lungs burning. You moved with your unit through the mock-up street, Rae trailing you with med gear, Martinez and Johnson flanking either side.

Target: secure a civilian in the “hot zone” evacuate to the south extraction point. Simple, on paper. But nothing ever was.

You breached the second corner, cleared the breach, and..You froze.

Two silhouettes appeared behind a scrim of smoke. Civilian or hostile? You hesitated. Your fingers tensed on the trigger. Your brain tried to assess. The figures move-

And then everything went to hell. A simulated blast went off. Too close. Too loud. Martinez dropped, “wounded.” Rae got separated. A red strobe light flashed across the chamber, symbolic of a “critical failure” in evac timing.

It was over. Simulation terminated. The smoke cleared slowly, the lights steadying. Soldiers blinked in the false dawn of debrief lighting as the system powered down. You ripped your goggles off, chest heaving. Your hands were shaking. Not from fear.

From frustration. Natasha walked in, tablet in hand. Her expression unreadable. She let the silence linger. Then she looked up, eyes slicing through the group like scalpels.

“Everyone out.” she said flatly, not looking at anyone but you. “Except Y/l/n.”

The others filed out silently. Rae gave you a small glance. Not pity. Just understanding. When the door closed, Natasha walked closer. Not looming. Just…present. You stood straighter, trying to lock your jaw. Waiting.

“I want you to explain what happened.” Natasha said.

You hesitated. “I hesitated at the corner. I.. I didn’t want to misfire. The shapes weren’t clear-”

“They weren’t clear?” Natasha repeated, voice cold. “You’ve run that drill four times. You know the shape of that alley. You know what cover looks like from thirty meters. And you froze.”

You swallowed. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “I.. didn’t trust myself.” you admitted. Quiet.

Natasha nodded once. A slow, deliberate motion. Then she stepped forward until you were almost eye to eye.

“If this had been real..” she said softly, “Martinez would have bled out before Rae could get to him. You would’ve lost your right leg to that blast. And your hesitation would’ve put your entire team in body bags.”

Every word was a scalpel. No yelling. No rage. Just cold truth. You didn’t speak.

“You don’t get to be unsure out there.” Natasha said. “Not when people are counting on you. Not when seconds mean survival. If you doubt yourself again, do it on your own time. Not mine.”

She turned away. Walked two steps. Then stopped. “But…”

You blinked.

“…you still identified the pattern before the system ended the sim. You saw the angle of the shooter. You started moving to block Rae’s exit. That means your instincts are right. You just didn’t trust them.”

Another long pause. “I want you in my class this afternoon. Behavioral split-second response training. Two hours.”

You nodded. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“And Y/l/n?”

“…Yes?”

“If you ever freeze like that again, I’ll personally send you back home with a thank-you card and a slap for wasting my time.”

Your mouth twitched. The sharpest edge of a grin. “Understood.”

DAY 11

The room buzzed with quiet suffering. The overhead lights flickered in that sickly yellow way that only military bulbs seemed to manage. Dust drifted lazily through the stale air. Everyone was slouched somewhere, against the walls, over the table, heads resting in hands, boots half unlaced beneath chairs. Not a single soul was upright by choice.

You sat near the end of the long table, chin propped in one hand, trying to pretend you weren’t blinking longer than you should.

Your thighs still burned from morning PT. Your knuckles were bruised from combat drills. Your brain was a fog of unfinished sleep and half-digested ration bars. Even your boots felt heavy. Like they’d been dipped in cement.

Rae, sitting next to you, looked dead-eyed at her half-full notebook. Johnson was using his own notepad as a pillow. Martinez had a cold pack wedged under his shirt, muttering something about “inhumane training laws” under his breath.

You were wrecked. And no one dared to say it out loud.

The door opened. And just like that, the room snapped into shape. Natasha walked in with a slow, unreadable expression. She didn’t bark a command. Didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Her presence alone was a straight line drawn through chaos. Her expression unreadable, calm, but not soft. Alert. A storm in waiting. She walked past all of you without a word and hoisted herself up to sit on the table directly in front of the class , boots planted wide, elbows on knees.

The silence grew dense. Then, slowly, she looked at you. One by one. Not judging. Measuring. You sat straighter. Your heart, despite exhaustion, thudded once. Hard.

She reached for the remote and pressed a button. The screen behind her flickered to life. A drone shot filled the screen, a wide, aerial view of an arid landscape. Cracked land. A village reduced to fragments of stone and splinters. Roofs caved in. A single road, broken with impact craters, carved through what used to be homes.

Everything changed in the room. The fog of exhaustion evaporated. Spines straightened. Eyes locked forward. No one moved. Not even to breathe.

“This..” Natasha said, her voice low, “is the village of Qasira. Forty-seven clicks east of this base. Population, formerly nine hundred. Current? Unknown.”

She let that sit for a second before continuing. “Three days ago, an insurgent convoy passed through the area. They were hit mid-transit. Likely an airstrike from a local faction. Civilians were caught in the crossfire. Local med teams are moving in now. You’re going with them.”

The screen shifted to a satellite map. Pinpoints. Movement indicators. Roads. “This isn’t a combat op. It’s a secure-and-monitor. Your job is to escort, establish perimeter, and provide overwatch while the medics assist the injured and collect survivors.”

Her voice was firm, but there was something in her eyes , a warning, subtle but sharp. “You will be met with three types of people.” she continued. “Those who are glad to see you. Those who resent you. And those who hate you outright. All of them will be scared. Some will be armed. Some won’t.”

Rae swallowed softly next to you.

“You do not fire unless fired upon.” Natasha said. “You do not engage unless absolutely necessary. If someone spits at you, you walk. If someone screams at you, you listen. You are not here to escalate. You are here to protect the people doing their jobs.”

Another click. A street-level image filled the screen, caved-in houses, burnt-out windows, children standing in the rubble, watching the drone.

Your throat tightened.

“This is what real missions look like.” Natasha said, quieter now. “It’s not always bullets and body armor. Sometimes it’s holding a perimeter while someone bleeds out two feet away from you. Sometimes it’s walking past a woman crying over what used to be her kitchen.”

She looked at all of you. And this time, there was no cold edge. Just steel. Steady and unwavering.

“You need to be better than your instincts. You need to be professional, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

A pause. “We leave at 0700 (7am).”

With that, she stood, clicked off the screen, and stepped down. Then, she turned back.

“Gear up. No mistakes.”

The silence lingered after she left. It wasn’t fear. It was something sharper. Something real. You exhaled, slow, as if the weight of the next phase had finally landed on your chest.

Part 2

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[nasa]

Setting Sail to Travel Through Space: 5 Things to Know about our New Mission

Our Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will launch aboard Rocket Lab’s Electron rocket from the company’s Launch Complex 1 in Māhia, New Zealand no earlier than April 23, at 6 p.m. EDT. This mission will demonstrate the use of innovative materials and structures to deploy a next-generation solar sail from a CubeSat in low Earth orbit.

Here are five things to know about this upcoming mission:

1. Sailing on Sunshine

Solar sails use the pressure of sunlight for propulsion much like sailboats harness the wind, eliminating the need for rocket fuel after the spacecraft has launched. If all goes according to plan, this technology demonstration will help us test how the solar sail shape and design work in different orbits.

2. Small Package, Big Impact

The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft is a CubeSat the size of a microwave, but when the package inside is fully unfurled, it will measure about 860 square feet (80 square meters) which is about the size of six parking spots. Once fully deployed, it will be the biggest, functional solar sail system – capable of controlled propulsion maneuvers – to be tested in space.

3. Second NASA Solar Sail in Space

If successful, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will be  the second NASA solar sail to deploy in space, and not only will it be much larger, but this system will also test navigation capabilities to change the spacecraft’s orbit. This will help us gather data for future missions with even larger sails.

4. BOOM: Stronger, Lighter Booms

Just like a sailboat mast supports its cloth sails, a solar sail has support beams called booms that provide structure. The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System mission’s primary objective is to deploy a new type of boom. These booms are made from flexible polymer and carbon fiber materials that are stiffer and 75% lighter than previous boom designs. They can also be flattened and rolled like a tape measure. Two booms spanning the diagonal of the square (23 feet or about 7 meters in length) could be rolled up and fit into the palm of your hand!

5. It’s a bird...it’s a plane...it’s our solar sail!

About one to two months after launch, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft will deploy its booms and unfurl its solar sail. Because of its large size and reflective material, the spacecraft may be visible from Earth with the naked eye if the lighting conditions and orientation are just right!

To learn more about this mission that will inform future space travel and expand our understanding of our Sun and solar system, visit https://www.nasa.gov/mission/acs3/.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[jadenvargen]

swedish-specific resources for palestinian local activism. please do share. 

Här kan man som svensk organisera sig för palestina. ibland kan resurser som sprids vara fokuserade på andra länder såsom USA, men här finns info på hur du som svensk kan organisera dig lokalt. 

Snälla feel free att lägga till eller rätta vadsomhelst, 1000% amatör, men vill samla ihop info till folk som kanske inte stött på det innan på denna hemsida.

https://www.stoppaisrael.nu/ - organiserar sig specifikt i malmö gentemot ESC. har datum för planerade demonstrationer.

https://www.palestinagrupperna.se/ en huvudsaklig samlingsresurs för grupper i sverige att organisera sig med som är aktiv sen 70-talet. Här finns fakta, poddar, konsumentbojkotter, föreläsningar, insamlingar, osv. Palestinagruppen är mot apartheid fundamentalt utöver elduppehåll. De organiserar även Tuesdays for Palestine, för universitet och högskolor.

angående konsumentbojkotter i Malmö och Göteborg specifikt om ni köper second hand så stöttar björkåfrihet gaza, och säljer specifika palestinaimportprodukter såsom olivolja och kikärter.

Här finns kontakter och länkar till lokala organiseringar med Palestinagruppen:

Göteborg

Halmstad

Hässleholm / Kristianstad

Karlstad

Kronoberg

Lund

Malmö

Nybro

Stockholm OCH http://www.palestinagruppenstockholm.se/

Sundsvall

Uppsala - https://www.facebook.com/Palestinagruppen-i-Uppsala-203271060501107

Västerås - https://www.facebook.com/Palestinagruppen-i-V%C3%A4ster%C3%A5s-850751518298673 

Gruppen är även organiserad i Varberg, Skellefteå samt Borås, men har där ingen sociala medielänk utan kontaktperson på hemsidan.

Israel i Eurovision song contest

SVT pekar mot EBUs beslut och att en stor del av osannolikheten av Israels uteslutning är att en huvudsponsor för ESC är ett Israeliskt företag.

i malmö har det i nuläget(02/22) bestämts att frågan om Israel i Malmös eurovision skall tas upp i kommande lokala kommunmöten. Man kan som medborgare ta del av dessa möten. I nuläget är det endast vänsterpartiet av regeringspartierna som driver frågan, men man kan ta kontakt med kommunrepresentant för att själv framföra frågan och ämnet. Man kan även fysiskt vara med under möte

Lista och Kontakt med Malmös kommunfullmäktige

mejladress tll styrelsen som helhet: kommunstyrelsen@malmo.se

mötesdatum: 6e mars, 10e april i statshuset 13:00

som tidigare nämnt organiseras protester i malmö lokalt under eurovisiondatumen bl.a på https://www.stoppaisrael.nu/ men det finns inom andra länkar i palestinagruppen också.

BSD i Sverige

Från palestinagruppen: "BDS National Committee rekommenderar riktad bojkott, fokus på ett mindre antal företag och produkter som bedöms vara strategiskt viktiga."

Samtidigt:

"Vill du undvika att köpa israeliska varor när du handlar så kontrollera varans streckkodsnummer, det s.k. EAN-numret. Israels landsprefix är 729. "

här finns övergripande data på israels exportvaror till sverige

enligt https://trendeconomy.com är Israels främsta Frukt-o-grönt export som följer(som man kanske vill vara extra försiktig med, och rentav nämna till arbetare på din lokala matbutik- för deras mål är ju att sälja, inte bli bojkottade.) : Dadlar, fikon, ananas, avokado, guava, mango, citrus, nötter.

Sveriges regerings ställningstagande

Svenskt ställningstagande i “konflikten” är som följer:

Israel har en självklar rätt att försvara sig mot terrorism och urskillningslös raketbeskjutning.

Civila måste skyddas. 

Humanitärt tillträde är fundamentalt. (Jag vill belysa att regeringen här menar på att “ett stort ansvar för den humanitära katastrofen i Gaza vilar på Hamas som styrt Gaza sedan 2007” och även följande: “Sverige är en stor kärnstödsgivare till flera av de humanitära aktörerna på plats." Trots vad som står inom den fetade texten har sverige beslutat att stoppa bistånd till UNWRA. https://www.amnesty.se/aktuellt/sveriges-beslut-far-katastrofala-konsekvenser-miljontals-manniskors-liv/ )

Regional eskalering måste undvikas

En hållbar fred bygger på en tvåstatslösning.

Med grund av dessa uttalanden som bl.a direkt beskyller Palestiner för de över 30.000 dödade av den Israeliska militären är det inte överranskande att medier i sverige genast är vinklade, till ingens överraskning. Den senaste artikeln jag råkade ha öppen för att göra den här posten har språket

“Sydafrikas regering har anklagat Israel för folkmordsliknande agerande mot Gazas befolkning”

 “kriget i Gaza, som inleddes efter Hamas blodiga attack i Israel den 7 oktober. EBU har sagt att Israels public servicebolag inte brutit mot några regler och kommer att få tävla.”

Inga ord om att ICJ dömde Israel för detta “folkmordsliknande” beteende, eller vad som skiljer folkmord från “folkmordslikt”, medans attacken gentemot Israel är rentutav "blodig". På denna nivå överlag ligger journalistiken i Sverige. 

Det är viktigt att vi som medborgare belyser att Sveriges regering inte bara är åskådare utan är medbrottslingar i Israels fortsatta utrotningsförsök mot det palestinska folket. Vi bör vara väl medvetna om propagandan som inte bara kommer utifrån, utan inom sverige, och bekämpa denna.

snälla kom med egna tips, resurser, anmärkningar, kritik, whatever! ville bara ha en samlingsplats på tumblr för sätt i sverige att organisera sig lokalt, och vill verkligen bara att rätt ska va rätt.