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Smokers

@gui_smokers_

2 months ago
Photo by Smokers on September 08, 2026. May be a selfie of fleece, sweatshirt, sweatpants, mirror and text.
Photo by Smokers on September 08, 2026. May be an image of one or more people, beard, underwear, sunglasses, shorts, pool and text.
Photo by Smokers on September 08, 2026. May be an image of hookah and text.
Photo by Smokers on September 08, 2026. May be an image of shorts, sarong and text.
Photo by Smokers on September 08, 2026. May be an image of wolf and text that says '2/8 Silencioso, Silencioso,masperigoso mas perigoso'.
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Posted On: September 8th 2026, 10:52 pm
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should i go back dark? yes or no. but also , please don’t be mean. I’m sensitive right now 🥺🤣😇
🚨Jeff Gregory, 55, from Pennsylvania, has been identified as the captain of the Learjet 60 that crashed in Palm Beach County, Florida🚨 Jeff was a husband to his wife, Cheryl, and a father of three children. He was also a devoted Christian whose faith had been part of his life since childhood. According to a longtime friend and former neighbor, Jeff grew up attending Limerick Chapel in Pennsylvania. Their parents worked at the church, and the two boys attended a small Christian school together. His childhood friend recalled that Jeff loved wearing his leather bomber jacket. He eventually pursued that childhood dream, beginning his aviation training in the 1990s and building a career doing something he genuinely loved. Those who knew him described him as diligent, dependable, and hardworking. As the aircraft was rapidly losing altitude, a man’s voice could reportedly be heard reciting the Lord’s Prayer over the radio. That voice is believed to have been Jeff Gregory’s. While his 20-year-old co-pilot, Nathalia Gadelha Filgueiras, was desperately communicating the aircraft’s emergency, the prayer could reportedly be heard: “Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” His childhood church has reportedly shared a message mourning his passing and remembering that he has gone home to be with the Lord. Please pray for Cheryl, their three children, and everyone who loved Captain Jeff Gregory.
Claustrophobia is crazy here😭
Trick or treat, boys?😈❤️
The Diagnosis of a Dead Generation A blob-shaped patient walks into the doctor's office feeling old, and the physician, rather than checking blood pressure or running labs, simply asks about musical taste. The answer, a love of mid-2000s emo, gets scribbled onto the clipboard as a terminal prognosis: patient is basically dead. The joke lands because everyone who grew up with My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy on repeat knows exactly what it feels like to watch their defining cultural moment get carbon-dated in real time. Rome had a version of this. The older patrician class clung to the Republic's traditions, its rhetoric, its music, its civic ceremonies, long after Augustus had rewritten the entire operating system of the state. To the new imperial generation, loving the old forms was not nostalgia, it was a clinical indicator that you were a relic. Suetonius and Tacitus both document how the language of the Republic was kept alive in Senate chambers while meaning absolutely nothing to anyone under forty in the street outside. Every empire cycles through this. The Ottomans had their janissaries who refused modernization and paid with their lives for it in 1826. The Persians under Darius III were still tactically brilliant by the standards of a previous century, which is precisely why Alexander's oblique cavalry charge at Gaugamela read like a doctor writing "patient is basically dead" on a very large clipboard. The prank is that every generation believes its cultural peak was the real one, the permanent one, the one history would recognize as correct. Rome believed that too. Rome is a ruin. #AncientRome #BreadAndCircuses #HistoryRepeats
Wat een hoopvolle dag had moeten zijn, veranderde voor ons abrupt. Half september kregen we te horen dat mijn vader twee tumoren heeft. Na veel onderzoeken en weken wachten leken uitzaaiingen uitgesloten en kwam er een behandelplan. Dat gaf ons kracht en iets om ons aan vast te houden. Ondertussen belandde papa twee keer op de spoedeisende hulp vanwege zijn klachten. Vorige week maandag werd hij opgenomen. Hoe moeilijk dat ook was, er zat ook iets positiefs aan: hij kon eerder geholpen worden. De operatie om een deel van de tumor weg te halen, werd voor afgelopen vrijdag ingepland. Vrijdagochtend kreeg mijn moeder een telefoontje van het ziekenhuis. Of we zo snel mogelijk konden komen voor een familiegesprek. Ik was op dat moment bij mama en samen reden we naar het ziekenhuis. Daar kregen we het verschrikkelijke nieuws dat de tumor zo agressief is dat er in korte tijd toch uitzaaiingen zijn ontstaan in het hersenvlies en hersenvocht. De operatie werd geannuleerd. Papa is uitbehandeld. De dag waarop we hoopten dat we nog meer tijd samen zouden krijgen, werd de dag waarop we hoorden dat we afscheid moeten nemen. Papa is nu thuis, bij ons. Het is nauwelijks te bevatten dat de tijd die we nog samen hebben ineens zo kort is. Hoe neem je afscheid van iemand die je nog zo lang niet wilt missen? Voor nu zijn we bij je, papa. We houden je vast, zeggen wat we willen zeggen en omringen je met alle liefde die we je kunnen geven. 🤍
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