Internet Safety Quotes

Do not try any of this at home. The author of this book is an Internet cartoonist, not a health or safety expert. He likes it when things catch fire or explode, which means he does not have your best interests in mind. The publisher and the author disclaim responsibility for any adverse effects resulting, directly or indirectly, from information contained in this book.

Valkyrie walked to the back door, which hadn't been closed properly, shut it and locked it. There was now a baby in the house, after all. She couldn't take the chance that a wild animal might wander in and make off with Alice, like those dingoes in Australia. She was probably being unfair to both dingoes and Australia, but she couldn't risk it. Locked doors kept the dingoes out, and that's all there was to it, even if she didn't know what a dingo actually was. She took out her phone, searched the Internet, found a picture of a baby dingo and now she really wanted a baby dingo for a pet.

It's easiest to judge from distance. That's why the Internet has turned us all into armchair critics, experts at the cold dissection of gesture and syllable, sneering self-righteously from the safety of our screens. There, we can feel good about ourselves, validated that our flaws weren't as bad as theirs, unchallenged in our superiority. Moral high ground is a pleasant place to preach, even if the view turns out to be rather limited in scope.

Every time something really bad happens, people cry out for safety, and the government answers by taking rights away from good people. We have no proof that the bad, stupid crazy people who have planted bombs in the past few years used the phone much for their stupid bad crimes, let alone logged on the Internet. Yet when those kind of bad things happen nowadays, the government tries to do bad things to phones and the Net. The phones and the Internet are just good smart things, and the government should leave them alone. You have to watch the government all the time on everything. Thomas Jefferson didn't say that, but he said something very close to that.

To seek Truth is automatically a calling for the innate dissident and the subversive; how many are willing to give up safety and security for the perilous life of the spiritual revolutionary? How many are willing to truly learn that their own cherished concepts are wrong? Striking provocative or mysterious poses in the safety of Internet [social media] is far easier than taking the risks involved in the hard work of genuine initiation.

DISCLAIMER Do not try any of this at home. The author of this book is an Internet cartoonist, not a health or safety expert. He likes it when things catch fire or explode, which means he does not have your best interests in mind.

Home is to be a safe place, a refuge for all who enter, a protection from the harm and storms of the world. Yet often or even daily we open our doors -- usually via television or the internet -- to ideas and images that can damage our faith, abuse our hearts and minds, sear our psyches, and tear apart our peace. Home should be a place where, behind its doors, one should expect to find protection and safety from all the harms of life, including voices that do not speak truth or wisdom. Only the foolish would invite just anyone to enter the door of their home.

The internet is insecure by default. Netiquette and security certificates add a level of safety. NetworkEtiquette.net

It didn't happen without a selfie. It's good Netiquette to take safe pictures of thy self at events. NetworkEtiquette.net

Never post family pictures online, There's no such thing as privacy settings. It is a total jungle out there, In every corner predators are lurking.

If the AI has (perhaps for safety reasons) been confined to an isolated computer, it may use its social manipulation superpower to persuade the gatekeepers to let it gain access to an Internet port. Alternatively, the AI might use its hacking superpower to escape its confinement.

Boy everyone in this country is running around yammering about their fucking rights. "I have a right, you have no right, we have a right." Folks I hate to spoil your fun, but... there's no such thing as rights. They're imaginary. We made 'em up. Like the boogie man. Like Three Little Pigs, Pinocio, Mother Goose, shit like that. Rights are an idea. They're just imaginary. They're a cute idea. Cute. But that's all. Cute...and fictional. But if you think you do have rights, let me ask you this, "where do they come from?" People say, "They come from God. They're God given rights." Awww fuck, here we go again...here we go again. The God excuse, the last refuge of a man with no answers and no argument, "It came from God." Anything we can't describe must have come from God. Personally folks, I believe that if your rights came from God, he would've given you the right for some food every day, and he would've given you the right to a roof over your head. GOD would've been looking out for ya. You know that. He wouldn't have been worried making sure you have a gun so you can get drunk on Sunday night and kill your girlfriend's parents. But let's say it's true. Let's say that God gave us these rights. Why would he give us a certain number of rights? The Bill of Rights of this country has 10 stipulations. OK...10 rights. And apparently God was doing sloppy work that week, because we've had to ammend the bill of rights an additional 17 times. So God forgot a couple of things, like...SLAVERY. Just fuckin' slipped his mind. But let's say...let's say God gave us the original 10. He gave the british 13. The british Bill of Rights has 13 stipulations. The Germans have 29, the Belgians have 25, the Sweedish have only 6, and some people in the world have no rights at all. What kind of a fuckin' god damn god given deal is that!?...NO RIGHTS AT ALL!? Why would God give different people in different countries a different numbers of different rights? Boredom? Amusement? Bad arithmetic? Do we find out at long last after all this time that God is weak in math skills? Doesn't sound like divine planning to me. Sounds more like human planning . Sounds more like one group trying to control another group. In other words...business as usual in America. Now, if you think you do have rights, I have one last assignment for ya. Next time you're at the computer get on the Internet, go to Wikipedia. When you get to Wikipedia, in the search field for Wikipedia, i want to type in, "Japanese-Americans 1942" and you'll find out all about your precious fucking rights. Alright. You know about it. In 1942 there were 110,000 Japanese-American citizens, in good standing, law abiding people, who were thrown into internment camps simply because their parents were born in the wrong country. That's all they did wrong. They had no right to a lawyer, no right to a fair trial, no right to a jury of their peers, no right to due process of any kind. The only right they had was...right this way! Into the internment camps. Just when these American citizens needed their rights the most...their government took them away. and rights aren't rights if someone can take em away. They're priveledges. That's all we've ever had in this country is a bill of TEMPORARY priviledges; and if you read the news, even badly, you know the list get's shorter, and shorter, and shorter. Yeup, sooner or later the people in this country are going to realize the government doesn't give a fuck about them. the government doesn't care about you, or your children, or your rights, or your welfare or your safety. it simply doesn't give a fuck about you. It's interested in it's own power. That's the only thing...keeping it, and expanding wherever possible. Personally when it comes to rights, I think one of two things is true: either we have unlimited rights, or we have no rights at all.

Secrecy is essential to the command and control of nuclear weapons. Their technology is the opposite of open-source software. The latest warhead designs can’t be freely shared on the Internet, improved through anonymous collaboration, and productively used without legal constraints.

It's proper Netiquette to view in-App webpages in a mobile browser for better security. NetworkEtiquette.net

Paradoxically, in its quest to make Americans more secure, the NSA has made American communications less secure; it has undermined the safety of the entire internet.

In genealogy you might say that interest lies in the eye of the gene holder. The actual descendants are far more intrigued with it all than the listeners, who quickly sink into a narcoleptic coma after the second or third great-great-somebody kills a bear or beheads Charles I, invents the safety pin or strip-mines Poland, catalogues slime molds, dances flamenco, or falls in love with a sheep. Genealogy is a forced march through stories. Yet everyone loves stories, and that is one reason we seek knowledge of our own blood kin. Through our ancestors we can witness their times. Or, we think, there might be something in their lives, an artist’s or a farmer’s skill, an affection for a certain landscape, that will match or explain something in our own. If we know who they were, perhaps we will know who we are. And few cultures have been as identity-obsessed as ours. So keen is this fascination with ancestry, genealogy has become an industry. Family reunions choke the social calendar. Europe crawls with ancestor-seeking Americans. Your mother or your spouse or your neighbors are too busy to talk to you because they are on the Internet running “heritage quests.” We have climbed so far back into our family trees, we stand inches away from the roots where the primates dominate.

Now that we know that Spring Roll is a girl, we should probably think about setting up her room. Gabriel kept his eyes on the road as he drove the Volvo one Saturday morning in May. We should also talk about names. That sounds good. Maybe you should think about what you want and we can go shopping. Julia turned to look at him. Now? I said I'd take you to lunch, and we can do that. But afterward, we need to start thinking about Spring Roll's room. We want it to be attractive, but functional. Something comfortable for you and for her, but not juvenile. She's a baby, Gabriel. Her stuff is going to be juvenile. You know what I mean. I want it to be elegant and not look like a preschool. Good grief. Julia fought a grin as she began imagining what the Professor would design. (Argyle patterns, dark wood, and chocolate brown leather immediately came to mind.) He cleared his throat. I might have done some searching on the Internet. Oh, really? From where? Restoration Hardware? Of course not. He bristled. Their things wouldn't be appropriate for a baby's room. So where then? He gazed at her triumphantly. Pottery Barn Kids. Julia groaned. We've become yuppies. Gabriel stared at her in mock horror. Why do you say that? We're driving a Volvo and talking about shopping at Pottery Barn. First of all, Volvos have an excellent safety rating and they're more attractive than a minivan. Secondly, Pottery Barn's furniture happens to be both functional and aesthetically pleasing. I'd like to take you to one their stores so you can see for yourself. As long as we get Thai food first. Now it was Gabriel's turn to roll his eyes. Fine. But we're ordering takeout and taking it to the park for a picnic. And I'm having Indian food, instead. If I see another plate of pad Thai, I'm going to lose it. Julia burst into peals of laughter.

He says, "It's just a hat." But it's not just a hat. It makes Jess think of racism and hatred and systemic inequality, and the Ku Klux Klan, and plantation-wedding Pinterest boards, and lynchings, and George Zimmerman, and the Central Park Five, and redlining, and gerrymandering and the Southern strategy, and decades of propaganda and Fox News and conservative radio, and rabid evangelicals, and rape and pillage and plunder and plutocracy and money in politics and the dumbing down of civil discourse and domestic terrorism and white nationalists and school shootings and the growing fear of a nonwhite, non-English-speaking majority and the slow death of the social safety net and conspiracy theory culture and the white working class and social atomism and reality television and fake news and the prison-industrial complex and celebrity culture and the girl in fourth grade who told Jess that since she--Jess--was "naturally unclean" she couldn't come over for birthday cake, and executive compensation, and mediocre white men, and the guy in college who sent around an article about how people who listen to Radiohead are smarter than people who listen to Missy Elliott and when Jess said "That's racist" he said "No,it's not," and of bigotry and small pox blankets and gross guys grabbing your butt on the subway, and slave auctions and Confederate monuments and Jim Crow and fire hoses and separate but equal and racist jokes that aren't funny and internet trolls and incels and golf courses that ban women and voter suppression and police brutality and crony capitalism and corporate corruption and innocent children, so many innocent children, and the Tea Party and Sarah Palin and birthers and flat-earthers and states' rights and disgusting porn and the prosperity gospel and the drunk football fans who made monkey sounds at Jess outside Memorial Stadium, even though it was her thirteenth birthday, and Josh--now it makes her think of Josh.

Today's internet bloggers and television's talking heads don't have that [a partnership]. No safety net. No brakes. No one there to question, doubt or inspire. No editor. [Carl Bernstein's A reporter's assessment]

Our plutocracy, whether the hedge fund managers in Greenwich, Connecticut, or the Internet moguls in Palo Alto, now lives like the British did in colonial India: ruling the place but not of it. If one can afford private security, public safety is of no concern; to the person fortunate enough to own a Gulfstream jet, crumbling bridges cause less apprehension, and viable public transportation doesn’t even compute. With private doctors on call and a chartered plane to get to the Mayo Clinic, why worry about Medicare?

The very Internet companies that snookered us all with the promise of democratizing communications made it impermissible for Americans to criticize their government or question the safety of pharmaceutical products; these companies propped up all official pronouncements while scrubbing all dissent. The same Tech/Data and Telecom robber barons, gorging themselves on the corpses of our obliterated middle class, rapidly transformed America’s once-proud democracy into a censorship and surveillance police state from which they profit at every turn.

Everybody gets mean stuff on the Internet, Mom. You shouldn’t take it so seriously. Just ignore them. They’ll go away.” That, I think, is a maddening thing to say on so many levels. As if the Internet is a fantasy world, inhabited by imaginary people. As if we’re ordinary people in the first place. And most of all, it’s such a young male thing to say, this automatic assumption of safety. Women, even girls of Lanny’s age, don’t think that way. Parents don’t. Older people don’t. It reveals a certain blind, entitled ignorance to how dangerous the world really is.

As technology advances, surly the older generation will feel that they have too much to handle. Young people growing up today, on the other hand, will experience IoT as something natural. The Internet of Things will help us, humans, to a great extent, not least environmentally but also to ensure safety.

A. There are people who collect elements. These collectors try to gather physical samples of as many of the elements as possible into periodic-table-shaped display cases.1 Of the 118 elements, 30 of them—like helium, carbon, aluminum, and iron—can be bought in pure form in local retail stores. Another few dozen can be scavenged by taking things apart (you can find tiny americium samples in smoke detectors). Others can be ordered over the Internet. All in all, it’s possible to get samples of about 80 of the elements—90, if you’re willing to take some risks with your health, safety, and arrest record. The rest are too radioactive or short-lived to collect more than a few atoms of them at once. But what if you did? The periodic table of the elements has seven rows.2 You could stack the top two rows without much trouble. The third row would burn you with fire. The fourth row would kill you with toxic smoke. The fifth row would do all that stuff PLUS give you a mild dose of radiation. The sixth row would explode violently, destroying the building in a cloud of radioactive, poisonous fire and dust. Do not build the seventh row.

The first duty of the command and control system is to survive,” Baran argued, proposing a distributed network with hundreds or thousands of separate nodes connected through multiple paths. Messages would be broken into smaller “blocks,” sent along the first available path, and reassembled at their final destination. If nodes were out of service or destroyed, the network would automatically adapt and send the data along a route that was still intact. Baran’s work later provided the conceptual basis for the top secret communications networks at the Pentagon, as well as their civilian offshoot, the Internet.

Dr. Fauci’s business closures pulverized America’s middle class and engineered the largest upward transfer of wealth in human history. In 2020, workers lost $3.7 trillion while billionaires gained $3.9 trillion.46 Some 493 individuals became new billionaires,47 and an additional 8 million Americans dropped below the poverty line.48 The biggest winners were the robber barons—the very companies that were cheerleading Dr. Fauci’s lockdown and censoring his critics: Big Technology, Big Data, Big Telecom, Big Finance, Big Media behemoths (Michael Bloomberg, Rupert Murdoch, Viacom, and Disney), and Silicon Valley Internet titans like Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Eric Schmidt, Sergey Brin, Larry Page, Larry Ellison, and Jack Dorsey. The very Internet companies that snookered us all with the promise of democratizing communications made it impermissible for Americans to criticize their government or question the safety of pharmaceutical products; these companies propped up all official pronouncements while scrubbing all dissent. The same Tech/Data and Telecom robber barons, gorging themselves on the corpses of our obliterated middle class, rapidly transformed America’s once-proud democracy into a censorship and surveillance police state from which they profit at every turn.

So, about your classes,” said Doug. “I put in the requirements already. History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and”—he cleared his throat—“Remedial Goodness 101.” “Let me guess...” said Mal. She popped a piece of candy into her mouth. “New class?” Doug nodded sheepishly. “Come on, guys,” Mal said, dropping the wrapper on the floor. “Let’s go find our dorms.” She started up a flight of stairs. Carlos, Jay, and Evie followed her. “Oh! Uh, yeah, your dorms are that way, guys,” said Doug, pointing in the opposite direction. As Mal and her friends came back down the stairs and headed in the direction he indicated, Doug hung back, counting through the dwarves again. “Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy, and...” “Sneezy,” said Carlos, passing him and ascending the opposite staircase. Doug sighed and looked at the ceiling. Upstairs, Mal and Evie opened the door to their dorm room. It was light and airy and dappled in sunlight. The white canopy beds were covered with pink pillows, and flowery curtains fluttered gently in the fresh breeze from the open windows. Evie’s eyes widened with delight as Mal’s narrowed in horror. “Wow,” said Evie. “This place is so amazing—” “Gross,” said Mal. “I know, right?” said Evie, changing her tune. “Amazingly gross. Ew!” When Mal wasn’t looking, Evie couldn’t help giving a silent gasp of joy at her new crib. “I am going to need some serious sunscreen,” said Mal, arms crossed. “Yeah,” said Evie. “E,” said Mal, pointing to the windows. She closed the curtains as Evie moved to other windows in the room and did the same, plunging the dorm into darkness. “Whoa!” said Mal. “That is much better.

It's proper netiquette to power on your smartphone (mobile) to go through metal detectors. NetworkEtiquette.net

Use Secure Sites: It is proper netiquette to use secure websites whenever possible. NetworkEtiquette.net

Improvement of Internet Safety and Reliability A. Improved Information Protection on the Internet 1) Operation of the Internet Information Protection Council

OK, so this is what’s going to happen, Felipe. You’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know or things are going to get… interesting.” He took a syringe out of his pocket and removed the safety cap. He showed it to the policeman then slid it into his arm and depressed the plunger. Felipe fought against the tape. “What the hell is that?” “Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous. Just a muscle relaxant and some Viagra.” Bishop leaned in close. “You can feel it can’t you? A warm fuzzy feeling, all your muscles relaxing, except one. But that’s not a muscle is it?” “What, what are you doing to me?” “I’m not going to do anything to you. But my friend is. I’m just going to video it and send it to all your police buddies. Or maybe I’ll just put it on the internet for all the perverts to jack off to.” He opened the door. It took every ounce of his discipline not to burst out laughing. “Tell me, Felipe, are you familiar with the expression, I’m going to make a playground out of your ass?” Mitch stood in the doorway wearing a gimp mask and a pair of cut-off denim shorts. His muscular, hairy chest was strapped into a harness with a steel ring in the middle. He was holding a giant black rubber dildo. “What the hell?” screamed the bound man. Bishop used his knife to cut the tape holding him to the chair. “It’s OK, Felipe. You seem to be already enjoying this.” The policeman looked down at his raging boner. “Nooo, you can’t do this. You can’t.” Already his voice was slurring as the drugs kicked in.

abortion will continue. Many opponents claim to be taking the moral high ground. However, by depriving them of their civil rights, opposition to abortion hurts women and is thus unethical. It condemns women to mandatory motherhood. This attitude is not new. The systematic maltreatment of women has been institutionalized by governments and religions for several millennia.56 57 58 The clarity and cogency of the argument against abortion should be sufficient to sway public opinion. However, over the past four decades, this has not been the case. Opponents of abortion have resorted to eight murders,59,60 arson, firebombing,61 intimidation of women and clinicians,62 governmental intrusion into the physician-patient relationship,63 imposition of obstacles that deter and delay abortion, and increased costs.64,65 A broad campaign of deception and chicanery, including crisis pregnancy centers and disinformation sites on the Internet,66 has influenced decisions about abortion and its safety. Without the smokescreen about abortion safety, the ongoing attack on women and health care providers might be recognized for what it is: misogyny directed against our wives, sisters, and daughters. Ironically, the same political conservatives who oppose “big government” and its interference in our daily lives are sponsoring anti-abortion legislation mandating more intrusion of government into the private lives—and bodies—of American women. While the ethical dimensions of abortion will continue to be debated, the medical science is incontrovertible: legal abortion has been a resounding public-health success.18,19 The development of antibiotics, immunization, modern contraception, and legalized abortion all stand out as landmark public-health achievements of the Twentieth Century.

It’s easiest to judge from a distance. That’s why the Internet has turned us all into armchair critics, experts at the cold dissection of gesture and syllable, sneering self-righteously from the safety of our screens. There, we can feel good about ourselves, validated that our flaws aren’t as bad as theirs, unchallenged in our superiority. Moral high ground is a pleasant place to perch, even if the view turns out to be rather limited in scope.

America ranks number 41 in child mortality, according to the Social Progress Index, which is based on research by three Nobel Prize–winning economists and covers 146 countries for which there is reliable data. We rank number 46 in internet access, number 44 in access to clean drinking water, number 57 in personal safety and number 30 in high-school enrollment. Somehow, “We’re number 30!” doesn’t seem so proud a boast. Overall, the Social Progress Index ranks the United States number 26 in well-being of citizens, behind all the other members of the G7 as well as significantly poorer countries like Portugal and Slovenia, and America is one of just a handful of countries that have

The Lost Child As the name states, the Lost Child is one who chooses to turn within and ignore than harsh reality playing out in their family.  They may lose themselves in fantasies, books, movies, games, and the internet. This person is often the youngest member of the family who has sought to find safety by staying out of the way and being alone.  It is important that they learn to engage with the world and face reality rather than attempting to hide and run away from it.

America ranks number 41 in child mortality, according to the Social Progress Index, which is based on research by three Nobel Prize–winning economists and covers 146 countries for which there is reliable data. We rank number 46 in internet access, number 44 in access to clean drinking water, number 57 in personal safety and number 30 in high-school enrollment.

When the present pandemic began to take hold, a passage from the writings of Martin Luther went the rounds on the internet, with Luther’s usual combination of down-to-earth wisdom and practical piety. Luther faced several plagues in Wittenberg and elsewhere in the 1520s and 1530s, and in his letters to church and civic leaders he insisted that preachers and pastors should remain at their posts: as good shepherds, they should be prepared to lay down their lives for their sheep. Likewise civic and family leaders should only flee from a plague if they had made proper provision for the safety of those left behind. He offers advice which sounds as relevant today as it was five hundred years ago. Plagues, he says, may perhaps be messengers from God; but the right approach should be practical as well as faithful. This, he says, is how one should think to oneself: With God’s permission the enemy has sent poison and deadly dung among us, and so I will pray to God that he may be gracious and preserve us. Then I will fumigate to purify the air, give and take medicine, and avoid places and persons where I am not needed in order that I may not abuse myself and that through me others may not be infected and inflamed with the result that I become the cause of their death through my negligence. If God wishes to take me, he will be able to find me. At least I have done what he gave me to do and am responsible neither for my own death nor for the death of others. But if my neighbour needs me, I shall avoid neither person nor place but feel free to visit and help him. Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel, ed. T. G. Tappert (London: SCM Press, 1955), 242, from a letter of 1527.

I think, is a maddening thing to say on so many levels. As if the Internet is a fantasy world, inhabited by imaginary people. As if we’re ordinary people in the first place. And most of all, it’s such a young male thing to say, this automatic assumption of safety. Women, even girls of Lanny’s age, don’t think that way. Parents don’t. Older people don’t. It reveals a certain blind, entitled ignorance to how dangerous the world really is.

Social media can be a useful and fun way to interact with others and to share content, but use it carefully. Remember that there is nothing totally private on the internet and once online it is hard to control.

It’s easiest to judge from a distance. That’s why the Internet has turned us all into armchair critics, experts at the cold dissection of gesture and syllable, sneering self-righteously from the safety of our screens. There, we can feel good about ourselves, validated that our flaws aren’t as bad as theirs, unchallenged in our superiority.

Disclaimer Do not try any of this at home. The author of this book is an internet cartoonist, not a health or safety expert. He likes it when things catch fire or explode, which means he does not have your best interests in mind. The publisher and the author disclaim responsibility for any adverse effects resulting, directly or indirectly, from information contained in this book.

Jim Collins writes: ‘Gillette didn’t pioneer the safety razor, Star did. Polaroid didn’t pioneer the instant camera, Dubroni did. Microsoft didn’t pioneer the personal computer spreadsheet, VisiCorp did. Amazon didn’t pioneer online bookselling and AOL didn’t pioneer online internet service.’17 What

Eurostar and even a plaque for Platform 9¾, where Harry Potter boarded the train for Hogwarts. Much of the so-called undesirable element have fled these dangerous in-person transactions for the relative safety of online commerce—much less need for the risky drive-by sex trade, yet another positive by-product of the Internet—but if you go to the other side of the literal and figurative tracks, away from those shiny new towers, there are still places where the sleaze element

When President Obama addressed the country on January 5, 2016, about his latest push for gun control, Bloomberg-funded research provided the “facts” that Obama cited: •​“Congress actually voted to make it harder for public health experts to conduct research into gun violence; made it harder to collect data and facts and develop strategies to reduce gun violence.” •​“After Connecticut passed a law requiring background checks and gun safety courses, gun deaths decreased by 40%. Forty percent.” •​“Since Missouri repealed a law requiring comprehensive background checks and purchase permits, gun deaths have increased to almost 50% higher than the national average.” •​“A violent felon can buy the exact same weapon over the internet with no background check, no questions asked. A recent study found that about 1-in-30 people looking to buy guns on one website had criminal records—one out of 30 had a criminal record. We’re talking about individuals convicted of serious crimes—aggravated assault, domestic violence, robbery, illegal gun possession. People with lengthy criminal histories buying deadly weapons all too easily.

an internet background search company such as Intelius; Instant Checkmate; US Search; BeenVerified; PeopleWise; PeopleSmart; PeopleFinders; Verispy; Inteligator, or BackgroundReport.com. These internet search companies charge for their services, but knowing who you are dealing with in important relationships is vitally important for your safety and welfare. Sometimes these background searches can be wrong and should not be automatically accepted as fact, but what facts you do have might confirm or disconfirm the report.

she knew part of what made Facebook—and the internet, really—addicting was simultaneously indulging your own obsessions while mocking (deriding, denouncing even) the obsessions of others from the safety of your screen.

If you have an underage child, make sure to block all predator-infested websites, such as omegle, chatroulette, chatrandom and shagle, on your wifi network.

My ability to stop the panic cycle through rational means, the Attacking Anxiety tapes, aroused a curiosity within me: Where did the fight-or-flight mechanism come from? Through studying biology on the Internet and in textbooks at the Vernon Parish library, I learned that the fight-or-flight response came from the days when we lived in a predator-prey environment, which instilled within us a safety mechanism that would take over in order to enhance our survival. Being exposed to biology then led me to evolutionary biology, all areas of study completely new to me. Through the study of science I realized that the quest for truth that had always propelled me was never able to be completely satisfied because in theology when you got to the bottom of a question, the answer rested on an opinion. In the realm of science, by contrast, an answer was based in fact, which I found to be extremely satisfying. Pentecostalism, it seemed to me, was a world of debating and selling opinions. Perhaps what was causing my profound doubts was my discomfort with both sales and opinions. I loved that with science you could put your hands upon the hard rock of evidence in order to answer a question. After so many years of experimenting with different denominations and dissatisfaction with ministers who had not satisfied my search for the truth, my embrace of evidence and rationality was a profound relief for me. Some questions, I realized, had knowable answers and when those questions were answered you needn’t agonize over those answers any longer.

A 2010 study by the Internet security firm AVG Technologies found that 92 percent of American children have an online presence before the age of two. Parents post nearly 1,000 images of their children online before their fifth birthday, according to a 2015 poll conducted by the U.K.-based Parent Zone, an online safety site.

We need Olympic Games, international trade, educational exchange programs, free internet—anything that lets us meet across ethnic groups and country borders. We must take care of and strengthen our safety nets for world peace.

The simplest way to shut down a known biologically toxic facility is to trawl the internet for scientific papers that prove the toxicity.

I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website, eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery@contractor.net   Telegram: @TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them.

MONITOR AND RETRIEVE LOST CRYPTOCURRENCY WITH_TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery @contractor.net   Telegram: (@)TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

MONITOR AND RETRIEVE LOST CRYPTOCURRENCY WITH_TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery @contractor. net   Telegram: (@)TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

MONITOR AND RETRIEVE LOST CRYPTOCURRENCY WITH_TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery@contractor.net   Telegram: @TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery@contractor.net   Telegram: @TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

It is not as easy to forgive my father. I’m going to come to Toronto and kick your ass. When his kid needed safety, when his kid needed love, when his kid needed protection, he threatened violence. Outraged because I had the audacity to communicate with an older man on the internet when I was a minor. If I didn’t deserve care in that moment, if I didn’t deserve safety and love, when would I ever? That sentence has lived in my body much longer than the man’s threats, his obsession, his fingers fondling my arm.