Back in the 1960’s, oh when I was in elementary school, we kids would watch television after school… then came dinner.
After dinner the adult shows came on. Not “adult” in terms of XXX rated and porn. But really, just shows that our parents would watch, but that us kids were uninterested in.
The top show at that time was a show called “Laugh In”.
“Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In” (often simply called “Laugh-In”) was a groundbreaking American sketch comedy television show that aired from 1968 to 1973 on NBC. It became a cultural phenomenon in the late 1960s and early 1970s, blending rapid-fire jokes, political satire, and surreal humor in a way that was fresh and revolutionary for its time. Here’s a breakdown of what made it so popular and some of its most memorable skits and routines:
What Made “Laugh-In” So Popular?
- Fast-Paced, High-Energy Format:
- “Laugh-In” was known for its quick cuts, rapid-fire jokes, and nonstop energy. It felt like a comedy explosion, with jokes, one-liners, and visual gags coming at the audience in rapid succession.
- Political and Social Satire:
- The show wasn’t afraid to tackle the political and social issues of the day, including the Vietnam War, civil rights, and the counterculture movement. It used humor to comment on current events, making it both timely and relevant.
- Catchphrases and Running Gags:
- “Laugh-In” introduced a slew of catchphrases that entered the popular lexicon, such as:
- “Sock it to me!”
- “Laugh-In” introduced a slew of catchphrases that entered the popular lexicon, such as:
“You bet your sweet bippy!”
“Very interesting”
- Innovative Use of Television:
- The show broke the mold of traditional TV comedy with its use of quick cuts, psychedelic visuals, and breaking the fourth wall. It felt modern and experimental, appealing to younger audiences.
- Diverse Cast of Comedic Talent:
- The show featured a mix of established comedians and fresh faces, including:
- Dan Rowan and Dick Martin (the hosts).
- Goldie Hawn (who became a breakout star).
- Lily Tomlin.
- Arte Johnson.
- Ruth Buzzi.
- Jo Anne Worley.
- Henry Gibson.
- Judy Carne.
- The show featured a mix of established comedians and fresh faces, including:
- Celebrity Cameos:
- “Laugh-In” frequently featured guest appearances by celebrities, politicians, and public figures, including Richard Nixon, who famously appeared in 1968 to say, “Sock it to me?” in an attempt to appear hip and relatable.
Memorable Skits and Routines
- The Joke Wall:
One of the most iconic segments, the Joke Wall featured cast members popping their heads through holes in a wall to deliver one-liners and puns. It was fast, silly, and endlessly entertaining.
- The Cocktail Party:
- In this recurring sketch, the cast mingled at a party, delivering absurd and often nonsensical dialogue. Arte Johnson’s character, Tyrone F. Horneigh, would often flirt with Ruth Buzzi’s Gladys Ormphby, leading to hilariously awkward moments.
- The Farkel Family:
A parody of wholesome family sitcoms, the Farkel Family sketches featured the cast as a bizarre, dysfunctional family with over-the-top antics.
- Arte Johnson’s German Soldier:
- Arte Johnson played a bumbling German soldier who would pop up in random places, deliver a punchline, and then get hit by a prop or fall over. His catchphrase, “Verrry interesting… but stupid!” became a classic.
- Lily Tomlin’s Characters:
- Lily Tomlin created several unforgettable characters, including:
Ernestine, the snarky telephone operator who would say, “One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy…”
Edith Ann, a precocious little girl who sat in a giant rocking chair and shared her hilariously naive observations.
- The Flying Fickle Finger of Fate Award:
This segment awarded a “prize” to individuals or organizations that had done something particularly ridiculous or outrageous. It was a sharp piece of satire that poked fun at real-world absurdities.
- Mod, Mod World:
A psychedelic segment featuring the cast in colorful, mod outfits dancing and delivering jokes against a trippy, kaleidoscopic background. It captured the spirit of the 1960s counterculture.
- The News Segment:
- A parody of news broadcasts, featuring Henry Gibson as a poet who delivered absurd, rhyming commentary on current events.
Cultural Impact
- “Laugh-In” was more than just a TV show; it was a reflection of the changing times. It embraced the irreverence and experimentation of the 1960s, appealing to both young and old audiences.
- The show’s influence can be seen in later sketch comedy programs like “Saturday Night Live” and “In Living Color.”
- It also played a role in shaping political discourse, using humor to engage with serious issues in a way that was accessible and entertaining.
Legacy
- “Laugh-In” remains a beloved piece of television history, remembered for its bold humor, innovative style, and unforgettable characters. Its impact on comedy and pop culture is still felt today, and its sketches and catchphrases continue to be referenced and celebrated.
…
Guys, it was part of the society at that time. Some of the jokes still “hold water”, but much of it is dated and reflects a strange time in American society.
*sigh*
Today…
With today’s report that Chinese airlines and state-owned corporations have been instructed to stop taking delivery of Boeing airliners and US-made aircraft parts, we can now be sure that Beijing has decided to actively delink from US suppliers and partners.
Bloomberg and CNBC reported that there has been no written directive from the Chinese report. The fact is that these directives are NEVER written; they are delivered by phone call from the Chinese government’s Central Committee. The fact that it is from the Central Committee means that this is not Xi’s personal decision; this is joint consensus among Committee members.
Boeing and US aircraft parts manufacturers were counting on the Chinese market to support their growth over the next two decades; now that is gone.
The question now is how Boeing is going to survive the next two decades.
The same is happening to US farmers, because China is now not buying US soybeans and other farm products. The leading US food processors will also suffer.
China is now instructing local companies to shift away from selling to the US, as it is no longer considered a reliable partner for trade and manufacturing. This means that they will diversify sales and trade to other markets.
What the f*ck is happening in New York City..
Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Quacking Sensation
Ah, dear reader, welcome back to my ever-growing collection of tales! Today’s story is one of bewilderment, farmyard hysteria, and an unrefined quack that somehow managed to sweep the farm into a frenzy. Yes, you read that correctly—a quack. It is a tale of misplaced admiration, an unstoppable ego, and, of course, my valiant efforts to restore order (and sanity) to the farm. Prepare yourself for the absurdly funny and utterly perplexing tale of Sir Whiskerton and the Quacking Sensation.
Meet Ferdinand the Duck
It all began one sunny morning, as most of these stories do. I was enjoying a quiet moment near the barn, basking in the warmth of the sun and savoring the sound of the gentle breeze rustling through the trees. All was peaceful… until it wasn’t.
“Quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack!”
The sound pierced the air like a rusty hinge on an un-oiled gate. I winced, my ears flattening against my head.
“What in the name of whiskers was that?” I muttered, looking toward the pond.
There, standing atop a rock and puffing out his feathery chest, was Ferdinand the duck. He flapped his wings dramatically, tilted his head back, and unleashed another cacophonous “quaaaaaack!”
Before I could cover my sensitive ears, a crowd of farm animals had gathered around the pond.
“Oh, Ferdinand!” Doris the hen clucked. “Your voice is simply divine!”
“Divine! But also so powerful!” Harriet added.
“Powerful! Oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard!” Lillian screeched.
“Like nothing we’ve ever heard!” Doris echoed.
Porkchop waddled over, his eyes wide with admiration. “That’s not just quacking—it’s art. Ferdinand, you’ve got a gift!”
“Gifted? Oh, please,” Rufus said, rolling his eyes. “He’s just quacking like any other duck.”
But the others weren’t listening. Ferdinand flapped his wings again, basking in the adoration of his newfound fans.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing dramatically. “I’ve always known I was different. Some might call me a prodigy. A once-in-a-generation talent.”
I groaned, rubbing my temples with my paw. This was going to be a long day.
The Duck’s Rising Fame
Within hours, Ferdinand’s fame had spread across the farm. Everywhere I went, I heard animals singing his praises (pun intended).
“Such perfect pitch!” Doris clucked.
“Such fine vocal technique!” Harriet added.
“Such amazing timbre!” Lillian screeched.
“Such nonsense,” I muttered under my breath.
By lunchtime, Ferdinand had assembled a group of loyal “duck groupies” who followed him everywhere, clapping their wings and shouting his name.
“Ferdinand! Ferdinand! Give us another quack!”
“Oh, very well,” Ferdinand said, tilting his head back dramatically. “I suppose I could grace you with an encore.”
“Quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack!”
The groupies erupted into cheers, stomping their feet and squawking in delight. Meanwhile, I was busy trying not to claw my own ears off.
A Private Word with Ferdinand
Unable to take it any longer, I decided it was time to have a word with the so-called singing sensation. I found Ferdinand lounging on a hay bale, surrounded by his adoring fans.
“Ferdinand,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Ah, Sir Whiskerton,” Ferdinand said, waving a wing. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to praise my voice, have you?”
“Not exactly,” I said, sitting down and curling my tail around my paws. “Ferdinand, don’t you think all this… attention is a bit much for what is, quite frankly, just quacking?”
“Just quacking?” Ferdinand gasped, clutching his chest as if I’d insulted his very soul.
“Just quacking?!” Doris squawked, stepping forward. “Oh, Sir Whiskerton, how could you say such a thing?”
“Such a thing! Oh, it’s blasphemous!” Harriet clucked.
“Blasphemous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw. “I didn’t mean to offend, but surely we can all agree that Ferdinand’s ‘singing’ is… subjective, at best.”
“Subjective?” Ferdinand said, narrowing his eyes. “Sir Whiskerton, you simply don’t understand art. Perhaps your refined tastes have dulled your appreciation for raw talent.”
“Raw is right,” I muttered under my breath.
The Unexpected Plot Twist
Just as I was preparing to argue further, a new sound interrupted us. It was a low, mournful howl, followed by a series of high-pitched yips. The entire barnyard fell silent, and all eyes turned toward Bingo the dog, who had been quietly napping in the corner.
“Bingo?” I said, tilting my head.
Bingo stood up, his tail wagging nervously. “Oh, uh… sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just… well, sometimes when Ferdinand quacks, it makes me want to… you know, howl.”
“To howl?” Doris squawked.
“Howl?! Oh, how unusual!” Harriet clucked.
“Unusual! Oh, I can’t bear the suspense!” Lillian cried.
“Maybe Bingo has a point,” I said, my whiskers twitching with amusement. “Why don’t we let him sing a duet with Ferdinand?”
“A duet?!” Ferdinand squawked, looking horrified. “You want me to share the spotlight with… a dog?”
“Why not?” I said with a smirk. “Surely a talent like yours can handle a little competition.”
The Duet Disaster
Reluctantly, Ferdinand agreed to the duet, and the entire farm gathered to watch. Ferdinand began with his usual “quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack,” and Bingo joined in with a loud, soulful howl.
The result was… well, let’s just say it was unique. The combination of Ferdinand’s screechy quacks and Bingo’s off-key howls sent shivers down my spine—not the good kind.
By the time they finished, the entire barnyard was in stunned silence.
“Well,” Porkchop said, scratching his head. “That was… something.”
“Something! But what was it?!” Doris clucked.
“What?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
Ferdinand, however, looked pleased. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing. “I believe we’ve just invented a new genre of music. I call it ‘Quack-n-Howl.’”
The Moral of the Story
In the end, Ferdinand’s fame continued to grow, and while his “singing” still grated on my nerves, I couldn’t deny that it brought the farm together in its own ridiculous way. The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, it’s not about talent or skill—it’s about confidence and the joy you bring to others. And while I may never understand the appeal of a quacking duck, I’ve learned to appreciate the laughter it brings.
As for Ferdinand? Well, I suspect we haven’t heard the last of him. Until next time, my friends.
The End.
AC/DC – Back In Black, if it was recorded in the 50s
This is completely and absolutely surreal.
Everyone at first thought ‘Made in China 2030’ list, was real. But recent events suggest otherwise. Can China actually do it? Can China really make its own aeroplanes, semiconductors, electric cars, etc., by 2030, just 5 years from now?
Let’s see the list of Chinese achievements between 2015–2025
- Indigenous Fighter Aircraft Engines
- Indigenous On board Radar
- Indigenous Avionics
- Indigenous Wind Tunnel
- Indigenous Commercial Aircraft Body (Duralium)
- Indigenous Aircraft Wheels
- Indigenous Landing Gear
- Full Dominance in Legacy Chips (<= 45 nm Node process) manufacturing
- Dominance in Chip Design (Upto 3 nm)
- Indigenous Stealth Technology
- Indigenous Rare Earth Refining dominance
- Indigenous Green Energy Technologies – Hydrogen, Batteries
- Indigenous Nuclear Technology
- Indigenous Satellite design & manufacturing
- Indigenous Satellite Constellation and Navigation
- Indigenous 5G Equipment and Communications edge
China has achieved “Par” or even “Dominant” Status in all these areas in the last decade
Here is the list of things China aims to develop Par Status by 2035:-
- Optical Instruments & Opto electronics
- Manufacturing Dominance in Non Legacy Chips (7–28 nm Node Process)
- Indigenous supply chain for GPU Chips
- Indigenous 6G Equipment and Communications edge
- MRI Machines
- Immunotherapy Drugs for Cancer & Auto Immune Diseases
- Commercial Aircraft Engines
- Commercial Aircraft Body (Composite Materials)
- Hypersonic Missiles
- Advanced Stealth Technology
I see no reason why China can’t achieve their demands between 2025–2035
Hot Damn! It’s The Soggy Bottom Boys! | O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) | TUNE
Plaga Iuventae: A Debt to Pay, Part 1
Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find…… view prompt
Steffen Lettau
Maybe I should call him “Hard-Ass” instead?
My team and I stopped at the local library, just so I could gather a few books and articles on viruses, genetic symptoms, and malpractices throughout history. Afterwards, we stopped at the apartment residence of Witness 1, who was eagerly waiting outside. I wanted to get as much information as possible, so I planned to pry as many names out of him as possible. Camera-Man set up his equipment, making sure to keep the camera pointed away from the complex, as well as any street signs that would lead anyone to the witness. Witness one didn’t mind showing his face to the camera, so long as we didn’t release his name. KC monitored her equipment, recording and setting the proper tones and digital lighting on her personal computer, connected wirelessly to both Camera-Man’s camera and my microphone.
After introductions between only us (anonymity, mind you), I asked my questions and got these answers:
“You have lived here long?”
“Yessem, since I was a kid.”
“I see. And has this recent epidemic affected you?”
“Not personally, sir. There were people that I have grown up with that recently passed away, mainly because of that treatment, that so-called ‘cure’, and it was horrible, from what I heard.”
“Do you know about Blake Plakkim, a.k.a ‘Doctor Plague’, the man responsible for that?”
“Yessem, but I think his organization was responsible far more than him. He had not done all this by his lonesome, you know.”
“Have you talked with anyone from Blake’s organization?”
“No. I avoid that place like the plague…no pun intended.”
“But you did claim to the outlet that you saw Doctor Plakkim?”
“Yessim. All hooded up and moving inconspicuously at the supermarket where I shop, but the face was familiar from the depiction on T.V.”
“I see. One more question; is there anyone else who may have seen him, or anyone that would have more information on him?”
“None I know of. You could try talking to the mayor; she might know something.”
Wrapping up, I reflected on that organization, Blake’s former workplace. Mentioning it to KC, she agreed to a drive-by sight-seeing of the place; upon doing so, we saw that more security was there than usual, like someone dropped off a military compound around the building. We decided to try that place last, and went to see the mayor.
Surprisingly, she was willing to do an interview, so long as we just referred to her as “Mrs. Mayor”, and her personal guard as “Witness 2.” Before the interview, Witness 2 warned me not to pry too deeply, as Mrs. Mayor had recently lost her husband and both parents to the disease, or the interview was off.
“Mrs. Mayor, thank you for having us. These times are hard on everyone, and all we want is to conclude this nightmare with justice and peace of mind.”
I immediately thought that I had gone too far, but she smiled and nodded. Witness 2 kept watch over me, ready to answer when it was his turn.
“Mrs. Mayor, when this…event happened, did you want to launch an investigation into Blake’s organization?”
“I did. I was recommended against it, given how it was a corporation with federal ties, and I was just a mayor of Salem. I pushed that notion aside, and I went to their front door and demanded to talk to someone.”
“Did you?”
“Not for a few days.”
I nodded. “And you, Witness 2, you mentioned a certain incident? One that you swore involved the spitting image of Blake Plakkim?”
“It WAS Blake! He was moving around the parking lot, and he was looking for something.”
“Which was…?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t call it ‘something’. If I had to guess, it was the Mayor’s car.”
“You checked her car?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a guard if I didn’t. Her safety is my concern.”
I took it that this Witness 2 didn’t like me very much. Probably bad press, or whatever excuse gets thrown our way. I turned back to Mrs. Mayor:
“What happened after a few days?”
“Well, after my guard chased away someone from my car, I received a call from a ‘Harrold Tooms’, wanting to talk to me. Not inside his building, nor mine, but somewhere in public. Uh, a restaurant, actually!”
I wrote down the name. “This Harrold a lawyer or a manager? Did he know Blake?”
“He didn’t say anything beyond being a representative. He was willing to divulge quite a bit about Plakkim…that is, about the man and not much about his work. Oh, he did mention about the plague being an attempt at a cure!”
At this, she suddenly went silent, and turned to a picture frame upon her desk. Immediately, Witness 2 stepped between us and her: the interview was immediately over.
I thanked Mrs. Mayor for her time and the opportunity to talk with her and Witness 2. She smiled after I assured her that we would get to the bottom of all of this, and she wished us luck. Witness 2, on the other hand, wished us to get the huff out. Yeah, you know the actual word, but my work is G-rated.
PG at worst.
Coming outside, we found a note under the van’s wiper blades. KC freaked out, thinking it was a parking ticket, but I took it off and saw that it was a note:
GOT SEOUL, MAN? GRAM, ANA.
I looked around. KC freaked out again, and Camera-Man actually went into the van and pulled out a tire iron. Aside from the passerby, a few looking on us curiously, there wasn’t anyone close by. We decided to hit up a hotel for the night.
Morning came, and I was first to rise and dress. Looking at the note, I pondered about who this Ana person was. And then, it hit me!
Ana Gram…anagram! And if that’s the case, then the initial message was not some random threat or lead, but was an attempt to reach us! But for what, and to where? Clearly, the message was directed to me, but then there was the part about the anagram, so I had to rearrange the letters.
The best I got was “atoms lounge”. Something about it seemed familiar…
Snap! Of course! The Atom Bistro and Coffee Bar! I’ve been there before. Apparently, so had the messenger, which also meant that this person was following us. Was it Blake, or someone who knew him? Was it someone who wanted to find him? Maybe it was some sleuth, working with the authorities. Or maybe it was a bounty hunter, even an assassin, and this person was using us to find Blake. I checked my watch: 6:22 A.M. Time for a drive to breakfast.
We arrived at nine on the dot; Camera-Man had a lot to drain out at the hotel. So did KC, but don’t tell her that. Anyways, we were at our own table, having ordered breakfast, when the waitress asked us if there was a fourth member joining us. Surprised, I told her that we weren’t expecting anyone, and she left with our orders. Now, bear with me, here is where things get alarming.
Blake Plakkim sat at our table.
Initially, someone with a poncho-style hooded sweater just sat himself beside me, opposite Camera-Man and KC. I was about to interject, to ask him to leave, when he hissed this warning to all three of us: “Don’t speak, or I open this.” At that moment, he placed what I could only describe as a spherical case between me and him.
A few minutes later, the waitress came over and inquired if there was a problem. When no one answered, I stepped in and said that there was a mistake, that someone was joining us for breakfast as part of our interview for the network. She smiled and asked the newcomer for his order, which he gave courteously as if he didn’t walk in here with a potential explosive. When she left, Blake turned to look at me, and all I could say was, “Doctor Plague?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t ever call me that again! My name is Doctor Blake Plakkim. Now… got Seoul, man?”
Now my eyes narrowed. A pun at our literal expense, in a public place. “I…am Korean, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Blake smiled. “More than that, you’re a journalist. A well-respected one named Ian Sung. I’ve followed your work.”
I nodded. “And now you’re literally following me. You do know you’re a wanted man?”
“Heh. What else is new?”
I sighed. “What do you want?”
He turned away from me, his eyes upon the table as his hood would obscure the rest of his face. “It’s what I can give you. To the world. But I need to do this my way. Not the government’s. Not the organization’s. Not yours.”
The breakfast came, and I was perplexed at how fast Blake ate with one hand on a fork and the other on the case. Meanwhile, Camera-Man and KC ate diligently, watching the both of us. I ate with reluctance, feeling the case on my thigh at all times. Afterwards, we sat there quietly as I paid the bill, only asking one question:
“Is any of this wise, with all the eyes of the world looking for you to either arrest or kill?”
He shifted himself up from the seat, dragging the case with him. “I can’t run and hide forever if I want the truth out. You have the access, the reputation, and now you have my attention. I’ll give you all the information you’ll need, even access to my new lab, but only you and your two associates. Tell no one except your network what happened here. No cops, no strangers, and no ‘associates’ of mine.” Before he left, he left me another note, this one sealed. “This is a letter to your boss. Make sure only he sees it.”
He walked out, inconspicuous as described.
This shocking visitation left us in that restaurant for another half-hour before we hurried back to the van (I checked the whole vehicle over for anything, whether from Blake or not). Another three hours later, we were all in front of Boss, and I handed him the note and told him that only he was to read it. He nodded, the opportunity of a lifetime basically in his hands; how he would play this out was up to him. He excused me, saying that he would let me know what he’ll want next.
Another call came to our outlet, and Boss’s secretary came for me rather than to the hard-ass. I told her to take a message, but she insisted that the person on the line would not hold for anyone except me, and he had information regarding Blake Plakkim. Honestly, after meeting the man, I wanted a break, but I decided to humor the secretary and I took the phone, asking, “Hello, this is Ian Sung, how may I help you?”
“Hello,” said a soothing deep voice, “I am Harrold Tooms. May I have a moment of your time?”
*from the first Plaga Iuventae.
Chinas Growing Military Power SHOCKS USA: War is Coming w/ Col. Zhou Bo
What funny but slightly inappropriate thing has happened to you?
I was at the grocery store. Maybe it was a case of being at the right place at the right time, but still….
So what happened? Well, the stuff that the woman wanted was on the very top of the shelf, she tried to “whack it down” with her cane. Instead, they went back behind, way out of reach. Well, this guy asked her “Ma’am? Which one did you want?” She pointed it with her cane.
This guy (taller than both of us but still short), climbed up and grabbed (she wanted 2) and using one hand to try to bend over to give her two cans, lost his balance, and he grabbed the first thing he could, I was wearing a tank top, so he grabbed my tank top and my bra, ripping it as he lost his balance (but I broke his fall by “catching him”).
By this time the Store Meat Manager (he saw what happened), rushed over. The guy was fine, but the first thing he said was
“OOPSIE MA’AM, I DIDN’T MEAN TO POP YOUR BOOBY!”
I had to pull my tank top up (he broke my bra and the upper right side “strap” of the tank top), using my arm to hold “what’s left of it” to cover my boob!
Meat Manager, he was red-faced and pulled me over behind the display rack (canned goods) and ordered an employee to grab something. It was a spare t-shirt, size XXXL, with the store and the slogan saying ‘I’VE GOT THE BIG MEATS’
REALLY? I am sorry but customers and a couple of other employees who saw this guy almost crashing to the floor… were cracking up!
That same guy, he wasn’t hurt, but he was still embarrassed, pulled out his wallet and a bill folded up into my hand and he left the store (leaving his few items behind). I thought maybe it was $5 or $10 to replace the bra and tank top. I really didn’t need it, so I just put it in my shorts pocket and totally forgotten about it.
FAST FORWARD: I didn’t put those shorts on for a long time, I wore them for about 2 hours, and just folded them up and put them in the drawer. Once winter was over, we were all going to go fishing, I pulled those shorts out and there was the bill, still in my pocket, and I laughed – couldn’t believe I had forgotten it, but when I opened it up, it was a $100.00 bill!
Wife Craved So Much Drama She Framed A Neighbor For Her “Neighborhood Cheating Board”, Now She’s…
At what point did you realize no one cares about you?
It was the summer of 1975. I was 14, home alone, parents at work. Three boys from the local high school came over saying they wanted to visit with my older brother who was due home soon from his summer job. It was considered polite in the US south to invite guests inside and offer them a cold drink, which I did. What happened over the next 30 minutes is something unspeakable. Fast forward to the beginning of the school year in September. I told nobody what occurred because in our small, southern town, girls who were “loose” were ostracized and considered tainted. If my parents had found out they would now have a ruined daughter. Uneated food on lunch trays was dumped on me while sitting alone in the cafeteria, my former friends began calling me vile names and I was suddenly an an island living an isolated life. 50 years ago kids who were abused had no outlet like counseling. I was 14.
In my 20’s I went to the library and found books that explained the trauma I went through. They explained that I was a victim and should feel no shame since I was attacked. They helped me somewhat but didn’t help with the night terrors and my trust issues which continue to this day at age 63. It was a long time ago this happened. I’m much better but only trust a handful of people. The boys didn’t do so well in life. One died at age 33 and the other two are losers. That day almost 50 years ago was a hard lesson that showed me no one cared. I am a success today because when one has been so low I found internal strength to survive.
Roasted Pork and Potato Duet
Yield: 10 servings
Ingredients
- 2 teaspoons rubbed sage
- 1 garlic clove, pressed
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 center loin pork roast, rolled and tied (3 1/2 to 4 pounds)
- 1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes, cut into fourths (2 to 3 large)
- 1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, cut into large chunks (3 to 4 medium)
Instructions
- Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
- In Small Batter Bowl, combine sage, garlic, thyme, salt and black pepper. Rub all but 2 teaspoons of the herb mixture evenly over the surface of pork roast.
- Place roast in Rectangular Baker. Toss potatoes with remaining herb mixture; arrange potatoes around roast. Cover with Rectangular Lid/Bowl.
- Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes. Using Oven Mitts, pull out oven rack and carefully remove Lid/Bowl from Baker, lifting away from you.
- Bake roast and potatoes, uncovered, 15-30 minutes or until Pocket Thermometer inserted into meat registers 155 degrees F for medium or 165 degrees F for well done.
- Remove potatoes to serving platter; set aside.
- Remove roast to cutting board. Loosely tent with aluminum foil. Let roast stand 10 minutes before carving.
Nutrition
Per serving: Calories 580, Total Fat 25g, Sodium 390mg, Fiber 4g
Attribution
Pampered Chef
The Dark Truth Behind This Classic Twilight Zone Episode
Great episode.
Finished putting insulation and ceiling in Power shed
My son was up this weekend and he finished putting in the 2″ x 6″ ceiling joists and the R-30 Insulation in the roof of the solar power shed.
Readers may recall that a couple weeks ago, when the temps went down to -3°F here in northeast PA, the battery temperature of the Lithium Iron Phosphate battery rack dropped down to 28 or 26 degrees.
That is perfectly fine for the batteries to continue supplying power, if they had to, but definitely NOT OK if any charging is, or might, take place.
Apparently, when Lithium batteries reach 32 degrees, if you try to charge them, it __could__ result in something called “lithium plating.”
From Google:
Lithium plating is a process that occurs in lithium-ion batteries when lithium ions build up on the surface of the anode instead of being inserted into the graphite particles. This can happen when the battery is charged too quickly or at a low temperature, which can cause the lithium ions to move too fast or too slowly, respectively. Lithium plating can have a catastrophic impact on the battery's performance, safety, and lifetime. Some signs of lithium plating include: A gradual decrease in discharge voltage and An increase in anode resistance. Lithium plating can be prevented by charging the battery at the right temperature, which is between 41°F and 113°F (5°C and 45°C). If the battery is being used in an electric vehicle, it may not be possible to charge it within this temperature range, so it may need to be pre-heated.
I wonder how many TESLA Drivers knew about THAT little gem of inconvenience when they bought those pricey electric cars?
Anyway, at the time, we put a “Torpedo” heater in that shed. It ran off kerosene and we were able to select a temperature of 50 degrees on the heater’s thermostat to keep the shed warm.
By the way, the “shed” is a cement block building, with rebar, bond-beams, and a cement roof. The roof was poured onto galvanized, corrugated, steel. So the steel which was bare on the inside of the shed, acted as a sort of heat-sink; causing any heat in the shed to just flow out of it.
Last weekend, we bought a “Froth Kit” and applied spray foam to the inside of the roof, totally covering the exposed metal. That would serve to “break” the heat-sink. But spray foam only has an R-value of about 1 or 2. So we also bought 2″ x 6″ lumber to put in an actual ceiling, with R-30 fiberglass “bats” between the joists. That’s the work we finally got done this weekend.
So now, we’re as ready as we know how to be for this “Polar Vortex” that’s already arrived into the central USA, and which is forecast to affect pretty much the entire east coast this week.
I still have the “Torpedo” heater if needed, but with all the new insulation, it may NOT be needed. We’ll just have to wait and see.
You know, when I decided to go with this solar stuff, it was a STEEP learning curve. I thought we had gotten through it, until the intense cold came a couple weeks ago. The learning curve cropped-up again.
Lucky me!
/sarcasm
Global Currencies Are CRASHING: Major US Banks Warn $3,000 Gold In 2025 – What This Means
Shorpy Pictures
Former SG Minister EXPOSES Propaganda Against China
Will Russia’s defeat in Ukraine lead finally to the dissolution of the Russian Federation as everybody outside Russia so dearly hopes for?
There is no sign that Russia will be defeated in Ukraine. All signs point to a victory for Russia in Ukraine.
The German publication Spiegel writes that the Ukrainian Armed Forces’ attempt to organize counterattacks in the Kursk region is an act of despair, since the Ukrainians are suffering defeat in all other directions. In particular, in the last few days alone, the Ukrainian Armed Forces were driven out of three villages near Pokrovsk: Dachenskoye, Novy Trud, and Volkovo. All of them are located south of Pokrovsk, so now the advanced units of the Russian army are only 3 km south of the city.
Even Zelensky reluctantly acknowledged the success of the Russian offensive in the Pokrovsk direction. In a television interview, he explained this, first of all, by the lack of reserves of the Ukrainian army.
“We are doing everything possible to ensure that the front is stabilized in January,” he said. But instead of sending additional reserves to the Pokrovsk direction, he is throwing them into the Kursk region.
According to The Telegraph, the Ukrainians, in desperation, are throwing the most modern equipment there, of which the Ukrainian Armed Forces have very little left. In particular, Challenger 2 tanks: video recordings of a Russian drone strike destroying a British tank have already appeared.
All negative news for Ukraine.
The best thing for Ukraine to do would be to join Russia. After all, they are both of Slavic ethnicity. The west would then not be able to press Ukraine to repay the hundreds of billions that they have spent on Ukraine and Russia can tell BlackRock to get the hell out of Ukraine. It will also mean that a Ukrainian can become the president of Russia in future and the coal and Lithium deposits in eastern Ukraine will still be a part of Ukraine, since Ukraine would be a part of Russia. And it would ensure no more fights between Russia and Ukraine.
Helter Skelter, but it’s Rockabilly… (I got blisters on my fingers!)
The Beatles song. WTF?
Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble
Ah, dear reader, you’re just in time for what I assure you is one of the most absurd and comical adventures yet. Today’s tale involves a turkey named Ethel—bless her birdbrain—and a mystery that takes us across farms, into the clutches of that scoundrel Catnip, and straight into the world of Thanksgiving dinner plans. As always, with the help of my loyal farmyard companions, a bit of wit, and a touch of luck, we’ll find a happy ending to this feather-brained predicament. Settle in for the hilarity-filled story of Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble.
Meet Ethel: The Not-So-Bright Turkey
It was a crisp autumn morning, and the farm was abuzz with activity. The hens were gossiping about their molting patterns, Porkchop was rolling in his favorite mud puddle, and Rufus was busy sneaking bites of the farmer’s leftover pumpkin pie. Meanwhile, I, Sir Whiskerton, was observing everything from my perch on the fence, enjoying the smell of fallen leaves and hay.
That’s when I first noticed her: Ethel, the turkey, waddling across the barnyard with a look of blissful ignorance plastered across her face. She was… how do I put this delicately? Not the sharpest feather in the flock. With each step, she pecked at the ground, gobbling up the enormous pile of turkey feed the farmer had laid out for her.
“Oh, Whiskerton! Isn’t this just wonderful?” Ethel said, her voice high-pitched and bubbly. She paused mid-waddle to look at me, her head tilting so far to the side I wondered how she didn’t topple over.
“What’s wonderful, Ethel?” I asked, my whiskers twitching with curiosity.
“All this food!” she said, gesturing wildly with her wings. “The farmer’s been giving me more and more every day. I think he’s planning something special for me. Maybe a party! Or… or… maybe I’m going to be named ‘Turkey of the Year’ at the Thanksgiving feast!”
I blinked. “Ethel… you do realize what Thanksgiving dinner usually involves, don’t you?”
“Of course!” she said, puffing out her chest. “It involves me being the star of the show! Oh, I can’t wait! I’ve been practicing my strut for weeks.”
I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought.
Sounding the Alarm
I called an urgent meeting with the rest of the farm animals to discuss Ethel’s predicament. Everyone gathered in the barn: the hens (Doris, Harriet, and Lillian), Porkchop, Rufus, Sedgwick the wise old owl, and even Bingo the dog.
“Friends,” I began, pacing in front of the group, “we have a problem. Ethel the turkey is being fatted up for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What?! Oh, not Ethel!” Porkchop exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“Not Ethel! Oh, how dreadful!” Doris squawked.
“Dreadful! But what can we do?!” Harriet clucked.
“Do?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw to silence the chaos. “The problem is, Ethel doesn’t understand what’s happening. She thinks the farmer is rewarding her. We need to convince her to leave the farm—before it’s too late.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Sedgwick said, his amber eyes gleaming. “She respects wisdom.”
Sedgwick flew down to Ethel, who was still happily munching on a pile of grain. “Ethel,” he began, “you must flee. The farmer—”
“Oh, Sedgwick!” Ethel interrupted, clapping her wings together. “Have you ever tasted this grain? It’s so buttery. I think the farmer’s giving me a special diet to make my feathers shinier for the celebration!”
Sedgwick sighed and flew back, shaking his head. “She’s… not very receptive.”
“I’ll try!” Porkchop said, waddling over to Ethel. “Ethel, listen. You’ve got to leave. The farmer’s plans for you aren’t what you think!”
“Oh, Porkchop,” Ethel said with a giggle, “I think you’re just jealous because you’re not the star of the Thanksgiving dinner.”
Porkchop waddled back, muttering under his breath. “Hopeless.”
A Feather-Brained Escape Plan
After several failed attempts to reason with Ethel, I decided it was time for action. “If she won’t leave on her own,” I said, “we’ll have to help her escape.”
The plan was simple: distract the farmer, lure Ethel out of the barnyard, and guide her to safety. Rufus volunteered to create the distraction (which mostly involved stealing the farmer’s hat and running in circles), while the rest of us worked together to lead Ethel toward the woods.
“Where are we going?” Ethel asked as we nudged her along. “Is this a surprise party? Oh, I love surprises!”
“Yes, yes, a party,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Just keep walking.”
We managed to get her past the barnyard and into the woods, but then disaster struck. Ethel, distracted by a shiny pebble, wandered off the path and straight onto the neighboring farm—Catnip’s farm.
Catnip Strikes Again
“Ah, Whiskerton,” Catnip purred, emerging from behind a hay bale. “How delightful to see you. And who’s this?”
“This is Ethel,” I said warily. “She’s… a guest.”
“A guest, you say?” Catnip said, his green eyes gleaming. “How fascinating. Bonbo! Grumbles! Come meet our new friend.”
Bonbo the rat and Grumbles the mouse scurried over, their tiny eyes gleaming with mischief. “A turkey!” Bonbo squeaked. “How delicious—I mean, delightful!”
“Delightful!” Grumbles echoed, rubbing his tiny paws together.
“Catnip, don’t even think about it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“Think about what?” Catnip said innocently. “I was merely going to… introduce Ethel to the farmer here. He’s been looking for a turkey, you know.”
“Oh, how nice!” Ethel said, completely oblivious. “I’d love to meet him!”
Before I could stop her, Catnip led Ethel straight to the neighboring farmer’s porch. But instead of panic, the farmer simply smiled and said, “Ah, a turkey! Perfect addition to the family.”
“Family?” I said, confused.
“Oh yes,” the farmer said. “I’m a vegetarian. She’ll fit right in with the other birds.”
Ethel beamed. “Oh, thank you! I’ll be the best turkey you’ve ever had!”
Catnip, Bonbo, and Grumbles looked thoroughly disappointed as Ethel happily waddled inside.
A Happy Ending
As we walked back to our farm, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I suppose things worked out for Ethel in the end.”
“Worked out? Oh, how wonderful!” Doris squawked.
“Wonderful! But also shocking!” Harriet clucked.
“Shocking! I thought she was doomed!” Lillian cried.
“Doomed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.
“Enough,” I said, flicking my tail. “The moral of the story is this: even the dullest minds can find a bit of luck—and sometimes, the best way to help someone is to let them find their own way.”
With that, we returned to our farm, ready for whatever absurd adventure awaited us next.
The End.
When Women Finally Realize Men Are No Longer Afraid To Be Single | Men Only
The Next Step
Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find…… view prompt
George frost
“It’s not that bad.” Dr. Abbalong smiled, but it was not a comforting smile as far as Jerry was concerned.
“We will tell you what you can and cannot film.” Dr. Abbalong.
“What about freedom of press? Transparency of information?” Jerry asked.
“We control access. That must be clear and understood.” Dr. Abbalong’s voice became very serious, making Jerry wish he hadn’t been so flippant.
Sitting on the airplane with pontoons, Jerry glanced over at Carl who was holding the camera. The twin engines made conversation comprehension impossible, but Jerry could see that Carl was not happy to be on board the plane. The updraft from the sea water made the plane bounce like a ball. Three special agents with ear pieces and dark glasses sat across from Jerry and Carl on the fold out seats. The seats were uncomfortable as they bounced, but the special agents did not seem to be bothered by it.
The plane circled Ebson Island which was no more than a mile across, but he could see the runway from his window. Slowly the plane began to descend, but all Jerry could see was the ocean. He wondered if the plane would make the runway.
It did not. Instead the plane landed in the water in the small harbor of the island. Skidding on the rough whitecaps, Jerry would have been jolted out of his seat if he was not wearing his seatbelt. Jerry cursed, but the engines covered his foul language.
It took several minutes for the plane to be moored to the dock. The door opened and the bright tropical sun roared in along with a sharp rise in the temperature.
“Why are we here?” Carl complained.
“To do a documentary.” Jerry shook his head.
The shore crew had to put a portable gangplank to the door so the passengers could get on shore without getting wet. Carl continued to mumble foul language. A golf cart was waiting on shore once they got off the docks.
“Mr. Culhannick?” A man greeted them. A woman sat in the passenger’s seat of the cart.
“Yes.” They shook hands.
“I’m Dr. Wai and this is Dr. Trezbecca.” He smiled. “Welcome to Ebson Island.”
“This is my camera man, Carl Obleck.” Jerry let them shake hands, but Carl still did not look pleased to be here.
“What you are about to see will defy anything you have ever seen before.” Dr. Wai explained as they walked to a quonset hut after a short jaunt in the golf cart. “You will need these.”
Dr. Wai handed both of them an ID badge with their photos on the laminated card. Jerry had to wonder where they acquired the photos.
“This is Laboratory One where we incubate the genomes.” Dr. Wai ran his own badge through the scanner next to the door and then opened the heavy looking door. Inside an ultraviolet light was the only light there was. Jerry squinted as his eyes stung from the bright tropical sun to near darkness in Lab One. There were about two dozen people dressed in white lab coats checking each sample in the cool room. “It is here where the process starts.”
“Mr. Obleck, you may use your camera if you wish.” Dr. Trezbecca waved her hand over the first table where two laboratory technicians were bent over the sample. “I have a script.”
She handed Jerry a piece of paper which was hard to read in the dim lighting of the laboratory.
“Script?” He shrugged.
“Yes, we must make sure our security on this project is not compromised. Her face barely moved as she spoke.
“I guess I can’t wing it then.” He shrugged again, but everyone in earshot stopped what they were doing and looked at him as if he had just landed from another planet. Jerry did as he was instructed as Carl ran the video camera. There was a lot of technical language that he needed help with, but after a couple of takes, he was happy with his efforts. Carl scowled as they left Laboratory One.
“Can I speak freely?” He asked, putting the camera down on a table outside where the sun beat down on them.
“Yeah, sure.” Jerry felt the sun now.
“Does this place give you the creeps?” He asked, looking one way and then the next.
“How so?”
“I was filming human tissue. It just look like some random stuff in some petri dish, but I could see motion.” Carl sat at the picnic table next to his camera.
“Motion?”
“It was moving. I saw it through the lens.” Carl was shaken. Jerry had never seen him so jumpy even when they were in a war zone in Afghanistan.
“Sure. The solution is liquid.”
“No Jer, it was moving on its own. Do you want to see it?” He patted his camera.
“It’s okay.” Jerry shook Carl off.
Dr Trezbecca seemed to materialize from thin air, “Are you ready to go to Laboratory Two?”
“Lead the way, doctor.”
She began a brisk walk as Jerry glanced at Carl and he looked back at Jerry.
Unlike the previous laboratory, Laboratory Two was well lit under a large number of fluorescent lighting. There was much more activity in this place since there were twice as many technicians in white coats hovering over specimens. Instead of a small hut, Laboratory Two was a two story warehouse.
“It’s like a bee hive in here.” Carl noted as he brought the camera up.
“Do not take video until you are cleared to do so.” Dr. Trezbecca instructed him and then handed Jerry a piece of paper, “You read this when we run the video.”
“I wonder what they are trying to hide?” Carl whispered to Jerry.
“Doctor, we have pulses in both Bay One and Two.” A man wearing a lab coat reported.
“Excellent.” Dr. Trezbecca smiled for the first time, “Our results are better than I expected.”
“Is that good?” Jerry asked.
“Of course. We are preparing the next step of human evolution.” She nodded. Walking over to a table where five technicians were busy working, the doctor peered into a microscope. A smile slid across her face. “You may send these over to Laboratory Three. They are ready.”
“Very good, doctor.” A woman technician affirmed.
“Are you two ready to record history?” She asked.
“Sure, sure.” Jerry held up the piece of paper she had given him. “Carl, are you ready?”
“For what?” He mumbled. “I’m sorry, Jer, but this whole place has given me the creeps. Don’t you feel it?”
“Not really.” Jerry moved his mouth to get ready to start recording.
“I will hold this specimen.” Dr. Trezbecca replied as she picked up the small petri dish.
Jerry read the script about how in Laboratory Two, the miracle of life was being recreated. That was the word printed on the page, “recreated.” Carl nearly vomited when he read that word. Of all the words, that one word seemed to grab at him the most. In his association with Jerry Culhannick, Carl knew Jerry had a fairly large ego when it came to camera time. Together they had made over a hundred documentaries Crystal Images in which Jerry presented an unflinching presence to the camera. They had gone into war zones and reported on combat conditions. They had gone into the bowels of the earth to see some of the wonders buried in the rocks. They had traveled to over a hundred countries and all fifty states in search of interesting topics, but here Carl was getting an uneasy feeling about what they were witnessing. No one bothered to tell them what the purpose of the research was, reminding Carl of when they had explored alchemy and the person explaining the process was very secretive about some of the things he was doing.
“Shall we go to Laboratory Three?” Dr. Trezbecca asked when Jerry had finished.
“Sure, let’s get this done, shall we.” Jerry was feeling pretty good about the way things were going which made the doctor smile.
“In Lab Three, there are things you should know.” One of the technicians cornered Carl as Jerry left with the doctor.
“Like what?” Carl looked at the technician, a young Asian American man who spoke with a slight accent.
“It is where they give birth to the specimens.” He said as his eyes scanned the room.
“What do you mean give birth?” Carl asked.
“What does it sound like?” The man became spooked and left in a hurry before someone discovered him talking to the man with the camera.
He walked over to the last building in the compound with a big “III” painted in red on the side. What made him pause was the playground equipment behind a chain link fence.
“What would they need that for?” He wondered, but then he saw that some of the chains had been gnawed through in places..
Walking into the laboratory, Jerry ran to Carl excited or “jazzed” as he used to say, “Carl, you’ve got to see this.”
Jerry led him to a table where a baby lay wrapped in a blanket. Carl was startled at the baby’s face. Despite his small size, the face of the child was just about fully formed.
“Jer, this isn’t right.” He looked down at the infant in horror.
“Look at his face.” Jerry pointed to the infant in the glass casing.
“He has teeth. All of them.” Carl saw the baby open his mouth revealing real human teeth already in his mouth. “Isn’t there something wrong here.”
“It’s the next step.” Jerry shook his head, amazed.
“Is it? Is it the next step or are we looking at a mutation of what we are destined to become?” Carl felt the baby was looking at him, studying him. “I don’t like what I am seeing. I can’t believe this doesn’t bother you.”
“No. This is what we will become.” Jerry sniffed.
“Has anyone done any preliminary research? What will these babies become when they grow into adulthood?” Carl could not take his eyes off the baby in the encasement.
“The infant can speak with a vocabulary of three hundred words which increases exponentially each month.” Jerry was enthralled by what he was seeing in Laboratory Three. “These babies will reach adulthood by age four or five.”
“Does that sound right to you, does it?”
“Why not? Our grip on being at the top of the evolutionary tree has been slipping for centuries. Now we can regain our rightful place again.”
“Buddy, you are losing your grip here.” Carl looked at Jerry as if he was truly seeing him for the very first time.
One of the technicians dropped a thick cracker into the encasement. The infant grasped it and gnawed it until it had been consumed in under a minute. With teeth that sharp, it was little wonder why the playground chains had been gnawed through in places.
What would happen if one of these mutants managed to get loose in the laboratory? They could hurt or maim some of the technicians.
C’mon buddy, don’t you think it’s time for us to be on our way. We got some good stuff on film.” He grabbed Jerry by the arm, but Jerry shook him off.
“No, I want to stay here.” He shook his head, “Dr. Trezbecca promised we’d get a up close look at what these children can do.”
“I don’t want to see.”
“Why not?” Jerry was annoyed with Carl.
“Because I am afraid. I am very much afraid.” He shook.
“We are a witness to the next step. This is what we were supposed to be like,” Jerry watched as one of the technicians took the baby out of the encasement.
“I don’t want-” Carl began, but Dr. Trezbecca pointed to a small penned in area where the child had been placed.
“I want you to get this.” Dr. Trezbecca said proudly.
“Sure.” Jerry motioned for Carl to follow him.
“A lynx! Jerry, they put a lynx in the pen with the baby.” Carl could not believe what he was seeing through his lens. The wild animal circled the baby emitting a snarl and a growl. Slowly the cat moved, baring its teeth and fangs. The baby gurgled. Just then the cat jumped at the baby teeth and claws out ready to kill him.
Carl let out a yelp as the cat landed on the helpless baby. There was a cloud of dust in the entanglement. For a moment no one could see either the wild cat nor the child, but the baby was not crying out in pain. Instead the wild cat yelped and lay in the dust with a huge wound in its neck spouting an arterial wound. The lynx took a couple of gasping breaths and expired.
“Oh my God.” Carl held onto every word as he watched the lynx die.
“Did you see that, Carl? Did you see that?” Jerry could barely contain his excitement. “I can’t wait to show this to Mr.Newsome. I’ll bet he can’t believe this.”
“I’m sure he can’t.” Carl swallowed his bile. All he could see was the blood dripping from the infant’s mouth.
“Jerry, you sounded so excited about what you two saw while you were on Ebson Island.” Mr. Newsome sat at his desk with his hands folded on the desk in front of him.
“Yeah…you won’t believe your eyes.” Carl could not meet his boss’ eyes as Jerry set up the video on his computer. The video ran for less than four minutes. Mr. Newsome sat there with a smile frozen on his face. “Do you want me to play it again?”
“No thank you, Jerry, I’ve seen enough.” He sighed. Carl looked up at the suspended ceiling.
“Impressive, right?” Jerry closed the laptop.
“Yeah, that was one word for it.” Mr. Newsome shrugged.
“Go ahead and say it boss. This is a perversion, right?” Carl let some of his pent up anger salt his words.
“Perversion, right, but it is what it is.” Mr. Newsome put his hand to his double chins and pondered what he had seen for a moment. Then with a summary remark, said, “It was bound to happen after all. With the infinity of all the possible outcomes, like it or not, someone was bound to take the next step.”
Italian Sausage Charlotte
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients
Meat Mixture
- 1 1/2 pounds mild Italian sausage links
- 1 medium zucchini, sliced
- 8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
- 1 (16 ounce) jar white Alfredo pasta sauce, divided
Topping
- 1/2 cup milk
- 2 eggs
- 1 garlic clove, pressed
- 2 teaspoons Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix, divided
- 1/8 teaspoon salt
- 16 slices firm white bread
- 1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
- 2 tablespoons fresh Parmesan cheese, grated
Instructions
- Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
- Remove casing from sausage links; discard. Cut sausage into 1/2 inch pieces. Cook sausage in Stir Fry Skillet over medium heat until well browned and no longer pink. Turning with Nylon Turner as meat browns.
- Meanwhile, using Ultimate Slice & Grate, slice zucchini using v shape blade. Slice mushrooms with Egg Slicer Plus. Cut red bell pepper into 1/4 inch strips.
- Remove sausage from skillet; drain well on paper towels. Wipe out the skillet, and add 1 cup Alfredo sauce; bring to a boil. Stir in sausage and vegetables. Pour mixture into Oval Baker, mounding slightly in center.
- In Small Batter Bowl, whisk together remaining Alfredo sauce, milk and eggs using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add garlic pressed with Garlic Press, 1 teaspoon of the Seasoning Mix and salt.
- Cut crusts off the bread using Serrated Bread Knife. Dip bread into egg mixture, coating lightly; overlap bread in a circular pattern over sausage mixture, leaving center open.
- Drain tomatoes in a small Colander; transfer to small Colander Bowl. Add remaining 1 teaspoon Seasoning Mix; mix with Mix ‘N Scraper. Spoon tomato mixture into opening. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate cheese over top.
- Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until edges of bread are deep golden brown.
Attribution
Pampered Chef
Everything You’ve Missed on the Economy