NonCredibleDefense

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A community for your defence shitposting needs

Rules

1. Be nice

Do not make personal attacks against each other, call for violence against anyone, or intentionally antagonize people in the comment sections.

2. Explain incorrect defense articles and takes

If you want to post a non-credible take, it must be from a "credible" source (news article, politician, or military leader) and must have a comment laying out exactly why it's non-credible. Low-hanging fruit such as random Twitter and YouTube comments belong in the Matrix chat.

3. Content must be relevant

Posts must be about military hardware or international security/defense. This is not the page to fawn over Youtube personalities, simp over political leaders, or discuss other areas of international policy.

4. No racism / hatespeech

No slurs. No advocating for the killing of people or insulting them based on physical, religious, or ideological traits.

5. No politics

We don't care if you're Republican, Democrat, Socialist, Stalinist, Baathist, or some other hot mess. Leave it at the door. This applies to comments as well.

6. No seriousposting

We don't want your uncut war footage, fundraisers, credible news articles, or other such things. The world is already serious enough as it is.

7. No classified material

Classified ‘western’ information is off limits regardless of how "open source" and "easy to find" it is.

8. Source artwork

If you use somebody's art in your post or as your post, the OP must provide a direct link to the art's source in the comment section, or a good reason why this was not possible (such as the artist deleting their account). The source should be a place that the artist themselves uploaded the art. A booru is not a source. A watermark is not a source.

9. No low-effort posts

No egregiously low effort posts. E.g. screenshots, recent reposts, simple reaction & template memes, and images with the punchline in the title. Put these in weekly Matrix chat instead.

10. Don't get us banned

No brigading or harassing other communities. Do not post memes with a "haha people that I hate died… haha" punchline or violating the sh.itjust.works rules (below). This includes content illegal in Canada.

11. No misinformation

NCD exists to make fun of misinformation, not to spread it. Make outlandish claims, but if your take doesn’t show signs of satire or exaggeration it will be removed. Misleading content may result in a ban. Regardless of source, don’t post obvious propaganda or fake news. Double-check facts and don't be an idiot.

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Breaking News from the Department of Defense (sh.itjust.works)

submitted 1 week ago* (last edited 1 week ago) by [email protected] to c/[email protected]

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https://www.defense.gov/News/News-Stories/Article/Article/4000004/test/

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[–] [email protected] 4 points 1 week ago* (last edited 1 week ago)

My favorite 404 page has to be the one on Adult Swim's website. It has a short story on it that (I believe) they still occasionally switch. The current one:

LIVING WITH THE ECHO

The echo – as I call it – can be felt at any time, and is often so profound, I look into the eyes of whoever’s around, expecting them to share in its wonder. At best I’m met with polite, confused smiles. Undaunted I ride out this secret frequency until it ebbs, leaving me with an aching nostalgia for mere seconds ago.

So what is this sensation? Let’s start here: I’m eleven pedaling my dirtbike through the soon-to-be-developed wooded area near my house. The path is slick with mud and fallen leaves. I race both against the clock (dinner is soon) and a shallow stream that runs parallel, about six-feet below to my right.

This is before digital. My playlist is clouds, trees, and water. I am attuned to nature – with the exception of a fallen, gnarled branch that demolishes my front rim and sends me screaming headfirst over the side.

IMPACT. Everything goes gray.

Colors resume as I reorient on a bed of grit and stone, shallow water coursing over my sweater and jeans. Nothing feels broken and I’m not alarmed. I remain still, oddly at peace. The stream feels otherworldly, beyond water, a place of belonging. I gaze at the dense blue sky, framed by a canopy of thrashing branches. Rainwater gushes by my ears, roaring like applause. Inexplicably this dirty, wet place offers a sort of warmth and protection. I’m a clumsy kid who found a womb in the woods.

It’s later I learn that I fractured the base of my skull and lost a lot of blood. That I remained in the stream for two hours, which contracted (in my mind) to five ecstatic minutes. The doctors say I was in shock with a mild brain injury. Months of physical rehab and cognitive tests got me back on my bike, though I wouldn’t experience the world as I briefly had, alone and bleeding to death – until the echo, which began a year ago.

The echo comes on like a vibration of pure bliss, and I suddenly remember how free and alive I felt in the stream. Colors dance. Sound takes on added dimension. Imagine a seizure that heightens your senses and drops the veil of the ordinary world to reveal iridescence and pure harmony everywhere. It. Is. Beautiful.

Then it goes away and you feel haunted by a fantastic party that ended too early.

Friends worry when the echo causes me to adopt the look of a grinning madman, my eyes alive. Sometimes I drool, but what’s a funny face when you’ve entered the divine?

I don’t want anyone to worry so I joke that my brain just experienced a sort of 404/error. My code is messed up ha ha. I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m ok.

I’m not ok. Because I live for that interruption.

I only exist in 404/error. I am no one any other time.

I don’t dream anymore. Sleep is now a pitch-black advertisement for death. Guess my brain has plenty to do, staging short plays of the impossible, during waking hours.