When I was attending university, I would eat at the cafeteria. They had numerous cafeterias, all spread out on the campus. And after (we) would eat, we would hike to the Engineering library to study, and then when it closed, to the law library.
One day it was before midterms and all the libraries were closed, so we went into the English building, found our own individual rooms and started to study in absolute silence.
But on this particular day, I started to develop amazing gas from the food. I don’t know what they did, but it was fart-central for me. I was just in pain from the bloated stomach and abdomen, and I was a farting up a storm. And for three hours I studied and farted. I studied and farted. And then I farted some more.
A couple came up and looked into the quiet room and then went over to the pipes near the end of the building. Perhaps they were a sewer pipe they mused.
Another hour passed. I farted and then farted. I was a darn machine!
When my buddy Jay came up to get me he exclaimed “Damn! It smells like a God damn sewer up here!” ha ha.
Yeah. It was that bad.
It was on this day that I experienced “mega farting”.
I advise you all not to duplicate this feat. Fart at will, but when it comes to mega-farting, go get help. Take some medicine and let it settle. Be kind to those around you.
Say no to mega farting.
Today…
What is the rudest thing you have ever done?
The rudest thing I ever did also changed my life.
During my first year in college, I was sitting at a little outdoor coffee shop on campus. It was a nice, sunny day, and the patio was packed with people. The shop was alongside one of the main campus arteries, and crowds of people were walking by, to and from their classes.
In the distance I noticed a young blind woman working her way among the human traffic flow. She had a cane, as many blind people do, and was using it to navigate along the edge of the path at a steady pace. Just another young student like me, going to class. As she made her way along the railing of the shop and past my table, I glanced over my shoulder to view her road ahead.
And then I saw it.
A large tree was on the edge of the path, its old branches had long since grown out in every direction. One particular branch, on its heavenwardly ascent, cut an angle into the avenue. It only intersected the path at head height for a few feet, an easy obstruction to duck aside or avoid on such a wide lane.
Easy, of course, if you can see it.
I froze. In the massive throng of people, no one else seemed to notice the impending meeting between head and branch. Just me. I knew I should shout out. I absolutely and unquestionably knew I should start yelling loudly “blind woman, please stop!” Maybe vault the rail that separated the coffee shop from the avenue and run to her. Anything but just sit there.
But I didn’t.
The coffee shop was crowded that day. Cute young women, interesting looking artsy peers, fellow classmates. The very type of people I was eager to meet as a new freshman at a strange school, far from home. And somehow that checked me. I was scared of seeming like a crazy person shouting to a blind woman. I didn’t want to stand out.
So I did nothing. And of course, only aware to dangers on the ground with her cane, she hit her head on the low branch. She hit it hard. I could hear it. I still hear it. I sat and watched her suffer pain, because I was afraid to stand up and stand out to do the right thing.
As I said, that event changed my life. I’d always tried to be a good person, helpful and courteous. But I failed that day for no reason other than some ridiculous notion of peer acceptance. I failed my father, as I have no doubt he would have shouted out. And he taught me better. I failed my personal ethics and my sense of right. I failed another human being.
And that moment decades ago has absolutely shaped my life. It has molded my behavior with friends, strangers, social and professional settings. I’ve worked hard to redeem that moment in my actions and interactions ever since, though often I feel I never really can.
And yes, I understand that young woman hit her head 20 years ago, and likely long since forgot the moment. The few people I have related this story think it foolish I’ve let this stay with me so long. But to me, it reverberates as if yesterday, and I imagine it always will. It has been my constant reminder to never freeze, never falter, and never fail to do the right thing.
I Love This TikTok Dating Trend
How can Western intelligent agencies spread a message of freedom and resistance to the CCP in China?
They can’t.
Chinese see that there are many problems with western democracies, and voices which do not fit the predominant narrative are silenced. Most recently, this has happened with the Israel/Gaza war. Chinese believe that this reveals the hypocrisy of western democracy. Now most Chinese feel that Western notions of freedom and democracy are no longer attractive, and will not solve China’s problems. Chinese have achieved more by finding their own solutions.
On his recent trip to Beijing, Putin took a list of western intelligence operatives and western non-government organizations operating in China to overthrow the Chinese government. Chinese security officials will use this information to neutralize their operations and operatives in China.
How does it feel to work in a service capacity position where one constantly interacts with the extremely wealthy (e.g. an air host on a private jet, a maid at a palace, etc.)?
For a number of years, I worked as a wealth management advisor.
Financial services is the “Concierge of Money” for the Plutocrat class; we were suit-and-tie wearing mandarins of their largesse, who knew the details of our clients’ finances better than they did; it was our job to anticipate their needs before it even occurs to them.
Establishing, managing and amending clients’ investments and trusts were the obvious and most easily-described portions of the work.
Less obvious was the political and relationship-management aspects of dealing with individuals whose Crosean fortunes can bestow upon them colossal egos and entitlement mentalities; managing a massive personal fortune often means managing their dirty secrets.
General observations: Money is a personality amplifier.
If you are a poor person who hates gay people/broken-English-speaking immigrants/Republicans/whatever, your need for a paying job forces a level of decorum in your conduct, and you learn to keep quiet your most objectionable opinions so you can get along with your employers/customers.
On the other hand, If you are a poor person who has a benevolent heart and genuinely wishes to help the less fortunate, your financial constraints will limit whatever level of help you offer to very modest levels; your efforts may be invisible to most unless they are direct beneficiaries of your generosity, or know you personally.
Wealth removes those constraints.
A wealthy bigot can afford to be a raging terror to whoever he or she wishes, with almost no consequences. I’ve witnessed multimillionaires confidently drop shockingly racist/nasty remarks about gays/disabled/[insert group] in casual conversations.
We were trained to go along with it – they are the client, and their accounts are worth millions in fees over the course of their lifetime, so while we won’t join in the racist/bigoted banter, we won’t object either; we are trained to nod politely and refocus the conversation to the technical matters.
Being in the position to manage the finances of plutocrats, I’ve also been witness to financial shenanigans and the dark side of humanity, unconstrained by budget or conscience.
What have I learned?
- A wealthy married man can incorporate separate businesses/LLCs for the sole purpose of buying property/spending money on the sly for his illicit lover(s).
- Control of financial trusts can used as chess pieces to manipulate family members/dependents/beneficiaries to bend to the will of the owners of the capital.
- Errant adult children of the wealthy who find themselves incapable of earning a living on their own, often find themselves in protracted legal battles with stepmothers their own age (their plutocrat fathers, having paid a fortune to rid themselves of their first wives, marry younger women who now vie for a piece of the dying man’s fortunes).
- Entitled heirs – with no irony or self-awareness – often speak of their fathers’ fortunes and possessions as “my house,” “my boat” or “my plane.”
- If you put over US$100,000 on the table in any casino in Las Vegas/Macau/Monaco (which you can either lose or win), an entire battalion of high-touch specialists employed by the casino materialize to cater to your every whim, so long as you gamble at their tables. They know your name, your favorite foods, your favorite entertainers (“free tickets for you and your friends sir, and we can arrange for you to meet singer/rapper/comedian/magician so-and-so backstage!”) and your favorite recreational drugs (if you’re into such things – they will be discreetly tucked away in the bathroom of the penthouse suite of the hotel/casino where you are staying).
Now that we’re done wallowing in sin and dysfunction … observations on the benevolent side:
While many wealthy philanthropists want to get credit for their contributions to charities/foundations they support (seeing their name emblazoned on their former university’s Major Donor walls, creating foundations in their names, etc.), I was surprised by the number of people who wanted to remain strictly anonymous – the only entities who were aware of their donations of these people was the IRS (for tax deduction reasons), the recipient nonprofit/foundation, and us, who facilitate/structure these large donations.
There are many who view their wealth as a blessing that they entrusted to be good stewards during their lifetime; they take their responsibility seriously to leave the capital to the next generation along with imparting their most cherished values.
Children of this second group are polite, respectful and thoughtful – they understand they occupy a rare and privileged position in society and are very careful about not lording it over others, and make sincere efforts to be worthy heirs.
As you can imagine, while the former type of client was far more interesting (and lucrative for the firm, given the complexities of the layers of financial instruments deployed), the latter was far more pleasant to interact with.
The most valuable thing I’ve learned is this: whether you are a rich dysfunctional bigot dropping N-words in my office and throwing your financial weight around while bankrolling mistresses through your shell companies, or a thoughtful philanthropist trying to quietly change the world for the better with your largesse, being wealthy is a relatively lonely existence.
The problems you encounter, while very real and very frustrating, will not elicit sympathy from 99.999% of the planet.
Like being an exceptionally beautiful woman, most of the people who approach you are only after one thing, and that perspective warps your ability to connect genuinely with others – one of the most quintessential human needs.
Almost everyone wouldn’t mind being a bit more beautiful or a bit more rich, but few can truly appreciate just how alienating it is to have either in such abundant quantity, that they become the object of desire/envy by everyone you meet.
Mysteries Beneath the Ice: The Secrets of Antarctica
One of my old Free Republic posts were mentioned in this video! LOL -MM
What made you realize your life will never be the same?
Six words. How you may ask did six measly words, twenty one letters, forever alter the landscape of my world? Well I’ll tell you but first, let me lay the foundation for these life shattering words.
The first week of April, 2024 my 14 year old son was just a regular teenager (maybe slightly more mature and kind than most his age but still very much a teenage boy) when he complained of some weakness on his left side. He says “Oh it’s just a little weak feeling in my knee and elbow but I’ve been working on my rainbow flip kick (he loves soccer) so I probably am just overworking myself”. Okay that seems plausible but I kept feeling uneasy about it despite his reassurance that he was fine.
Fast forward a few days and he began to tell me he felt like he was seeing double sometimes and the weakness felt like it was not improving at all. He had gotten the farm truck stuck in the field a day prior to this though so I think well he is just trying to get out of fixing the ruts in the field so I dismiss it as nothing.
By that Sunday April 7 I notice his left eye looks like it’s lazy but he’s never had any issues with his eyes. In addition to this he says now that he feels like the left half of his body is numb. Now I no longer feel like he’s trying to get out of his punishment and the unease I felt is now screaming at me telling me something is wrong with my baby.
I take him to our local Emergency Department and after several hours and a few test (EKG, basic blood work and a CT scan w/o contrast) the ER physician says “Well I see nothing alarming on his test results and I have to say this is most likely a case of Bell’s Palsy “. I argue that this diagnosis can’t possibly be right as Bell’s Palsy only affects the facial muscles while his whole body is being affected but we are sent home despite my protests.
April 9 I get him an appointment to see his pediatrician and after an exam he says “This is classic presentation for pediatric MS but I’ll need an MRI to confirm this”. He asks me to take his over an hour away to a larger hospital with a Children’s Emergency as they could get an MRI done immediately while it would take him at least three weeks to get my son worked into the schedule.
Off we go for a confirmation of this already scary diagnosis that would change his life forever. We arrive and get checked out by one medical professional after another and are finally admitted around five in the morning (now April 10). On the way to his room an MRI is done and now we have a chance to try to get some rest while the doctor awaits the test results.
At 8:30 Wednesday April 10, 2024 a group of doctors came into my son’s very small hospital room and uttered those six tiny words.
“Your son has a brain tumor”
The next few days are mostly an anguish filled blur but to sum it up my son has a tumor on the right side of his brain stem in a region known as the pons. This devastating pediatric disease has an average overall survival rate of just 8–11 months after diagnosis. We are currently living in the Ronald McDonald House while he receives radiation treatments and I’m so afraid of the future with all its uncertainty. I’m trying my best to be positive and to give him any experiences he wants to have (foods to try, activities he’s never done etc.) but he’s my whole heart. You can’t live without your heart…
We have started a GoFundMe page to try to offset the cost of all this and also bills as I haven’t been able to work since his diagnosis. Please help me give my son everything I can while I have a chance to and he still feels like trying to do things and make memories.
Can you tell a billionaire from a millionaire in public?
Millionaires are quite common, and usually don’t stand out much in public. Many millionaires will tell you that they don’t “feel rich”, largely because the value of a million dollars has changed dramatically over the past 100 years. To have the same buying power in today’s terms, $1 million in 1900 would be the equivalent of about $27 million today. This is why the bar for being considered an ultra high net worth individual is at least $30 million.
So even though there are literally millions of millionaires (+10 million in the US alone), only about 28,000 people are considered ultra high net worth. That still leaves a lot of room to live “under the radar” and be able to go out in public without attracting too much (or any) attention.
On the other hand, there are about 2,000 billionaires globally and they are fairly well known. They’ve been in the business press and often attract attention wherever they go just because of the influence they have. So look for bodyguards and additional security anytime they are in public. They may not be the obvious Hollywood depiction of bodyguards as this draws even more attention:
That level of security is appropriate for a public event with lots of press. Like this one:
However a cadre of ominous looking bodyguards is inconvenient to have around if you just want to meet a friend for dinner, play a round of golf, attend a wedding, or just take your kids out to Disneyworld. It actually attracts more unwanted attention, while adopting a lower profile might allow them to easily pass unnoticed.
For smaller events and public excursions there will almost always be a small (1–3 person) security detail nearby, usually within 10–20 feet depending on the risk level of the venue, and they will likely try to blend in and be “invisible“ until needed. At a party or open event they will usually go out of their way to keep their hands free and will never be drinking alcohol, which makes them easy to spot.
Having bodyguards and/or a full time security detail is extremely expensive and not something a “mere” millionaire would spring “just to have around.”
Hope this was helpful.
Pawn Stars Expert “This is the HOLY GRAIL”
What is the dirtiest fine print you’ve seen in a contract?
I used to store my boat on the trailer at a marina. It was there for three years and they had my credit card on file and charged me every month. Out of nowhere, I get a letter in the mail about a $50 charge for not signing some paperwork. I go to the marina’s office and ask what that is all about. They tell me that I didn’t sign a credit card authorization document. I told them that it was never sent to me, and if it was such a problem for them how did they manage to charge my card every month? She waived the “fine” and then it got interesting…
She gave me a “new” contract to sign for my spot. I never had a contract, it was a monthly payment. Then she says “You might want to read this”. I asked her what I should look for and she said “Just read it”. On, maybe, page 20 it said something like The Marina is not responsible to any damage to your boat, or trailer, even if it’s due to the negligence of our employees. I confirmed that I was paid up until the end of the month, declined signing the contract, and sold my boat to a friend.
If you needed an oil change, or anything else, it was common for them to pull the trailer out of your spot to bring it to the shop and return it later. If some rookie managed to hit your boat with the engine/prop of another, and put a hole in the hull, it was all on you. No thanks.
EDIT: Many have said this is unenforceable legally. That is probably true, but the question was about the dirtiest fine print in a contract. Even if it was clearly unenforceable, why would anyone put themselves in a position to have to hire an attorney to fight for them? Also, any company adding that language to a contract is not one you could ever trust.
Has someone ever unjustifiably reported you to Child Protective Services? What was the outcome?
Oh yes..my own daughter accused me of abusing her children.
I was divorced with no child support. My daughter, “M” was a troublesome teenager and after high school she became resentful that I wouldn’t allow her to just hang around my house with her drug dealing boyfriend while I worked two jobs to pay the bills. She had to either go to school, get a job, or leave. She complied, but in due time, (at 21) she became pregnant and the boyfriend abandoned her. A year or so later, I have a better job with a 4 day work week and I’m starting to date.
I come home from a lunch date with a male friend and M is upstairs with my grand-daughter “T”, who’s now a toddler. M sends the T downstairs to the room where my friend and I are watching television. My friend asks for the bathroom and when he gets up to go, he bumps into a lamp, which falls over and breaks. He goes to the bathroom, while I put the T on the sofa and go for the broom to clean up the broken glass. T gets off the sofa to follow me and starts heading into the broken glass. I catch her before she gets cut (T is barefoot) and my friend comes out of the bathroom.
I’m trying to clean up the broken glass and T keeps climbing down from the sofa trying to get in the middle of the mess. I’m trying to keep T in my arms and sweep up the glass when my friend offers to help. Just as he’s taking the broom from me, T starts screaming her head off, (I guess she didn’t like being restrained, or maybe she didn’t like my friend ). M comes running down the stairs and starts accusing me of hurting the baby. My friend leaves as the inevitable argument starts. M calls the police, they respond and eventually take M and T to the hospital to be ‘checked out’. Two days later I get a call at work from CPs telling me I’ve been accused of child molestation and they need to investigate. It turns out M told the doctors at the hospital that my friend and I sexually molested T . He never touched her, I was the one holding her.
CPS worker came to my house, asked a lot of questions about my sex life, my job, my friends, my family, poked her nose in all my things and asked for my friend’s contact information. I called him and let her ask for his information. The CPS worker was very polite, said she didn’t think anything would come of it, depending on the medical report, and left. I spoke to my friend for the last time a few days later ; he told me he spoke to CPS and that he couldn’t see me anymore. Eventually, I got a letter saying the complaint was ‘unfounded’ but my name would be on the statewide registry for 10 years as “indicated” in an allegation of child abuse. M and T came home about a week later and whenever M became angry at me, she would call the police and repeat the allegation. Within a year, I moved to another town and left M to her own devices. She ended up in a homeless shelter and having another baby girl.
M repeated the allegation multiple times over the next few years as if it were a recent event. CPS investigated and found out I have minimal sporadic contact with them. I’ve got 4 of those damn letters with 4 different dates. Eventually M loses the children, I get visitation in court and CPS asks me to take them, which I can’t because I’m still single and my job involved frequent overnight travel. The kicker is I worked then, and still do, as a government inspector of programs that deal with a vulnerable population. Those allegations could have cost me my job. Luckily, my bosses knew me better than my own child.
Here we are, 13+ years after the incident. After a hellish stint in foster care where they were actually abused, the children have been adopted by a nice family that lets me call and visit them. I’ve participated in their therapy sessions, taken them on vacations, had sleepovers, helped with school projects and I haven’t missed a birthday, holiday, or school event in 8 years. M hasn’t been allowed to see her children in 10 years, while I get to be “Grandma”. Life sure can be a b***h.
English Beef Pot Pie
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients
Filling
- 2 pounds beef round steak, cut into 1 inch cubes
- 3 tablespoons flour
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 carrots, pared and sliced
- 3 potatoes, peeled and sliced
- 1 large onion, thinly sliced
- 1 (16 ounce) can whole tomatoes
Biscuit Topping
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 3 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/4 cup shortening
- 1/4 cup milk
Instructions
Filling
- Place steak cubes in slow cooker.
- Combine flour, salt and pepper, toss with steak to coat thoroughly.
- Stir in remaining ingredients except Biscuit Topping and mix thoroughly.
- Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 10 hours.
- One hour before serving, remove meat and vegetables from slow cooker and pour into shallow 2 1/2 quart baking dish.
- Heat oven to 425 degrees F. Cover meat mixture with Biscuit Topping. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes.
Biscuit Topping
- Mix dry ingredients. Cut in shortening until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Add milk all at one time; stir well. Pat out on floured board; roll out to cover baking dish.
What is it like to serve in the PLA?
Technically PLA common soldiers are compulsory servicemen and do not get paid. However, in reality, they volunteer to join the armed forces and usually serve for two years as a private/common sailor. They receive allowance.
After serving as compulsory servicemen they can either ‘stay in the unit’ or ‘return to the society’. If they choose to stay, they would be promoted and become ‘NCO First Year’, which as a matter of fact is Corpral. NCO are technically called volunteers and receive wages.
PLA soldiers often go through much hardship which is regarded as a requirement-in China, it is convinced that reliable soldiers must be able to bear hunger, thirst, diseases, exhaustion, and any types of suffering.
They generally don’t have enough sleep but have too much training. They are not allowed to visit home or go outside of the camp while serving as compulsory servicemen and communication tools are utterly forbidden. For example, I have a friend who served in the army for two years from 2013–2015. When he ‘came out’ and we met, he kept talking about old fashioned jokes and our city was somehow alien to him.
But he never complained, he was proud of being a strong person.
Chinese PLA are not frequently engaged in conflicts and don’t have wars to fight so they keep training and sometimes focus farming or disaster relief.
As a result, where there is a PLA outpost, there is a farmland, even on the islands. And when disasters come, they reacted immediately and help people in danger, which is why they are regarded as the savior and guardian of the people.
I appreciate their service.
Baltic Sea Anomaly, Atlantis, and Underwater Alien Bases | Mysteries of the Ocean Pt 1
What Happened To Prison Guards Of Concentration Camps When It Was Liberated?
Walenty Lenarczyk, a prisoner at Dachau, stated that following the camp’s liberation “prisoners swarmed over the wire and grabbed the Americans and lifted them to their shoulders… other prisoners caught the SS men.
The first SS man elbowed one or two prisoners out of his way, but the courage of the prisoners mounted, they knocked them down and nobody could see whether they were stomped or what, but they were killed.”
Elsewhere in the camp SS men, Kapos and informers were beaten badly with fists, sticks and shovels.
There was at least one incident where US soldiers looked away as two prisoners beat a German guard to death with a shovel, and Lt. Bill Walsh witnessed one such beating.
Another soldier witnessed an inmate stomping on an SS trooper’s face until “there wasn’t much left.” When the soldier said to him, “You’ve got a lot of hate in your heart,” he simply nodded.
An American chaplain was told by three young Jewish men, who had left the camp during liberation, that they had beaten to death one of the more sadistic SS guards when they discovered him hiding in a barn, dressed as a peasant
(American soldiers watch as a Jewish concentration camp inmate beats up the Nazi guard who held him at Dachau)
Some of the Nazis were rounded up and summarily executed along with the guard dogs. Two of the most notorious prison guards had been stripped naked before the Americans arrived to prevent them from slipping away unnoticed. They, too, were cut down.”
16 SS men were shot in the coal yard (one more killed by a camp inmate), 17 at Tower B, and perhaps a few more killed by U.S. soldiers in the incident. Anywhere from a few to 25 or 50 more were killed by inmates.
What Is Dating And Sex Like In Japan?
Flirting in Japan
Flirting seems like a misnomer. It’s more like an absense of flirting. If you like someone in Japan, there are a couple of different ways of showing it and/or approaching them, none of which really resemble flirting in the west.
1. Nanpa (the “pickup”) First off, only guys do nanpa; in the rare case that girls do it, it’s called gyaku-nan (“reverse nanpa”), but I never heard of gyaku-nan actually happening, it always seemed like it was more of an amusing theoretical idea, rather than something girls really did.
Nanpa only refers to the case when you don’t know the other person at all, and you want to pick them up. Nanpa is direct. “You’re cute. What’s your name? Do you have time? Let’s go somewhere.” That is the classic script of nanpa. It can be shortened to just: “Kawaii yo. Jikan aru?” If you hear that, you’re being nanpa-ed. Of course, if you are a non-Asian foreigner, you will probably never hear that, because Japanese guys are too shy to try and nanpa a white or black woman. Most Japanese guys are too shy to nanpa at all. If you ask a Japanese if he has ever done nanpa, he’ll probably say, “ZOMG! No way! I’m too embarrassed!” since nanpa is direct, and mostly, if you are Japanese and you like someone, you embark on a series of subtle, indirect stealth manoeuvres, because liking prohibits action, especially for women, but also for men.
Why is this the case? Japanese social interaction is all about intuiting the other person’s wishes without discussing them openly, at the same time that they are intuiting your wishes without discussing them openly, so that although nothing is ever verbalised, the two of you will always exist in a compromise position of equilibrium. If you like someone, that intuitive part goes into overdrive, because you should be able to understand everything about that person without them ever telling you, and you should be able to please them without ever asking how, even more than you would with a normal person. So it’s more important than ever to be indirect. Which leads me to:
2. Negotiating through a third partyAgain, it’s not really flirting, but since flirting is showing your feelings openly–that is, pushing your feelings onto another person, which is direct and rude–it’s better to show no sign to the other person and meanwhile exploit the back channels. Sort of like in high school. So that convoluted human chain whereby: you like Hiro and you tell Junko that you think Hiro has a nice smile knowing that Junko will intuit that you want to know if Hiro likes you back, since Junko is friends with Goro who is friends with Hiro and Junko will talk to Goro and Goro will bring it up with Hiro etc etc etc etc etc etc. Once everything is confirmed, Hiro will ask you out. (The girl ask the guy out? Ahahahaha. Be serious.)
If you don’t have a third party to negotiate for you, you may be forced to use other methods, all of them so subtle that a westerner may not even notice them at all.
3. Subtle signals
– Shyness. Pronounced shyness is form of flirting, since it’s a sign of liking, especially from girls, but also from guys. She interacts with everyone else more than him, she doesn’t sit next to him, she doesn’t talk much to him, she doesn’t initiate anything with him. – Attentiveness. You make life easier for the other person without being asked to. For example, when you got to a restaurant in Japan it’s normal to share food, so flirting means not ordering what you like, but ordering what s/he likes, which you already know without asking, because you’re observant. Stuff like that.- Eye contact. It’s the opposite to the west, where you gaze deeply into someone’s eyes if you like them. Direct eye contact is a bit rude in Japan at the best of times. If you’re flirting you look down and away a lot.- Indirect compliments. I can’t think of a good example. It’s pretty rare to give direct compliments and even more rare to compliment someone’s looks. (It’s especially rare for guys to compliment girls directly.) I wish I could think of a good example! I’ll come back to this one.
Sex in Japan
It’s really different. It’s just so completely different. The first time I had sex with a Japanese guy was easily the most bamboozling experience of my entire life.
Before I launch into anything, I should say that while I lived in Japan for five years, I have had sex with only a select few people, and that was within long term relationships, so it’s not as if I have personally taken a wide sample. But I had a network of Japanese friends (mostly female) and every time I encountered a cultural difference I immediately pumped them all for information, asking my millions of questions. I make generalized statements only when something that I personally experienced was confirmed as The Norm.
The biggest difference is that sex in Japan is not a mutual sharing experience with both partners spontaneously doing whatever they feel like or enjoy whenever they feel like doing it. Sex has rules and sex has roles just as every social interaction in Japan has rules and roles. There is an active partner and a passive partner. Active means moving; passive means unmoving. In heterosexual sex, the active partner is always male, and the passive partner is always female. In gay sex you work out your roles beforehand: the seme is active, the uke is passive (for gay guys); the tachi is active, the neko is passive (for gay women). If you are familiar with seme/uke conventions from yaoi manga, you can use them as a way of relating to what I’m talking about, because those conventions are not a fictional construct, randomly decided upon by a group of yaoi mangaka. Straight people have sex like that too, in reality.
So there is an active partner and a passive partner, which causes various flow on effects. You can’t have “Whoo-hoo! Go for it!” sex because both partners are constrained by their roles. The passive partner (obviously) because she can’t move, and the active partner because he has to take care of the passive partner, instructing her on what to do and exerting himself so that she has a good time.
Japanese guys are generally more stressed out by sex than western guys and that is because they are responsible for the sex; as the active male, the sex is their burden, they have to do everything, it’s all up to them. Sex equates not only (sometimes not even primarily) with ‘fun’ or ‘pleasure’, it also equates with ‘work’ and ‘obligation’.
I also can’t emphasise enough just how passive the passive partner is. The way a woman kisses is by submissively opening her mouth, not moving her tongue unless she is cued to do so; if she’s really feminine she won’t open her mouth at all, until she’s told to. Sometimes women will move around a (very) little during sex, but mostly not at all. The slang term for a woman who lies completely still in bed is maguro (tuna). For me, with my western sensibilities and preconceptions, calling someone a ‘tuna’ in bed sounds like an insult, conjuring up images of cold dead fish, but in Japan that word has a very positive connotation. Tuna’s an expensive delicacy.
Part of what was so bamboozling the first time I had sex in Japan was that I didn’t know there was a Way of Sex, with strict gendered roles, and I just was happily doing my own thing, throwing my partner into total confusion. Seiji told me much later that dating me made him feel like he was gay, because I was active in bed, and he couldn’t connect that with anything except masculinity.
When it came to the guys I dated, even though it was completely outside their experience, they sort of (kind of) eventually adjusted their thinking and accepted the fact that I was active (because I was Foreign and Foreign Women Are Different) but the thing I could never completely change was the fixed idea they had that someone must be passive. Yes, I could be active in bed, but they had no template for how to react to that other than the female/passive/uke template. So at best we could alternate “active periods”, and though the lines between active and passive blurred a little over time, they never blurred completely. And total shutdowns still happened: thirty seconds tick past and my partner hasn’t moved at all … oh, okay, I get what’s happened.
If I’m making cross-cultural sex sound like a bit of a nightmare: yeah, it was. In this case, once I worked out what was going on, I thought all my problems could be solved by a simple conversation or two, explaining the more free-form nature of western sex, and encouraging my partner along the lines of, “You don’t have to act a certain way, you can act however you like! You can relax! Enjoy yourself! Doesn’t that sound great?” but that was also a failure to understand the Japanese psyche. It’s not liberating for a Japanese person to be told there are no rules, it’s frightening. I was inadvertently terrorizing my partner by dropping them into the middle of a scary foreign wilderness and telling them to make do without a map.
Sex and hygiene
Sex in the west can be spontaneous, but sex in Japan isn’t, or at least, not in the same way. In Japan, you can’t get in the front door and immediately start stripping each other’s clothes off in the hallway. Well, you can, and your Japanese partner will probably acquiesce because they are Japanese, but deep down they will be hideously uncomfortable and thinking, “Sex? But I’m not mentally prepared! I haven’t done my kokoro no junbi! And she hasn’t had a shower! And I haven’t had a shower! This is kind of gross!”
Shower is important. You should shower directly before and after you have sex. Before is more important than after. This makes me sound like I only ever dated people with OCD, but it’s the norm. The way I first found out about this was in conversation with my friend Natsue.
Me: I was at Seiji’s place hanging out and he randomly told me that I could use his shower if I felt like it. Don’t you think that’s weird? Natsue: *cracks up laughing* Cat, that means he wants to have sex with you! If a guy mentions having a shower, he is saying that he wants to have sex. Me: But isn’t it kind of rude to imply I needed to shower first? Like, it was a date, obviously I had showered before going over to his apartment! Natsue: Well, I suppose so… *sounding unconvinced* … but didn’t you say he lives in Yokohama?Me: What does Yokohama have to do with it?Natsue: Well, you went on the train to get there … it’s better to have another shower. If a guy had sex with me without showering first, it would make me really uncomfortable.
Sensing yet another cross-cultural disaster in the making, I began the investigation, hitting up all the usual suspects for information, including my friend Tomoko, who was dating a western guy called Andy.
Me: Sorry to bring this up suddenly, but does it weird you out that Andy sometimes initiates sex without showering first?Tomoko: YES! I’m so glad I finally have someone to talk to about this! Cat, are all westerners like this? It’s so dirty and I can’t relax! It makes me feel like we are just animals!
After I heard basically the same story from all my Japanese girlfriends, I went back to Seiji.
Me: First of all, westerners don’t always shower or have a bath before sex. However, I will try to accommodate you on this because the idea of sex without showering seemed to horrify everyone I talked to right down to their very bones. Secondly, when you suggested that I shower the other day, and I said no, I was not rejecting you. I didn’t understand that it was your Japanese signal that you wanted to have sex. If I had understood that, I would definitely have said yes. Seiji: *spits tea all over the table*Me: …this is one of those deeply unspoken Japanese things that I’m not supposed to talk about directly, isn’t it.Seiji: Yes.
Another thing that is considered rather icky and unhygienic is ejaculate. Guys are really embarrassed by it. They will be desperately scrabbling for a tissue almost before you realise they’ve come at all, since it is really bad form to get ejaculate anywhere, without cleaning it up immediately afterwards (and immediately means immediately). This is yet one more thing that men are responsible for as the ‘active’ partner. The more of a nice, polite guy they are, the more stressed out they will be about it. It’s also yet one more way that the sex is prescribed and controlled; the guy can never really let go, because even at the moment of climax, he’s already worrying about cleaning up, or trying not to make a mess in the first place.
Fun vintage pictures
Why I’m never moving back to the US
I'm leaving China soon and many people asked "why aren't you moving back to the US?" There are a lot of reasons and I talk about the bigger reasons in this video. I don't think the US is all bad, but I also don't agree with many of the things that are happening in the US currently. I might never move back and if everything goes according to plan, I will never need to move back.
Is the rise of China a threat to the American Exceptionalism narrative?
Oh, absolutely! This is not in question.
American Exceptionalism says the Americans have the best economy, the best technology, and the best political governance. Against China, this is oh for three.
Best Economy
China has the world’s largest economy by purchasing power parity, which is a better measure of how well a country is doing.
China’s economy continues to grow at around 5% while the US economy struggles to reach 3%.
China is the undisputed world’s manufacturing superpower. The USA doesn’t even come close.
China has the world’s finest infrastructure (roads, bridges, high-speed rail, airports, seaports, power grid, etc.). US infrastructure, on the other hand, is crumbling and decaying.
China’s national debt is about 77% of GDP. The US national debt is about 129% of GDP.
Best Technology
ASPI says China leads the world in 37 out of 44 critical technology fields.
China is granted more technological patents than the USA and Japan combined!
China graduates several times more STEM graduates than America does.
China has the best 5G. China has the best EVs. China has the best mobile payment system. China’s BeiDou system is superior to GPS. China’s Tiangong space station is superior to I.S.S.
Best Political Governance
According to 𝗟𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗮’𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘆 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘅 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 79% of Chinese believe their nation is democratic while only 57% of Americans and 55% of British do.
According to the 𝗘𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 85% of Chinese trust their government while only 40% of Americans and 30% of British do.
According to the 𝗢𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘁𝘆 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯, 76% of Chinese trust their politicians while only 29% of Americans and 20% of British do.
According to 𝗜𝗽𝘀𝗼𝘀’ 𝗚𝗹𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯, 91% of Chinese are happy with their life while only 76% of Americans and 70% of British are.
According to 𝗜𝗽𝘀𝗼𝘀’ 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗡𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟵, 95% of Chinese believe their country is on the right track and moving in the right direction while only 41% of Americans and 23% of British do.
US politics is a total basket case. There is deep political division. There is deep political corruption. The American people are simply not happy with their governance.
Soft Rock Ballads 70s 80s 90s
Ah this will take you back in time…
Four-Way Slow Cooker Shredded Beef
LOW Setting: 10 1/2 hr | HIGH Setting: 6 1/2 hr | Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 beef shoulder roast, boneless arm chuck roast or boneless blade chuck roast (2 to 2 1/2 pounds)
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil (optional)
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 2 tablespoons minced garlic
- Salt and pepper
Instructions
- For optional browning, heat 1 tablespoon oil in large nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot. Brown beef roast on all sides.
- Place onion and garlic in 3 1/2 to 5 quart slow cooker; place roast on top.
- Cover and cook on LOW for 9 to 10 hours or on HIGH for 5 to 6 hours or until roast is fork-tender.
- Remove roast from slow cooker. Skim fat from cooking liquid, if necessary and reserve 1 cup onion mixture.
- Shred beef with 2 forks. Combine shredded beef and reserved onion mixture. Season with salt and pepper, as desired.
- Continue as directed in Recipe Variations below, as desired.
Notes
Recipe Variations
Mexican Shredded Beef: Combine tomato or tomatillo salsa and beef mixture, as desired. Place in large microwave-safe bowl. Cover, vent and microwave until heated through, stirring occasionally. Serve in warmed flour or corn tortillas topped with pico de gallo, slice avocados, shredded cheese, chopped cilantro and/or chopped white or green onions, as desired.
BBQ Shredded Beef: Combine prepared barbecue sauce and beef mixture. Place in large microwave-safe bowl. Cover, vent and microwave until heated through, stirring occasionally. Serve on whole wheat rolls topped with creamy horseradish sauce, coleslaw, Cheddar cheese slices, chopped green bell pepper and/or canned French fried onion, as desired.
Asian Shredded Beef: Combine prepared hoison or teriyaki sauce and beef mixture. Place in large microwave-safe bowl. Cover, vent and microwave until heated through, stirring occasionally. Serve in lettuce or cabbage cups topped with shredded carrots, sliced cucumber, chopped fresh cilantro or mint, sriracha or crushed red pepper flakes and/or chopped peanuts, as desired.
Indian Shredded Beef: Combine prepared Indian cooking sauce, such as Tikka Masala or Vindaloo. Place in large microwave-safe bowl. Cover, vent and microwave until heated through, stirring occasionally. Serve in naan or pita bread topped with toasted chopped pistachios or coconut, raisins, Greek yogurt or mango chutney, chopped fresh mint or cilantro and/or sliced cucumber or green onion, as desired.
Nutrition
Per serving, using Shoulder Roast: 161 calories; 5 g fat (2 g saturated fat; 3 g monounsaturated fat); 57 mg cholesterol; 64 mg sodium; 3 g carbohydrate; 0.5 g fiber; 23 g protein; 7.2 mg niacin; 0.3 mg vitamin B6; 2.6 mcg vitamin B12; 2.8 mg iron; 26.0 mcg selenium; 5.5 mg zinc; 89.1 mg choline
Brian Berletic: China Just SHOCKED the World and the US Military is Preparing for War
“Have you ever sabotaged food because someone was stealing it?”
I answered a question like about 4 years ago.
Originally Answered: “If a coworker is stealing your food and you address the problem by putting something in it that makes the thief sick, can you be prosecuted for that? What if you put your name on it and leave a “DO NOT EAT” note?”
This brings to mind a story I was told in 1967 or ‘68. The man that told us the story was our class adviser, and he was in his 80’s at the time, so the story probably originated in the 1880s or ‘90s – if it’s true at all. Life was different then.
He told us that he’d been having problems at school; somebody was stealing his lunch before it was lunchtime.
One morning, on his way to school, his body language must have shown his dejection. He wasn’t looking forward to going to school or in having his lunch stolen again. The neighborhood Druggist saw him as he walked by and noticed that he seemed dejected. The Druggist asked him what was wrong, and my class adviser stopped and explained. The Druggist said he could fix the problem, and asked the class adviser for his lunch. He took it into the drugstore and when he re-appeared, he warned my class adviser to not eat it, just put it on the lunch shelf like he usually would.
During class, the predictable happened. One of the students held up his hand… then started waving his hand frantically… then ran from the classroom without permission, followed by a stream of very liquid excrement.
The Principal sent my class adviser home. As he passed by the drugstore, the Druggist spotted him again, looking even more dejected than he had earlier in the morning. He asked what was wrong now, and my class adviser said he’d been expelled, and that he was going to catch holy heck when he got home. This was a time when corporal punishment was practiced at school, and my class adviser fully expected to get walloped by his dad, every time he got walloped at school. He wasn’t looking forward to facing his dad.
The Druggist told him “Tell your dad to come and talk to me before he disciplines you. I’ll tell him what happened and why I did it.
”My class adviser said “Well, that will help, but it won’t fix things up with the Principal. I’ll still be expelled.”
The Druggist said “Don’t worry about that. I also sit on the School Board.”
Why the US is a Paper Tiger Vs China
A fun discussion.
Have you ever overheard someone talking about you in another language?
Yes, rather frequently. I’m Finnish but don’t fit the bill in my area nor, apparently on airplanes.
Having said that, I vividly remember the first time I traveled alone.. I was seated next to two Finnish men in their 30s / early 40s. The men were polite enough when taking their seats, greeting me in English and asking where in our destination I was headed – I didn’t bother to correct their initial assumption of my nationality as I had noticed that most people found it embarrassing to be corrected on the matter. After the conversation ended, I pulled out a book and they switched to Finnish to speak with each other.
It was fine while they tackled the topics of sports (which ice hockey team from their hometown was the best) and politics but a little too soon for my liking, they started talking about women. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue as I’d simply turn up the volume of whatever I happened to be listening to in order to drown them out but this time around the conversation came full circle to me and the judging of what I was – Arab, jew, Mediterranean, Romani – and which of these options meant I was beneath them in their personal racial bias. I was a little disgusted by the whole conversation – I hadn’t known that Arab meant I was a bitch or that specific Mediterranean countries meant different levels of sexual promiscuity.. But since I was young, I didn’t call then out on it during the 3 hour flight. I neither stood up for myself nor corrected them; I was shocked that people actually thought these kinds of things about others merely based on their perceived nationality or race.
I made it through the flight without a word to suggest that I had understood everything they had said. When we landed in our destination, I turned to them and wished them a lovely vacation in my native tongue. The looks of horror on their faces were definitely worth seeing!