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The above is a video shared by smrchildsadness on Twitter, showing a person participating in a pride parade exchanging a pride flag with a person standing on his (am using his pronoun based on the TikToks/Tweets of what happened) doorway who had a Portuguese flag. There are sounds of cheers and crying and the two people hug each other as they exchange the flags. The man at the doorway then waved kisses to the crowd within the pride parade.

The Tweet says: "NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HE WAS WAVING THE PORTUGUESE FLAG BECAUSE HE DIDN'T HAVE A PRIDE FLAG AND THEY TRADED FLAGS AND HE'S SO EMOTIONAL TO GET HIS OWN PRIDE FLAG I'M EMOTIONALLY RUINED"

For context, apparently they were worried that maybe he's a nationalist because he was waving the Portuguese flag and some nationalists opposing the pride march were waving that flag. But upon interacting with him, it turns out he didn't have have a pride flag and he wanted to wave *a* flag in support of the pride march. So they had an exchange and now he has his own pride flag 😭🥹.

The image above is a Tweet by kunwara_ladkaa that says "I'm crying so much right now (Image taken by Manuel Fernando Araújo/Lusa)". The image shows the same man from the pride parade crying as he hugs his new pride flag.

The above image is a Tweet by dudz_zZzz that says "ainda não parei de pensar nele," which according to Google translate from Portuguese to English is "I still haven't stopped thinking about him." The image is a drawing of the person from the pride parade, crying as he hugs his new pride flag.

the humanity of the AIDS crisis: the ward by gideon mendel

But thanks to government indifference to AIDS and HIV, never benefitted from safer sex information programming that I did in the late 80’s.

A few years is all it took to go from men dying alone and uncared-for, ignored by an ignorant and hateful government, to our community angry and outraged, launching the safer sex and AIDS awareness campaigns that saved lives like mine.

Viimeiset kolme vuotta olen viettänyt Manse Priden yksin, katsoen vierestä, kun bissetyttöset nuolee toisiaan. I say: NO MORE! Tänä vuonna on Kaltsun vuoro!

Täällä siis ikäisekseen nuoren oloinen kolmenkympin puolivälin korvilla oleva, alt/punk-tyyppinen, trans nancy boy etsii MansePride-kuningastaan. Power bottom, switch, short king, down to clown. Kuumaa menoa luvassa hauskalle ja karismaattiselle (vanhemmalle) herrasmiehelle, jolla on hyvä hygienia, avoin mieli ja seikkailunhalua.

Olethan valmis lähtemään jatkoille Väärän Väen reiveihin, mulla on jo lippu enkä aio missata niitä kinkereitä. Seikkaillaan yksi ilta tai jos oikein natsaa, niin katsotaan mihin tie vie.

1. The court holds Google responsible for statements made by its AI, considering them Google's statements (search engines have limited liability for results in their engine as they're the words of other sites/companies/people), meaning when their AI lies/hallucinates they're liable for the defamation/harm resulting from those statements.

2. Google's defense that customers are generally aware of the lack of reliability and are responsible for fact checking was dismissed. As the court pointed out, that would "significantly diminish" AI Search's stated purpose and it can't be distinguished from Google's business practices/statements as a search tool.

3. Studies have found about 91% of Google's everyday AI responses are accurate, leaving millions of searches per HOUR with potential liability for falsehoods. 56% of correct responses weren't supported by the sources the AI listed. Both of which mean Google is now liable for a LOT more AI "errors."

4. Google was held liable for 80% of court costs in this case and this precedent is expected to reverberate around the world. This is a massive shift from the 3rd-party search provider role Google has previously played and it comes right as they've tied ALL searches to their AI search.

Levi's said yes, actually. Assless chaps and a biker vest. Happy Pride.

Andrew Wyeth (1917–2009), “Incoming Fog”

He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.

At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.

At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.

At 2:47 AM she was there.

I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.

But I had never met my grandmother.

"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "

It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.

"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.

"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.

We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?

"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.

The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.

"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.

A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.

The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.