Bloody Sunday, also known as the Bogside Massacre, was a massacre of Irish anti-internment protesters by the British government that took place on this day in 1972 in the Bogside area of Derry, Northern Ireland.
Bloody Sunday resulted in the highest number of people killed in a shooting incident during the Troubles and remains the worst mass shooting in Northern Irish history. This violence was in response to a protest organized by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA) in opposition to a state policy of internment without trial, introduced in August of 1971.
On January 18th, 1972, Prime Minister of Northern Ireland Brian Faulkner banned all parades and marches in response to widespread civil unrest. The protest march was organized despite this order.
On the day of the protest, approximately 10,000-15,000 joined the march, however their path was blocked by British Army barriers. The protest descended into chaos, with British soldiers chasing down protesters and attacking them indiscriminately. 26 people were shot, 14 were killed. Many of the victims were shot while fleeing from the soldiers or attending to the wounded, while others were injured by shrapnel, rubber bullets, batons, or being ran down by army vehicles.
The soldiers were from the 1st Battalion Parachute Army, which had perpetrated the Ballymurphy Massacre just months prior. The events of Bloody Sunday greatly increased hostilities between Northern Ireland and the British government. Support for and recruitment by the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA) rose following the massacre.
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i saw a weird light flash in the sky a few days ago, it was weirdly circular and bluish-white. the flash started in the center and flared outwards, fading in the same order shortly after wards. it was cloudy and lightly raining, and the flash looked like it was shining through the clouds from behind somewhere. maybe it was a supernova, or a meteor burst, or a spacecraft thrust or warp, or a headlight reflecting off of a raindrop in a strange way. i'll probably never know for sure.
just last night i saw the weirdest phosphene i've ever had when i was trying to sleep at like 3 or 4 AM, it was like 4 to 8 orange circles flashing for a second somewhere below the horizon and to the south/southeast. my first impression was of some kind of underground weapons test detonation shining through with high energy particles of some kind. but it was probably just misfiring retinal cells, optic nerves, or neurons. i'll probably never know for sure.
as far back as i can remember, i constantly see static (like television static but colored appropriate to the view and higher resolution) in my field of view if i pay close attention, a phenomena called visual snow and whose cause is not always known. sometimes i see patterns, even geometric patterns, in this static. sometimes its diagonal stripes, sometimes its a pulsing set of concentric circles all aligned at a point along their edges. sometimes its like a worm or a slug, a pattern of movement in the static pushing outwards and back from a central point in its 'face' like a kaleidoscope as it floats around me. maybe my optic nerves and neurons are fried, maybe its long covid, maybe i'm just insane, maybe i've done too much LSD, maybe i'm under the influence of mind-slugs from another dimension. i'll probably never know for sure.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XLr77Np3Kk
"I noticed it the other night hearing Rabbit do a commercial. No matter who's talking, the different power spectra are the same, give or take a small percentage. So you and Rabbit have something in common now. More than that. Everybody who says the same words is the same person if the spectra are the same only they happen differently in time, you dig? But the time is arbitrary. You pick your zero point anywhere you want, that way you can shuffle each person's time line sideways till they all coincide. Then you'd have this big, God, maybe a couple hundred million chorus saying 'rich, chocolaty goodness' together, and it would all be the same voice."
"Mucho," she said, impatient but also flirting with a wild suspicion. "Is this what Punch means when he says you're coming on like a whole roomful of people?"
"That's what I am," said Mucho, "right. Everybody is."
He gazed at her, perhaps having had his vision of consensus as others do orgasms, face now smooth, amiable, at peace. She didn't know him. Panic started to climb out of a dark region in her head. "Whenever I put the headset on now," he'd continued, "I really do understand what I find there. When those kids sing about 'She loves you,' yeah well, you know, she does, she's any number of people, all over the world, back through time, different colors, sizes, ages, shapes, distances from death, but she loves. And the 'you' is everybody. And herself. Oedipa, the human voice, you know, it's a flipping miracle." His eyes brimming, reflecting the color of beer.
I found a YouTube link in your comment. Here are links to the same video on alternative frontends that protect your privacy: