Cute thing to say after a fight

In July of 1913, the newly-arrived to America Antanas Bimba Jr., a then 19-year old Catholic ethnic Lithuanian immigrant, would later become one of the most important political figures of the Communist movement in the United States.
Antanas Bimba Jr. was born in Lithuania in the village of Valeikiškis, in the Rokiškis district of Lithuania near the Latvian border, on January 22nd, 1894. His father, Antanas Bimba Sr., was a blacksmith and peasant farmer. Antanas Jr was one of six surviving children of his father’s second wife. The Bimba family were proud Lithuanians and devout Catholics, something that annoyed much of the Czarist government whom sought to impose Russian Orthodoxy and Russian language on Lithuania. This drove many Lithuanians, including the Bimbas, to immigrate to the United States and other countries in search of a better life. During the summer of 1913, at age 19, Antanas arrived in Burlington, New Jersey on a steamship with an older brother. He and his brother were then employed at a steel mill for only $7 a week and worked 60 hours weekly. Due to unbearable working conditions, Antanas and his family relocated, and he and his brother took up another job in Rumford, Maine at a pulp mill. Although conditions there were marginally better than the steel mill job, Antanas became sick from chest pains due to inhalation of toxic fumes, and was forced to leave the job and seek yet another one. This experience of being an immigrant and being exploited for his labor had a profound effect on Bimba, and it drove his interest in Marxism. After leaving the milling industry, he got his next job as a truck driver, becoming acquainted with Lithuanian American socialists in the process. His first revolutionary achievement was helping in making a co-operative bakery for rye bread, a staple food of the Lithuanian community. In becoming a socialist, he abandoned Catholicism, preferring agnosticism, what he called “religious freethinking”, not wishing to tie himself to organized religion. He later became an atheist as he got older in age.
In May of 1916, Antanas attended college at Valparaiso University, a small private college that became popular in attendance with members of the Lithuanian immigrant community in Valparaiso, Indiana. He attended there until 1919, earning a degree in history and sociology, and was able to pay for his classes by tending to a Lithuanian owned library in the town. In the summers he worked in a wire factory and machine shop in Cleveland, Ohio. Bimba than became active in the Lithuanian Socialist Federation (LSF) , which served as a branch organization of the Socialist Party of America, with the LSF catering to Lithuanian immigrant populations (both primarily ethnic Lithuanian Catholics as well as Litvak Jews.) He spent his time in the LSF writing numerous Lithuanian-language publications for them, as well as traveling to Lithuanian immigrant communities in cities in the US delivering Marxist political lectures amongst Lithuanian laborers in steel manufacturing cities like Gary, Indiana and Chicago, Illinois. His first brush against the capitalist legal system came in 1918, it is not fully clear as to whether Bimba was arrested for his trade unionist and socialist beliefs, or his objection to World War One at the time. However, Lithuanian-American historians generally contend his arrest was a result of expressing all of those opinions publicly. Eventually he was released and charges were dropped. In summer 1919, he got a job as editor of “Darbas” (ENG: “Labor”) the Lithuanian newspaper of the ACWA (Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America). On September 1st 1919, the Socialist Party of America fractured into rival organizations, mainly amongst Social Democrat vs Marxist lines. The Marxist faction became the early iteration of the Communist Party of America, which the LSF backed, and Bimba was quick to support the CPUSA as a result. Bimba later became the editor of another Lithuanian American Marxist newspaper, this time “Kova” (ENG: “Struggle”) for the newly formed LCF (Lithuanian Communist Federation). Following the Palmer Raids by the US government which seized communist publications and shut down their press, Bimba then published the LCF underground newspaper “Komunistas” (ENG:”Communist”). In 1922, Bimba became editor of the Brooklyn, New York communist Lithuanian newspaper Laisvė (ENG: “Liberty”) and remained its editor until 1928. In November 1922, along with 6 other Lithuanians, he founded and held a committee meeting for a workers trade union called the United Toilers of America (UTA). The UTA also had numerous branch organizations, mainly serving immigrant communities, which operated notably with the help of Bimba and the rest of the 6 man committee. The organizations of the UTA were as follows:
The Workers' Defense Conference of New England
Alliance of Polish Workers of America
The Ukrainian Association
Lettish (Latvian) Publishing Association
The Polish Publishing Association
The Lithuanian Workers' Association
Woman's Progressive Alliance.
Since most of these organizations served Eastern European immigrants, it can be argued that Bimba is perhaps the first person of a Soviet nationality who developed a “diaspora Soviet/Eastern Bloc consciousness” driven ideology, aimed at unifying them under socialism for the benefits of their labor. A true visionary Bimba was.
The UTA later became an organization absorbed officially into the Communist Party of the United States. The UTA eventually fell apart after raids by the government during the Bridgman Convention meetings of the UTA, in which its high profile leaders of William Z. Foster and C.E. Ruthenberg were arrested. After this, the UTA was disbanded.
But it was on January 26th, 1926 that Bimba truly made his biggest mark on Marxist history in the United States. He had traveled to Brockton, Massachusetts to address the Lithuanian community there at the Lithuanian National Hall. At the meeting he championed socialism, encouraged unionizing in the Lithuanian immigrant community, and criticized the Catholic Church. He said in critique of the church as an institution:
"People have built churches for the last 2,000 years, and we have sweated under Christian rule for 2,000 years. And what have we got? The government is in control of the priests and bishops, clerics and capitalists. They tell us there is a God. Where is he?”
When he received pushback from religious individuals in the crowd who ridiculed his disbelief in God and Jesus Christ, he said:
"There is no such thing. Who can prove it? There are still fools enough who believe in God. The priests tell us there is a soul. Why, I have a soul, but that sole is on my shoe. Referring to Christ, the priests also tell us he is a god. Why, he is no more a god than you or I. He was just a plain man."
After an individual complained to police, he was arrested and put on trial under Salem Witch Trial era blasphemy laws.
In addition to being charged with blasphemy, he was also charged under anti-communist political sedition laws, based on the following statement he made at the same meeting:
"We do not believe in the ballot. We do not believe in any form of government but the Soviet form and we shall establish the Soviet form of government here. The red flag will fly on the Capitol in Washington and there will also be one on the Lithuanian Hall in Brockton."
With the legal and financial support of the local Worker’s Communist party, the International Labor Defense organization, and the American Civil Liberties Union, he was able to widen public support for himself.
The trial began on February 24th, 1926; six days later, on March 1st, 1926 he was found not guilty of blasphemy but guilty of sedition and ordered to pay a $100 fine. He was then released. Opponents attempted to get him back in jail on more similar charges, but in a rare twist of events, the lead prosecutor dropped his case, simply saying it wasn’t worth pursuing. As a result of the high profile trial of Bimba’s case, courts later ruled the blasphemy laws unconstitutional. As such, Bimba fighting such corrupt laws, causing them to be thrown out, is his crowning achievement.
In 1928, Bimba ran for NY State Assembly on the Communist Party ticket in the 13th Assembly District of Brooklyn, NYC.
Bimba also produced 2 important leftist American works, both originally in Lithuanian; A survey of labor history called “The History of the American Working Class” (1927), and an account of government repressions of Pennsylvania coal miners in “The Molly Maguires” (1932). Both books were published by International Publishers, a publishing arm of the Communist Party of The United States.
Bimba was an editor of a Marxist magazine for the final time in 1936, writing for the Lithuanian language publication “Šviesa” (ENG: “Light”) in 1936.
In 1962, Bimba was awarded his honorary doctorate in history from Vilnius University in the capital of Lithuania.
Bimba was persecuted by the American capitalist legal system yet again in 1963, when it tried to deport him on grounds of sedition while un-naturalized, on the grounds that, since he was not yet a citizen when brought to trial in 1926 (he didnt become a citizen until 1927) the court argued he should be deported. Historians generally at free the targeting of Bimba to be deported to Soviet Lithuania was politically motivated revenge, in that the DOJ was upset that Bimba refused to testify against other communists in the political witch hunts of the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1957 earlier. Bimba appealed against thr government until 1967, arguing to be allowed to stay in America, as he was politically committed to building socialism in the USA despite that he respected the USSR. Miraculously, in July of 1967, Attorney General Ramsey Clark dropped his case, viewing it as a form of political intimidation.
Bimba later died in NYC on September 30th, 1982, at age 88. He left his mark on the movement for socialism in America, and made himself a hero for Lithuanian Americans and all diaspora Lithuanians.
In conclusion, don’t be like reactionary Lithuanians. Be like Antanas Bimba. Be revolutionary. May his accomplishments forever be acknowledged.

https://reddit.com/link/1cvc7j9/video/otk52sne8a1d1/player
I've been learning this shit for a week & this is my first above-10-command-block project
My first obstacle was the rclick detection. I made some research and found a tutorial of moosestew about this problem. However, he didnt say if that was multiplayer compatible or not. That struck me with an idea of getting each player their own armor stand within distance ..0.5 and the problem might be haphazardly solved
The next barrier was how to data modify player? i was pissed when ppl keep saying that player data modifying only available with datapack, which is true. But i know a thing for sure that i am able to modify item data from other entities. So i came up with an idea of summoning a chest minecart, copying the selected item to the chest, modifying the item inside that chest, finally pasting back the item to player inventory. That approach is bulky, but i am amenable to it
The third one was "how to save the data for later use". I've been informed that we have /scoreboard and /data storage to deal with memorizing data. However, despite the vast instances for scoreboard, i found examples of storage were oddly scarce. After few hours messing with the syntax, i managed to set item lore from storaged nbt. Thus, i wanted something editable, such as a book, so that i can rename the item with ease whenever i want without going through the long-winded syntax. So how to copy the data from a book to storage?
My first approach was checking that if i put down the right syntax in the writable book, such as "text":"test", will i able to store that text and merge it with the item data. Evidently, it did not. So I started finding the answer for that and i came up with the similarity. So basically, i am able to paste the data around, as long as the syntaxes are similar. And obviously, what i wrote in the book had a completely nbt tag with item lore. Thus, i just need to find something look alike item lore in terms of nbt tag then problem solved. Eventually, the written book have the same path with item lore, which was the final piece of the puzzle
Sorry if this is tedious, I just want to share something i 've been dedicated to for a while. I'm still learning and my approaches might be naive, so i would love to receive constructive criticism. Besides, im planning to learn more about motion tag and falling block, if you dont mind, can you suggest some challenges of these topics for me to thrive? I would so appreciate

My partner and I recently got deep into film photography, I’ve had a DSLR for a number of years that I usually shoot in Av/ Tv mode but had no idea film photography was even still a thing until recently.
Decided to pick up a Pentax K1000 I found on Marketplace for $80 CAD, picked up an SMC 50mm F2 as well. Shot 3 rolls of Ultramax through it and was very impressed at how well the photos turned out (only metered off the camera). Needless to say after that I was hooked, and while I found the strictly basic manual controls of the K1000 fun, I wanted something I could use Shutter and Aperture priority with as well.
Upon lots and lots of research, decided to go with the Nikon F4 (No LCD bleed). It’s incredibly hefty and that is what I like about it, not to mention it’s gorgeous. I have a friend that gave me a Nikkor 28mm F2.8 and lent me a 300mm Nikkor Telephoto (both manual, I’m fine with that)
Shot my first roll with it today and very much looking forward to seeing how they turned out, just wanted to share my journey so far!

Never once had Fisk tower been as filled with laughter as it had been now. Corpses of guards turned maniacs littered the halls, blood covered glass from broken windows and burn marks of bullets painted the perfect crime scene. The calling card of The Joker.
Over the news helicopter’s and police sirens, Joker’s footsteps could just barely be heard. But what the one remaining soul could certainly hear, was knife dragging across the wall like nails on a chalkboard and the maniacal cackle of the clown outside the doors. And when those doors opened, the sickest met the strongest.
Fisk held the phone up to his ear.
"Don’t wait out for me. This may be a minute."
Joker couldn’t help but begin his signature laugh.
"Wilson! I'm...so excited to see you!"
"Was Gotham uneventful today? Metropolis not your fancy? You've picked a poor spot to claim your territory."
Joker dragged his blood covered finger up his decomposing face, forming an all but perfect excuse for a smile. Fisk straightened his black suit and cleared his throat. Joker let a crazed grin spread to his ears. Fisk kept a stone-face while he walked around his desk.
"Ooh!! Feeling daring today?"
"If anyone is going to spill the first blood of battle, I want it to be you."
Joker sneered at the excitement, swiftly swiping his knife across his teeth before running at Fisk. Most would be frightened out of their mind, but Fisk barely flinched at the sight. And when Joker stabbed his blade below Fisk’s eye, not a drop of blood slipped out. One second, Joker stood confused at his lack of affect. The next, Fisk had clenched his fist around Joker’s wrist.
"Not. Impressed."
With a grunt, Fisk leaned his head back, and slammed it into Joker’s. Joker slid across the floor now with throbbing head pain. But he had to roll away quickly to evade Fisk trying to stomp on him. But even as Joker rolled away, Fisk’s heavy footsteps followed him.
Joker picked his moment to rise to his knees, just missing a punch from Fisk. He quickly pulled a rusty crowbar from his jacket and struck Fisk’s ribs with it. Fisk threw his arm out to the side, sending Joker crashing into a stone pillar.
Fisk straitened his tie as Joker got himself together. Joker made haste swiping the gun from his waist and firing off a shot at Fisk. The sound of a Bang filled the room. Before the sound finished echoing, Fisk already had his fist held out in front of him. Unlike Joker had planned, Fisk caught the bullet.
"I’ve seen the trick time and time again, clown."
The pain in Fisk’s hand confused him. As he unclenched his fist, he saw that the bullet had driven itself into Fisk’s palm, faint blood flowed through the creases in his hand. Fisk didn’t let it bother him, he simply squeezed the bullet with two fingers and pulled it out.
He stood there examining the bullet as Joker dashed at him with his hands wide open. Joker wrapped his hands around Fisk’s fat neck, but instead of panicking, Fisk kept a straight face and nailed the bullet into Joker’s forehead. Like the madman he was, Joker ignored the pain and threw his leg up in a style similar to an axe kick. Fisk certainly felt that blow as he stumbled back with a shattered, bleeding nose. Fisk had dropped his guard, Joker noticed this and began swinging his crowbar across Fisk’s chest. Every hit connected, the rotted metal smashed rib after rib every time it struck its target.
Fisk threw his leg forward, launching Joker like a football across the room. By some miracle, the window didn’t shatter when Joker slammed into it, but countless cracks formed across it. As Joker opened his eyes, he felt a powerful grip around his neck. He knew Fisk’s intentions when he noticed his fist pulled back. Fisk was about to punch him through the window to a great fall to his death. Joker thought fast, he knew one thing: Everyone has a weak spot. He didn’t hesitate to drive his knife into Fisk’s right eye. Just as he thought, Fisk’s squishy eyeball wasn’t as invincible as the rest of body. Fisk let out a roar of agony as he threw Joker headfirst into the floor behind him.
Joker pulled himself from the broken tiles to look back at Fisk. The giant man was still tending to the sharp metal in his eye socket. With a devilish grin, Joker shouted,
"Goodness, Wilson! You’d ought to keep your head up!"
Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang Every bullet Joker’s gun could hold fired into Fisk’s body. With a knife in his eye, Fisk could only do so much to block. But as most guns do, Joker’s gun had gone through all it’s ammunition and Joker had to reload. Faster than Joker could slip the fresh bullets in, Fisk charged and shoulder bashed him. For just a short moment, Joker was off his feet, before Fisk clenched a fist around Joker’s leg and with all his might, slammed his frail body into the ground. With that, the floor below them fell apart.
They crashed onto the long tabel of a board room. Fisk got up onto his knee and looked to his right. Joker was pressing his hand on his back and pulling splinters out of his bicep. Fisk stood up and yanked the knife from his eye.
"You’re death won’t be in vain, Joker." Fisk said staring at the knife, "However, I do hope it strips your henchmen of whatever of their pride remains."
"Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Are your men proud of working for a walking marshmallow?"
The smile had faded from his face. In it’s place was an ugly snarl, having taken offense to Fisk’s comment. Before he could get a response, Fisk dashed across the room and punched Joker into the wall. He then sent the knife into Joker’s hand, nailing him to the wall.
"No! They need to know whose world this is! And after I crush you they'll-"
Joker used his free hand to swing his crowbar into Fisk’s groin. He had once again proved himself right that everyone had a weak spot. To get his hand free, Joker extended his arm out with all the might he could muster up. His knife was still sticking out the back of his hand, but Joker wouldn’t let it bother him. What did bother him, was what felt like a sledgehammer smashing his abdomen.
A stream of vomit flew from Joker’s mouth as Fisk pulled his fist away and squeezed Joker’s neck.
"Now....I'LL BREAK YOU!!!"
Infuriated, Fisk choke slammed him. He held onto Joker’s neck tightly and began charging through every wall in his path, he tore apart the building without concern for himself, nor Joker. Fisk’s rampage only came to an end when he ran headfirst into the boiler room. The tank exploded, with Joker and Fisk in front of it.
Fisk grunted as he tried to stand after the impact. He smacked the fire on his clothes to put it out. Smoke filled his lungs with every breath. It didn’t take a genius to know that the upper half of the tower was had been set ablaze by the explosion. Fisk wiped dust from his forehead. He looked around at the aftermath, wondering what happened to Joker. Had he been reduced to ashes? Was he nothing but a gross red smudge on the walls? Or was he hiding in the dark smoke, throwing a gas canister at his head?
If you guessed the last one, you’d be right. Fisk fell to his hands and knees after the canister flew into his head. His ears ringing and his temples throbbing, he could just barely hear a maniacal voice shout,
"Wakey, wakey!"
Fisk looked to his left. Hidden in the black smoke sat the silhouette of the Joker. Resting on his shoulder was a rocket launcher. The missle fired immediately, and pulverized the floor, the walls, the building began to crumble. The police and the fire brigade had arrived at the exact time as Joker fired his blast. Just in time to see Fisk Tower fall apart right in front of them. Citizens all screamed in horror at the sight. A humongous cloud of dust and smoke surrounded what once was Fisk Tower. Officers and firefighters got closer to the destruction, unaware of the lunatic still living. Laughter filled their ears as the clown’s silhouette danced out of the smoke. When he escaped the aftermath, Joker took a bow, as if the boast. As if to say,
"Yeah, that’s right. I blew up Fisk Tower. What’re ya gonna do about it?"
Suddenly, a second silhouette appeared behind him. His to reduced to a rag, Fisk was alive and angry. He slammed his fists into the sides of Joker’s head, blood squirted out of his ears. Joker spun around, and the giant mans hand gripped part of his face that was loose. In one swift motion, Fisk ripped Joker’s rotting face from his head. But he wasn’t done, he had to solidify that he was in a different leauge than Joker, so he quickly threw a punch into Joker’s mouth, ruining his smile by sending teeth into the back of his throat.
Joker fell backwards, and looked up at Fisk raising his fists above his head. With a roar, Fisk dropped onto his kneed and brung his fists down on Joker’s head. The crowd fell silent from the deafening crunch, but Fisk had rage everlasting burning inside him. He just didn’t stop bringing his fists down on Joker’s head, yelling,
"DIE! DIE! DIE!! DIE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!"
Fisk was breathing heavily after he finished his assault. He sluggishly rose to his feet, relishing in glory. Below him, was once a head, but now it was only a messy, disgusting pile of meat and pale flesh.