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.Cansados de blogs bem comportados feitos por gente simples, amante da natureza e blá,blá,blá, decidimos parir este blog do non sense.Excluíremos sempre a grosseria e a calúnia, o calão a preceito, o picante serão ingredientes da criatividade. O resto... é um regalo
31/10/2025
JOÃO LOPES
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O apocalipse pode esperar
𝖤𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈. 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺́ 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖺? 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝖮 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗈𝗌, 𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗈𝖻𝗃𝖾𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗌. 𝖮 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗌𝗀𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗋-𝗌𝖾-𝗂𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌 “𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌” 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾.
𝖭𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗅, 𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾́𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖺, 𝗃𝖺́ 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺̃𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗌/𝖺𝗌 “𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗌” 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖮 𝖬𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖯𝖾́𝗌 (𝟣𝟫𝟦𝟣) 𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗀𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺 - 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝗀𝖾́𝗇𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖮𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗑𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅, 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗈 𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅.
𝖣𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺, 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗒𝗇 𝖡𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 - 𝖠 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖣𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗍𝖾/𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝖤𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗋 (𝖭𝖾𝗍𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗑) —, 𝖾𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺̀ 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗀𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗇𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺. 𝖲𝗂𝗆, 𝖾́ 𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺 - 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗌𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖤𝖴𝖠 𝖺 𝖾𝗇𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖺𝖼̧𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗆ı́𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́ 𝖺 𝟣𝟫 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝟣𝟢 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝗏ı́𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗌 - 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾́𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗋𝖺́ 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾́𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾. 𝖠 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗋: 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗋 𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖺. 𝖬𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺: “𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗓 𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆, 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗋 𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗈...”
𝖠𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖺 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅ı́𝗉𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋-𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈́𝗂 𝖽𝖺 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗋 (𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖺̀ 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆!) 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺́ 𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺-𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾... 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗓: 𝖺𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗃𝖺 𝗎́𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖺́𝗌, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺) 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝗈𝗎.
𝖥𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈, 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈. 𝖰𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝖢𝖺𝗌𝖺 𝖡𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗆ı́𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅ı́𝗉𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗈 (𝗈𝗌 𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖺̃𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝖾̂𝗆 𝖺̀ 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗅ı́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺), 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋ı́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈: 𝗈 "𝖺𝗅𝖾́𝗆" 𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾-𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 “𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗂” 𝖽𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈. 𝖮𝗎 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺: 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 (𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋) 𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 - 𝖾, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗋.
𝖤 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖼̧𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈. 𝖢𝗈𝗆 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝖺𝗁 𝖮𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗆, 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖼𝗂𝖼𝗅𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗈́ 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 (𝖺 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗆ı́𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗅), 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺, 𝖺𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗆𝖺́𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺̂𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎. 𝖠𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗆, 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗀𝖺 𝖺𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝟣𝟫º 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗈, 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈́𝗋𝗂𝖺 “𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾-𝗌𝖾”, 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖺́𝗌 𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖼̧𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌. 𝖮𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗃𝖺: 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗓𝖾𝗋𝗈, 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝟣𝟫 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗌...
𝖫𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗈-𝗇𝗈𝗌, 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗈, 𝖽𝖺 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗉𝗁 𝖫. 𝖬𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗂𝖼𝗓 (𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈, 𝖾𝗆 𝖠 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼̧𝖺, 𝗎𝗆 𝗍ı́𝗍𝗎𝗅𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝟣𝟫𝟧𝟦) 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗆𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈́𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗌 - 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾-𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗀𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺̃𝗈 𝖾́ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌ı́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝖾 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗈́𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈. 𝖤 𝗉𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖻𝖾́𝗆 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺́𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖾́ 𝖩𝗈𝗀𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖦𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺 (𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟥), 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖡𝖺𝖽𝗁𝖺𝗆, 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗐 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗇𝗎𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾́𝗂𝗌, 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 (𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺-𝗌𝖾: 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌) 𝗏𝖺𝗂 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼̧𝗈̃𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 “𝗃𝗈𝗀𝗈”, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾̂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗓ı́𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾.
𝖮 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗒𝗇 𝖡𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖾́ 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗈, 𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗌 𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗌 - 𝖽𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝖾́ 𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗅ı́𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗌 - 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗏𝗈. 𝖭𝖺̃𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋 𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗈́𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝖾, 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗈, 𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗌 𝖤𝖴𝖠, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗋 𝖨𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝖤𝗅𝖻𝖺, 𝖾́ 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗎𝗆 𝗅𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈. 𝖣𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗈: 𝖺 𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖼̧𝖺̃𝗈 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼̧𝗈 𝖾 𝗈𝗌 𝗓𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗓𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈 𝗈𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗆-𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗋, 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗈𝗌 𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗏𝗋𝖺 “𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗈”.
* Jornalista
IN "DIÁRIO DE NOTÍCIAS" 31/10/25 .
.
4225.UNIÃO
EUROPEIA
LETÓNIA
"56 DEPUTADOS MACHISTAS
FAVORÁVEIS À VIOLÊNCIA
CONTRA AS MULHERES
NUM PAÍS DA UE"
Parlamento letão vota para
se retirar do tratado de combate,
à violência contra as mulheres
putin HUYLO
putin é um canalha .
Trump is also a killer
of innocent people Ukrainians
Agora também um activo russo
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Alerta Estupidez
SALSƖƇHAS ƲƐƓAƝ
A crónica criminal das Três da Manhã, apresentada por Cláudio Almeida e que conta com Inês Lopes Gonçalves em “modo jornalista” e Joana Marques e Ana Galvão como as piores especialistas/testemunhas oculares/praticantes de crime.
No “Alerta Estupidez” só há espaço para criminalidade mesmo, mesmo palerma.
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