与「THEMAN」相关的搜索结果

Get ready to travel to a galaxy far far away. #TheMandalorianAndGrogu# is available to stream on Fandango starting July 21. Check out this exclusive extended preview, and preorder today -

This is definitely the Way… to the Eastern Conference Finals 🏀 Game 1 Tomorrow and experience Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu in theaters Friday. #TheMandalorianAndGrogu#

I did a cosplay for this manga 🥵🥵 Support me at my K0f1. #異世界トリップ先で助けてくれたのは人殺しの少年でした# #cosplay# #cosplaygirl# #cosplayer# #コスプレ女子 ##コスプレ ##コスプレイヤー# #cosplaygirls# #themanwhosavedmeonmyisekaitripwasakiller# #olcosplay#

Meet T3 Clawd. Claude Code recreated inside of T3 Code. Huge shoutout to team T3 Code for this feature. This was such a seamless experience to do with Opus 5.5 I love the functionality of T3 Code but always went back to Claude Code since I preferred it's UI more I was able to massively redo the UI inside of T3 Code with the new theming features, to make it exactly how I wanted Now? I think I'll stick around to T3 Code permanantly btw is the model picker good, @theo? 🫣 Link to the theme in the comments.

Did Rubio's intervention really help topple Jensen? Last night was my poker night. Of course we talked about Nvidia. About Jensen Huang. And honestly? Nobody at that table likes Rubio. And nobody, nobody likes Trump. But look at the clock. Thursday. Jensen resigns. That same afternoon, the spy story starts falling apart. The AG: "no conclusions" on whether Alice Huang is a spy. Then CNN, 5:32 PM: the intel community says the evidence "does not prove" she was a spy. Officials close to the DNI call the spy label "over-torqued." Even the CIA is "not yet convinced." And yet. 5:43 PM. 11 minutes later. @WSJ runs a column by @Peggynoonannyc. Who is she? Reagan's special assistant and speechwriter. George H.W. Bush's "Read my lips: no new taxes"? She wrote that line. Pulitzer Prize winner. A WSJ columnist for 26 years. About as GOP establishment as it gets. Her headline: "Jensen Huang Is a White House Scandal." Her question: "What did Trump know and when?" Her verdict: "Potentially Teapot Dome-size, Watergate-size." Watergate. Over a spy case the DOJ, the DNI, and the CIA can't even confirm. The arrogance is stunning. It doesn't matter if the spy story holds up. The targets are moving right on schedule. Step one: take down Jensen. Step two: the White House. Now look at the next day. Friday, 4:45 PM: @washingtonpost publishes "Behind Jensen Huang's spy scandal, a shadow war for Trump's ear on China." The subhead already has Rubio's name on it: "Rubio's intervention helped topple" Jensen. 5:00 PM: @SecRubio takes the stage at the Federalist Society. If you've never heard of the Federalist Society: it's the most powerful conservative legal network in America. It built the pipeline that put Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett on the Supreme Court. It shapes how a whole generation of judges reads the Constitution. Speak there, and you're auditioning for the conservative legal elite. This was Rubio's first big speech since the GOP's midterm wipeout. For weeks, everyone has been asking one question: is he running in 2028? And what did America's top diplomat say? "America has always and, I believe, will always be a nation of irrepressible ambition." "We, Americans, we are not passive, an inward-looking people." "The ultimate question of our time is whether Americans have a moral right to exist as a distinct nation and a distinct people." That's not a Secretary of State speech. That's a campaign speech. Listen closely and you'll hear it. A carefully prepared script, and Rubio still stumbled over his words. He was nervous. This audition meant too much to him. And right on cue—15 minutes before he walks into that room, the Post crowns him the man who took down America's most powerful tech CEO. Perfect timing. You're telling me the Post reporters who cover him every day knew nothing about his schedule? Nothing about what that speech meant? I'm not defending Rubio. I'm not defending Trump. I already told you how my poker table feels about them.The coincidences here are just too perfect. One more thing. A retired lawyer at our table told me something I had completely missed. Who is investigating Jensen? Nvidia's independent directors hired Joon Hyun Kim. I don't know who on Nvidia's board picked him. But another Asian American? Just like Ted Lieu. Just like Grace Meng. The classic racism shield. Sound familiar? I just posted about this exact playbook. And his firm? Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz. Wachtell. @OpenAI's longtime law firm. The firm on OpenAI's $110 billion funding round. Back to Thursday, the day Jensen resigned. That afternoon, Politico reports OpenAI has quietly told Congress it now backs the chip-control bills. The firm investigating Jensen works for the company that switched sides the day he fell. The Republican establishment. The Democratic establishment. The Ivy League elites. The power. The headlines. The targets. Same direction. Same 48 hours. All just coincidence? Anyone who's played poker knows: bluff hand after hand, and sooner or later somebody at the table calls. Not a dime for $ANT.

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.