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Weird Life, Democratic Republic of the (2025)

03/09/2025

Meet Mr. Timmy, the angel that walked into my office. He stopped in a week ago asking if I could help him with extreme low back pain that is shooting down his leg. He asked the prices etc and made his appointment for this week so he could gather the money. He comes in on Wednesday 30 minutes early for his appointment and is beyond nice and respectful. Everything I say/ask him, he responds with yes/no ma’am. He fills my heart with joy and happiness just being in the room with him.
After chatting with him, he tells me that he’s been in pain for 3 years and has been turned away several times for help because he doesn’t have insurance or the money, but he knew he had to do something. I can tell he’s in pain, but didn’t know just how bad until I asked him to lay on the table. Bless his heart, tears started streaming down his face and he was moaning in excruciating pain. He apologized for his tears and I told him not to be sorry and handed him a tissue. By this point, I hear God talking to me and I ask him to please use my hands to help heal him. I started adjusting him and at first, he moaned with each drop of the table (bawling his eyes out in pain now), but said to keep going if it would help. Then, it started feeling better for him.
I hooked him up to the electrical stimulation machine and told him to enjoy some relaxation. When I came back, he said, “Oh my goodness…this is the best I’ve felt in 3 years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He stood up and realized he could stand up STRAIGHT for the first time in 3 years. THREE YEARS! Those tears of pain turned to tears of relief and gratefulness. Then tears start rolling down my face too…tears I’ve been holding back the entire appointment. We hug and I feel the Holy Spirit in the office even more. He asked when I wanted to see him again and I walked him up front. I told him I wanted to see him the next day (today) and he asked how much because he’d need to find a way to get the money, but he’d be here. I gave him back his money and told him nothing. He looked so confused….I told him God was speaking to me so strongly and I wanted to bless him and he needs the money for food and that I just wanted to help him. He lost it and BAWLED his eyes out and I gave him a big hug while crying. He told me I didn’t know what this means to him and that he’ll find a way to pay me and told him to please not worry about it and just to pay me in hugs. He was in pure disbelief. We were ALL crying. We ALL felt this God moment.
He came back today with a huge smile on his face and a little kick in his step. He was so happy. He was on the road to recovery. His smile lit up my whole heart. We had gathered a box of snacks, a gift card for subway, and a card. When we gave it to him, he started crying again and just kept thanking us over and over. He gave me several hugs and couldn’t believe the love we showed him after being dismissed so many times. I’ve been thinking about him and praying for him non-stop since then.
With tears in my eyes while typing this, I share this story with you to say this…you never know what form an angel may come in, but I promise you Mr. Timmy is an angel to me. You never know what someone is going through until you ask. You never know what a difference you may make in someone’s life, but I can tell you that Mr. Timmy blessed me far more than I blessed him. With all the evil in the world, there is still good….all you have to do is open your heart and share the love.

03/09/2025

I live alone but I still sit at my dining table for almost every meal. Sometimes I eat by candle light. Sometimes I have flowers, although mostly fake since I can’t afford real ones at the moment. Sometimes Chef Pierre has some inspiring food themed anecdote to share. Most of the time it’s a home cookd, made from scratch meal for one.
Some people see the show of etiquette as sad, pathetic and a waste of time. I prefer to think of it as grounded, homey and comforting.
Dull?
Perhaps, but who cares?
What matters is that your belly and your soul are well fed.

03/09/2025

ALAIN DELON~
Alain Delon, when he was young, would dress in an army jacket - the best to warm all the puppies, which he met on his way.
Today, the 86-year-old French actor has 5 shelters for dogs and cats where these little animals collected from the street live.
"In my house, there are always many dogs 🐶🏡, dogs remind me of children"
Delon has lived in Switzerland for a long time🇨🇭, and he takes care of dogs and cats.
One day, learning that some sadists in the Pyrenes had doused and set a dog on fire with gasoline, he sent his vet there and even got the sadists prosecuted.
For the first time, a judge has ordered in judicial practice, that the victim - a dog named Mambo be present in the courtroom.
Alain Delon even tries to get the dogs their own lawyers.
By the way, the sadists who did it got pretty long terms.
Alain Delon's love for animals is from childhood.
He says that his first pet was a female Doberman named Gala.
“Once I yelled at her and even hit her tail.
She sat up and looked at me.
I saw that she was crying. 😪
Since then I understood everythng, and now my dogs are always smiling”
Do you think my dogs know I'm Alain Delon?
Do not care!
My dogs love me, no matter who I am or what I do.
It is unconditional love, love without thinking, complete and true love!
Alain Delon is a member of the Society for the Protection of Animals.
He is the collaborator of Brigitte Bardot.
8 dogs now live in his house. 🐕🏡
There is a cemetery of his old dogs: there have been 45.
In the center is a chapel that he built.
After numerous requests, he received official permission to be buried there when that day came.
He affirms that for the East it is the ultimate luxury.
But Alain Delon deals not only with dead animals. Tortured Animals worry him a lot and he is willing to resort to all means to protect them.
Once Alain Delon sent the helicopter to rescue a cat 😿, whose leg was torn off by someone, tying it to a car.
The three-legged cat now lives in his mansion just like a three-legged rabbit...
"In this life, whoever you are, be one of the good ones."❤️

02/09/2025

"This is the behind the scenes of law enforcement that nobody knows about.
You see a jerk writing a ticket or serving warrants. But that’s not it.
They come home, and this is what we see. These are the pieces we are left with at the end of every shift.
It’s your spouse puking when they get home from the smell of a burning body because she couldn’t get inside. The first to respond and being completely helpless in any attempts of rescue.
And it’s more than just this day, and this fire. It’s delivering a death call to a family, all by yourself; And holding a grieving mother after delivering the news her son was found dead.
It’s having your entire body covered in fire ant bites from fighting a drug addict on the side of the interstate so he doesn’t get hit.
Just remember they are more than that uniform. They are real. They are people. They have feelings. They have family.
And you know what they do? They go to sleep, wake up, and do it again. Because they want to serve you and keep your community safe.
And if this right here isn’t considered heroic, then I just don’t know what is."

01/09/2025

This is Eclipse. Every day she leaves her house, by herself, and takes the bus downtown to the dog park where she spends a couple of hours getting exercise and making friends, and then she takes the bus back home again. She even has her own bus pass attached to the collar.
It started when her owner, Jeff Young, was taking too long when the bus arrived, so she impatiently ran ahead and got on the bus by herself. The bus driver recognized her and dropped her off at the dog park, and later Jeff caught up with her. After several more trips by herself, Jeff started letting her go on her own, and she always comes back home a couple of hours later.
All of the bus drivers know her and she makes them smile, and many of the regular passengers enjoy seeing her every day and will often sit down next to her. Even the police have given their approval as long as the bus drivers are okay with the arrangement. "She makes everybody happy."

01/09/2025

"Just spent 2 hours with an elderly man at Kroger. It started with me just smiling at him, making eye contact.... As I walked past him he looked like he needed something. I went back and asked him if I could help him. Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, 'I have colon cancer and I have had a really bad accident, if I get up out of this cart everyone will know ... What should I do?' The look of his dignity lost left me with a lump in my throat. From that moment on, Kroger staff quickly fetched us wipes, undergarments and discreetly took him to their employer bathroom Area where he was given clothes. He cried and apologized. He said he had to hurry his wife was at home alone. When we walked to the register we found his groceries all bagged and somehow paid for. He cried harder. He said he fought in Vietnam and Korean War and loved his country, but up until today he said he thought his country forgot about him. We both cried and I shared with him my own struggles and fears... He gave me words of wisdom and encouraged me that maybe after all, humanity still does care about one another. Today proved it. Thank you Elmer, thank you Kroger and thank you God for the lesson and reminder I received today."

31/08/2025

Today is a special day. Today, I went to the shelter—a place where too many lost souls wait for a second chance. Among all the pleading eyes, the tiny paws trembling behind bars, there he was. Sitting in the corner of his cage, head down, his gaze lifeless. He didn’t bark, he didn’t jump, he didn’t ask for anything. As if he had accepted his fate, as if he knew no one would ever come for him.
They told me his story. He was found wandering the streets, skinny, his fur matted, scared of every little sound. He had known hunger, cold, abandonment. At the shelter, they had taken care of him, fed him, but his heart still seemed broken. He watched the other dogs leave, day after day, while he remained, forgotten.
I knelt down in front of him. He didn’t lift his head immediately, as if he no longer believed in the possibility of being chosen. So I reached out, whispered his name, and that’s when I saw it—a tiny flicker of hope in his tired eyes. In that moment, I knew I couldn’t leave without him.
The car ride was quiet. He sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, his eyes wide as if discovering a world he had long believed lost. From time to time, he looked at me, as if making sure this was real.
Today, he has a home. Today, he has a name. Today, he has a family. And never again will he have to wonder if someone will come for him—because I am here. Forever.

30/08/2025

"So, I was just at Walmart, buying school supplies for my kids, when this man started asking me questions (like why are you buying 150 notebooks).
I explained that I teach science and it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to get kids to bring their own notebooks, and that it takes away from time I could be teaching them. He then proceeded to pay my entire cart of classroom supplies.
I started crying and hugged him and asked for a picture. His son was watching the whole thing too. There are some really good people in this world."

30/08/2025

I'm stuck in the van with my toddler. We went out to dinner as a family, and she had a meltdown because mom wouldn't let her throw chicken strips. So she screamed, and screamed, and kicked and kicked, and since I was the only one finished with my meal, I had the pleasure of dragging her out of Red Robin.
I carried her past the bar and everyone stared at me, most of them childless, I assumed. No one with children would give me that straight faced, lip twisted, look that seems to say, "If you can't control your kid, then don't go out."
Well... no. I can't control her.
Not all the time.
Not yet.
It’s going to take years to teach her how to act appropriately in public, and the only way I am ever going to teach that is to take her out and show her what's right and wrong. By saying no a million times, letting her throw a fit, and telling her no again.
These lessons take patience, hard work, and real world experiences, and I’m sorry to those at the bar who got irritated by my child's fit, but you are part of this practice. Your parents did the same with you, and that’s how you now know how to recognize when a child does something irritating in a restaurant. It’s how you learned to look at a situation and say, “That parent needs to control their kids.”
It’s how you learned to be a respectable person.
I get it. Kids are irritating when they are loud in a restaurant. I know. I’m living it. But before you get angry and judgmental, realize that what you are witnessing is not bad parenting, but rather, parents working hard to fix the situation.
You are looking at what it takes to turn a child into a person.

30/08/2025

On my way home, I witnessed a vehicle hit a motorcycle from behind and send the driver 25 feet into the air landing him in a ditch. I immediately called 911, pulled over and climbed down to stay with him until they arrived. He wasn’t moving and I assumed the worst.
A medical professional happened to be driving by and pulled over to help as we waited. I stayed and held Joe’s hand and asked him questions to keep him awake and with us. He told me about his wife, joked about his motorcycle and asked me to take photos so he had a cool story to tell.
Once EMS arrived, I backed away and a woman watching said " I’m shocked you did all that." She saw my confused face and replied with "Honey, this is the south. I’m just saying. I’m shocked you did all that for him" and my heart sank. I was speechless. I didn’t care what he looked like. I didn’t care how long I had to sit there. I didn’t care about social distancing. He needed help.
We don’t have to look the same to be kind to one another. Not a single person is born hating others because of race, political views or background. People learn to hate. My favorite saying by Nelson Mandela, 'If they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love.' Love everyone, including yourself. Humanity is my race and love knows no boundaries."
*Incident from 2022

29/08/2025

I'd noticed her the moment I walked in not because she was following me, but because of the bruises on her arms that her mother kept yanking down her sleeves to hide.
The kid never said a word, just held onto the thick leather of my jacket like it was a lifeline, those huge brown eyes tracking my every move while her mother threatened punishment if she didn't let go. Other shoppers stared, some recording on their phones, all of them assuming I was the problem big tattooed biker being stalked by a special needs child whose mother was trying to protect her.
The whispers were loud enough to hear. "Disgusting." "Someone should call the police on him."
But when the little girl finally slipped a notebook into my jacket pocket, everything I thought I knew about the situation shattered.
The notebook was small, pink, covered in unicorn stickers. Inside, in crayon, were four words that made my blood run cold: "He hurts us. Help."
Below it were drawings. Stick figures, but clear enough. A big man with a belt. A small girl and a woman crying. And at the bottom, in shaky letters: "Not Mommy. Mom's boyfriend. Please."
The mother was still yelling, calling for security, making a scene about the "dangerous biker" her daughter wouldn't leave alone. But now I understood. The yelling wasn't anger; it was terror. She was performing, playing the part the monster at home demanded, praying no one would intervene in a way that would get them hurt worse later.
The kid wasn't following me because she was fascinated by motorcycles. She was following me because she was out of options, and in a world of smiling, respectable-looking people who ignored her bruises, my leather-clad, scarred-up self must have looked like the only one who might know how to fight a real monster.
I knelt down to the girl's level, ignoring her mother's shriek of "Get away from her!"
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
I asked softly.
She didn't speak couldn't, as I'd later learn but pointed to the notebook. There, on the inside cover: "Emma."
"Emma's a pretty name. I'm Bear."
Her mother grabbed Emma's arm, hard enough to make her wince. "We're leaving. Now."
"Ma'am," I said, standing slowly, keeping my voice calm and low. "Your daughter seems upset. Maybe we should
"Maybe you should mind your own business," she snapped, her eyes wide with a panic that wasn't meant for me.
That's when I thought not to help them, but then Emma pulled free from her mother and ran behind me, clutching my jacket again. And for the first time, she spoke, her voice a tiny, desperate whisper that broke a dam inside my soul.
"Please, can you follow us home? He's waiting."
The world narrowed to those six words. The shoppers, the security guard now approaching, none of it mattered. I gave the mother a look, trying to pour every ounce of reassurance I could into it. I understand. I am on your side.
I pulled out my phone, turning my back slightly for privacy. I hit the speed dial for my club's president. "Prez, it's Bear. Code Nightingale." It was our code for a child in danger. "Grand Union on 5th. I'm following a blue sedan. Mom and a little girl, maybe six. The threat's at home. I need a shadow, not a parade. And Prez... call Tina." Tina was a social worker who trusted us more than the system.
"On it," he said. No other questions asked.
I bought a candy bar, paid for it, and walked out. The mother was practically dragging Emma to her car. I got on my bike, the engine rumbling to life, and fell in behind them, keeping a respectful distance. A few blocks later, two more bikes, their engines quiet, joined my tail. We were a silent, leather-clad guardian angel es**rt service.
They pulled into the driveway of a small, neat-looking house. The kind of house you'd never suspect held any darkness. I parked across the street, watching. My brothers pulled up on the cross streets, blocking any escape. We just waited.
Ten minutes later, we heard it. A man's bellowing roar, followed by the sound of something smashing and a woman's terrified scream.
That was the signal.
We didn't storm the house. We walked. Four of us, up the driveway, onto the porch. I didn't knock. I kicked the door open. It splintered off its frame. The scene inside was exactly what the notebook had drawn. A large, red-faced man holding Emma's mother by the hair, his hand raised to strike. Emma was huddled in a corner, sobbing.
He froze when he saw us, his face a mixture of shock and rage. "Who the hell are you?"
"We're the guys you don't get to hurt people in front of," I said, my voice dangerously calm. My brothers flanked me, filling the doorway, blotting out the sun. We didn't move, didn't threaten. We just stood there, four immovable objects who had seen real evil in the world and weren't impressed by this pathetic excuse for a man.
He let go of the woman and puffed out his chest. But the bravado died in his eyes when he realized we weren't leaving. He was a bully, and his only power was fear. We weren't afraid.
Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance. Not the local cops, but the county sheriff, courtesy of a call from our social worker, Tina, who knew which departments to trust. The boyfriend crumbled. By the time they arrived, we were already on our bikes, ready to leave.
A month later, I got a letter at the clubhouse. It was an invitation to a tea party. The address was a new one, a small, clean apartment across town that the club had helped secure the deposit for.
When I showed up, Emma, dressed in a bright yellow dress, ran to the door and threw her arms around my legs. Her mom stood behind her, a real, genuine smile on her face for the first time. The bruises were gone.
"She talks all the time now," her mom whispered to me while Emma showed my club brother, a giant named Crusher, which tiny cup was his. "The therapist said breaking her silence to you was the first step. You didn't just save us, Bear. You gave her back her voice."
Emma tugged on my hand, pulling me to a tiny table. She handed me a new drawing. It was of a little girl and her mom holding hands under a smiling sun. And next to them, watching over them, was a huge, smiling teddy bear wearing a biker vest and riding a motorcycle. I never thought of myself as a hero. We were just "dirty bikers." But as I sat there, sipping imaginary tea from a tiny plastic cup, I realized that to one little girl, we were the only heroes that mattered.
Credit Daily Stories

29/08/2025

The beautiful 83-year-old lady was always fully dressed by 8 a.m.—hair neatly styled, makeup perfectly applied. After losing her husband, she decided it was time to move into a retirement home.
She spent hours patiently waiting in the hall until, finally, the staff told her the room was ready. Smiling sweetly, she began moving her walker toward the elevator as a nurse described the small space and the curtains on the window.
“I love it,” she said with the joy of a child who’d just been given a new pet.
“But Mrs. Jones, you haven’t even seen it yet,” the nurse replied.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether or not I like my room doesn’t depend on the furniture or the curtains—it depends on how I arrange my mind.
I’ve already decided that I like it. Every morning I choose. I can stay in bed and complain about the parts of my body that don’t work, or I can get up and be grateful for the ones that still do.
Each day is a gift. As long as my eyes open, I’ll focus on this new day and on the happy memories I’ve saved up for this time in my life.”
Then she offered her advice:
Happiness is like a bank account. You only withdraw what you’ve put in. So make sure you deposit plenty.
Remember these five simple things:
Free your heart from hate.
Free your mind from worry.
Live simply.
Give more.
Take less.

Weird Life

03/09/2025

03/09/2025

03/09/2025

02/09/2025

01/09/2025

01/09/2025

31/08/2025

30/08/2025

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