#Philadelphia security cameras

[panerasbox]

i can’t believe it’s tomorrow. this truly went so fast!! here’s the last fic of 30 days of melissa schemmenti. thank you everyone for reading these, it’s been really fun (and challenging!) i’ve slept maybe four hours since tuesday night, im too excited (or nervous) to sleep!! expect the post all about it tomorrow night 🩷

—LITTLE BIT HEISTY; 1 Day To Go

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader. Heist AU | Ocean’s 8 Vibes

Genre: crime romance, slow burn, found family

Word count: 4,198.

summary: Five years after walking out of your life, Melissa Schemmenti shows up on your doorstep asking for help with a job. You’re not sure which is more dangerous: the heist… or falling for her all over again.

The last person you expect to see standing in the lobby of your cybersecurity firm on a rainy Tuesday morning is Melissa Schemmenti.

And yet, there she is leaning on the reception desk like it owes her money, red leather jacket still as worn-in and dangerous-looking as it was the last time she walked out of your life. Her hair’s pulled back, but you can still see the copper strands curling at the edges, defiant as ever. She hasn’t changed. Not in the ways that count.

You pause halfway through the glass doors, heartbeat kicking up before your mind even catches up. You think: She looks good. You think: She’s here for something. And then you think the thing you swore you were over: What if this is about us?

She sees you and smirks. That same cocky, tilted-lip thing she used to use when she’d beat you at pool or pin you against the wall of your old apartment. You hate that you remember the heat of it. You hate more that you miss it.

“Hey, kid,” she says, like five years haven’t passed and your heart didn’t get broken in the middle of a South Philly parking lot at midnight.

“Melissa.” You cross your arms. “Can’t say I was expecting you.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t think I’d be here either. But I need someone with your…skills.”

A beat. You raise an eyebrow. “This a social call or a job offer?”

Her smirk grows. “Both, maybe. But mostly a job.”

You glance at your receptionist, who’s now watching like it’s a soap opera. You jerk your head toward your office. “Five minutes.”

Once inside, you close the door and turn to face her. She’s already prowling the perimeter like she owns the place, eyes scanning the sleek décor, the awards on the wall. You can practically hear the judgment brewing.

“This yours?” she asks, tapping a frame. “Didn’t think you’d go legit.”

You snort. “You didn’t think I’d do a lot of things.”

Her eyes flick back to yours. A moment of silence. Tight, uncomfortable.

“So,” you say, settling behind your desk. “Why are you really here?”

Melissa leans forward, both palms flat on your desk. “You heard of Raymond Cranston?”

Your brain runs a quick scan. “District administrator. Embezzlement rumors, but nothing proven. Real piece of work.”

“He’s stealing money meant for Abbott and the other schools. Slashing budgets, padding his pockets. Barbara’s livid, Ava’s ready to stage a coup, and I’m…” She pauses. Her voice drops. “I’m done watching kids suffer while people like him walk away clean.”

You watch her carefully. Her voice is fierce. Controlled. But underneath, you hear something deeper, something almost desperate.

“You want to expose him?”

Melissa smiles, sharp as a switchblade. “No, hon. I want to rob him.”

A beat.

You blink. “You’re serious.”

“Dead.” She folds her arms. “Gala’s in three weeks. Cranston’s flaunting every dime he stole. I’ve got Ava for the distraction, Jacob for the groundwork, Barbara on logistics, don’t ask how, she’s pretending this is a ‘moral countermeasure’ or whatever, but I need someone who can get into the systems. Security, bank accounts, cameras. You.”

You stare. Then laugh, once, incredulous. “You want me to help you pull a heist on the Philadelphia School District?”

“I want you to help me get justice,” she corrects. “The fact that it’s gonna be a little illegal is just a bonus.”

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled. “And why me? Why now?”

Melissa hesitates. For the first time, she looks less sure. “Because I trust you. And because you’re the best at what you do.”

Your throat tightens. You wish she didn’t still sound so sincere when she says things like that.

“This is insane,” you say.

“Yep.”

“It could land you in prison.”

“Only if we get caught.”

You stare at her for another long moment.

“Who else is in?”

Melissa smirks again. “Just wait ‘til you see Ava’s outfit. You’ll fold.”

And damn it, you already are.

You regret saying yes somewhere between Melissa telling you Ava Coleman is “handling distractions” and the moment Ava actually walks into your office.

She’s in a metallic rose gold pantsuit, matching stiletto boots, and oversized sunglasses that absolutely do not hide her smug grin. Her hair is pulled into a high, dramatic ponytail that somehow screams both spy thriller and host of a messy reality show. You glance at Melissa. She doesn’t even blink.

“This her?” Ava asks, looking you up and down like you’re the newest model on a showroom floor. “This is your hacker? Girl looks like she files taxes for fun.”

You stare. “I’m the reason your Amazon Alexa didn’t narc on you to the IRS last year.”

Ava gasps. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Melissa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ava.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s hot in a nerdy, ‘I could ruin your credit score’ kind of way. I respect it.”

You deadpan, “And you’re the distraction?”

She flashes a smile. “Baby, I am the show.”

Melissa turns to you with a tight smile. “This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

“I see that.”

Ava flops onto your office couch like she owns it, propping her boots on your coffee table. “So, hacker girl. What’s your handle? Like, your criminal hacker name? You got something cool? HexKitten? ByteMe?”

Melissa snorts. You ignore her. “I don’t have a handle. I run a legitimate business now.”

Ava makes a face. “Boring. I’m calling you ByteMe anyway.”

Melissa gives you a look that says sorry, but she’s clearly not. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells you she’s enjoying this. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

���Where’s the rest of the crew?” you ask.

“Ava’s the first one I brought in,” Melissa says. “Barbara’s in, but she’s… still pretending it’s a spiritual mission.”

“And Jacob?”

“He cried when I told him,” Ava says. “Like, actual tears. He was like, ‘I always dreamed I’d be recruited for a heist!’ I think he’s building a vision board.”

You blink. “So to be clear, we’re trusting a woman who runs a school like a TikTok account, a kindergarten teacher who considers this a divine quest, and a man who’s treating this like Ocean’s Eleven: Quaker Edition.”

Melissa leans against your desk, arms crossed. “That’s why I needed you.”

It’s quiet for a beat. You glance up and realize she’s looking at you, really looking at you the way she used to, back when things were simpler. When it was just pool halls and bar booths and the soft ache of wanting to be loved by someone who couldn’t quite say it out loud.

You swallow. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

“I know.” Her voice is softer now. “But you never really stopped thinking about it, did you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Ava makes a pshhht noise and pretends to spritz herself with imaginary perfume. “Damn, the sexual tension in here is like, fourth-wall-breaking.”

You both shoot her a glare. She only grins wider.

Melissa turns back to you. “The gala’s in less than three weeks. We need access to Cranston’s schedule, building blueprints, account info…anything you can get. I’ll handle the people. You handle the tech.”

You nod slowly. “And if this goes sideways?”

Melissa’s smile sharpens. “Then we improvise.”

You sigh. “Of course we do.”

Ava claps her hands. “Ooh, this is so exciting! Are we getting code names? I call Diamond Viper.”

“You’re not getting a code name,” you and Melissa say at the same time.

She grins like the cat who hacked the canary. “See? You’re already in sync. Y’all are so married.”

Melissa mutters something about regretting her choices.

You kind of regret nothing.

If your office conference table wasn’t currently covered in blueprints, surveillance photos, and sticky notes labeled “Ava DO NOT TOUCH,” you might mistake this for a teacher work session.

Except no teacher work session features this much crime.

Jacob stands at the front with a laser pointer like he’s leading a TED Talk. Barbara sits stiffly at the edge of the table with her arms crossed, lips pursed in a way that suggests she’s praying for all of your souls. Ava’s reclined in a chair spinning slowly in circles, nodding along to a beat only she can hear.

Melissa is next to you. Too close. She smells like smoke and gum, and every time her arm brushes yours, it short-circuits your brain.

You focus on the schematics spread across the table: a floor plan of the Franklin Institute’s ballroom, where the district gala will be held. You marked every camera, every entrance, every potential security checkpoint. You told yourself this job would be a nice distraction. Instead, it’s giving you whiplash.

Jacob points to a hallway on the printout. “This is where Cranston’s personal suite will be during the event. That room is our goldmine, rumor has it he keeps backups of his embezzlement files on an offline drive. Cash, too.”

“Backups,” you mutter. “That idiot probably thinks USBs are untraceable.”

“He’s not wrong,” Melissa murmurs, leaning in. “That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes flick to hers. “You always knew how to make crime sound like a compliment.”

She smirks. “I always knew how to make you say yes.”

Ava lets out a dramatic ooooh and spins faster.

Barbara shoots a look skyward.

You clear your throat and tap the screen of your tablet. “The room has a biometric lock, likely fingerprint or retina scan. I can spoof it, but I’ll need time on the inside. At least fifteen minutes.”

“I can stall,” Ava says, flipping her ponytail. “I’ve been practicing a fake faint. Someone just has to catch me dramatically and I’ll moan about the patriarchy until the paramedics come.”

Melissa looks at her like she’s considering it, which is concerning.

Barbara folds her arms tighter. “I am not condoning this.”

“Noted,” Melissa says without missing a beat. “And you’re still our contact for real-time radio comms?”

Barbara sighs, muttering something about “the Lord testing her” before nodding once.

Jacob glances around the table. “Wait. Who’s our backup if things go wrong?”

The room falls quiet.

Then Melissa says, “Gregory.”

You blink. “Gregory Eddie? The human clipboard?”

A voice from the door cuts in dryly, “I can hear you.”

Gregory steps in, dressed in black, holding a set of walkie-talkies. “I’m only here because Melissa said this was technically about helping the school.”

Melissa claps him on the shoulder. “You’re our runner. If things go sideways, you get the data and disappear.”

Gregory frowns. “What about the rest of you?”

“We improvise,” Ava says, winking.

Barbara mutters louder. “Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Later that night, you’re the last one in the office. The crew’s scattered, your tablet’s still glowing, and your coffee’s gone cold.

Melissa lingers in the doorway.

“You always stay late?” she asks.

You glance up. “Only when I’m helping a morally flexible elementary school teacher plan a heist.”

She smiles and walks in, slow, deliberate. “It’s good seeing you work again.”

You pause. “You mean ‘good seeing me be a criminal again.’”

“I mean,” she says, pulling out a chair across from you, “you’re the best at what you do. I never stopped thinking about that.”

There’s something heavy between you now. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s familiar. Like coming home and finding all the furniture the same, but knowing the locks were changed.

You say, quietly, “Why didn’t you call?”

Melissa doesn’t pretend not to know what you mean. Her gaze drops for the first time all night.

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor,” she says. “Thought you were better off.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I know.”

“I never stopped thinking about you either,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Melissa looks at you like you’ve just said something dangerous. “We’re gonna pull this off, you know.”

You nod. “I know.”

And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe it might not just be the job that changes everything, it might be her.

Melissa is yelling at Ava again.

Something about timing, choreography, and Ava nearly setting off a test alarm because she insisted on filming a TikTok mid-dry-run. Ava’s yelling back that “style is substance,” and that if she’s going to be the distraction, she’s gonna distract, preferably in five-inch heels.

Jacob’s somewhere in the corner hyperventilating into a reusable tote bag, while Barbara stands completely still, praying out loud like she’s Moses trying to part the idiocy in the room.

You, meanwhile, are about two seconds away from walking out.

“Enough!” you bark, and the room freezes. “If anyone touches the surveillance rig again before I finish calibrating it, I will throw this laptop out the window and call the FBI myself.”

Melissa turns to you. “Hey, breathe, alright? I’ve got it under control—”

“No, you don’t,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “You don’t have it under control, and you keep acting like this is just some righteous crusade, but it’s not. It’s a damn heist, Melissa. This isn’t just about some corrupt administrator. You’re trying to fix something you think you broke years ago.”

Ava makes an impressed oooooh noise and then wisely shuts up when you shoot her a look.

Melissa doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at you.

And it’s not angry. It’s not even surprised. It’s hurt.

“Everyone out,” she says softly.

Jacob scurries. Ava tries to sass but Barbara grabs her by the arm like a mom who’s had enough. The room clears. The door closes behind them.

You’re left in the silence, with Melissa standing across from you and five years of unsaid things vibrating between you like an electric current.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, voice low. “You think I don’t wake up every morning thinking about how I screwed it all up?”

You don’t answer.

“I told myself it was about the school. About the kids. But I knew bringing you back into this…” She trails off. “I knew it’d hurt. And I did it anyway.”

You sit down, the adrenaline fading just enough to leave you feeling hollow. “Why, Melissa? Why not just leave it alone?”

“Because I never stopped loving you,” she says, like it costs her something to admit it. “And because this is the only thing I know how to do…fix what I broke. Even if it’s too late.”

You blink hard. “You left. You walked away. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I was scared,” she says, and there’s no pride in it. “You wanted a future. Stability. Something clean. And I was still fighting ghosts. Still picking fights with shadows. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good.”

You look down at your hands. They’re shaking, just a little.

“You think this heist is going to erase that?” you ask, softer now.

“No,” she says. “But maybe it can be the start of making things right.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

And finally, finally, you whisper, “You still have a habit of making everything complicated.”

Her lips twitch. “Yeah, but you liked that about me.”

You don’t smile, but you don’t walk away either. You stand, take a step closer.

Her breath hitches.

“Just… don’t break my heart twice,” you say, quietly.

Melissa nods once. “I won’t. Not this time.”

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you both stop pretending the job is the only thing at stake.

You’ve never worn a dress this expensive.

Or this revealing.

Or this dangerous.

The silk clings like it knows all your secrets. One wrong step and your thigh holster will flash like a neon sign, and then it’s all over. But that’s not what has your hands shaking.

It’s her.

Melissa Schemmenti walks into the Franklin Institute gala like she owns the building, like it was built around her. She’s in a deep emerald suit that should be illegal, the jacket tailored so close it might as well be stitched to her spine. The red lipstick is new—braver than she used to be. But it’s the smirk that hits hardest.

She sees you. And for a moment, the whole room falls away.

“Jesus,” she mutters when she gets closer. “You look like sin in that dress.”

“Fitting,” you say with a faint smile. “We’re about to rob a man blind.”

She offers her arm. “Shall we?”

You take it. God help you, you take it.

Inside, the gala is a mess of bad lighting and expensive perfume. The kind of place where people say “philanthropy” but mean “money laundering.” Ava’s already working the crowd in a sparkling red jumpsuit, dragging attention like a magnet with legs. She’s halfway through a champagne flute and mid-laugh with the mayor.

Barbara is tucked into a quiet corner near the AV booth, earpiece in, muttering coordinates like a CIA agent moonlighting as a Sunday school teacher. Gregory’s posing as security, face like granite, hands on a clipboard. Jacob is, god bless him, crying in a supply closet out of sheer joy and nerves.

You’re all exactly where you need to be.

“Target approaching,” Barbara says over comms. “Cranston incoming. Three o’clock.”

Melissa squeezes your hand.

You shift.

And just like that, it begins.

You slip away while Ava starts her scene. You don’t even know what it is… there’s screaming, a fake proposal, possibly a flash mob. You’ll ask later. Right now you’re moving fast down a hallway, Melissa shadowing you in practiced silence.

The door to Cranston’s private suite clicks open with a code Jacob swiped from a security badge two weeks ago. Inside, it’s absurd marble, liquor, leather chairs no one’s meant to sit in.

The safe is real. And locked.

You’re halfway through cracking it when Melissa speaks.

“You were always the smartest person in the room.”

You blink at her. “Now’s not the time.”

“I know,” she says. “But if I wait until it is, I’ll never say it.”

Click. The safe opens.

Inside was hard drives. Envelopes thick with cash. A folder labeled Trust Fund Allocation – Revised.

You bag everything. Fast. Efficient.

But Melissa doesn’t move.

“You’re stalling,” you say, quiet.

She steps closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You freeze.

“Not because I’m trying to distract you,” she adds. “And not because it’s convenient. I want to kiss you because five years ago I was too much of a coward to do it when it mattered. And now we’re standing in the middle of a goddamn felony, and all I can think about is your mouth.”

You stare at her. She’s waiting.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the years.

Maybe it’s just her.

You drop the bag and kiss her. Hard.

Like the last five years never happened. Like the world doesn’t end in twenty minutes. Like you never stopped.

She kisses you back like she regrets everything.

It lasts maybe ten seconds. Maybe an eternity.

Then the comm crackles: “Guests are moving toward the east wing! You have sixty seconds!”

You break apart, breathless. Wide-eyed.

Melissa grins, all teeth. “We really need to do crime more often.”

You grab the bag. “Let’s get out of here before I commit a second felony. This time for assaulting your mouth in public.”

She laughs as you run.

And God, you hope she keeps laughing.

The gala is chaos.

Jacob’s voice is high-pitched over comms—“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”, and you can hear Ava shouting “Don’t touch me, I am the fire code violation!” from somewhere behind you. Gregory’s giving cool, clipped updates, but even he sounds tight.

You and Melissa are sprinting.

Your heels click against the marble as you race through the hallway, bag of stolen evidence clutched to your chest. You round a corner just in time to hear Melissa bark, “Left now!” and shove open a utility door.

It slams shut behind you, cutting off the roar of the crowd.

Inside, it’s dim. A narrow maintenance corridor. You’re both breathing hard, the kind of breath that drags heat through your lungs like fire.

“We’re not going to make it to the car,” Melissa says between gasps.

“No,” you agree. “But we can get to the archives exit. East side. Leads to the loading dock.”

“Then let’s move.”

You both start running again, only this time, you can feel it. Someone’s on your tail. Security. Maybe a camera caught too much. Maybe Jacob tripped an alarm. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But the danger is real and closing in.

You slide to a stop outside the archive room.

And that’s when everything goes sideways.

The door won’t budge.

“Locked,” you hiss. “Cranston must’ve had it sealed after his little embezzlement parties.”

Melissa pulls out a pin from her hair, of course she’s wearing one sharp enough to pick a lock, and gets to work.

You press your back to the wall, watching the hallway.

Boots.

Shouts.

“Melissa—”

“I got it.”

She does. The door clicks open, and you both dive inside, just as a flashlight beam sweeps past.

Inside, it’s dark. Rows of dusty boxes. Echoes of time.

You crouch low behind one, chest heaving, Melissa right next to you. The bag of evidence is wedged between your legs. Her hand brushes yours in the dark.

You grab it and don’t let go.

For a minute, there’s only your breathing. The adrenaline still in your throat. Your heart, beating out of rhythm.

“I thought this part would feel better,” you whisper. “Like a clean win.”

Melissa turns to you. You can’t see much, just the outline of her jaw in the faint emergency light.

“Doesn’t feel clean,” she agrees.

You look at her. Really look. “Why’d you really bring me in?”

She hesitates.

Then she says, “Because I wanted you to see that I wasn’t that woman anymore. That I could be better. Be worth the risk.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t need proof. I just needed you.”

She leans in. No drama. No tension. Just soft lips and a quiet kiss that feels like a truce.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours. “If we get out of this…”

“We will,” you say, firm.

“Then I’m going to ask you to stay. This time for real.”

You nod.

Outside, the guards’ voices fade.

Barbara’s voice crackles to life in your earpiece, “East exit’s clear. Go. Now.”

You and Melissa stand.

Still holding hands.

Still choosing each other.

Even now.

Three days after the gala, Cranston’s career goes up in flames.

It starts small, a headline buried beneath a city council squabble: “Anonymous Tip Alleges Embezzlement at Franklin Institute Fundraiser.”

Then the leak hits Facebook.

Then the drive hits the press.

Then the FBI shows up at his door.

By noon, he’s on administrative leave. By dinnertime, the news runs footage of him being escorted out of his luxury condo, blinking in the sunlight like a man who never thought he’d lose.

You, meanwhile, are sitting on Melissa’s couch with her legs across your lap, a glass of wine in your hand, and an entire soft pretzel from Wawa in hers.

“I can’t believe you made Jacob the anonymous source,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“Who’s gonna question that face?” Melissa shrugs. “He looks like a distressed Muppet. The feds loved him.”

“He’s going to frame his subpoena.”

“Let him. He earned it.”

You smile. You’re quiet for a beat.

And then you say, “You did it.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just leans back against the couch and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she admits.

“Like what?”

“Like… closure. I thought I’d want fireworks. A parade. Maybe a little public humiliation. But it’s not about him anymore.”

You look at her. She looks at you.

“It’s about you,” she says softly. “It always was.”

Your heart aches.

Not in the sharp, unbearable way it did five years ago when she left.

No, this ache is warm. Healing. The kind that comes from the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, this broken thing between you has finally been put back together.

“You could’ve called,” you say gently. “Years ago.”

“I didn’t know what I’d say.”

“And now?”

She turns, fully facing you. Her hand curls against your thigh. “Now I know I want to build something. Not just clean up messes. Not just run.”

You blink.

“Are you saying you’re ready for a future that doesn’t involve handcuffs and burner phones?”

She smirks. “I didn’t say I was going boring. Just… maybe a little more rooted. A little more honest.”

You set your wine down.

Then you lean in.

Then you kiss her slow and deep and certain, like the kind of kiss that says we’re not done, we’re just getting started.

She pulls back, eyes warm.

“You staying?” she asks, a little shy.

You nod. “I’m home.”

And for the first time in years, it’s true.

[teamchasezwrites]

Second Chance (2/3)

Word Count: 7,931

Characters: Damian Priest/Unnamed OC, (minor appearances from Rhea Ripley, Finn Balor, Dominik Mysterio, Seth Rollins, CM Punk, and Triple H)

Genre: Romance

Tags: Stars Align, Man Realizing He’s An Idiot, Regrets

Summary: some people are worth a second chance. (A Wrestlemania XL Night Two fic)

Part I here

Author’s Note: This is the night told from Damian’s POV. I did watch the BTS video from Gorilla, so any errors are my own.

A heavy case of nerves flowed through Damian’s system as the start of Wrestlemania XL grew closer. The vibe of the crowd already in their seats made its way into Gorilla where plenty of backstage talent and crew members were gathered.

Seth Rollins was there exchanging pre match whispers with his wife, Becky Lynch. The former already dressed in his over-the-top mummer-inspired outfit. It was outlandish but it fit the wrestler to a T.

His opponent, Drew McIntyre was there as well. Their match kicked off night two. Seth’s World Heavyweight Championship title up for grabs.

The purple Money In The Bank briefcase felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in his grasp. Aside from that World Heavyweight Title, the briefcase – securing him an opportunity at a title shot – was the most important object in the room.

He just needed the opportunity to cash in his title shot. Last night during Night One, an opportunity never arose. Roman Reigns never gave him an opening during his tag team match. Plus, he had The Rock next to him. He didn’t want to take the risk of anything going wrong.

Everything had to be perfect.

The venue – Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia – was perfect. The city was nearly next door to the city where he got his start in wrestling. A jump across the Walt Whitman Bridge and a quick ride down 42 and he’d be in Atlantic City.

When he arrived at the stadium earlier in the day, he took a moment to walk out on the ramp and stare. Very few other people moved around save for a few crew members double checking wires and camera views. A handful of stadium workers walking through the seats double checking. The feeling of being alone in such a vast space was nearly overwhelming. He felt incredibly small in the grand structure.

Closing his eyes Damian imagined the stadium packed from the field to the very last row at the top of the stadium. The noise of the crowd could almost vibrate the ground beneath his feet. He’d been in that stadium once before with it rocking enough to feel the earth move.

When he’d opened his eyes it wasn’t the ring in the middle of the field he saw but the unblemished green grass with the Eagles logo on the 50 yard line. Unable to stop, his eyes centered himself in the stadium, gathering his bearings and navigated to the section of seats to his right and up to the top where once upon he was there in section 244 seat 26.

Even now, nine years later he could feel those cold temps of the late Sunday night in December. He could hear the cheers of the crowd and the slamming of shoulder pads together. See the white smoke from fireworks popping off from the wing-like canopies at the top of the stadium covering his seat after yet another Philadelphia touchdown. Could feel the soft lips against his in a celebratory kiss. There had been plenty of those that night.

“Yo. Priest you okay?”

Damian shook away the sparkling blue eyes chanting out the spelling of Eagles pumping an arm in the air with each letter to see his teammate and best friend, Rhea Ripley in front of him.

“Nerves man,” Damian stated in a half truth. It was better than explaining how his thoughts got away from him on the absolute most important day of his wrestling career.

“You got this,” Rhea told him firmly, slapping her hands on his shoulders.

“I really can’t believe this is happening….” Inside he was vibrating and it took everything he had to appear calm on the outside.

“You deserve this.”

He pulled her into a hug by a hand on the back of her head. She became his person from nearly the moment they met in NXT. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. They were the best of friends.

The show kicked off with Stephanie McMahon and then Drew McIntyre’s music played over the stadium’s system. As Seth made his way to the ring, he pulled the black hoodie he wore over his ring gear over his head. There were plenty of monitors in Gorilla to watch the match, but he couldn’t bring himself to look.

His friends – The Judgement Day faction made up of Rhea, Finn Balor, Dominic Mysterio, and JD McDonagh – were there with him in support. His friends allowed him the opportunity to talk if he needed. They also allowed him to sit in silence. He also had his brothers and father. Even with all the back up, it did little to settle the nerves. He stretched. He meditated bent over at the waist with his hands in his knees and eyes staring at the briefcase on the floor between his legs.

So many changes occurred in the months and days leading up to Wrestlemania, he wasn’t sure another change wasn’t coming. He didn’t know the proper word that would describe the devastation if Creative pulled an audible. This was his moment.

The perfect time.

Sometime later he was standing in the middle of Gorilla with his arms spread out while a crew member worked baby oil over his arms and shoulders. The oil served a couple of purposes. It made it harder for opponents to grip. It also allowed some moves to go off better with the extra fluidity the oil provided. Mainly, it was an aesthetic for visual appearance allowing muscles to pop and appear more defined under the lights.

Then it was time. The crowd roared as Drew’s music hit declaring him the winner and Seth was ducking through the curtain.

Damian turned his head to met Seth coming back at the same time the wrestler was slapping his chest. He reached out with one armed and hugged the worn out wrestler.

“I told you it was all gonna be worth it, baby,” Seth breathed heavily. His body worn out and tingling with pain mostly centered on his knee. He knew there was another surgery in his future but his night wasn’t over yet. “The biggest moment of your life,” he told Damian, slapping his hands on his upper arms. “I am so happy for you,” he gripped Damian’s chin with a hand giving it a small shake. “Enjoy.”

Damian nodded at him as the small smattering of people clapped for the veteran wrestler. He may be older than Seth, but Seth had years in the business on him. Years of being a big name, the top draw. He had mad respect for him.

He blew out a breath and danced on his feet. The briefcase in his right hand. Hands poised in either side of the curtain. A ref – his friend, Eddie – hovering behind him, ready to make that run to the ring with him.

Then it was time.

His music hit and everything else fell away. He was in the zone.

He sprinted down the ramp with the briefcase in hand. The crowd a complete blur. They could be screaming their heads off or sitting in the seats quiet like they were in church. He didn’t know. He circled the ring and lifted the briefcase, ramming it into Drew’s head, knocking the new champion off his feet. The briefcase flew from his hands on impact nearly flying into the stands.

Grabbing it quickly, he shoved the briefcase into Eddie’s hands. “I’m cashing in!” He yelled. “Right now!” He gave a little shove as he let go of the briefcase, barely waiting for Eddie to make his way to the timekeeper’s box before turning his attention back to Drew. Drew still laid on the ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw CM Punk standing on the announce table, a smirk on his face watching the events take place.

He could hear the announcer Michael Cole’s “Priest is cashing right now!” from the announce table.

Picking up Drew from ringside, he tossed him into the ring before climbing in after. He rolled in after the man as Eddie called for the bell.

The bell rang and he wrapped his fingers around Drew’s neck in a choke hold. He placed his other hand on Drew’s lower back and lifted the man high in the air, slamming him down into the mat. Drew bounced in the mat and Damian quickly fell over the man. He wrapped an arm under his leg and rolled his body back. He was laying on Drew’s shoulders, adding his entire weight on the man.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eddie’s hand slapped the mat in quick succession. It could have been hours. Or minutes. That final slap happened and Damian’s ears popped and cleared. The stadium went crazy. He popped off Drew on his knees and threw his arms back in a roar of victory.

His music started playing and he jumped up pumping his arms together before he flexed his arms out to either side, tossing them back as he released another roar. As he lifted his head back up, the dreads slapped him in the face.

“And here is your winner…”

He stalked the ring in a half circle before Eddie was there to present him the title – his title. Damian nearly snatched it out of his hands.

“And NEEEEEEW world heavyweight champion…”

He raised his hands high above his head in victory. The title clutched tightly in the grip of his right hand. Eddie’s hard grip on his wrist holding it up.

“Daamienn Preeeist!"

He released another guttural roar as the fans went wild all around him. Once again he could feel the vibrations beneath his feet as the crowd gave him the loudest reaction of his career.

He climbed through the ropes and jumped down to the ground. His eyes followed the ramp up to the top where he saw Rhea, Finn, Dom, and JD gathered waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to celebrate with them.

Emotions started to swirl in him as he stalked up the ramp toward his friends. After all the years he spent fighting and trying to make it in this business. The sacrifices he made. The people he lost along the way…

“Damian I love you!”

It’s a scream he’s heard a thousand times. Damian wasn’t sure what made him look to his right. He planned on smiling at the woman, maybe sending her a wink and keep moving up the ramp. That all fell away when his eyes met the woman. Shock took over elation and his steps faltered.

She smiled at him and he was taken back to that night in 2013 high above the field when she jumped into his arms jostling the people in the row in front of them who were too excited (and maybe too drunk) to care.

Damian knew he needed to make his way up the ramp and into the Gorilla so the show could go on, but he moved in her direction without thought. The pull was too much. It’s been too long.

He stood in front of her, breathing heavily from everything that’s happened in the last five minutes.

Was it even five minutes from the time he tore through the curtain and now? He didn’t know.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. People all around her vied for his attention. He felt their touches on his arms and the tickling touches on his sides from people just close enough to make contact. The noise of the crowd faded around him. It felt like he was underwater with the muted noise. People blurred as he stared into her eyes.

“Luis…”

Damian’s breath caught at the whisper of his real name. How he heard it over the crowd, he didn’t know. It just proved he was locked in on her. His feet moved on their own accord and before he knew it she was wrapped up tight in his arms. A feeling of home washed over him. He damned the coat she wore as he pressed his hands into her back. He was probably hurting her as the championship belt was digging into her back, but he couldn’t let the belt go or her. Her hands pressed against his back. His skin on fire where she touched and he wished the contact was skin on skin. He damned the barricade between them that kept them separated from the waist down.

Her body shuddered in his arms and leaned into him. He happily accepted her weight. “Fuck…” he uttered, tightening his hold. Time was of the essence and the window for him to keep standing in her arms rapidly closing.

“I gotta go…” he whispered directly into her ear after ducking his head down and adjusting his arms in an attempt to hide his face from prying eyes and cell phone cameras and online lip readers. His words caused her arms to tighten and her hands to press harder into him.

He wanted to keep her with him forever. He wanted to lift her in his arms and carry her with him to the back. “Please stay,” he pleaded, not sure what he meant. What could he do going forward? “I’ll…” He’ll what? What could he do? He was about to enter pure chaos when he reached Gorilla. There were interviews, photoshoots, press conferences… he dad was back there. His brothers… “Just don’t go.” He settled with, hoping she’ll agree to stay for the rest of the show to give him time to think about his next move. He wasn’t letting her go.

When she nodded her head, he squeezed her in his arms one last time. He slowly pulled away and their eyes met again. Emotions swirled in hers. Sure they did in his too.

The noise of the crowd threatened the bubble they were in. He cupped her face with his hands. The title still clutched in his right hand, he had to settle for his knuckles touching the soft skin of her cheek. Without thought to who was watching, what cell phone was on him, or even what WWE camera had him in view, he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was quick – much quicker than he would have liked – but stole his breath nonetheless. As he lifted his head, he ran his thumb over her cheek in a soft caress before he forced himself to leave her.

Luis was pushed to the side and Damian appeared once he caught sight of his friends still gathered at the top of the ramp. Reaching the top, he held his arms wide motioning them to come to him. Finn reached him first wrapping his arms around him from the right. Dom from the left. JD met him from the front jumping into the pile before Rhea joined at last.

They jumped up and down in excitement. Hands slapped backs and arms squeezed necks.

“Raise the title up, mate!”

Damian took Finn’s advice and turned around on top of the stage. With his music still playing, he gripped the title in both hands and held it high in the air. He’s friends gathered on either side of him with their arms raised. A cameraman stood in front of him capturing the moment that would live forever.

In Gorilla he was met with applause. Adam Pearce was the first to meet him with a slap to his back. Damian stood there with a huge grin on his face, taking it all on. Arms wrapped around him from behind from JD. He tapped his chest, his heart working double time. Rhea was right there and he drew her to him with his free arm wrapped over her shoulders. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a squeezing hug.

“You’re the fucking champion,” she declared in his ear, her voice wavering as she fought to hold her tears back.

Damian laughed. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Rips.”

“Bullshit,” Rhea spat as they rocked back and forth. “And don’t think I won’t be asking what you were doing with that fan…”

He released her with another laugh and felt his face heat. “You saw that?”

“We all saw that,” Finn was next to draw him into a hug. “Love you man.”

Finn knew every emotion he was feeling and going through having won the Universal Title for Raw back in 2016 when Damian was still taking his licks in the independent circuit. Finn had to relinquish the title the next day because of injury and has been trying to claw his way back to the top title scene ever since. Even though Damian currently held the top title on Raw, he hoped his friend got there.

Damian was then met with Triple H. “Thank you,” he told the man, his voice thick with emotion. It was Paul who gave him this opportunity. Without Paul, he would still be an unknown name stuck down in NXT or even worse.

“You earned this.” Paul said into his ear with accompanying back slaps. “You have worked hard and deserve every moment of this. Just let me know if you plan on making out with a fan every time.”

Damian gave a surprised bark of laughter as the hug broke. “Not a fan.”

His eyes must have given something away, for Paul smiled at him before slapping his shoulder one more time. “Congratulations.”

“Now you don’t gotta carry that stupid briefcase around anymore.”

Damian turned and met CM Punk coming to him. “Hey man,” he laughed. He didn’t say it, but he was probably going to miss that thing. It had been a staple at his side since he won it back in July. Then again, the thing was an embarrassing accessory at times especially when he was going through the airport.

There were so many people congratulating and hugging him. He took it all in. He spent the the longest time in the arms of his father, who hugged him tight as he told him how proud he was. His own eyes welled with tears hearing his father’s voice waver with emotion.

Before he knew it an hour passed by and he was starting to take photos. By himself with the championship title. With Triple H. With Rhea.

“Why do you keep fucking with your leg?”

Damian removed his hand from the inside of his thigh in a quick manner like he’d been caught red handed. “Man, I put on my gear earlier and it ripped right in the seam.” He cocked his knee and reached down showing her where the seam came apart in the middle of his thigh. “I have black tights on under to hide it.”

“You dumbass.” Rhea laughed. “Why didn’t you just go back to wardrobe and have them sew it?” She wrapped her arm around his back while he did the same. They each held their belts up with their free hand.

“I just wanted to be left alone. Everyone I passed in the halls kept asking if I was gonna cash in. I couldn’t get away from it.”

Rhea understood. They all tried to give Damian his space in the hours leading up to the start of Wrestlemania. They didn’t bombard him with questions. They let him have his peace. They talked if he wanted to. Most importantly they were just there for him.

“You gonna tell me what that little scene was after you won?”

Damian knew the questions were coming, especially from Rhea. He wasn’t someone who got embarrassed easily but he felt his face heat. He looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet.

“Come on,” Rhea needled him. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone? You don’t have to keep that from me.” Lord knows it would be nice to be on the advice giving side of relationships after she pestered Damian so much during the early stages of her own relationship with Matt.

“I’m not. Come on. I would tell you.”

“You just randomly pick a fan out of the stands and kiss her?”

Damian shook his head. “Remember when you weren’t sure if you wanted to take a chance on Matt?”

Rhea nodded. She was a mess back then probably still is in some cases. Trying to torpedo her own fledging relationship before it could even start due to her own anxiety and insecurities. “Yeah, you told me a story about…” she broke off and her eyes widened. “That’s her?”

Damian shook his head in affirmation. “Yeah.”

“No shit,” Rhea said in disbelief. During a late night where she once again brought up her fledging relationship with Matt, seeking Damian’s advice. Their relationship was more of a sexual nature, not for lack of trying on Matt’s part. It was Rhea who kept herself at a distance because there were so many issues that could crop up dating a fellow wrestler. A messy break up with a co-worker. Locker room talk. One of them being let go… there were so many reasons that entered her mine. Some sound, most relied on planets aligning, some made up in her head.

‘Why are you taking all this on your shoulders? Matt has a say in all this too.’ Then Damian opened up about an old relationship where the issues were different, the result was the same. He carried it all on his shoulders and didn’t allow the woman to have a say. He made the decision on his own to walk away.

‘It’s one of the biggest regrets that I have.’

“Did you know she was gonna be here?”

Damian shook his head again. “No idea.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What can I do?” Damian looked at his friend. “I’m stuck here for who knows how long. I asked her to stay, but again… when can I actually get to her?”

“You once gave me great advice on my own relationship when I wouldn’t get out of my own way.” Rhea moved closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s here for a reason, Dame...”

“To watch Wrestlemania…”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “It’s an absolute shock you were able to give me advice with Matt when you truly are an absolute idiot…”

“Hey…” Damian was offended.

“That woman is not here to watch Wrestlemania you idiot. She’s here to see you!”

“I mean…maybe?”

Rhea growled in frustration. She spun away from her friend, walking toward a table where a couple of backstage crew members were gathered. “Anyone have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Yeah, here.” One of the women reached inside a brown leather bound portfolio. She tore off a piece of paper along the perforated edge.

It was a smaller than the legal pad Rhea saw inside the binder but it would serve its purpose. She grabbed a pen from the scattering of BIC pens on the table. Walking back to Damian, she handed him the objects.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Write her a note. Give her your phone number.” Rhea found it hard to believe Damian could be this dense. She found it harder to believe she acted this way when Damian was trying to steer her toward the path she wanted to take but was too scared. “If she calls you or messages, then you know she wasn’t just here to watch.”

Damian saw the merit in Rhea’s idea. He couldn’t get away from his backstage obligations. There was no way to truly estimate a time he would be free. She couldn’t wait in the stands forever. A note could be given to her explaining.

He moved away to get some privacy. He held the paper to the wall with one hand before writing just a short line and his phone number. Why he didn’t think of doing this before, he had no idea. His brain was firing on too many circuits with not only winning the championship but seeing her again after all this time.

Without hesitating, he ended the note with an L.

‘Luis…’

He could still hear his whispered name from her lips.

Maybe Rhea was right and she was here to see him.

“Hey,” Rhea pulled a young crew member over to them. “Did you see the woman in the crowd with Damian?”

The crew member chuckled. “We all did.”

“You remember where she was sitting and what she looks like?” Damian folded the note in half, creasing it with his fingers. When the crew member nodded he handed off the paper. “Please give this to her?”

The crew member was gone with a nod.

Later, while he was sitting behind the microphone for his time-slot at the Wrestlemania press conference, changed from his ring gear into a custom suit, his phone vibrated against his thigh. With an ear listening to the question about his title being the ‘workhorse title’, a phrase coined by Seth Rollins, he slipped his phone from his pocket.

‘I’ll be there.’

Those words made him want to throw his hands out to his sides with his fists clenched, throw his head back and roar to the sky like he did in the ring after winning the championship. He settled for a wide grin and turned his attention back to the reporters.

Next Chapter

[lovemyage-blog]

This Is Not a Drill: Trump’s Day-One Order Sets the Stage for Martial Law

By Tony Pentimalli

On January 20, 2025, while the press focused on the optics of Donald Trump’s indoor inauguration, something far more dangerous was set in motion—off-camera, away from ceremony, and beneath the radar of a public lulled by spectacle.

Trump signed an executive order declaring a national emergency at the southern border. But the most alarming part? It gave the Department of Defense and the Department of Homeland Security just 90 days to deliver a joint report on whether he should invoke the Insurrection Act.

That deadline is April 20.

This wasn’t about immigration. It was about power.

The Insurrection Act, passed in 1807, gives the president the authority to deploy the U.S. military on American soil. That means troops in our cities. That means bypassing governors. That means suspending protest rights. That means the death of democratic dissent—under the false pretense of restoring “order.”

And Trump’s not hiding it. He’s preparing it.

We’ve seen this before. In June 2020, after the murder of George Floyd, millions of Americans rose up in protest. Trump didn’t respond with compassion—he called for “domination.” When the military hesitated to invoke the Insurrection Act, Trump sent federal forces to violently clear peaceful protesters from Lafayette Square so he could wave a Bible in front of a church. Not an ounce of remorse followed. He was angry the generals didn’t go far enough.

This time, he’s made sure they won’t hesitate.

Since returning to power, Trump has purged the Pentagon of independent thinkers. In their place? Loyalists. Pete Hegseth is now Secretary of Defense. Tulsi Gabbard runs intelligence. And J.D. Vance—Vice President—is openly on board with using military force against Americans on American soil.

Then, on March 19, those three—Vance, Gabbard, and Hegseth—staged a photo op at the southern border. Not a routine visit. Not a strategy session. A performance.

Think about it. Why would the Vice President, the head of military intelligence, and the Defense Secretary all need to go to the border together? Why make a media spectacle of it?

Because it wasn’t about the border. It was about the optics. It was about laying the emotional groundwork for invoking the Insurrection Act. They were building the narrative. “We had to act.” “We had no choice.” “The crisis was too big.”

And what comes next?

It’s June 2025. Trump goes on national TV and declares that Democratic cities are under siege by “radicals” and “illegals.” He signs the Insurrection Act order. Troops hit the streets of Atlanta, Chicago, Philadelphia. Protesters are arrested under “emergency provisions.” Journalists are detained. Social media accounts vanish. Immigrants are swept into detention centers. The press is told to stand down. The public is told to shut up.

And it’s all legal.

Some of you might think, “He’s bluffing. The military won’t go along. The courts will stop him.”

Really?

Were they bluffing when federal agents brutalized peaceful protesters in Lafayette Square?

Did the military refuse? No. The National Guard was deployed. Many in uniform carried out the order. It was only later that a few expressed regret—after the damage was done.

Did the courts stop January 6? No. They prosecuted rioters after the fact, but the attack happened. Congress fled. Democracy was nearly strangled live on TV.

Did they stop the family separation policy? No. Thousands of children were taken from their parents before courts intervened—long after the trauma was inflicted.

Did they stop the Muslim ban? No. The Supreme Court upheld it. Entire families were stranded or banned simply because of where they came from.

Did they stop ICE raids or CBP abuses? Rarely. A handful of rulings. A few headlines. But the system kept grinding, unchecked and cruel.

So if you’re waiting for “the system” to save us, you’re waiting for something that has already failed.

The April 20 report is coming. If it recommends using the Insurrection Act—and let’s be honest, it will—Trump will frame it as a reluctant but necessary move. He’ll say he tried everything else. He’ll claim it’s about protecting America.

But what he’s really protecting is his own authority.

This is how authoritarianism arrives: not with tanks, but with legal memos, press events, and a scared public hoping someone else will stop it.

So what do we do?

We speak now. Loudly. Forcefully.

Call your representatives and demand they investigate Trump’s January 20 order.

Push the media to report on the Insurrection Act report before it’s too late.

Demand public statements from military and intelligence leaders—now, not after.

Organize. Educate. Resist.

If you’ve never joined a protest before, this is the moment.

If you’ve never spoken up politically, this is the time.

If you’ve never thought it could happen here—it already is.

The threat isn’t coming.

It’s here.

And silence is exactly what Trump is counting on.

*Tony Pentimalli is a political analyst and commentator fighting for democracy, economic justice, and social equity. Follow him for sharp analysis and hard-hitting critiques.*

[taylor-on-your-dash]

12-year-old performs at 76ers game

Taylor Swift of Wyomissing Hills was invited to sing the national anthem.

By Jeremy Carroll

Taylor A. Swift, 12, of Wyomissing Hills, thought her 10-year-old brother, Austin K., might have been playing an April Fool's Day joke on her when he told her the Philadelphia 76ers invited her to sing the national anthem at an upcoming home basketball game.

But Austin was telling the truth, relaying the information from their father, Scott K., who phoned with the thrilling day-after-Easter news.

"My mom and I were just jumping up and down we were so excited," said Taylor, who sang the anthem just before tip-off of the Sixers game against the Detroit Pistons on April 5.

"I just really love doing that sort of thing," she said. "It is an adrenaline rush for me."

Swift, a sixth-grader at West Reading Elementary Center, sang the national anthem at a Reading Phillies game several years ago.

Last month she did another rendition at a basketball game at Wyomissing High School in which the Harlem Wizards played against the Wyomissing Heroes, made up of school faculty and other members of the community.

It was her performance at the Wizards' game that gave her the chance to sing at a much larger venue, Philadelphia's First Union Center, where 20,754 fans came to see the Sixers and Pistons play.

Scott Swift sent in a video of his daughter singing the anthem to the 76ers, hoping the team would recognize her talent.

Sixers manager of game operations Kathy Drysdale, who said she gets hundreds of videotapes from perform ers interested in singing the anthem at one of the team's exhibition games or 41 regular season home games, sat up and took notice of Swift.

"She has this fantastic voice that catches everyone's attention," Drysdale said. "Her voice is so strong and powerful at 12 years old. You look at her and think, 'Did that come out of her mouth?"

Swift left for Philadelphia right after school on April 5 with her parents, brother and a friend of her brother. They encountered lots of traffic and wound up making it to the arena just in time for her sound check at 5. Shortly after their arrival, team officials presented Taylor, Austin and Austin's friend with duffel bags full of 76ers merchandise, including basketballs, jerseys and hats. Taylor also received a jersey signed by some of the Sixers players.

After getting ready in a private dressing room, Swift was escorted by a security guard onto the court, which was adorned with a red carpet.

Her mother, Andrea F., admitted she was very nervous leading up to the anthem.

"They had a number of cameras all focused right around her and she was up on the big screen," Andrea said. "It's very, very scary as a mom to see your child out there."

Taylor was much more relaxed about the whole thing, experiencing few butterflies even as the lights were dimmed just moments before her performance.

"I was just practicing the first note over and over in my head," she said. Swift, who sang the final words of the anthem in the midst of deafening cheers from the crowd, said the whole experience was a big thrill. "All of these NBA players and all of these other people were looking at me," she said. "It was really a wonderful feeling."

Swift has been performing practically all of her life in local theater productions.

Next Friday and Saturday she will perform in Wyomissing High School's production of "The Sound of Music." Swift, whose maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, Wyomissing Park, is a retired opera singer, has been pursuing a country music singing career. The aspiring singing star, who also plays electric guitar, performed with the Pat Garrett Band at last year's Bloomsburg Fair and has cut a country CD.

Late last month the Swifts traveled to Nashville, where they distributed the CD to record companies in the hope of landing a recording deal. When she is not busy performing. Swift enjoys spending time with her friends.

Conduct date: April 5, 2002

Release date: April 19, 2002

[sisisfinaleproject]

Hii ik my blog is a tcc/girlblog

and this isn't really true crime but i wanted to talk about my opinion and thoughts on all the recent I.C.E incidents.

- - - -

body cameras

For one I.C.E. doesn't use body cameras or badges which is starting to inspire other police departments around the states to stop using body cameras aswell.

This isn't helping anyone at the end of the day because body cameras have helped police in many situations countless amounts of times.

From the smallest mix up, to being blamed for a serious crime that they had not committed.

It is stupid truly to get rid of identification and video evidence.

Isn't it also a crime? I mean if they body cameras don't exist then its not distruction of evidence but in theory it's distruction of evidence which is a crime.

- - - - -

Ice in New England

As a New england citizen, I don't really know how to feel about the peoples reactions and ways to deal with ICE.

I.C.E was spotted in Massachusetts, and there where no protest really that I had seen about it. ( i could be wrong)

Mainly it was photos and videos spread on to the internet, about ICE in mass.

Yes it is good to get the word out there and provide an alert for people, but I also wish there were protest happening at hand to try and slow ICE down and or prevent them as much as we humanly can.

and you might be sitting here reading this thinking, well all you are doing is posting online about the situation , I would more than GLADLY be a part of any and every peaceful and non peaceful protest in order to protect HUMAN RIGHTS.

because no matter if people are documented or not, different race or not, speak a different language or not. we are all humans, and everyone deserves to live a happy unbothered life in whats supposed to be a safe and secure country.

- - - - -

Ice in LA

Trump sent out the NATIONAL GAURD, to deal with PEACEFUL protest that was happening in LA.

I.C.E becoming more aggressive and the lack of identification and the national gaurd being sent out, riled iup the crowd which led to unpeaceful protesting that caused a riot, yet police departments along with S.W.A.T should be able to handle the citizens of LA.

I find the national gaurds presence very stupid and unlawfully deployed.

In photos and videos recordings of the national gaurd a lot of them are just standing around and looking because them being there wasnt a thing that needed to happen.

- - - - -

Ice heading to Philly

okay my whole opinion on ice trying to go to philadelphia is, are you fucking dumb?

the citizens of philadelphia rip up light posts, burn cars, and stand on trash trucks, WHEN THEY ARE HAPPY.

They had to grease the polls before the super bowl this year, so they wouldnt climb up the polls. AND THEY STILL CLIMBED THEM...

Philly is a huge community of people who just care about eachother no matter how "ghetto" or violent they are they fight for eachother, and if I.C.E tries to march their way into Philly things are going to get physical very fast.

A large population of Philly own guns, legalized ones and not.

Even if they don't use their second amendment rights, they will use other things, and their hands to protect their people and fight against ice.

In correlation to I.C.E in LA, ice was struggling to deal with the riots of LA nevermind whats in store for them in Philly.

- - - - -

Ice in florida

theres been many raids in fl recently and over the years i dont have to much info but based off a friends info thag may or may not be correct, if u participate in a raid im FL you can be killed and your remains will just be left there and they wont onform ur guardians or parents

- - - - -

Blue states

As we all know blue states are being more directly effected by ice than the red states.

Ice is being sent to more blue states them red. Theres no much to say about this topic because it is self explanatory.

All i can say is educate yourself on weather your state is a Blue or Red state, and if you have any ice sightings, report to a website, online, local governers who are in charge and want to help prevent ice.

- - - - -

Inform

there are many ways to help people and alert people about ice.

• posting on social platforms

• posting on ice alerting websites

• going to a city offical that is activity trying to prevent ice

Here is a link to a website that helps alert people about ice when ice is spotted, you can also post your own alerts but dont be stupid, this is serious.

[trooper1023]

This Is Not a Drill: Trump’s Day-One Order Sets the Stage for Martial Law

By Tony Pentimalli

On January 20, 2025, while the press focused on the optics of Donald Trump’s indoor inauguration, something far more dangerous was set in motion—off-camera, away from ceremony, and beneath the radar of a public lulled by spectacle.

Trump signed an executive order declaring a national emergency at the southern border. But the most alarming part? It gave the Department of Defense and the Department of Homeland Security just 90 days to deliver a joint report on whether he should invoke the Insurrection Act.

That deadline is April 20.

This wasn’t about immigration. It was about power.

The Insurrection Act, passed in 1807, gives the president the authority to deploy the U.S. military on American soil. That means troops in our cities. That means bypassing governors. That means suspending protest rights. That means the death of democratic dissent—under the false pretense of restoring “order.”

And Trump’s not hiding it. He’s preparing it.

We’ve seen this before. In June 2020, after the murder of George Floyd, millions of Americans rose up in protest. Trump didn’t respond with compassion—he called for “domination.” When the military hesitated to invoke the Insurrection Act, Trump sent federal forces to violently clear peaceful protesters from Lafayette Square so he could wave a Bible in front of a church. Not an ounce of remorse followed. He was angry the generals didn’t go far enough.

This time, he’s made sure they won’t hesitate.

Since returning to power, Trump has purged the Pentagon of independent thinkers. In their place? Loyalists. Pete Hegseth is now Secretary of Defense. Tulsi Gabbard runs intelligence. And J.D. Vance—Vice President—is openly on board with using military force against Americans on American soil.

Then, on March 19, those three—Vance, Gabbard, and Hegseth—staged a photo op at the southern border. Not a routine visit. Not a strategy session. A performance.

Think about it. Why would the Vice President, the head of military intelligence, and the Defense Secretary all need to go to the border together? Why make a media spectacle of it?

Because it wasn’t about the border. It was about the optics. It was about laying the emotional groundwork for invoking the Insurrection Act. They were building the narrative. “We had to act.” “We had no choice.” “The crisis was too big.”

And what comes next?

It’s June 2025. Trump goes on national TV and declares that Democratic cities are under siege by “radicals” and “illegals.” He signs the Insurrection Act order. Troops hit the streets of Atlanta, Chicago, Philadelphia. Protesters are arrested under “emergency provisions.” Journalists are detained. Social media accounts vanish. Immigrants are swept into detention centers. The press is told to stand down. The public is told to shut up.

And it’s all legal.

Some of you might think, “He’s bluffing. The military won’t go along. The courts will stop him.”

Really?

Were they bluffing when federal agents brutalized peaceful protesters in Lafayette Square?

Did the military refuse? No. The National Guard was deployed. Many in uniform carried out the order. It was only later that a few expressed regret—after the damage was done.

Did the courts stop January 6? No. They prosecuted rioters after the fact, but the attack happened. Congress fled. Democracy was nearly strangled live on TV.

Did they stop the family separation policy? No. Thousands of children were taken from their parents before courts intervened—long after the trauma was inflicted.

Did they stop the Muslim ban? No. The Supreme Court upheld it. Entire families were stranded or banned simply because of where they came from.

Did they stop ICE raids or CBP abuses? Rarely. A handful of rulings. A few headlines. But the system kept grinding, unchecked and cruel.

So if you’re waiting for “the system” to save us, you’re waiting for something that has already failed.

The April 20 report is coming. If it recommends using the Insurrection Act—and let’s be honest, it will—Trump will frame it as a reluctant but necessary move. He’ll say he tried everything else. He’ll claim it’s about protecting America.

But what he’s really protecting is his own authority.

This is how authoritarianism arrives: not with tanks, but with legal memos, press events, and a scared public hoping someone else will stop it.

So what do we do?

We speak now. Loudly. Forcefully.

Call your representatives and demand they investigate Trump’s January 20 order.

Push the media to report on the Insurrection Act report before it’s too late.

Demand public statements from military and intelligence leaders—now, not after.

Organize. Educate. Resist.

If you’ve never joined a protest before, this is the moment.

If you’ve never spoken up politically, this is the time.

If you’ve never thought it could happen here—it already is.

The threat isn’t coming.

It’s here.

And silence is exactly what Trump is counting on.

*Tony Pentimalli is a political analyst and commentator fighting for democracy, economic justice, and social equity. Follow him for sharp analysis and hard-hitting critiques.*

[inepta-anserina]

tv recap: i watched an episode of the x-files today about the jersey devil. the episode opened with a scene from 1947, where a man got a flat tire while driving near atlantic city with his family. while changing his tire, he gets pulled into the woods by some unknown force. back in the present, scully tells mulder about a body of a homeless man that was found in the same woods with its arm eaten off. mulder reveals that there are multiple x-files from the area where bodies were found in the same condition. they make the drive to atlantic city. they are in the process of getting a case update from the medical examiner, when the chief investigator on the case tells them to leave town. scully must return to washington dc, but mulder decides to stay behind and do a little more investigating. first he talks to a park ranger, who has had many strange encounters with some sort of man-beast. mulder returns to town and speaks with the homeless population. a man shows him a hand-drawn picture of a crude wild man and tells him that he and others have seen the beast in the very spot he is in. mulder gives the man his room key and stay in the spot until nightfall. during the night, he encounters the jersey devil but isn't quick enough to follow its agile movements. the local police pick him up and put him in jail, assuming he is a vagrant, and the detective gives him another warning. scully went back to dc for her godson's birthday party, and she meets a divorced dad there. mulder calls her on monday to come get him out of the joint. on the way back to dc, they stop to speak with one of scully's old professors who says the likelihood of such a beast existing is slim, but not impossible. back at headquarters, mulder gets a call from the park ranger saying a decomposed body was found that resembled the jersey devil. mulder calls scully to advise her of this, and she leaves her date with the divorced man early. they return to atlantic city with the professor, but the body was not brought to the medical examiner. mulder has a realization while looking at another crude drawing of the jersey devil: it could have been a couple protecting their young. they stake out the abandoned warehouse where he last saw her, but the local police come too and try to stop them. mulder notices the beast and follows her into the woods with scully close behind. the beast almost evades all of them, but local law enforcement kill her before she can run away. the episode ends with a scene of the jersey devil's young hiding from some hikers.

i also watched a second episode today. it opened with a woman crying while packing up an office. we find out that it is the office of a company executive who recently committed suicide. another woman walks into the room to give the crying woman her paycheck. as she is leaving her room, a plaque moves on its own on the office desk. she takes it with her. next, while she is depositing her cheque, the woman is attacked by two men. they are found dead on a fire escape in the next scene. mulder and scully are called in by anonymous agents to examine the bodies of the dead men, who seem to have had their necks crushed without their skin being affected. since the agents won't give them any information, mulder covertly takes their fingerprints on his glasses. back at headquarters, they discover that the two men work for a terrorist organization. they also figure out that all these events are happening in philadelphia. they review the security camera footage from the atm the woman was using and find her identity. they go to her home, but she denies knowing either of the men. as they are leaving, mulder and scully's car malfunctions and crashes down the street. at the mechanic's shop, mulder discovers clues that the car could have been tampered with psychokinetically. meanwhile, the woman has put in her 2 weeks notice at the company, and another executive threatens her if any information gets out. from her goodbye party, she contacts mulder and scully and asks them to meet her at her house. once there, she is attacked by two more members of the terrorist group, but is saved by psychokinetic forces. mulder witnesses one of the grunts hanging in mid-air, as though he is being choked. they bring the woman to an interrogation room, where they meet the anonymous agents from before. the woman refuses to speak to them, but agrees to speak with scully when she suggests that the woman is being watched over by the ghost of the dead executive. mulder, scully, and the two other agents raid the company for evidence that they have been selling weapons parts to the terrorists. they find nothing at first, and the executive threatens the woman who is helping them. he is attacked by the ghost, but the woman asks him to stop and to point them towards evidence instead. he makes a letter opener fly into a wall, where mulder finds a disk hidden behind the wallpaper. the episode ends with mulder and scully telling the woman that the executive is being taken to trial for his activities with the terrorist group, and for the murder of the other executive. she then leaves philadelphia with a moving trailer.

[jackramsdalephotography]

Aerial photography and videography services Philadelphia

Aerial photography offers a unique perspective that emphasizes the depth, scaling, and complexity of the structure and landscape. Aerial photography provides bird's-eye views that allow for comprehensive visual documents of industrial locations, construction sites, and vast properties. This perspective is invaluable for architects, developers, and engineers who analyze location conditions, pursue project development, and present work with breathtaking clarity.

Ramsdale Photography has been a trusted name in high-quality aerial photography and videography services in Philadelphia providing exceptional services to AEC firms, engineers, construction teams, developers, and architects. Specializing in capturing breathtaking aerial perspectives, they showcase the scale, complexity, and grandeur of architectural and industrial environments in ways that ground-level photography simply cannot achieve.

Applications of Aerial Photography Services

The aerial imagery services cater to a wide range of industries such as -

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Architectural & Industrial Photography – It highlights the design, structure, and functionality of buildings, manufacturing plants, and construction projects.

Construction Progress Monitoring - Aerial imagery allows for detailed site assessments and project tracking.

Commercial Advertising - Businesses utilize our drone imagery for marketing campaigns, brochures, websites, and social media content.

Event Coverage - From corporate gatherings to large-scale outdoor events, our aerial photography captures the energy and scale of the occasion.

Why Choose Ramsdale Photography

Expertise and Excellence

Ramsdale Photography is known for safety, professionalism, and cutting-edge technology. As fully licensed FAA Part 107 sUAS (Small Unmanned Aircraft Systems) pilots, they adhere to the highest industry standards for drone operations. The pilots are experienced in manoeuvring advanced drones equipped with high-resolution cameras to capture crisp and detailed imagery.  Furthermore, we carry comprehensive commercial liability insurance, ensuring that all projects are executed with maximum security and regulatory compliance.

Dynamic Time-Lapse Videos for Project Documentation

Beyond still photography, Ramsdale Photography, a talented aerial photography and videography services Philadelphia offers dynamic time-lapse videos that document the transformation of construction sites, industrial facilities, and manufacturing processes over time. These visually engaging videos are ideal for marketing, presentations, and progress tracking, offering a powerful storytelling tool that conveys project evolution in an impactful manner.

Cutting-Edge Technology for High-Resolution Imagery

Equipped with the latest drone technology, it delivers crystal-clear, high-definition aerial visuals. Our drones feature stabilized camera systems, ensuring smooth, sharp images that enhance project presentations and marketing materials.

Transforming Perspectives and Elevating Projects

Aerial imagery is more than just photography. It’s a storytelling tool that adds depth, perspective, and impact. Whether it’s capturing an urban skyline, a construction site’s transformation, or an industrial facility’s operations, Ramsdale Photography turns ordinary scenes into extraordinary visual narratives.

[loricaricofe1]

Choosing the Right Wedding Photographer and Videographer for Your Big Day

Your wedding day is one of the most memorable moments of your life, and capturing every detail perfectly requires a skilled wedding photographer and videographer. At JKP Celebrations, we specialize in cinematic wedding films that beautifully tell your love story. Whether you’re searching for a wedding videographer Philadelphia couples trust or a wedding videography New York professional, knowing what to expect in terms of pricing, selection, and services is essential.

How Much Does a Wedding Videographer Cost in Philadelphia?

The cost of hiring a wedding videographer in Philadelphia varies based on experience, equipment, and package selection. Generally, professional wedding videography in Philadelphia ranges from $2,000 to $6,000. Basic packages typically include a highlight reel, while premium options offer full-day coverage, multi-camera setups, drone footage, and professionally edited films.

At JKP Celebrations, we provide flexible pricing to fit different budgets while ensuring top-tier quality. Our packages include 4K video coverage, professional audio recording, and aerial drone footage to create a breathtaking cinematic experience. Every couple deserves a stunning wedding film that captures their special day in vivid detail.

How Much Should a Videographer Charge for a Wedding?

The cost of wedding videography varies depending on factors such as the length of coverage, number of videographers, post-production work, and additional services like same-day edits or raw footage access. Industry-wide, wedding videography services in major cities like Philadelphia and New York range from $1,500 for a simple package to over $7,000 for premium services.

At JKP Celebrations, we tailor our packages to match your vision and budget:

Spotlight Videography Package – Starting at $2,500, includes 4K coverage, two cinematographers, and a professional highlight video.

Cinematic Videography Package – Priced at $3,500, offering an extended, more detailed wedding film.

Investing in high-quality wedding videography ensures that every emotional moment, from your vows to your first dance, is captured beautifully.

How to Find the Right Videographer for Your Wedding

Finding the right wedding videographer can be overwhelming, but with the right approach, you can secure a professional who matches your style and expectations. Start by researching experienced wedding videography New York or Philadelphia professionals who specialize in cinematic storytelling. Look for sample wedding films, client testimonials, and reviews to assess their style and quality.

A great wedding videographer should have:

A diverse portfolio showcasing different wedding styles.

Experience with 4K video, professional audio recording, and drone footage.

A storytelling approach that aligns with your vision.

Flexible packages to accommodate different budgets.

A reputation for professionalism and seamless execution.

At JKP Celebrations, we build personal connections with our couples, ensuring we capture your unique love story in the best way possible. Our team collaborates with photographers, venue staff, and wedding planners to deliver a flawless and stress-free experience.

Why Choose JKP Celebrations?

Your wedding film should be more than just a recording—it should be a masterpiece that reflects your love story with emotion and artistry. With years of experience in wedding videography New York and Philadelphia, we bring a cinematic touch to every wedding. Our skilled cinematographers and editors work meticulously to craft wedding films that transport you back to the joy and excitement of your special day.

Choosing the right wedding photographer and videographer is one of the most important decisions in wedding planning. Whether you're in Philadelphia, New York, or beyond, JKP Celebrations is here to provide a wedding film that you’ll treasure for a lifetime. Let us capture the moments that matter most with elegance, creativity, and expertise.

[therepublicreport]

Before the string of athlete robberies, there was the burglary at Gronk’s house

Anthony Almeida exited his Dodge Ram just after 8 p.m. on Feb. 4, 2018, Super Bowl Sunday, around the time the Philadelphia Eagles took a 10-point lead over the New England Patriots into halftime. Security cameras recording at the Stop and Shop grocery store in Foxboro, Mass., captured Almeida picking out several items. He paid with cash but entered his phone number into a credit card terminal to…

[yourgoldennotebook]

Taylor A. Swift, 12, of Wyomissing Hills thought her 10-year-old brother, Austin K., might have been playing an April Fool's Day joke on her when he told her the Philidelphia 76ers invited her to sing the national anthem at an upcoming home basketball game.

But Austin was telling the truth, relaying the information from their father, Scott K., who phoned with the thrilling day-after-Easter news.

"My mom and I were just jumping up and down we were so excited," said Taylor, who sang the anthem just before tip-off of the Sixers game against the Detroit Pistons on April 5.

"I just really love doing that sort of thing," she said. "It is an adrenaline rush for me."

Swift, a sixth-grader at West Reading Elementary Center, sang the national anthem at a Reading Phillies game several years ago.

Last month she did another rendition at a basketball game at Wyomissing High School in which the Harlem Wizards played against the Wyomissing Heroes, made up of school faculty and other members of the community.

It was her performance at the Wizards' game that gave her the chance to sing at a much larger venue, Philadelphia's First Union Center, where 20,754 fans came to see the Sixers and the Pistons play.

Scott Swift sent in a video of his daughter singing the anthem to the 76ers, hoping the team would recognize her talent.

Sixers manager of game operations Kathy Drysdale, who said she gets hundreds of videotapes from performers interested in singing the anthem at one of the team's exhibition games or 41 regular season home games, sat up and took notice of Swift.

"She has this fantastic voice that catches everyone's attention," Drysdale said. "Her voice is so strong and powerful at 12 years old. You look at her and think, 'Did that come out of her mouth?'"

Swift left for Philadelphia right after school on April 5 with her parents, brother and a friend of her brother. They encountered lots of traffic and wound up making it to the arena just in time for her sound check at 5.

Shortly after their arrival, team officials presented Taylor, Austin and Austin's friend with duffel bags full of 76ers merchandise, including basketballs, jerseys and hats. Taylor also received a jersey signed by some of the Sixers players.

After getting ready in a private dressing room, Swift was escorted by a security guard onto the court, which was adorned with a red carpet.

Her mother, Andrea F., admitted she was very nervous leading up to the anthem.

"They had a number of cameras all focused right around her and she was up on the big screen," Andrea said. "It's very, very scary as a mom to see your child out there."

Taylor was much more relaxed about the whole thing, experiencing a few butterflies even as the lights were dimmed just moments before her performance.

"I was just practicing the first note over and over in my head," she said.

Swift, who sang the final words of the anthem in the midst of deafening cheers from the crowd, said the whole experience was a big thrill.

"All of these NBA players and all of these other people were looking at me," she said. "It was a really wonderful feeling."

Swift has been performing practically all of her life in local theater productions.

Next Friday and Saturday she will perform in Wyomissing High School's production of "The Sound of Music."

Swift, whose maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, Wyomissing Park, is a retired opera singer, has been pursuing a country music singing career.

The aspiring singing star, who also plays electric guitar, performed with the Pat Garrett Band at last year's Bloomsburg Fair and has cut a country CD.

Late last month the Swifts traveled to Nashville, where they distributed the CD to record companies in the hope of landing a record deal.

When she is not busy performing, Swift enjoys spending time with her friends.

— written by Jeremy Carroll, c. 2002

[govindhtech]

Rekor Uses NVIDIA AI Technology For Traffic Management

Rekor Uses NVIDIA Technology for Traffic Relief and Roadway Safety as Texas Takes in More Residents.

For Texas and Philadelphia highways, the company is using AI-driven analytics utilizing NVIDIA AI, Metropolis, and Jetson, which might lower fatalities and enhance quality of life.

Jobs, comedy clubs, music venues, barbecues, and more are all attracting visitors to Austin. Traffic congestion, however, are a major city blues that have come with this growth.

Due to the surge of new inhabitants moving to Austin, Rekor, which provides traffic management and public safety analytics, gets a direct view of the growing traffic. To assist alleviate the highway issues, Rekor collaborates with the Texas Department of Transportation, which is working on a $7 billion initiative to remedy this.

Based in Columbia, Maryland, Rekor has been using NVIDIA Jetson Xavier NX modules for edge AI and NVIDIA Metropolis for real-time video understanding in Texas, Florida, Philadelphia, Georgia, Nevada, Oklahoma, and many other U.S. locations, as well as Israel and other countries.

Metropolis is a vision AI application framework for creating smart infrastructure. Its development tools include the NVIDIA DeepStream SDK, TAO Toolkit, TensorRT, and NGC catalog pretrained models. The tiny, powerful, and energy-efficient NVIDIA Jetson accelerated computing platform is ideal for embedded and robotics applications.

Rekor’s initiatives in Texas and Philadelphia to use AI to improve road management are the most recent chapter in a long saga of traffic management and safety.

Reducing Rubbernecking, Pileups, Fatalities and Jams

Rekor Command and Rekor Discover are the two primary products that Rekor sells. Traffic control centers can quickly identify traffic incidents and areas of concern using Command, an AI-driven software. It provides real-time situational awareness and notifications to transportation authorities, enabling them to maintain safer and less congested municipal roads.

Utilizing Rekor’s edge technology, discover completely automates the collection of thorough vehicle and traffic data and offers strong traffic analytics that transform road data into quantifiable, trustworthy traffic information. Departments of transportation may better plan and carry out their next city-building projects by using Rekor Discover, which gives them a comprehensive picture of how cars travel on roads and the effect they have.

Command has been spread around Austin by the corporation to assist in problem detection, incident analysis, and real-time response to traffic activities.

Rekor Command receives a variety of data sources, including weather, linked vehicle information, traffic camera video, construction updates, and data from third parties. After that, it makes links and reveals abnormalities, such as a roadside incident, using AI. Traffic management centers receive the data in processes for evaluation, verification, and reaction.

As part of the NVIDIA AI Enterprise software platform, Rekor is embracing NVIDIA’s full-stack accelerated computing for roadway intelligence and investing heavily in NVIDIA AI and NVIDIA AI Blueprints, reference workflows for generative AI use cases constructed with NVIDIA NIM microservices. NVIDIA NIM is a collection of user-friendly inference microservices designed to speed up foundation model installations on any cloud or data center while maintaining data security.

Rekor is developing AI agents for municipal services, namely in areas like traffic control, public safety, and infrastructure optimization, leveraging the NVIDIA AI Blueprint for video search and summarization. In order to enable a variety of interactive visual AI agents that can extract complicated behaviors from vast amounts of live or recorded video, NVIDIA has revealed a new AI blueprint for video search and summarization.

Philadelphia Monitors Roads, EV Charger Needs, Pollution

The Philadelphia Industrial Development Corporation (PIDC), which oversees the Philadelphia Navy Yard, a famous tourist destination, has difficulties managing the roads and compiling information on new constructions. According to a $6 billion rehabilitation proposal, the Navy Yard property will bring thousands of inhabitants and 12,000 jobs with over 150 firms and 15,000 workers on 1,200 acres.

PIDC sought to raise awareness of how road closures and construction projects influence mobility and how to improve mobility during major events and projects. PIDC also sought to improve the Navy Yard’s capacity to measure the effects of speed-mitigating devices placed across dangerous sections of road and comprehend the number and flow of car carriers or other heavy vehicles.

In order to handle any fluctuations in traffic, Discover offered PIDC information about further infrastructure initiatives that must be implemented.

By knowing how many electric cars are coming into and going out of the Navy Yard, PIDC can make informed decisions about future locations for the installation of EV charging stations. Navy Yard can better plan possible locations for EV charge station deployment in the future by using Rekor Discover, which gathers data from Rekor’s edge systems which are constructed with NVIDIA Jetson Xavier NX modules for powerful edge processing and AI to understand the number of EVs and where they’re entering and departing.

By examining data supplied by the AI platform, Rekor Discover allowed PIDC planners to produce a hotspot map of EV traffic. The solution uses Jetson and NVIDIA’s DeepStream data pipeline for real-time traffic analysis. To further improve LLM capabilities, it makes advantage of NVIDIA Triton Inference Server.

The PIDC sought to reduce property damage and address public safety concerns about crashes and speeding. When average speeds are higher than what is recommended on certain road segments, traffic calming measures are being implemented using speed insights.

NVIDIA Jetson Xavier NX to Monitor Pollution in Real Time

Rekor’s vehicle identification models, which were powered by NVIDIA Jetson Xavier NX modules, were able to follow pollution to its origins, moving it one step closer to mitigation than the conventional method of using satellite data to attempt to comprehend its placements.

In the future, Rekor is investigating the potential applications of NVIDIA Omniverse for the creation of digital twins to model traffic reduction using various techniques. Omniverse is a platform for creating OpenUSD applications for generative physical AI and industrial digitization.

Creating digital twins for towns using Omniverse has significant ramifications for lowering traffic, pollution, and traffic fatalities all of which Rekor views as being very advantageous for its clients.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

[popentertainment-moviereviews]

THE LAST REPUBLICAN (2024)

Featuring Adam Kinzinger, Maura Gillespie, Sofia Kinzinger, Austin Weatherford and Steve Pink.

Directed by Steve Pink.

Distributed by Media Courthouse Documentary Collective. 90 minutes. Not Rated.

Screened at the 2024 Philadelphia Film Festival.

Former representative Adam Kinzinger is an old-school fiscal Republican, the type of tax-and-spend, small-government, center-right conservative who have become extinct (quite literally, in Kinzinger’s case) in the Donald Trump era of the Republican Party. I’m not going to lie, I have no doubt that Kinzinger and I would have a great many policy disagreements – and I think he way overestimates the popularity of Ronald Reagan – however, he is the type of conservative who you can have a conversation with and with whom you can debate your beliefs in good faith.

Yet Kinzinger, and his ultra-conservative colleague Liz Cheney, were both essentially expelled from the Republican Party after agreeing to take part in the January 6th investigation in the house. Kinzinger was both censured by the party at large and also primaried so that he lost his house seat of 12 years.

Now, as a young man of 46, he is having to completely reinvent himself. He still believes in conservatism and hopes to be around if there is a reset in the Republican Party to more traditional values, although he recognizes that at this moment in history that is looking rather unlikely.

Because he stood up to Donald Trump and acknowledged that what happened at the Capital Building that day was a crime, he has lost his job, lost his career, lost his idealism, lost his friends, and needed to take on full-time security to protect his young family.

All of this because he took a principled stand and put country before party.

It’s a fascinating and slightly tragic story in this era of MAGA.

The Last Republican is directed, interestingly enough, by Steve Pink, a legit comedy filmmaker (Gross Pointe Blank, High Fidelity, and Kinsinger’s favorite Hot Tub Time Machine). Pink, who is a long-time friend of John Cusack, is also a devout progressive, and he teases Kinzinger about their political differences throughout. (Pink is heard asking questions throughout the film, but only appears on camera briefly at the end.)

It's actually not all that shocking that Pink would be interested in something like this. Fellow comic filmmakers Jay Roach (the Austin Powers and Meet the Fockers movies) and Adam McKay (Anchorman and Step Brothers) have both done some of their finest work on film when they decided to explore their political convictions on film – Roach with Game Change and Bombshell and McKay with The Big Short and Don’t Look Up.

Pink’s involvement in the project gives The Last Republican a sprightly, humorous vibe – particularly in the early phases of the movie. As the story becomes increasingly serious, the film also takes on a more solemn turn.

Early on, Kinzinger tells a story of when he was a young man and through complete happenstance, he happened to be on the scene when another man attempted to murder his girlfriend. In a matter of seconds, Kinzinger had to weigh his options – to run away, to not get involved, or to insert himself in the situation, even though the other man was larger than him and brandishing a knife. Even though even he can’t completely explain why he did so, he went to help the woman at great physical peril to his own safety.

In a strange way, that is what he did for the country.

You may not agree with all of Adam Kinzinger’s opinions and beliefs, but The Last Republicanreminds us how lucky we are that there are people like him out there.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2024 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: October 21, 2024.

[storiesbythelake]

RIOT - MICROSTORY

    "Herschall, Herschall!"

An old raspy voice dinging inside the mind of 77 year old Herschall J. Brown. Who's currently a resident of Shady Sun Retirement/Senior Care home. Even after 40 years as a waste manager, retiring with only 20% of his pension, beliefs of death in the distance waiting for him & also haven't seen his favorite son since 2013 of his admission. The only thing  more he found more disturbing at the end of days, just passing through the threshold of his doorway. William M. Oats, the only white friend he's truly ever had.

      "Herschall!" Said William as Herschall feels the roars from him approaching. "Herschall, turn the television on!"

     William barging into Herschall's assign room. Almost slamming the door behind as he was out of breath. William reach for a chair, sat down and appointed Herschall to turn on the TV. A crooked grind came across Herschall's face. The same crooked grind stared down William thinking "Lucky white boy" while progressing his remote towards the television set.

       "Which channel?"

       "Any news channel, my friend." William said with a sigh of remorse. Hesitating to utter his next sentence, William said.

       "A..America has gone maad."

The television came on, playing the ending credits to an Sanford & Son episode.  A few pushes from the channel button on came The CNN Network. Destruction was on full display on the screen. Camera shots of all major cities from Los Angeles to Philadelphia. All the inner city neighbors were becoming a wasteland. Downtown areas & populated avenues provided miles of local stores being destroyed and ran sack through. Police vehicles on fire brighten up every other block. Debris became a mixture with missing pairs of clothes and soon discovered dollar bills. Blood & sweat from looters breaking skin to open doors, locked security gates and windows.  Mashing teeth to flaunt aggression or diseased from a exciting smile for more despair. Hoards of people robbing, stealing & also causing violence for material items or towards one another. Damages that won't be fixed until months later and some beyond recovery. Not only did the police lost control of its authority, the people lost control as well.  This is what happening all in the eyes of Herschall and William. Herschall pulled his attention to the news headliner.

                RIOTS ACROSS AMERICA.

        VIRAL VIDEO DRAWING QUESTIONS

                     FOR THE DEATH OF

                   ANOTHER BLK TEEN.

     The news anchors voices were soon blocked out by Herschall. The images of the TV stunned him so much he could barely speak. Hand steadily twitching as the remote fell through his palm and fingers. Thinking straighten up, man. You're having a shortage of breath. Don't die like this from staring at the portrait of carnage on the Television.

     "It's maad isn't it?" Asked William.

     "Why is this happening?" Herschall responding with his heartening question.         "Why get upset at some dumb young nigga dying by the police. This been happening since I was a boy."

     "Those niggas are your people." William said as his rebuttal.

     "Not now, William."

     "I'm just sayin' that.."

     "Saying what!?" yelled Herschall "What are you trying to say!!?"

  William hesitated to answer from wanting to make a sad moment funny. A word even Herschall found funny when he said that word and speaking his truth.

  What William thought was whatever he said next may effect thier friendship.  But a conversation amongst men, holding from personal and emotional opinions shouldn't change the two from being friends. William swallowed the ball of spit that was hanging in back of his throat, took a slight breath to follow up Herschall's inquiry.

     "You once told me there's a difference between a black man & a nigga."

     "You can stop saying it, motherfucka!" Herschall screamed with an aggressive tone from his bold angry voice. Which  carried an volume to bring people in  eavesdropping.

      "Let you feel like you're black for five seconds and now you think since we're 'friends' & we're old you can say it now? Still without consequences? Yes, I did say there's a difference."

      William looked at Herschall as soon as he finished his words. William felt ultimately disrespected just to say

      "Let me feel like I'm black?"

     William was feeling different towards Herschall. Also noticing Herschall being different towards him. William tighten his face  with frustration,  aimed his view point back to Herschall to respond to his question.

       "Honestly Herschall, I wouldn’t want to be black even if my kids  & grandchildren was to be killed. From how much you complain, being black must be the worst thing to be in this world. No race respects ya’ll, not even your own kind respect you. Just what this TV is showing, is the lack of respect that ya’ll 'black folks' have for your own community. Ya’ll cries 'bout gun violence but the top race that leads its same ethic crimes, black-on-black crime. Any and every white person, old or young is somehow racist! There's racist people but all day and every moment throughout the day calls each other nigga.  Which makes ya’ll hypocrites! Trying to tell the world, we turned it into a good thing. Then why get mad and call each other dumb as nigga or bitch ass nigga? Last time I checked,  my ancestors created that word for ya’ll. Those same ancestors ya’ll hate. All ya’ll women are called bitches. Fucking four-legged female dogs!? Not one black person can speak english without using slang. Tryin' tell me that's how the hood niggas talk. No! And it's not talking like 'White People' It's either you can speak english or not! Poverty,  drug abuse,  single mother homes, pregnant teens. There's more reasons why I will never want to be black, just beyond that."

         Herschall stood up with his fist clinch tighter than vice grips. Aim his angry stare at William and said.

        "You racist piece of shit!"

        "How can I be racist!?" William quickly snapping back with his response.  "And you want to know a secret about me, Herschall!?"

        William walked towards the window,  slowly crouched down and stood back up hands on his knees. Gasping for breath after spewing a pool of words over Herschall.  William straighten up, standing upwards eyeing the late afternoon sunrise. Cleared the fluids from his nose & mouth with one swipe of hand across his face.  He enchanted an heavy sigh of breath to say what secret he was holding from Herschall.

       "You know that young girl that comes sees me. You thought she was mixed with black and I said no,  Dominican? I lied. She's my daughter I abandoned, her mother was black. I was ashamed and wasn't ready to become a father. Her mother died before she turned 5. Fortunately I was there to pick up the pieces."

         "..Hahahahaha" Herschall laughing hysterically.  Pointing at William as a 6th grader would to a class clown.

         "You think I'm a joke!?"

         "No."

         "No?"

         "Haha..no matter how much plythe you have with my people. Your opinion of us is your truth, but not reality. Regardless of all the details you're living proof of a hyprocrite, William. You're no friend cause now I see the real you. All out on display only for these eyes to witness. But you know why you think black people like that..? America is built on..ahh."

          Herschall reached for his chest. William charging at Herschall for support & health.  Herschall has an innocent look upon his face. William & Herschall sharing the same pace of tears. Herschall legs gives out, the pain is too strong. William's tears starting to pour eruptly. Herschall's heart is self-destructing. While William went running for help and answers, Herschall was dying alone. Herschall would say God is calling him home. William would say the evils of death is all around us. Hopefully none of us are at fault.

[breakingnewsbreakthrough]

Monday, September 16, 2024

Football, Oprah, and P. Diddy

approx. 10:30 a.m. EDT: "Kamala Harris, Oprah Winfrey to hold livestream rally from Michigan"

I never realized Oprah was politically active. There's a certain image of her I've never been able to shake, whether it's a result of my age or the fact my mother watched a lot of daytime TV. Every time I see her, I just think of free cars and prizes under seats. Perhaps that's reductive, given her long career as a journalist, but I'm not sure "Oprah" and "political rally" belong in the same sentence.

12:31 p.m. EDT: "Michigan Football to start Alex Orji at quarterback on Saturday vs. USC"

I will never understand why The Detroit News considers every banal college and professional sports update to be breaking news. I promise I'm not signed up for any sports updates. I suppose I'm happy for him. Or sad. Whichever.

1:14 p.m. EDT: "Second man dies after Eastern Market shooting"

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm making light of this situation, but I don't think Detroit can have successful sports teams. Follow me for a second, if you will: Philadelphia is notorious for the destruction that follows sporting events. I once heard it said "Whether the Eagles win or lose, a car is being lit on fire." Detroit is becoming like that. Our teams were all garbage, so disappointment was all but assured, and no one had to get hurt about it. Gun violence isn't as common here as some think, yet the second our newly-decent football team loses, someone picks a deadly fight at a tailgate. I was also shocked that the TV news didn't consider the initial event to be important enough to cover at 7pm, about an hour after it happened.

3:32 p.m. EDT: "Jeep cuts production of Gladiators and Wranglers at Toledo plant"

Something something Motor City. I know a lot of people whose parents are employed by the Big Three, but I cannot bring myself to follow every corporate twitch of the automotive industry. This one is also novel for the pure fact that it mentions Ohio, one of the Michigan cardinal sins.

10:34 p.m. EDT: "Sean 'Diddy' Combs faces federal charges in New York, his lawyer says"

Send this man to jail. I don't care about anything he's ever made that people have ever liked, and if I have to hear one more person bring up his relationship to Biggie, I'm going to lose it. Being the protégé of a beloved man does not make you better, above reproach, or incapable of committing crimes. It might make you incapable of committing crimes in places not recorded by security cameras, but that also may just be a Diddy problem.

On a personal note:

I'm not sure what to write here. Journalism school has been frustrating in both familiar and completely new ways, and I've never felt worse about my writing. I skipped out on keeping a journal in my adolescence (unless the occasional embarrassing tumblr post counts), which is odd when you consider my general affect, both then and now. I've never felt the need to put my reflections in writing - I spend enough time in my own head - but perhaps getting these mundane thoughts out in a directed manner will stop me from taking a long walk off a bridge named after some hockey player.

Until tomorrow,

DM

[superjackdavid]

Affordable Long Term Parking Near Philadelphia Airport: A Guide

Finding convenient and affordable parking at major airports can be a challenge, especially if you're leaving your vehicle for an extended period. Whether you're going on a long vacation or a business trip, parking solutions that offer security, proximity, and reasonable pricing are crucial for peace of mind.

Why Choose Long-Term Parking?

Long-term parking is ideal for travelers who need to leave their car at the airport for several days or even weeks. These lots are typically located a bit farther from the terminal compared to short-term parking, but they come with the benefit of being more affordable. The added convenience of complimentary shuttle services that transport passengers directly to the terminal also makes long-term parking a great option.

Benefits of Off-Site Parking

One of the best ways to find affordable parking is to look beyond the official airport parking options. Off-site parking lots near Philadelphia Airport provide several benefits:

Cost Savings: Off-site parking is typically much more affordable than parking directly at the airport. These lots often offer discounts for long-term parking, making it a great option for travelers looking to save.

Security: Most off-site parking lots offer round-the-clock security, including surveillance cameras and patrols, so you can feel assured that your vehicle will be safe while you're away.

Shuttle Services: Many off-site parking facilities provide free shuttle services that run regularly between the parking lot and the airport terminal, ensuring you arrive at your gate in time.

How to Choose the Right Long-Term Parking Facility

When selecting a parking facility near Philadelphia Airport, it’s essential to consider a few key factors. Look for lots that offer:

Security: A secure parking lot should be your top priority. Choose facilities with gated access, security patrols, and video monitoring.

Proximity to the Airport: Though off-site lots are a bit farther away, ensure they provide fast and reliable shuttle services to minimize wait times.

Pricing: Compare rates of various lots and check for discounts or promotional offers for extended stays.

Reviews: Check online reviews and customer testimonials to gauge the reliability and overall experience of previous users.

By taking these factors into account, you can confidently choose a parking facility that meets your needs.

Finding affordable long-term parking near Philadelphia Airport doesn't have to be stressful. By considering off-site parking options, you can enjoy significant cost savings while ensuring your vehicle is safe and secure. With facilities offering additional services like shuttle transportation and round-the-clock security, off-site parking can be a smart and convenient choice for extended trips. Trinity Reservations makes it easy to find and book reliable long-term parking, ensuring you have one less thing to worry about when you travel.