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Les principales étapes de la visite de cheikh Mohammed Alissa @MhmdAlissa, Secrétaire général et Président de l’Organisation des savants musulmans, en République islamique du Pakistan.

Dream job unlocked 🤩 Africa abounds with breathtaking landscapes, from soaring sand dunes to savannas teeming with wildlife. An extraordinary place that many of our Explorers get to call their office. #NatGeoQueens# is streaming on @DisneyPlus and @hulu.

Beaucoup disent en off que le système globaliste est vraiment à deux doigts de tomber. Même eux savent que c'est bientôt la fin. Ils ont tout le monde contre eux : – les peuples ; – les vrais entrepreneurs, ceux qui créent de la valeur nette ; – les chiffres l’Argentine les dérange profondément ; – la perte du contrôle du discours et du narratif, qui érode encore davantage leur emprise. Bref, je n’ai jamais été aussi optimiste pour l’avenir de l’Europe et de l’Occident. Nous allons vivre une renaissance exceptionnelle de la civilisation occidentale.

Stephen A. Smith was HEART-BROKEN after his daughter Samantha told him that she won’t let him live in her house when he’s older & she plans to put him in a Nursing Home instead 😭💔 “In my house?? With my kids? And my car? And my husband & my pool? In my guest room?” “I’m just your Dad. The one that made it all possible.” “I would love you from a distance Dad. You know I love you from a distance.” 🤣

Seedance 2.0 is pretty wild 100% AI What if Jurassic Park was real? PROMPT: Format: Found-footage vacation video, 15 seconds, seven shots with hard cuts — a tourist's camera roll from one full day, morning to dusk. Image reference: Use the attached gate photo as the exact visual reference for Shot 1 — match its architecture, proportions, torch placement, lighting, and signage precisely. Main subject: Young woman, blond hair in a loose low bun shedding strands, oversized faded olive t-shirt, denim shorts, white canvas sneakers, disposable-camera strap on her wrist. Realistic skin texture, minimal makeup, wide-eyed tourist joy. Maintain perfect visual consistency — identity, hair, clothing, proportions — across every shot and location. Location: A vast island dinosaur preserve. Jungle mountains, open savanna paddocks, wooden observation structures, tall electrified perimeter fences, dirt tour roads. Dinosaurs are photorealistic animals — muted natural hides, birdlike motion, visible breathing weight. Filmed like wildlife, never like monsters. Camera style: Mid-range smartphone, handheld by her friend. Heavy shake, autofocus hunting, motion blur on pans, compression grain, exposure pumping. Each cut is abrupt and mid-motion, like real unedited camera-roll clips. 00:00–00:03 — THE GATES (morning, filmed from inside a moving open-top tour jeep). The camera films forward over the seats as the jeep approaches the colossal timber gates from the reference image — flared stone-and-wood towers, flaming torches, jungle pressing in on both sides, the road still wet from morning rain. The doors groan open. She spins around from the front seat into frame, gripping the roll bar, and half-shouts over the engine: "Oh my god, this is wild! I can't believe we're actually here!" — as the jeep passes under the archway into shadow and out again. 00:03–00:05 — SAVANNA (late morning, wide shot from a raised wooden platform). She stands small at the rail against an open plain where a herd of long-necked giants wades through heat haze, one rearing slowly against the treeline. The camera zooms in shakily, overshoots, corrects. 00:05–00:07 — RIVER CROSSING (midday, low angle through the jeep's open side). Past her shoulder as the jeep fords a shallow river: a crested duck-billed dinosaur drinks twenty meters away, lifting its head to watch them pass, water dripping from its jaw. She raises her disposable camera; the phone catches its tiny click. 00:07–00:09 — JUNGLE FENCE (afternoon, handheld walking shot). Dim under the canopy beside a tall humming fence. She peers through the wire — and a small crested predator peers back from the ferns, head tilting in quick birdlike jerks. She backs up a slow half-step, whispering "okay... hi." Autofocus argues between wire and eye. 00:09–00:11 — THE HERD RUNS (late afternoon, chaotic pan from the jeep at speed). A flock of small striped dinosaurs floods across and around the vehicle. The camera whips left-right, blurred bodies streaking past, her whooping off-mic, dust on the lens. 00:11–00:13 — QUIET GIANT (golden hour, static shot at a wooden overlook). The frame finally settles: silhouetted against low sun, she stands at a rail as an immense horned dinosaur grazes just below, close enough to hear grass tearing. She isn't laughing anymore — just watching. 00:13–00:15 — DUSK ROAR (blue hour, half-framed and accidental). Filmed as the phone was being lowered, frame tilted: a colossal, deep bellow rolls in from the darkening jungle far off. Everyone freezes and turns toward it. Cut to black mid-turn. Audio: Ambient only, shifting per location — jeep engine and gate groan, her excited line over the motor, savanna wind, river wading, fence hum, thundering small feet, grass tearing, and the single distant bellow that swallows everything. No music. No narration. Style & quality boosters: Raw consumer camera-roll aesthetic, abrupt mid-motion cuts, heavy handheld instability, natural motion blur, golden-hour lens flare, coherent animal mass and physics — ground tremor, water displacement, dust. No text overlays, no watermarks. Goal: One unforgettable day inside the world's most famous dinosaur preserve, told through seven imperfect tourist clips — opening on the gates everyone recognizes, and closing on the sound that reminds them what lives beyond the fences.

17 YAŞINDAKİ ÇOCUKLAR OTOMASYONLA ÜRETİKLERİ AI MEYVE VİDEOLARI İLE 50 MİLYON İZLENME ALIYOR. Tüm sistem sadece Claude + + Instagram Reels. Frutti tek tıkla viral fruit videoları üretilebiliyor. Claude ise o hayvani fikri veriyor. sistem basit: normalde işi bilmeyenler bunları 3-4 saat harcayarak tek tek üretiyor. Karakter tasarlanıyor. Prompt yazılıyor. Sahne sahne video üretiliyor. Seslendiriliyor. Altyazı basılıyor. CapCut’ta editleniyor. Sonra aynı karakterle devam bölümü tutturulmaya çalışılıyor. Ama 16 yaşındaki amerikalı çocuklar tüm işi otomasyonla yapıyor. frutti + claude + reels hesabı. Frutti bütün bu süreci tek akışa indiriyor. Claude ile sadece fikir tartışılıyor. “bana izlenme potansiyeli yüksek, aşırı absürt bir fruit drama fikri ver” deniyor. Sistem sana direkt bölüm fikri çıkarıyor. Mesela: karısını aldattığını itiraf eden bir limonun, aslında 12 yıl önce savaşta kaybolan eski asker arkadaşına evli olduğu ortaya çıkıyor. ama herkes meyve. Sonra komple akışı basıyor: karakterler senaryo sahne listesi shot promptları voiceover altyazı final dikey video - istersen yatay... Tek tıkla Reels/TikTok formatında hazır hale geliyor. Bu artık “AI video üretimi” değil. Bu küçük bir brainrot stüdyosu. 1 fikir → 1 bölüm 1 karakter → 1 seri 1 seri → yüzlerce Reels 1 absürt drama → milyonlarca izlenme ihtimali

Exclusive: All three kidnapping-related messages that have surfaced in news media reports about the disappearance of ‘Today’ show co-host Savannah Guthrie's elderly mother have been deemed by federal investigators to be fake communications, an FBI official ​told Reuters

Le progressisme est le pire cancer des 50 dernières années. Pas parce qu'il est "de gauche". Parce qu'il a volé un mot — progrès — pour vendre exactement son contraire. C'est la thèse de Thiel. Une fois que tu la vois, tu ne peux plus la dé-voir. Dans les années 60, l'Occident construisait. On allait sur la Lune. On bâtissait des centrales nucléaires, des avions supersoniques, on parlait sérieusement de coloniser Mars et de vaincre le cancer en dix ans. Le progrès, c'était des atomes : de l'énergie moins chère, des transports plus rapides, des vies plus longues. Puis quelque chose s'est cassé autour de 1971. L'innovation dans le monde physique s'est arrêtée net. Le Concorde a été retiré — on vole moins vite aujourd'hui qu'il y a 50 ans. Le nucléaire a été tué par la peur. Le salaire réel médian a stagné pendant un demi-siècle. "On nous avait promis des voitures volantes, on a eu 140 caractères." Mais l'humain a besoin de croire qu'il avance. Alors le progressisme a fait une chose géniale et terrifiante : il a déplacé le mot "progrès" du monde des atomes vers le monde des symboles. Puisqu'on ne savait plus agrandir le gâteau, on a décrété que le seul combat qui compte était de le redécouper. Plus de croissance à promettre ? On promet de la redistribution, de la repentance, des comités, des labels, des normes. La machine à créer a été remplacée par la machine à gérer le déclin — et on a appelé ça "le bon côté de l'Histoire". C'est là que Girard rejoint Thiel. Le progressisme n'est pas une politique, c'est une religion sécularisée. Il a gardé tous les rouages du christianisme — le péché, la culpabilité, la confession, le bouc émissaire à sacrifier — mais il a jeté la rédemption et la transcendance. Résultat : une religion qui ne sait que désigner des coupables. Jamais pardonner. Jamais construire. Et les coupables désignés, ce sont toujours les mêmes : ceux qui bâtissent. L'entrepreneur, l'ingénieur, le fondateur, celui qui prend des risques et crée quelque chose à partir de rien. Pendant ce temps on érige en héros le commentateur, le régulateur, le consultant — celui qui ne produit rien mais qui distribue les bons points moraux. Voilà pourquoi c'est un cancer, au sens propre. Une cellule cancéreuse n'est pas un envahisseur extérieur. C'est une cellule de ton propre corps qui oublie sa fonction, refuse de mourir, et se met à grossir sans rien produire d'utile — jusqu'à étouffer les organes qui font vivre l'ensemble. Le progressisme, c'est exactement ça : une partie de la société qui a cessé de créer de la valeur, qui se nourrit de celle des autres, et qui appelle ça de la vertu. La bonne nouvelle, c'est qu'un cancer, ça se soigne. Le remède n'est pas la nostalgie. C'est de rendre au mot "progrès" son sens originel : construire des choses réelles. De l'énergie abondante. Des frontières nouvelles. Des fondateurs qu'on célèbre au lieu de les juger. Le futur n'appartient pas à ceux qui redécoupent le gâteau. Il appartient à ceux qui en font un plus grand.