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What’s inside: 🔥 12 hot pages 📐 Big A3 size, made to be hung up and admired all year 💌 Available ONLY on Patreon, it will never be in the shop Limited quantity, so don’t sleep on this one 😈 Grab yours here 👇

Congratulations to SpaceX and Elon Musk on catching the Starship upper stage for the first time on Saturday. This is the ship that launched Friday, spent nearly a full day in orbit, deployed 26 Starlink satellites, then returned from space and was caught by the tower arms. Previous catches only involved the Super Heavy booster. The ship is harder. It comes back from orbital velocity, survives reentry heat, and has to hit a precise hover so the arms can grab it. No one else has done this with an orbital-class vehicle. Full reusability of both stages is what drops the cost per flight enough to support high cadence for Starlink, lunar missions, and eventually Mars. Catching the ship after a real orbital flight turns partial recovery into a complete system. The team just showed the harder half works. That’s the step that matters most.

I think the best case is to make the "monitor" as un-agentic as possible. We don't mind being "monitored" by various random tiny insects we don't even notice, even guard dogs are fine, but we really do mind if it's a globally connected networked system. And the intermediate case, human security guards with no recording equipment, we mind only a medium amount. The best idea I've come up with so far is to make these monitoring devices out of open-source verifiable hardware that has etched on it an open-weight LLM that classifies for a limited number of activities (basically, just violence; sorry, no scanning for jaywalking or not wearing a mask or drugs or unauthorized manufacturing or illegal immigrants, really just violence) and only records and forwards if that's what it sees. The device has no storage, no ability to load new algorithms, this is all it does. Also, a hash of every recording is published onchain (and a device can't record the next one until it sees confirmation of the previous one) so we can all count how much recording is done. Finally, everyone has a legal right to take any such device they see and grab it and dissassemble and verify the hardware themselves. Explicitly fund university clubs, hacker groups, etc to regularly do this.

🚨 Viernes 13. 3:36 pm: EE. UU. frena todos los despegues del país. Dos horas después, esta luz cruza el cielo de México, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras y Colombia. Cinco países grabando lo mismo, la misma tarde. Lo que era 👇 #Viernes13# #Avistamiento# #FAA# #ÚltimaHora#

I'm giving away 0.1 BTC to one random person! As promised, I'm sending 0.1 BTC (~$6,800) to one lucky follower. To participate, like, retweet, and comment 'Okay'. * You will be disqualified if you are not a follower. The winner will be announced within 24 hours! Grab your chance!

My mom fed a homeless man behind our house for 20 years. Three meals a day, even when we couldn’t afford electricity. I hated her for it. The day after her funeral, that same man took my hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and said: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. For 20 years, this man had lived in a makeshift shelter behind our rental house. My mom brought him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every single day. And the crazy thing was, we were poor too. My sneakers had tape covering the holes. Sometimes we struggled to pay our bills, and there were days when we couldn’t even afford electricity. But somehow, my mother always found enough food to feed him. I never understood it. I remember coming home two days before Christmas and finding a yellow eviction notice taped to our front door. We were struggling to keep a roof over our heads, yet my mother was still preparing three meals a day for a stranger. That night, I finally lost my temper. Me: “Maybe if you stopped feeding strangers, we wouldn’t live like this!” My mom turned around so quickly that I knew I had crossed a line. Mom: “Don’t you ever DARE say that again.” I had never seen her that furious before. I didn’t understand why she was defending him so strongly when her own child was going without things. I moved out when I turned 18. We fought less after that, mostly because I stopped asking questions. But the man stayed. Year after year, his little shelter remained behind our house, and my mother continued feeding him. Then my mom got sick. Cancer made her small. She became quiet, and it was the kind of quiet that scares you because you know something terrible is happening. Two weeks before she died, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was so weak that it broke my heart. Mom: “Promise me you’ll keep feeding him.” I looked at her. Honestly, I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask why she was still worrying about that man when she was the one who needed help. But you don’t lie to a dying mother. So I promised. My mom eventually passed away. The day after her funeral, I prepared the best meal I could, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and drove to her house. I had promised her I would keep feeding him. But when I got there, the man was gone. His shelter had been completely cleared out. Everything was gone. The ground had even been swept clean, as if those 20 years had never happened. I stood there holding the warm plate, wondering where he could have gone. Then I noticed something. A black SUV was parked at the curb. Standing beside it was a man wearing an expensive wool coat. He was clean-shaven, well-dressed, and looked nothing like the homeless man I had known for 20 years. But the thing that caught my attention was what he was holding. My mother’s old silver locket. The same locket she had told me she lost when I was eight years old. He looked at me and said: Man: “I thought you wouldn’t come.” I stared at him. Me: “Wait… is that you? What’s going on?” He smiled, but his expression was unsteady. His eyes were already filling with tears. Man: “Your mom hid something from you.” I felt my stomach tighten. Me: “What did she hide?” He looked at the plate in my hands before responding. Man: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” My blood went cold. Me: “Silent about what?” He gently shook his head. Man: “Sit down. You shouldn’t hear this standing in the cold.” We sat on the front steps. The plate was still warm between us. He turned my mother’s silver locket over in his palm as though it might break. Then he began telling me something I never could have imagined. Man: “My real name is Vernon Hale. Before all this, I owned a company. I had a big house in Connecticut, a wife, and a little girl. My daughter was six years old.” I just stared at him.

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