Let me be clear...

Don't Clap Yet. The Regime Still Breathes.

Let me be clear.

I am not against applause.
I am not against celebration.
I am not even against Champagne.

But I am against pretending the fire is out while the arsonist still roams free.

To those who unsubscribed because I said “wait before you clap” that is your choice.
But I will not crown an unfinished war with ribbons.
I will not pour champagne over wounds still bleeding.

The Iranian regime still crushes.
Still censors. Still rapes. Still kills.

Until that ends—
my hands will not clap.
They will write.
They will resist.

Applaud if you must.
Drink, if it helps.
But I will not toast to half-justice.

Yes, I stand with Israel.
Yes, I stand with the United States.

But I do not believe in the gospel of politicians, especially not during elections, especially not when Nobel prizes glitter more than human lives.

Truth does not campaign.
It bleeds.
And I will not turn away.

---

Truth doesn’t sip champagne. It watches the fire and writes its name in ash.

The Iranian nuclear weapons project is not finished. It will start now.

Not as a rebirth from silence,

but as a phoenix born in fire, retaliation, and fear.

Israel’s strike was surgical.

America’s message was theatrical.

But Iran’s pride? It was wounded—not destroyed.

And what do wounded empires do?

They build.

They bury deeper.

They summon secrets into uranium tombs,

and they wait—for the next red line to be drawn in dust.

What we may now witness isn’t the end of a program.

It’s the beginning of its underground resurrection—

colder, smarter, more spread across shadowy soil.

More North Korean in its defiance.

More Pakistani in its justification.

More Russian in its revenge.

This chapter doesn’t close with a mushroom cloud.

It opens with a silent centrifuge humming beneath mountain stone.