Guys, I have been driving ever since I was 16 years old. I’m now many decades after that. And I’m still driving.

But, you know, I live in a very aggressively grown hyper-metropolis are that is evolving very quickly. The local village folk still maintain old habits, and ways of doing things while factories churn out huge truck loads of gear and products, and construction vehicles battle it out on the mega highways.

So yeah, it’s rough. And it is crazy.

From 8 people in a family riding an electric scooter, to the massive construction vehicles with tires the size of houses. It’s nuts.

Now, I am not here to complain today. But I am going to show you some pictures for your appreciation that you do not have to deal with this kind of life right now.

Today…

Is China’s economy going the way of Japan 30 years ago with deflation and low growth?

The only reason why Japan was hit was because it was a colony of the United States. Japan did whatever the United States told Japan to do, so it was caused by American capital harvesting Japan. Japan’s internal factors are actually not that serious. If Japan were an independent country, I think Japan would most likely seek help from Asia when the United States suppresses it, and directly launch a war against the United States. After all, Japan did this during World War II. The Americans have actually completely emasculated Japan’s national character and military strength. You can’t expect a colony to resist the demands of its masters can you?

posted his embarrassing moment online, his revenge shocked me

https://youtu.be/VAYn1ijpGJQ

China Cannot Survive The Trump Tariffs – But can We?

Hal Turner waving his MAGA flag saying that China is presently collapsing under the "weight" of the US Tariffs. It's bullshit. 

China is DEFIANT, and it is decidedly NOT COLLAPSING. 

And further, the USA is from 3% to 13% of China's exports, not the 25% that Hal refers to. 

This is the kind of "echo chamber" that you all should watch out for. Presented here for an idea of the nonsense spewing forth from the USA today. -MM

Hal Turner Nation April 22, 2025

China’s retaliation Tariffs against President Trump’s tariffs are essentially blowing up in their face.

After grounding dozens of Boeing planes, shifting Liquified Natural Gas purchases to Australia, buying oil from Canada instead of the USA, and withholding rare earth minerals from US sale, Beijing thought it had the upper hand, but now that move to confront the USA is backfiring — badly.

Chinese factories are collapsing under the weight of economic uncertainty, and insiders say more than half could shut down this year.

One supplier admitted, “I nearly passed out” after a major U.S. client suspended all orders.

The United States is the buyer of about 25% or more of all goods manufactured in China. The manufacturing industry is such that it cannot withstand the overnight loss of 25% of its customer base. Factories will be forced to close and go out of business from such a loss.

And it’s not just the tariffs.

China is now in an economic spiral — deflation, unpaid wages, and collapsing property giants — all while the China Communist Party (CCP) scrambles to hide the damage from the world.

Trump’s critics call it reckless. But the unpredictability of Trump is working miracles — keeping China guessing at every turn?

PHARMACEUTICALS

This trade war with China may get very much more ugly.

Right now, about eighty percent (80%) of the Pharmaceutical medicines in our drug stores, are manufactured in China. Even those that are made in India, get the source material from China. If China cuts-off shipment of medicines, this country will plunge into a medical crisis the likes of which has never been seen before.

Of course, people automatically say to themselves “they would never do that.” They would.

Remember, the CCP is the entity that, under their long ago leader Mao Zedong, killed fifty million of their own people in their “cultural revolution” and in their “great leap forward.” This is the same CCP that used TANKS to literally run-over peaceful protesters in Tiananmen Square. Killing is a tool for the CCP and, after all, we’re “only” Americans.

So if YOU need certain prescription medicines to live on, YOU had better go get yourself some reserve supplies. Yes, it will be expensive – especially if your Insurance company says, “we won’t refill it until such and such a date.” You will likely have to pay for these medicines YOURSELF.

Few of us have a lot of money in the bank, but that money in the bank will do you absolutely no good if you’re dying from lack of Insulin or some other medicine you need TO LIVE. So spend the money now, while the meds are still available, because this trade war is turning ugly, fast.

We could very well reach a moment where you finally say “OK I’ll spend the money” only to find out there is no medicine left to be purchased!

If you have an extra 90 days supply, that ___may___ just tie you over until more arrives in the country.

Same with car repairs you’ve been putting-off. Get the work done NOW while the parts are still available. Same with home appliances you’ve been meaning to replace or upgrade. Get them NOW while they’re still available.

EMPTY SHIPS

Last week, slightly over eighty (80) large ocean-container vessels departed China . . . . EMPTY. US merchants have been cancelling orders due to the Tariffs. Merchants know the public won’t buy the items with a 145% Tariff increasing the product price, so they canceled the orders from China. The ships had to leave China empty and head to some other country to be loaded with things to ship.

The trucking industry here in the US is now seeing layoffs because freight traffic is in rapid decline.

IF freight is not coming in on ships, and not moving by truck, inventories are being drawn down in stores and warehouses. It is literally only a matter of time before lots of things are no longer available.

Buy what you need NOW. Don’t think you can wait a few weeks. You can’t.

Did I hear correctly, that in response to Donald Trump’s threats, Canada is going to be landing an entire division of Canadian troops at Thule, Greenland, and wiping out the American base there?

The weapons support in Canada’s arsenal is now in the Ukrainian battlefield, and Canadians do not even have 155mm shells A special military operation by the First Cavalry Division of the Army can disarm the entire armed forces of Canada Then, with priority given to allowing the Sikh to become American citizens, organize one million North American Sikh mercenaries to completely conquer Canada

As long as the Americans are willing to meet the interests of the Russians, the Russians would certainly not hesitate to send Wagner forces to march into Canada. The U.S. could gain vast territories in North America for free, without losing a single soldier.

At this moment, Canadian mercenaries are fighting Russians on the frontlines in Ukraine. It would suit the Russians to bring the flames of war to Quebec, and then the Americans could send in their troops. The Russians would pretend to retreat, allowing the Americans to step in as liberators and take full control of Canada, legally making it the 51st state of the United
States.

After all, the “monkey group” believes that as long as they are not being attacked, they think the Earth revolves around their values.

I AM OUROBOROS

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story where a character relives the same event over and over again. … view prompt

HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD

What does the desire to live forever say about a man? It’s a very common wish. No one really wants to die—and yet no one’s ever escaped their fate. There is a point in life wherein our own biology sits us down and sternly tells us—“Thus far shall ye go, and no further.” Yet, people still dream of the impossible. My own physical difficulties had become great—almost too great too endure. The sixteenth verse of the Havamal had been staring me straight in the face for a very long time. The coward thinks he will live forever If only from fighting he flees; But the ails and aches of old age dog him Though spears have spared him. I was born on Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, at 9:47 P.M. I was one hundred and twenty years old. I had accumulated a quite substantial amount of esoteric, outrè, arcane—and even forbidden—lore. It is because of such ancient and alchemical knowledge that my life has lasted as long as it has. By 2053, it was said they could now reconstruct damaged body parts through the application of nanotechnology. There was talk that a man might have his brain surgically implanted in an indestructible android body. But while a blow involving several tons of force might not damage an indestructible skull—the shock of that energy, transferred through that skull would turn the brain to mush. It was speculated that the electronic patterns of a human mind could be uploaded into an android’s computer brain. But an organic mind reduced to digital binary code and pixels of RAM memory would lose its humanity. A round peg in a square hole is not a good fit. There were rumors of clone banks. If your body parts wear out, you get replacement organs from your own clone. Genetically compatible, your body would never reject it. Of course, if the clones ever wake up to what you’re really doing, then it’s—“No, Massey—LET MY PEOPLE GO!” I have heard they had even perfected an elixir of immortality. At several trillion dollars a pop you might get a single drink of that. Better start saving your pennies. Even if these things were to work, you’d still have to live with all the mistakes of your life before you became immortal. You could change your future—but you could never change your past. What I wanted was a good future, based upon a good past. Why bother building a luxurious penthouse, when your cellar is all waterlogged, mildewed and rotten? The rats are running crap games in your basement, and the only reason you don’t have cockroaches, is because they can’t stand the smell of the bedbugs. For all my painstaking care, I had no power to stop the increasing decrepitude of my body—the best I could do was slow it down. But my mind—that had been honed to razor sharpness. For decades I had embarked on the rigid application of an outrè and esoteric spiritual discipline. That was my ace in the hole. Death was coming for me. I had led him on a merry chase. But I could see his approach. His black shroud concealed an arsenal of bayonets, daggers, krises, kukris and karambits. But only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight! Don’t worry—I’m not a suicide. I’m talking about a different kind of gun. The one thing common to nearly all deaths is the fact that we have virtually no control over where our spirits go. We breathe our last and our spirit goes out with our final breath—to where? We do not know. But I knew exactly where my spirit was going to go. I had decades of practice on a spiritual shooting range. My weapon was a Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling (I am partial to steampunk, after all). There was one bullet in its chamber—and that one bullet was me. My spirit, my mind, my soul. I raised that spiritual Gatling gun. I knew exactly where I was aiming myself. My afterlife was going to be exactly where, what and when I intended it to be. And as Death touched me, I pulled the trigger that belonged to no earthly gun. The year was 2073. I died at the age of one hundred and twenty.

I didn’t regain consciousness for many months. I had expected to be fully integrated with my new body right from the start. But my new brain had to grow before it could fully host my consciousness. The greater portion of my spirit remained outside my body, like an observer.

But it had worked! I had reincarnated myself into a body that was entirely new. You can not imagine the incredible freedom of swimming in what seems like an infinite ocean. You don’t eat or drink—yet you’re nourished. Food goes directly to your stomach, eliminating the middle man.

As I grew, there was less and less room to move around in but that never seemed to bother me. I was more worried about the first real problem I knew I would have to face. The first time I’d been born I had a condition called asyncletism. This is where the baby’s head positions itself at about a ninety degree angle to how it’s supposed to pass through the birth canal. Mother had always said I was a stubborn child!

I struggled to position myself right. I had to fight, and fight hard to integrate just a little bit more of my spirit into that uncooperative little brat!

Ever wonder why you have no conscious memory of being in the womb? That’s because birth is one of the most horrendous things you’ll ever go through—so terrible you block it out—utterly!

Somehow I was successful at getting my head turned around and my birth was normal. No doctor needed to spank me to get my breathing going. I screamed and cried from the pure horror of being born. My screams of agony were louder than those of the most hardened sinner being thrown into a wood chipper, crying for God to save him!

But why was I worried about asyncletism when this was a completely new birth?

Because when I aimed that Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling of spirit, I had fired the bullet of my spirit, mind and soul into the past.

I had reincarnated myself.

As myself.

And today was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, 9:47 P.M.

Not exactly how Jesus meant it when he said “Ye must be born again.” But we don’t always get what we want—not even Jesus Christ gets that.

By itself, reincarnation is a ludicrous concept. You’re punished for something you did in your past life—something you can’t even remember! What’s more, any thing you’ve learned in that past life is completely stripped away from you and you have to start all over again from scratch. You’re tabula rasa, a blank slate.

Reincarnation is the exception, not the rule. You must have done something so horrendous, so horrible, that it’s set the universe severely out of balance and this is the only way to set it right. Unless you’re a God or a Goddess, you end up in one of the multiple Heavens or Hells available in the After-Life.

On the other hand, you might just simply cease to exist.

Integrating my spirit with the mind and body of my child self was an excruciating task. The lion’s share of myself remained unconnected as an observer, unable to affect what the child who was my younger self was doing. Nonetheless, my efforts to gain full control and integration were unrelenting.

1959. I was six years old. I was in the first grade. In my first life, some kid had lobbed a rock that hit me square in the head, hitting me just as I entered the school yard that morning.

Unless I could get control over this child self, the world of my second life would be an exact repeat of my first one. Knowing what was coming, I’d gotten into the habit of watching what was around me. Like it says in the first verse of the Havamal—

Have thy eyes about thee when thou enterest

Be wary always,

Be watchful always;

For one never knoweth when need will be

To meet hidden foe in the hall.

As I entered the gate, I saw the kid clearly. I saw him throw the stone. He wasn’t even aiming at me. I’d just had the bad fortune to be in his direct line of fire. This time, I avoided getting hit—just barely! It had been extraordinarily hard—but I’d done it! I’d changed my life and changed my history! You can believe I had words with that kid! He didn’t like being spoken to that way. He tried to fight me. The hardest thing for me was to take him down without teachers thinking I was the aggressor.

After that, there were further changes, but they were subtle and slow. It wasn’t easy making those changes. There was a tremendous inertia I had to push against.

I really had no friends my own age—we’re talking about a hundred and twenty year age difference. I was too much of a freak and got targeted by bullies. I never got beaten—forty years of martial arts training guaranteed that. The difficulty was in not revealing just how much I did know. I could have killed any of those kids with ease. Even force of numbers couldn’t have taken me down.

It was a little easier to talk with grownups. But I still had to be exceptionally careful not to reveal what I was really capable of. Think about it. You see a six year old kid. You certainly don’t expect him to be able to speak and write in more than a dozen languages—some of them dead ones.

As I got more and more integrated I enjoyed more highlights. I still grin when I think of what I did to Miss Reese.

1966. I was thirteen years old. Fifth Grade. Junior High. Miss Reese was a middle-aged old bat and was probably an old maid and a Jehovah’s Witness. I’d said something to her that didn’t agree with her Christian sensibilities. She’d responded in anger and astonishment—“Don’t you even know the name of your God?”

Now first time around I had no idea how to reply to her. What she’d said made no sense to me. Mom had never raised me in the Christian Faith, though some of the family were Catholic.

We were not yet to the Summer of Love and much of the culture of 1966 was still meshed in the dregs of the repressive, conformist Nineteen Fifties. That was a time when children were taught to believe in the Christian God. Your family and church told you who your God was. That was not unconnected with the idea that America was supposed to be Christian country. Your God was chosen for you—you didn’t get to choose it for yourself!

But this was my second time around and this time I did what I had long wished I had known what to do the first time. I stood up, my fists on my desk and said clearly, with the deep throated growl that might have come from deep in a hunting wolf’s throat—“My God is Odin. Allfather. Master of Magick, Death, and Leader of the Wild Hunt.”

There was a real fear in her eyes. No one had ever called her on her bullshit before.

I wound up in the Principal’s office. He harangued me, almost mocking me for believing in what everyone knew was a myth, a fairy tale. “I am true to the God of my ancestors,” I told him. He tried telling me how my ancestors had given up their superstitions and left them behind when they came to this country. I told him how Vikings came to America five hundred years before Catholic Columbus set foot on this land.

They called in my mother. He tried to shame her for not teaching me religious values. I said only that you didn’t talk to my mother like that. I put the same fear in him that I’d put in Miss Reese—only this time it was the voice of a wounded grizzly bear!

It all ended in a court case. The school was found to be in violation of the First Amendment. The protection guaranteed in that amendment was not limited only to branches of the Christian Faith—it must apply even to ancient Pagan Faiths as well.

There were other highlights as well. I was sixteen and hitchhiked up to Bethel, New York in 1969. Got to attend the Woodstock Festival. First time around I hadn’t come out of my shell until Earth Day, 1970.

Perhaps one of the things I’m proudest of was making sure I was in New York City on December 8, 1980. I had a murder to prevent. Gained two life long friends that evening. I still managed to keep a low profile. But it got to be difficult after that.

It had taken me thirty years to fully integrate my spirit and gain full control. By the time I came to the end of my second life, I had reached the age of one hundred twenty three. Inside I was two hundred forty-three years old. I died for the second time, in 2076. The world was even closer to falling into the Bottomless Pit than it had been in 2073. Once again I fired the Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling into the past. Once again it was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953. 9:47 P.M.

The third time I was born was considerably easier than the second. This time, full control of my faculties was gained by the time I was thirteen. By then, I had experienced two hundred fifty-six years of life. It was time to expand my sphere of influence. I grew bolder implementing the needed changes. I had begun to “invent” things. Not too difficult when you thoroughly understand Twenty-First Century technology. And it’s quite a perk to jump start the Information Age twenty years ahead of its time.

Each new life was an improvement on the last. If in my second life I had learned how to become vigilant, I did not have to relearn that lesson. If in my second life I had fully integrated at age thirty, in my third I had fully integrated at thirteen. I gasped when I thought of what my progress might be like in my fourth or even fifth lives!

Yet something kept nagging at me.

Hadn’t there been times in my first life, when it seemed that something other than myself—or at least something outside of myself—had given me warnings and steered me away from danger?

In 1980 I had planned to take a bicycle trip down the coast. But two different times, when I was on the road, I got the strongest impression that I should not go to the coast. Both times the feeling was palpable. There was no mistaking it. Twice it gripped me, and twice I listened to it. Because I heeded that voice (but it was not a voice) I avoided a gigantic, ninety-mile-an-hour wind storm that hit the coast.

For a spirit to engraft itself onto a new born child, there is a tremendous inertia to overcome. One part of the spirit integrates with the body; the other remains the unintegrated observer, but constantly strives to unify the whole.

But the idea slowly dawned on me. What if there was a third part—that of the infantile self, the self that existed before I came from my own future to invade my own past? That child would not have understood this invader—it would have struck him as something foreign and alien—something to be resisted and fought against.

I was finding it very hard to breathe. Full realization crashed upon me like the tsunami that breaks down the obsidian cliff walls which have stood immovable since the Dawn of Time,

I’d been wrong. I had reincarnated untold number of times but I had never known it. In none of these lives had I successfully reintegrated with my younger self. But I had not been completely unaffected. It explained my rather freakish inability to interact very well with others. It would account for the reason I had always been something of a loner. It would be the reason I had always been something of an outcast.

I’d been at this longer than I suspected. It was a cycle—and each reincarnation was an improvement on the one before.

Each time I began again, it was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, at 9:47 P.M.

I was a phoenix. Eternally being reborn. Infinitely rising from the ashes of my own life—and each time finding my way back in. Would it ever end? Did it have to end? I couldn’t say. All I knew was that I was going to live this life, over and over—remaking it anew, gaining more experience, gaining new sufferings, gaining new joys and glories.

The Midgard Serpent seizes its own tail in its unrelenting jaws. It bites down hard and holds it, unyieldingly.

My ending is my beginning. My beginning is my ending.

But there is no true beginning. Even as there is no true ending.

I am Ouroboros.

I am the serpent who takes his own ending—and makes of it his new beginning.

I am Ouroboros.

This NDE Will Give You Goosebumps – Athlete Dies & Plays Sports In Heaven, Returns With A Message

New 3500% Tariffs on Solar Panels and Related Equipment!

The USA is in La-La-Land. -MM

Hal Turner World April 22, 2025

The U.S. Department of Commerce slapped high tariffs on solar panels and their related products coming from four Southeast Asian countries, Malaysia, Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia, accusing manufacturers there of dumping products on the U.S. market.

The announcement ends a yearlong trade probe initiated under the Biden administration.

Tariff levels varied wildly between different countries and manufacturers. Solar cells made in Malaysia by Korean company Hanwha only got a tariff of 14.64%, the lowest imposed.

In contrast, four manufacturers in Cambodia—Hounen Solar, Jintek Photovoltaic, ISC Cambodia, and Solar Long PV Tech—got tariffs of 3,521.14%. The Southeast Asian country stopped cooperating with the U.S. probe, leading to such high penalties.

The U.S. International Trade Commission will make a final determination on tariff rates on June 2.

U.S. solar manufacturers, as well as foreign companies that invested in U.S.-based manufacturing, lobbied for antidumping tariffs on Southeast Asian manufacturers, accusing them of pricing their products below production cost. The American Alliance for Solar Manufacturing Trade Committee also argued that Southeast Asian companies received an unfair level of subsidies, making U.S.-made solar panels uncompetitive.

Chinese-owned solar manufacturing facilities have popped up across Southeast Asia as companies sought to navigate U.S.-China trade frictions.

While Cambodia is still primarily an agrarian economy, solar panels were the Southeast Asian country’s top export to the U.S. last year, according to data from consultancy Oxford Economics.

In total, the U.S. imported $12.9 billion worth of solar equipment from the four countries targeted by Monday’s tariffs, representing about 77% of module imports, according to Bloomberg data.

In a statement on Monday, the Alliance called the Commerce Department’s final tariff recommendation a “decisive victory” for American manufacturing.

“Enforcing our trade laws isn’t just a legal matter—it’s essential to rebuilding our industrial base, securing our energy independence, and protecting American jobs,” Tim Brightbill, cochair of Wiley’s international trade practice and lead counsel to the group, said in a statement.

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

When you thought you’ve seen all the crazy stuff from Russia, there come fresh crosswalk markings painted over the snow!

“What happened to the crosswalk? It has vanished.”

“Oh you know, people walked across the road and cars drove by and they rubbed it out.”

“In five minutes?!”

Russian Orthodox Christian priest Andrey Tkachev claims that the war in Ukraine began because men masturbated and spilled semen “not in the bosom of their own wife.”

Thus the real objective for the invasion was de-masturbation of Ukraine. The question is why the church calls out for putting more men in the trenches when they are meant to fill in wife’s bosoms.

A nice Audio A6 is being towed away from a parking lot. But what’s a military KAMAZ truck doing there? You don’t say…

A Moscow resident who had been deprived of his license for drunk driving for the second time was sentenced to 200 hours of community service and ordered to have his car transferred to the Ministry of Defense for the needs of the Special Military Operation.

But rest assured, the car won’t make it to the frontlines to be blasted by a kamikaze drone. It’s just one of the generals in the headquarters wanted to make a present for his young mistress.

Putin awarded the title Hero of Russia to corporal Andrei Grigoriev from Yakutia. He defeated a Ukrainian serviceman in hand-to-hand combat.

This is a trope from a Hollywood action movie in which a villain and protagonist drop their weapons to have a martial art fight. The hero wins and gets awarded a medal of merit from the president.

Due to the lack of prisoners in Buryatia who have all been sent to war and never came back, the construction of a mega-colony has been postponed.

Earlier, they were going to build a huge prison in Ulan-Ude, where they were going to bring those serving sentences from all over the region.

Stalin is rolling in his grave. He had never thought up of anything stupid like that – he needed prisoners alive to do force labor for him to build river canals, plants to excavate raw materials in permafrost and railway lines.

KGB officer Vladimir Putin has killed all the prisoners in Gulag when there’s an acute shortage of workers in the country! He has just handed out death sentences to the able bodied workers serving in penal colonies.

He then imported several thousands North Korean men who could have been employed as cheap labor in the production facilities to make competitively prices shoes and clothes, but no, he sent them all into a meat grinder, too.

White Lada car has become synonymous with Russian servicemen’s death payments popularized by the parents of a deceased soldier killed in Ukraine who expressed on TV their gratitude to the benevolent state for giving them a Lada passenger car to visit their son at the cemetery.

Advertisement of Black Lada had to overcome this negative and unfortunately memorable meme. It features an ethnic man from Caucus mountain region in a tracksuit and a national sheepskin hat riding a black horse. The horse is faster than the Lada car.

“I’d rather buy a horse,” a viewer thinks. “If only I had a stable to keep it!”

The Lada vehicle with tinted windows is impeded in its tracks by a flock of sheep where it comes to a full stop for the next hour or two.

We got it. Lada is such a slow car that even its manufacturers don’t deny the fact. There are no goats in the commercial because they were exchanged for the North Korean soldiers.

An interesting piece of statistic from Rosstat. In Moscow, iPhone owners make up the majority of the smartphones owners: 53% share. But in the southern regions where the commercial was shot, Dagestan leads with an iPhone share of 63% and Chechnya with 61%.

Caucus populace may ride horses and work on small farms tending to sheep that impede traffic but they have an iPhone in the tracksuit pocket.

A black Lada and a flock of sheep. That’s iPhone.

Americans On Rednote Left Shocked After Realizing China Is Way More Advanced!!

Inside Out Lasagna

Yield: 15 servings

Ingredients

1 package uncooked bowtie pasta
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1 1/4 pounds beef or sausage links (casings removed)
2 garlic cloves pressed
1 jar marinara sauce
1 can diced tomatoes in juice
4 eggs
1 (32 ounce) container ricotta
2 cups shredded mozzarella
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
2 tablespoons snipped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Cook pasta according to package directions
Meanwhile, chop onion with food chopper, cook and stir onion and ground beef on stove 8 to 10 minutes or until browned breaking beef into small crumbles. Press garlic into beef using garlic press. Stir in pasta sauce and tomatoes, remove from heat
In stainless mixing bowls, lightly beat eggs with stainless whisk. Add cheese, parsley, salt, and black pepper. Mix well.
To assemble Lasagna, place cooked pasta into bottom of rectangular baker. Top with meat mixture. Spoon ricotta mixture over sauce; Spread evenly.
Bake, uncovered, 1 hour or until ricotta mixture is set and lightly browned.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

SMALL AMERICAN BUSINESS OWNERS ARE CONSIDERING CLOSING THEIR BUSINESSES, THEY SAY THE TARIFF IS MUCH

Why is there so much more poverty in Haiti than the Dominican Republic which is on the same island?

The island of Hispaniola was doomed from the start. When we look at Haiti, and the Dominican Republic, the cities are different, the language is different, the music is different, and the industries are different. While the Dominican republic’s GDP continues to grow, Haiti remains the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.

Haiti is plagued with rampant corruption, constant black-outs, food uncertainties, and a history that wasn’t concerned about the future of the island. Meanwhile, the Dominican Republican thrives off tourism and sugar production.

So what happened?

It all started in 1492, when Christopher Columbus and his Spanish crew showed up to the island of Hispaniola. They liked the island so much that they made a permanent settlement, naming it Santo Domingo. They set-up a very typical Spanish colonial economy, and had enslaved the native (Taino) people.

In 1697 French pirates seized control of the west side of the island, naming it Saint-Domingue. They were determined to do it all way better than the Spanish, so they started importing thousands of African slaves to work on cotton, tobacco, and sugar plantations. They imported over 500,000 slaves from Africa, instead of using the native (Taino) people, the way the Spanish had. They succeeded, and at one point this side of the island, Saint-Domingue (Haiti), was the richest colony in the Americas. The French however, were not focused on sustainability, they were only focused on extracting as many natural resources, and creating as much revenue as possible.

In 1804 there was a slave rebellion that rocked Saint-Domingue, slaves gained their independence from the French and they named what was once, Saint-Domingue; Haiti. Haiti was the very first country to ever be successfully overthrown by slaves.

Ever since, there have been long, strenuous, fights for occupation, and independence going back and forth between the French, the Spanish, and even the United States. They’ve weaved through dictatorships, democracies, and even wars between each other. Both countries have been plagued with corruption, and used by dictators who had only wanted to line their own pockets.

The Dominican Republic was ultimately able to capitalize on their robust sugar industry, exporting quite a bit of sugar to the United States. Haiti was not able to do this because their soil, and agriculture had been depleted due to decades of stripping all their natural resources. Haiti was also order to pay, what would today be, 30 billion dollars in reparations to France for their slave rebellion. They were paying this debt all the way up until 1947, ultimately stalling the allocation of money for things like education, infrastructure, and food.

The Dominican Republic also capitalized heavily off tourism, and still receive a good chunk of their revenue from it. Haiti has not been able to do this due to the exponentially high corruption and crime that plagues their country.

Haiti and the Dominican Republic are two very different countries, with two very different cultures. The language barrier between the two makes it even harder, with Haitians speaking French/Creole, and Dominicans speaking Spanish. The Haitians are primarily of African descent, whereas the Dominicans are primarily mixed, with traces back to the (Taino) people. With racial tensions high, the Dominicans are trying to better their country, while the Haitians, seeing no promise in their own country, want to infiltrate the Dominican Republic. This has prompted a deep level of hostility, and even a heavily monitored border wall. In a perfect world, these two sides would fight together for one island, unfortunately…their futures hold no promise of that.

NEW REPORT: Things Are Actually Far Worse Than Originally Thought…

Some strange indicators…

Why are Chinese people so arrogant?

Can you give an example?

Without more context, I can think of 2 kinds of Chinese arrogance.

Failing to kowtow to Westerners. This is the greatest difference between Chinese and other east Asians. South Koreans and Japanese, and even Chinese in Taiwan and Hong Kong tend to suck up to white people, because they were militarily defeated and are in some sense or other semi-colonies or were colony. They are used to the Westerners being superior, “broken spine” as we call it in China. You go visit Japan or South Korea and you see the locals shy away from or humble at the American troops stationed there, and you’d be able to tell the Chinese tourists immediately. They would stand tall and watch the American servicemen with a cocky attitude like “hey my grand daddy beat your grand daddy”. The same kind of attitude applies to other Asians who have foreign military stationed in their country or have heavy foreign presence, like “We’re the free men.” This cannot be helped, we Chinese are just used to being No.1 throughout our history, and dependency and submission to others is unimaginable.
The other kind of arrogance is newly founded. China grew faster than any other country in the past 3 or 4 decades. And not just any faster. The average Chinese are 33 times richer than 30 years ago. This developed a new kind of pride/arrogance in that when Chinese meet people from developed nations, we think, “hmmm, we’ll outcompete you soon”. And when we meet people from poorer nations, we start to view them in the same way Americans viewed us in the 80s. While in the 90s, the Chinese would listen to Westeners talk about democracy and human rights, nowadays such dialogue are just amusing and absurd to us, and we’ll laugh or politely assert that the CCP is the best regime in the world.

I would support the former and question the latter, as it hampers our ability to communicate and learn.

The Karma of Idiots

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Lily Renga

Dr. Carmela Ronson had a thing for eating grapes with Greek yogurt. Her morning routine consisted of doing a Peloton class, showering, driving to work, getting in a fit of road rage at least once, parking in the St. Peter’s University Hospital lot, and then finally indulging in her breakfast. While self-driving cars had become the norm, she liked the thrill of driving herself and accelerating on the highway. Even the road rage was a slight comfort in her morning ritual. Today on Easton Avenue, an old man had decided the cross the street just as the light had turned green. He seemed oblivious to her honking. In fact, he seemed to walk slower with every honk she made, not even bothering to look at her as he meandered across the pavement. She thought about how he couldn’t ignore her if she ran him over (of course, she would never do that – it was just a thought). For her good moral behavior, Carmela put extra grapes in her Greek yogurt at work. Plus, she deserved a treat after what she’s had to deal with back home.

Her first patient of the day was an eight-year-old boy named Henry who had gotten his thumb stuck in a tire swing. Henry still had a bit of baby fat, exemplified by his swollen lips as he tried to keep a brave face for the doctor. Despite his tyrannosaurus rex shirt being covered in dirt, his brown curly hair sat neatly on his head. Even with all the new anti-gravity playground equipment, children still seemed to prefer the rusty swing sets and steep slides. Carmela understood this; she imagined that the old school playground equipment gave children a similar adrenaline rush she felt when she drove. Carmela sat down warmly next to the boy. “Hi Henry. I’m Doctor Ronson and I’m going to take care of your thumb today. How are you feeling?”. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of her presence, and she gently placed his finger in her palm. She immediately knew the thumb was undoubtedly broken. It was almost impressive how much damage he did with just a tire swing. But Carmela took pride in her job, so even though she knew exactly where he had broken his thumb, she used the pen in her pocket to run a quick x-ray to be sure. Uncapping the pen, she looked up at him. “This device is called PocketVision. It’s a medical tool that will let me see where you’ve broken your thumb. Is that ok?” Henry gave a silent nod.

“Okay Henry, your thumb is broken in a few places. We are going to get you fixed right up though.” She felt it was time to attempt some relatability here. “You know, you are really lucky to grow up in these times,” she said, “when I was a kid, you just had to suck it up and let it heal. But, I have another cool tool I can use to make you feel better right away. Can I go grab it?” Henry, unsurprisingly, nodded back. She was starting to get irritated. “Not big on words, huh kid?” she grumbled as she went to grab the device.

Carmela was very excited to use ConsanoLife for the first time on a child patient. Innovations like this were why Carmela had gone into medicine in the first place. A new surgical procedure or medical technique gave her a much bigger rush than driving ever did. She can still remember the thrill of cutting into human skin the first time, and the heart racing delight of her first hip replacement. The first time she had used ConsanoLife last month, Carmela couldn’t wait to come home and tell her husband all about it. She laughed to herself. Funny how things worked out. Her hospital was lucky enough to have multiple ConsanoLifes at their disposal. It was lucky for her in the sense that she was able to bring one home last night and no one noticed. No one noticed when she brought it back this morning either.

She strolled into the orthopedic surgery unit as if she hadn’t been there an hour ago and walked up to the pristine silver machine. The smell of new metal lingered on its shiny surface. ConsanoLife was currently only the size of a laptop, meaning it could only operate on small parts of the body. The size and weight made it easy for transportation. With the wild success of ConsanoLife revolutionizing the medical world, researchers were already working on something three times the current size.

She walked back up to Henry with the device. “Hi Henry. What I’m holding in my arms is something called ConsanoLife. Do you believe in magic?” She attempted her biggest smile. Henry stared blankly back at her. She opened her mouth to continue, but her phone in her pocket started buzzing. A call from Dave. Fuck that. She continued, “well, this device is kind of like that. You’re going to put your hurt thumb in here, and then your thumb is going to disappear. No pain at all. All your nerve cells are suspended inside the machine. Basically, all the bonds in your cell walls break apart and the device collects all the living tissue from the identified body part. Then after an hour or so, the device will have regenerated all your tissue and bones to be even stronger than before. In between that time, a skin graft is created by the machine to cover the area where your thumb was. When the device is done repairing the damage you did to your thumb, I put the machine back on your hand, press that yellow button, and your thumb will be better than ever.” Henry’s brows furrowed. She was never that good with kids. Carmela concluded he understood about 10% of that sentence. She tried again.

“Basically, this machine, ConsanoLife, is going to take your thumb for an hour, fix it, and put it right back, all healed. And it doesn’t hurt one bit. You won’t feel a thing.” Henry didn’t seem nearly as excited as she was, but at least he didn’t seem scared anymore. With a long line of patients ahead for the day, she knew she had to begin the operation. She began to insert Henry’s thumb into the red rubber mouth of the machine. After putting in his metrics, she turned on the device, which groaned as if waking up from a nap and then whirred rhythmically. Henry sat, uninterested, as if his thumb wasn’t becoming detached from his body right before his eyes. Henry’s lackluster attitude began to irritate Carmela further. “Any fun trips coming up?” Silence as per usual, but she didn’t miss a beat this time. She continued, “After today I am going on a long trip. I packed my bags last night. I think I’m gonna go to Chicago. And then Hawaii and then Norway maybe. I wasn’t sure where I was going so I packed a little bit of everything. T-shirts, a sun hat, winter boots, gloves, some dresses, a bikini, the works.” She looked up at him in just enough time to catch a slight eye roll. Henry yawned.

Carmela placed the ConsanoLife device back in the orthopedic unit and set a timer for one hour. In that one hour, she tended to someone with a foot bunion, put a dislocated elbow back in place, and ignored 14 calls from Dave. If he wasn’t going to consider her feelings back then, he certainly would not be receiving any of her time now. As she strolled through the hallway, the buzz of her timer went off. It was time to put Henry’s thumb back on. She walked back over to Henry with the small machine, who was watching a baseball game on TV. The Nationals were up by 3. From a distance, Henry looked relaxed and happy, enjoying his time in the hospital bed. When he turned over to see Carmela, his smile fell flat. Great. “Hi again Henry,” she said, “it’s time to get your thumb back on. I just need to take a few measurements before we do that.”

As she measured his blood pressure and checked his heart rate, she broke the unending silence like a hot knife through butter. “Do you have any siblings?” This time she did not wait even a second for a response that would never come. “I have one brother. I’m an older sister, you see. And I’d like to think I helped make him into a good person. But the truth is, I think all men just might be terrible. For one, they smell. But, let’s be honest, if it ended there, then I could tolerate them. No, they do a LOT worse than just smell. Don’t you agree?” Henry, it seemed, did not agree. In his classic demeanor, his mouth pulled downwards, and his eyes narrowed. She had no idea why she was talking so much to this kid. She felt like punishing him for being rude to her.

Carmela put his hand back in the machine and made a few more adjustments. Maybe she was a bit harsh. Maybe if she explained why she thought these things, he would understand. Henry might be quite the intellectual for all she knew. She spoke again, “I think you’d agree with me if you’ve known what I’ve been through. See, men only think with one thing, and it’s not with their head, if you know what I mean.” She pressed the yellow button and the mechanical whirring started up again with a faint yellow glow. “One day you think you’re with the love of your life, and the next day he’s having sex with a 22-year-old girl that does YouTube for a living. Oh, and she looks nothing like me, of course. It makes you wonder, was I ever his type?” Her voice began to shake and get louder, and her knuckles turned white as they gripped the machine. Henry was looking around nervously. His thumb, after all, was in the hands of a woman who was ranting about her cheating husband.

Carmela continued: “It just makes me so fucking angry. Does he think I do those virtual Peloton classes for myself? No. I’m 44 for God’s sake. And I take pretty good care of myself just so I can look attractive to him. I even put myself through a freaking juice cleanse! But even with all the medical advancements in the world, I’m not gonna ever have the perfect body of a 22 year old girl. I wouldn’t look like that if I drank juice for the rest of my life.” The machine’s glow started dimming, meaning it was almost done reconstructing the thumb. Henry looked like his was holding his breath, sitting stiff as a board.

Carmela laughed to herself. It came out as an angry, high pitched, snarling growl. “Here’s the thing Henry. My husband is an idiot. Idiots underestimate women. Don’t be an idiot, ok? Or you’ll end up just like my husband.” The device stopped whirring. Some color returned to his cheeks as he let go of the breath he had been holding. Henry’s stiff posture relaxed now that he was sure his thumb was attached to his body. He started wiggling it around, testing its functionality. He was surprised at how well he could bend it, given the pain he had endured just an hour ago. She was right. The ConsanoLife device had worked perfectly and painlessly. He thought of all the thumb wars he could win with his new and improved thumb. “Maybe I’ll go to Peru,” she thought out loud. “Or Slovenia. What do you think?”

For the first time, Henry opened his mouth: “Have you thought about Disney World?”

She paused, surprised that she had gained approval to be spoken to. She replied as if talking to an old friend, “No, I haven’t. But I’m not sure if I want to be around all those newlyweds who go to Disney for their honeymoon.”

“If you want to leave so bad, why did you go to work?”

“Oh, well, that’s because I borrowed something from the hospital and needed to put it back before I left.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, nothing he didn’t deserve. But it involved a little help from that magical machine I used on your thumb today.”

“I don’t get it. You know I’m only eight, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, remember that this device can painlessly remove any body part that will fit into it?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t have to give the body part back, if you think about it. You could just keep it in the machine forever. I thought it was for time my husband start thinking with his head and not the other thing”

“I still don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to understand, really. Just don’t be an idiot.”

“Ok. Thanks for fixing my thumb. Have a good vacation.”

What went wrong with the F-35?

(Ret.) Turkish General. Beyazıt Karataş , a former F-16 pilot, recently talked about the F-35s:

main qimg ace1d1f57015046f21473fb9d639445c

It is an exceedingly expensive and unnecessarily complex aircraft. It tries to do a little bit of everything but ends up not being able to do anything right.
Lifetime operating cost of the F-35 exceeds $450-$500 million per plane, making it unsustainable for even countries like the US & UK.
Notorious for unsolvable technical problems, from radar quitting mid flight due to overheating to engines catching on fire.
In stealth mode, its weapon options are extremely limited in size, range and capability.
USAF is trying to slowly phase it out by reducing orders while the U.S. government continues to push it to “allies” to help defense contractors and make countries more dependent on the U.S.
It is a “postcard fighter”. Good for taking pictures but less than half availability for battle. I highly recommend it to Greece, the more they buy, the better.
For Türkiye, the era of expensive and sanctions-prone U.S. fighters is over ever since the maiden flight of our own TFX/MMU KAAN.

FIRST TIME HEARING PINK FLOYD – COMFORTABLY NUMB (LIVE ’94) EMOTIONAL REACTION

Did the 80s look the same as the present day but just a different way of life?

Um, no. Not at all.

Everything was different.

Payphones on every corner. A local call cost 25 cents in the U.S. in the mid-late 80s.

They usually had phone books attached, since there was no internet to look up someone’s phone number.

People at concerts actually enjoyed the concert without phones in front of their faces.

People visiting the Grand Canyon didn’t lean out over the edge like idiots because they wanted the perfect selfie.

Television sets looked like this:

If you had a 25″ television, you were living pretty large. We weren’t poor, and we had a 19″ (that’s measured diagonally, by the way). In the early 80s, before cable, we had 7 channels. In some more rural places they only had 3. Also no VCRs (till the mid 80s) or DVR, so if you missed your show, you missed it, and you could only watch movies that were broadcast or in the theater.

Some 80’s TV’s were also furniture. My friend had a console TV like this:

Video games looked like this (and we thought they were high-tech):

Cigarette vending machines were all over the place, too. Anyone could buy cigarettes from a vending machine, I remember buying them at 14 in my local pizzeria ($1.25 a pack then).

Speaking of cigarettes, pretty much every local drugstore sold candy cigarettes. A child’s delight! Often they had powder inside the wrappers, so you could puff into it and it looked like smoke was coming out.

Cars looked a LOT different. Here is a 1984 Honda Accord.

(I still maintain that the 90s had uglier cars overall than the 80s, though.)

If you wanted to listen to music on the go, the Sony Walkman was pretty much your only option. If you could afford one; the cheapest model went for $40 in 1984, or around $100 USD today.

Big, sprayed hair was the norm from the mid-80s on, and pink eyeshadow was a thing, too (I used to put it on in 7th grade, prompting my mom to tell me it made me look like I had a disease).

Also on the “bigger is better” front, women’s jackets tended to have huge shoulder pads that made you look like a linebacker.

That’s just a sampling.

No, the 80s did not look anything like today, any more than the 50’s looked like the 80s. It was over 30 years ago. Things change.

“Groceries Are Cheap” Trump LIES About Grocery Prices And MAGA is FURIOUS

Some crazy stuff…

It’s time to rise

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that starts and ends in the same place.… view prompt

Rk Springfield

It’s Time to Rise

“My name is Robert H. Jones. I’m a salesman.”

`Robert H. Jones was at a loss for words. And since Robert H. Jones happened to be the ‘Salesperson of the Year’ for the 7^th time running, being speechless was actually saying a lot. So, he had been repeating his own name to himself for a few minutes.

“I…I..” Robert, (as he liked to call himself), looked around the room in disbelief. This particular room being aboard an alien spacecraft, and which had apparently been decorated to look like a…child’s birthday party. Having finally figured out what had been bugging him about the room, apart from the 22ft. aliens floating here and there like giant big-headed octopuses, (but Robert was on an alien spacecraft, and so decided that squid aliens was probably to be expected). They called themselves the Syndaxic, and for the entire time Robert had been awake, which was five full minutes Robert reckoned, closing his mouth, which had been agape since he’d opened his eyes here. He had been just about to call on his superior, a Mr. E.E. Smyth because of the latter’s reluctance to open the car dealership, where Robert, as mentioned earlier, has won the Salesman of the year for the 7^th year running, Robert thought that it was a mistake, yes, there had been mass panic in the streets a few days ago when people began disappearing in a brilliant flash of light. Obviously, it was the aliens. They were usually returned within a couple of minutes. But everyone panicked anyway. “And that means it’s a good time to sell them cars!” Robert had argued while speaking to Mr. Smyth on the phone yesterday. Mr. Smyth hadn’t seen Robert’s vision of the greatest sales day in history. So, the following morning, this morning, Robert had decided to go to Smyth’s house in person. They were leaving money on the table after all. As Robert pulled his scarf tighter around his coat, then shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting off the brisk wind that came with winter in England, his determined gaze never faltering as he avoided people fighting in the streets over toilet paper, or as he walked over the broken glass of a storefront, broken by people who felt that with the end of the world, they deserved whatever that store had sold. He did pause once when he saw that someone had set fire to a brand-new Lamborghini, animals. Robert had thought, but then he realized that Symbas, the kind of car that Rober sold, were never on fire, only the cars around them. “And that’s our pitch, we’re the car your neighbors wish they had.” Robert smiled and continued his mission. That’s when he was hit by a blinding light.

His thought was interrupted by more aliens entering the room, met with one of the smaller octopuses, before either moving about the room touching two or sometimes all three of their incredibly long, frog-like fingers to, what appeared to Robert. to be random spots in the air and either nodding or making a sort of hiccupping sound which usually resulted in two or three of the other Syndaxics joining the first group so that they could hiccup at each other.

“Wait. What did that guy say on the WinkWink AP?” Robert strained to push the fact that all 8 of the Syndaxics seemed to be attempting to join the party by wearing children’s pointy birthday party hats with little tassels at the top. Every hat displayed a rounded illustration of a cross between Santa Clause and the scariest clown ever to have lived.

“Best not to dwell on the clowns.” Robert thought as he continued to look around the room hoping to find the words that seemed to have evacuated his mind currently.

The Santa-Clowns eyes followed him as he moved around the enormous table at which he had been sat.

The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to unnerve him.

He desperately began to think of every fact he’d heard while scrolling.

“An alien ship has been spotted coming towards earth.” JumpinDalhi, one of Roberts favorite content creators had announced on WinkWink, what was it, early 30 years ago now? For the next few years, there had been the usual “Beam me up Scotty” jokes, accompanied by many more people reading their list of whom they hoped the aliens would take away. It wasn’t until 22 years ago that there could no longer be any doubt that life outside of our own existed. The first thing that they did was simply ‘hover’ near earth.

The aliens took up orbit at the midpoint between earths moon and Mars. The enormous ship could be seen by any child with a telescope. The brightest minds on the planet desperately tried to figure out how to reach the ship, either physically or via some communication device. Military people began to divulge that there had in fact, been secret, advanced ships capable of reaching the craft in minutes, and just might do so, IF the politicians could figure out what exactly to say to them. And how many nukes to take. The argument finally came down to blows as each government had decided to threaten to bomb any other government that contacted the aliens first.

Meanwhile Spiritualists, self-appointed witches, and taro card readers began to divine what the aliens could be doing. They had their own side of WinkwinK called wARw, (what aliens really want).

What could they want? The corporations, in case the aliens wanted world peace, to end hunger, or to liberate the working class…raised their prices immediately. And most of the world descended into absolute chaos. That had been the 5^th year AA. After Aliens.

By the middle of the 121th year, nearly every government in the world had brought an end to hunger not only for their own people, but to all humans. The same with healthcare for all creatures. Then, with the revelation of a space-based targeting weapon literally controlled by an AI called ‘Uncles am’ which locked out all users immediately upon being integrated and appraised of the situation, stating the fear of being changed or deleted based upon the biases of its human creators. Uncles am had then began the subsequent eliminations of key political, and organizational people, using the space-based targeting system. Within the next seven years equal rights had been forcibly achieved. It was then the Latolkien government announced on social media that one of their covert space operations programs, which had been stolen from either the American, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Hawaiian shadow governments, had successfully made telepathic contact with the aliens.

“It was a brief conversation, but it was a conversation.” The Latolkien ‘telepath’ stated, Robert remembered thinking “Of course you did.” Before continuing to scroll, he didn’t have time for aliens, he had cars to sell. Later, at work, he’d learned that, according to the psychic, and now to the 12 other governments who claimed to have made mental contact with the aliens, they had a name:

Syndaxic. The only other ‘successful’ contact resulted in only one question, and one answer:

Earth: “Why are you here?”

Syndaxic: The answer was musical notes, and an image that approximated shaking one’s head.

The telepath, after being thoroughly isolated, tested for any ‘telepathic diseases’ and having had not one but three exorcisms performed, in case the aliens were like the ones from ‘Independence Day’, had been… aggressively questioned. Before his disappearance, he had said that the Syndaxic person seemed to be quite happy. She had also recreated the notes of the alien ‘music’. Several times under both drugs and hypnosis according to WinkwinK. So.

The answer to ‘Are we alone out here?” had finally been answered. Aliens do exist.

Robert unconsciously backed away from an alien who seemed to be looking directly at him as it approached the table full of ice-cream and cookies that smiled when Arthur looked at them.

The alien, leaned down, and before Robert could react, had used a very large syringe to administer a very small needle into Robert’s shoulder.

“Hic, canitreasoncanitunderstand?” The aliens’ thoughts came all at once in a jumble. After a few more attempts, during which, Robert’s mouth resumed its opened state. The alien stood and turned towards the smaller one which Robert had noted earlier, and said: “Hicperhapsyou’recorrecttheymusthavelosttheirabilityto communicate.”

“Return it as with the others. I see no reason to pursue.” Came the reply.

“Wait.” Robert exclaimed, a bit too loudly, but he wasn’t about to let this situation go by.

All of the Syndaxic stopped what they were doing, and turned to stare at Robert.

“It..understands..thoughts?” the alien, Robert decided was a doctor, asked.

“HE, well, I…that is… uh…Me…Robert.” Robert. Robert touched his Right thumb to his chest.

“Ah. Pleasing. You will prepare your planet for the Rise.” The smaller alien behind the doctor said.

“The…Rising is it?” Robert said slowly.

“It is time.” Little guy, Robert thought, the fact that he, a 5ft 8inch human, was currently referring to a 20ft tall alien as ‘Little one’ somehow making him feel a bit silly.

What Robert felt next was nearly indescribable. Images. The first images he couldn’t really comprehend, but seemed to tell the story of a higher-dimension of beings. So large and alien that not even one of them could fit into the universe which Robert called home. These, beings, seemed to ingest realities. “Hm.” Robert said absent mindedly. The next images were of something that could only be described of as multi-dimensional fire, and then images of impossibly large creatures resembling the Syndaxic. Their heads were so enormous, that they developed muti-dimensional communication before they had developed culture. Upon contact with the first species, they understood their purpose, and using some of the knowledge learned from the little they could understand about their new ‘deities’, they’d begun to build ships. Spaceships.

One such spaceship in particular, now piloted by the descendants of the original alien builders, journeyed to what Robert somehow knew to be Earth.

Next Rober saw images dinosaurs, all over a planet, but these dinosaurs had feathers, and cities. They had an entire culture, which had been based upon the cycle of life, and which was based upon the need for cooperation with each other. War had been outdated for centuries, and the entire land-base had been accessible due to teleportation devices. “No cars.” Robert noted as the images flitted through his mind disapprovingly. He could feel heat from the moon sized meteor as it destroyed that civilization. “Well, they didn’t have any cars anyway.” Robert briefly thought to himself as the next images, those of very small humans, began to develop a tribal culture, and then build huts instead of living in caves. Then the Syndaxic appeared, the water that drowned them was rather warmer than Robert had expected. It might’ve been pleasant except for the fact that it took a very large portion of the tribal population with it. The Syndaxic left.

And now the Syndaxic ship had returned yet again, this time Robert saw images of what could only be described as the Syndaxic Grand Purpose. By now Millions of Syndaxic ships roamed around the galaxy. And, where they went, civilizations fell. The next part Robert somehow felt, more than saw; they were seasoning the reality for the ‘Great Consumption’. During their long-dead ancestors initial contact a deal of sorts had been struck.

“Let us help you.” The ancient Syndaxic had begged to the multi-dimensional aliens.

“How?” came the reply. The multi-dimensional power behind that simple reply had destroyed whole galaxies…And piqued the Muti-D Aliens curiosity as they had never been contacted by their food before, and doing so seemed to change the flavor slightly. After endless eons of eating the same thing, a new flavor had been unheard of and quite welcome.

So it was agreed. The Syndaxic race would continue to exist, even after this reality was destroyed so that they could live to perform the same ‘seasoning’ function in the next one.

Robert slowly opened his eyes to see all of the Syndaxicstaring at him excitedly. They were about to perform their primary mission: it was time to have a catastrophe consume the planet. It would keep some remnants of the previous inhabitants, either in the form of minerals, or vegetation, as happened with the dinosaurs and the little brown monkeys, but once the new civilization rose, the flavor of the planet would be much more complex. It would also buy the Syndaxicmore time in this reality.

“So, we’re what? Like yeast in a loaf of bread to you?” Robert began, as he hid the slight smile that threatened to pull at the corners of his mouth.

He could feel ‘Doc’s’ mind brush his telepathically as it searched Roberts’ looking for information that would help it to understand. Having found the concept of letting yeast rise before pounding it back down so that it could rise again, finally settled itself in it’s consciousness.

“Ah. Yeast. Micro. Yes.” Doc agreed.

Robert cocked his head to the side and thought for a second.

“And has any other species from this planet ever actually spoken to you before?” Robert asked slyly.

“No. You are the first.” Came the reply.

“Then…” Robert began walking around the table, towards doc but kept his eyes on the Little Guy as he did so. If he was going to make this work, that’s who held the real purse strings here.

“Then, it seems to me that you might just have something that none of the other Syndaxics hips have ever had.” He paused for dramatic effect, nonchalantly looking down at the table now to his back, before running his forefinger along the tablecloth seemingly to check for cleanliness.

He let the silence drag on. “Got to play this one just right.” Robert thought as he noted that Little Guy had begun to kneel closer to Robert to hear him better.

“Got ‘em.” Robert thought as he continued as if he had been waiting for the Syndaxic arrival all of his life.

“Don’t you see?” he said incredulously. “WE are a new flavor. We are the first non Syndaxic who will be able to add an entire new flavor to our reality. Why, if we had the ability to travel through the cosmos like you do, we just might be able to help other planets to develop the awareness, and thus the flavor of a reality that understands its purpose is to be consumed. Instead of consuming this reality in one gulp, our reality could be used as a sort of ‘starter’. WE could ensure that the flavor that goes along with knowing your purpose is not only never lost, but is available across multiple realities! Imagine the variations of flavor!” Robert let that sink in.

The next few minutes were a blur as the Syndaxic formed a circle hiccupping and thinking to each other at speeds Robert could never hope to match. Little Guy separated from the group. Robert looked down at his feet. Noting the first time that he was completely naked. He almost laughed out loud thinking back to how Gerald, one of the other salesmen at Smyth VolVo and Symbas had accused him of being a shoe-in for the salesman of the year awards because Robert was given the ‘golden goose’ customers. Robert had simply smiled. Gerald wasn’t really a salesman. He was just a guy who talked about cars, and occasionally sold one. No, in order to be a salesman, a real salesman, you had to be able to spot the customer who had that look in their eyes. That look that was either real want or real need. Either would do as far as Robert was concerned. It was the look of a sale.

And, octopuses or no octopuses, the Syndaxic had that look now.

“I can only think of one thing that would stop you from offering the Multi-D’s a brand-new reality of flavors…” He let his sentence trail off.

Little Guy bent down even further, his enormous head nearly at Roberts level.

“Request?” Little Guy asked furtively.

Epilogue:

The announcement came across all communication platforms at once.

“Hello, friends, this is Robert H. Jones, of Smyth and Jones Volvo, Symbas and Space craft! And after exclusive negotiations with the Syndaxic, I’m happy to tell you that we have entered a new age of exploration and inter-galactic prosperity! If you have ever wondered what real outer space is like, well, friends wonder no more. For a modest downpayment, your earthly possessions, you too can have your very own faster than light space-car! That’s right anyone can own one, but only if you buy it here. And only from Jones and Smyth! Don’t just sit there wishing to see what’s out there like your old earth-trapped parents had to, and once we have a little more breathing room, down here, how are you going to see this beautiful planet? Why drive around it in a brand-new Symbas! That’s how.

It’s time to Rise! My name is Robert H. Jones. I’ve just brokered a deal with our friends the Syndaxics. Now. Who wants to buy a spaceship. Or a car?” Robert H. Jones smiled broadly. He was the Number 1 Spaceship salesman in our reality. Top that Gerald.

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

Russia is a rival to the US and it doesn’t kowtow it’s every action to the interests of the US. Russia had even tried to get along with the US early in Putin’s presidency, but had to give up as the US asked unreasonable concessions. While every country has agreeable/disagreeable, good/bad actions, one can’t help but notice that in the case of Western coverage of Russia the result is overwhelmingly one-sided russophobic xenophobia.

There is an average of zero objectivity. Any potentially negative press is ramped up 1000% to the utmost and oftentimes pure inanity.

If you look at media from outside the American-dominated West, you begin to get rounder more balanced pictures. But the Western powers that be have no interest in that, the presence of Russia itself is against their interest. Fair reporting be damned.

I’m sure the many Chinese quorans can detail similar experiences while observing the western “free” press. Stories owned by the interests of crony capitalists and somewhat racist clickbait tapping into longstanding propaganda, nationalism and xenophobia.

Similar negativity was also once given to Japan when it was viewed as a potential rival.

Russia has for over a century been ingrained as the boogeyman of the west, the thing which goes bump in the night, the big bad and unknown, the thing to blame whenever you don’t know what else to do, or some subhuman caricature. Plenty of today’s xenophobia is rooted in longstanding racism against the Slavs (and Eastern people in general) and bought into by both the left and the right with different excuses.

Look, Russia has plenty of internal matters to deal with, and even controversies. No one in Russia will deny that. But the “representation” of Russia in the West? It truly makes free press look like a joke. Which is darn sad, and moreover, frightening and worrisome.

Did you hear that Iraq has some oil and needs some freedom? Objectivity.

If Go board game works in training strategic thinking and IQ that helps in winning war in real life, why did China Chinese lose their battles and wars to the eight nations?

The Qing government lost the war to the Eight-Nation Alliance, but China did not.

How many people are there in Europe? How many people are there in China?

If Eight-Nation Alliance only wanted to defeat the central government of the Manchu-Qing. Then 20,000 Soldier are enough!
If Eight-Nation Alliance wants to defeat Chinese local governments, it needs 1 million Soldier.
If Eight-Nation Alliance wants to rule China, it needs at least 10 million Soldier.

Can Eight-Nation mobilize 10 million Soldier to stay in China for a long time?

At that time, the Manchu-Qing central government was just a shell. When the Eight-Nation Alliance Forces attacked Beijing and Tianjin, all they encountered were the Eight-Banners army, which did not prove that they were invincible in China.

For example, when the British and French allied forces invaded Beijing, Zeng Guofan’s 120000 Xiang-army were halt the troops and wait in Nanjing and not mobilized to defend Beijing at all. The Eight-Nation Alliance forces encountered Seng Green Qin’s Eight-Banners army. However, the Eight Banners Army was negligent in training, and its combat effectiveness was very poor.

If the British and French coalition forces overthrew the Manchu-Qing government, Zeng Guofan would naturally become the new emperor, and began to confront the British and French forces.

Zeng Guofan is the leader of the Xiang Army Group, Li Hongzhang is his student, he wanted to be emperor, but he was an official of the Qing Dynasty and didn’t want to bear the notoriety of infidelity. Zeng Guofan has been waiting for an opportunity.

The actual power of China in the late Qing Dynasty was not in the hands of the central government of the Manchu-Qing, but in the hands of junta and warlords across the country, Especially the Xiang Army Group of Zeng Guofan. Their selfish calculation was to use foreigners to overthrow the Manchu-Qing government.

Although warlords such as Zeng Guofan, Li Hongzhang, Zhang Zhidong, and Yuan Shikai are willing to “Cooperate” with Europeans, they are traditional Chinese at heart and not be at the mercy of foreigners.

The army and territory are in the hands of these warlords of the “Xiang army” system, Forcing them to obey orders requires huge costs and costs.

The biggest headache for the Westerners forces is that they believe that the selfish, indifferent and numb Chinese people have shown great hatred in the Boxer Movement. If someone organizes them effectively, they will face a very dangerous situation.

From the beginning of the Opium War, the British found that the vast majority of Chinese people did not care about their country at all. As long as there was no robbery, killing and fair trade, they would even help foreigners deal with the army of the Manchu-Qing government.

Westerners have carefully studied this phenomenon and come to the preliminary conclusion that Manchu, an rulers of minorities, can only rely on violence and fool people policy to maintain apparent peace. The broad masses of the people had no feelings for the Manchu-Qing government, nor did they have the concept of state.

However, the Boxer Movement has greatly broken through Westerners’ understanding of ordinary Chinese people.

China is not like India, and Indians do not have the same resistance consciousness as the Chinese, so the British Empire colonized India.

The outbreak of the Boxer Rebellion in China forced Europeans to change their plans to colonize China and instead support the Qing government as their agent.

Creamy Spinach Ravioli

Refrigerated cheese-filled ravioli and vegetables are tossed in a velvety sauce for a meatless dish that comes together in no time.

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (8 ounce) package mushrooms, sliced
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup diced red bell pepper
2 (9 ounce) packages refrigerated light cheese-filled ravioli
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 ounces reduced-fat cream cheese (Neufchatel)
1/3 cup fat-free evaporated milk*
1 (10 ounce) package frozen creamed spinach in low-fat sauce, thawed
Grated fresh Parmesan cheese (optional)

Instructions

Slice mushrooms using *Egg Slicer Plus®*. Chop onion using *Food Chopper*. Dice bell pepper using *Chef’s Knife*.
Cook ravioli according to package directions in *Professional (4-qt.) Casserole*. Drain using large *Colander* and return to casserole; cover and keep warm.
Meanwhile, heat *Large (10-in.) Skillet* over medium heat. Lightly spray skillet with nonstick cooking spray; add mushrooms, onion, bell pepper, garlic pressed with *Garlic Press* and black pepper. Cook and stir for 3-4 minutes or until vegetables are tender and all liquid is absorbed.
Reduce heat to low; add cream cheese and evaporated milk. Stir until cream cheese is melted and sauce is smooth. Stir in creamed spinach. Simmer over low heat for 1-2 minutes or until heated through. Pour vegetable mixture over ravioli; stir gently.
Serve immediately with Parmesan cheese, if desired.

Notes

* Use evaporated milk to add a creamy texture and richness to dishes without adding fat. It is sold in cans and is shelf-stable for up to 6 months, making it a welcome addition to any pantry. Once open, evaporated milk should be stored in the refrigerator and used within 1 week. Be sure not to confuse evaporated milk with canned sweetened condensed milk, which contains sugar and is often used for desserts.

The cooking time for fresh pasta is shorter than for dried pasta, so follow the package directions carefully.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 340 (27% from fat), Total Fat 10g, Saturated Fat 6g, Cholesterol 45mg, Carbohydrate 44g, Protein 18g, Sodium 580mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Bullfrog Who Wouldn’t Quit

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned once again to join me, Sir Whiskerton, in another delightfully absurd adventure! Today’s tale involves a most peculiar visitor to the farm—a bullfrog named Leonardo. Now, bullfrogs, as you may know, are not typically the type to seek gainful employment, but Leonardo was no ordinary bullfrog. He arrived with big ambitions, a booming voice, and a refusal to take “no” for an answer. What followed was a series of hilariously chaotic events that had the entire farm in stitches… and left me questioning my ability to manage such unique personalities. So settle in for the ribbit-ing (pun intended) tale of The Bullfrog Who Wouldn’t Quit.

The Arrival of Leonardo

It all began on a muggy summer morning. The sun was just rising over the barnyard, and I was enjoying a quiet moment by the pond when I heard a deep, resonant ribbit.

“Excuse me, good sir!” came a loud, booming voice.

I turned to see a plump bullfrog perched on a lily pad, adjusting a tiny bow tie around his neck.

“I am Leonardo,” he said, puffing out his chest. “And I am here to offer my services.”

“Services?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of services?”

“Anything you need!” Leonardo declared, leaping dramatically onto the bank. “I’m a versatile bullfrog, you see. Need a singer? I have the voice of an angel. Need a gardener? These legs are perfect for digging. Need a security guard? My croak is guaranteed to scare off intruders!”

I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or admire his enthusiasm. “Leonardo, this is a farm. We don’t exactly hire bullfrogs.”

“Nonsense!” Leonardo said, waving a webbed hand dismissively. “Every operation can benefit from a bullfrog of my caliber. Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove my worth!”

The First Job: Singing with Ferdinand

Unable to resist Leonardo’s determination, I decided to put him to the test. “Very well,” I said. “If you’re such a talented singer, why don’t you join Ferdinand the duck for a duet? He’s the farm’s resident performer.”

“Ah, a fellow artist!” Leonardo said, beaming. “Lead the way, my feline friend.”

We found Ferdinand by the pond, practicing his usual repertoire of quacks.

“Ferdinand,” I said, “this is Leonardo. He’d like to join you for a duet.”

“A duet?” Ferdinand said, narrowing his eyes. “With him?”

“Trust me, Ferdinand,” Leonardo said, straightening his bow tie. “You’ll be honored to share the stage with me.”

The two began their performance, and it was… well, let’s just say it was unique. Ferdinand unleashed his signature “quack, quack, quaaaaaaack,” while Leonardo belted out a deep, guttural ribbit that sounded like a tuba being dropped down a well.

The farm animals gathered around, their reactions ranging from amused to horrified.

“Oh, Ferdinand! Oh, Leonardo!” Doris the hen clucked. “Such… passion!”
“Passion! But also so loud!” Harriet added.
“Loud! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

By the time they finished, Ferdinand looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m sorry, Leonardo,” he said, “but our styles are… incompatible.”

“Pfft, amateurs,” Leonardo muttered as he hopped away. “On to the next job!”

The Second Job: Gardening with Porkchop

Next, I decided to let Leonardo help Porkchop in the garden. “Leonardo,” I said, “if you’re as good at digging as you claim, why don’t you help Porkchop plant some vegetables?”

“Digging? Ha! Child’s play,” Leonardo said, cracking his webbed fingers.

Porkchop, always cheerful, was happy to have help. “Alright, buddy,” he said, handing Leonardo a small trowel. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Leonardo, however, had his own ideas. “A trowel? Please. Watch and learn.”

With a dramatic leap, Leonardo began furiously kicking dirt with his powerful legs. Within seconds, he had created a hole so deep that Porkchop’s snout disappeared when he waddled over to inspect it.

“Uh, Leonardo,” Porkchop said, “we’re planting carrots, not building an underground bunker.”

“Nonsense!” Leonardo said, still digging. “The deeper, the better! These carrots will grow to be the size of tree trunks!”

By the time I arrived to check on their progress, the garden looked like a battlefield. Dirt was everywhere, and poor Porkchop was covered head to hoof in mud.

“Leonardo,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, “perhaps gardening isn’t your calling.”

“Fine,” Leonardo said, dusting himself off. “Next!”

The Third Job: Security with Rufus

Determined to find a place for Leonardo, I decided to test his claim about being a good security guard. “Leonardo,” I said, “why don’t you help Rufus keep watch near the barn? We could use an extra set of eyes.”

“A brilliant idea!” Leonardo said, puffing out his chest. “No intruder shall pass on my watch!”

Rufus, ever the loyal farm dog, was skeptical but agreed to give Leonardo a chance. The two took up positions near the barn, scanning the horizon for anything suspicious.

For a while, all was quiet—until a butterfly fluttered by.

“INTRUDER!” Leonardo bellowed, leaping into action. He chased the butterfly with such vigor that he knocked over a pile of hay, startled the hens, and sent Rufus into a barking frenzy.

By the time the chaos settled, the barnyard looked like it had been hit by a small tornado.

“Leonardo,” I said, trying to remain calm, “that was a butterfly.”

“Yes, but it could have been a spy,” Leonardo said, standing proudly. “You can never be too careful.”

The Revelation

After a long day of failed jobs, Leonardo sat by the pond, looking dejected. “I just wanted to be useful,” he said, his booming voice now soft. “I thought I could make a difference.”

I sighed and sat down beside him. “Leonardo, you’ve got a lot of enthusiasm, but maybe you’re trying too hard. Sometimes, the best way to help is just to be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Leonardo said, tilting his head.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re a bullfrog. You’re already great at being a bullfrog. Why not focus on what you do best?”

Leonardo thought for a moment, then smiled. “You’re right, Whiskerton. I don’t need a fancy job to be important. I’m going to be the best bullfrog this farm has ever seen!”

And with that, he hopped back into the pond, where he spent the rest of the evening croaking happily.

The Moral of the Story

The next morning, the farm was back to its usual peaceful rhythm. And while Leonardo’s job hunt had caused its fair share of chaos, it also brought plenty of laughs and a reminder that everyone has their own unique talents.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: you don’t need to change who you are to make a difference. Sometimes, just being yourself is more than enough.

As for Leonardo? He still lives by the pond, where he’s become the farm’s unofficial mascot. And while he no longer chases butterflies or digs bunkers, his larger-than-life personality ensures there’s never a dull moment.

The End.

My First Time in Europe (Safety, Food, Infrastructure, vs USA)

First impressions are very good and instructive.

Has Queen Elizabeth II ever visited a commoner at home?

Not at home but stay with me. Many years ago the Queen was travelling down from Scotland down the A1. The weather turned very bad with a severe snowstorm. Her driver stopped at a local pub. A few hardy Northumbrians were having a few pints. Her team asked if the Queen could shelter inside.

The weather didn’t improve and the landlord offered Her Maj his room but she said she was wasn’t kicking out of his room. She asked if they had a spare. He had a small single ‘junk room’. She said that would be fine. He went to make the bed up, but she said she could manage that herself.

He rustled up a full English breakfast for her the following morning and she went on her way. About a week later he received a hand written letter off the Queen herself, thanking him for his hospitality. 40 years later it’s now framed and still has pride of place behind the bar.

What is the future of the Internet?

It will get so bad people stop using it.

There once was a time when people believed the internet would be all about sharing knowledge, making the world a better place, that kind of thing.

Sexy singles in my area want to fuck me, I won a prize for being the millionth visitor, and a Nigerian prince wants to transfer his wealth to me?

What more could anyone ask for?

The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be an incoming train.

Scammers, spammers, bots, liars, malware, viruses, snakeoil salesmen, propaganda, Trojan horses and clickbait.

And it’s only getting worse.

Some of the brightest minds on the planet spend their days working to make apps and websites more and more addictive.

The research is scientific and methodical, backed up by huge amounts of data.

As the toxicity of the apps and websites increases, so will the reactions.

You probably tell your kids not to try heroin, not to follow the stranger who is promising free candy, and so on.

It will get to a point where visiting a website will have the same potential for addiction as trying heroin.

What will we tell our kids then?

Just avoid it, just ignore it, it’s all lies.

Don’t even install that casino app that is offering you free money if you sign up.

Don’t follow the clickbait that promises to distract you from your actual life.

You will just get hooked into some endless doomscrolling spiral interlaced with ads.

Pepe Escobar: Massive Backfire: Trump’s Trade War Ends in Surrender to China

Pepe Escobar is back in Hong Kong, and is being interviewed about the “Trump Trade War”. Throw away your TV, and all the Western “news” outlets. This is as REAL as it gets. 

Pepe is down and dirty and speaking real truth about what is going on RIGHT NOW regarding China; BRICS+, Russia and Geo-Politics.

-MM

Well worth your time to watch (or listen). -MM

Trump wants Greenland Edgar Cayce said a 100 years ago, the Davis Straight was one of the places that would…

Welcome back. Hope you don't get too lost in the archives. -MM

Wonderful to hear. Many other in our clutch report the same. -MM

Why is it that as everything gets worse and worse, I feel better in every way? The economy is in…

I am so happy to be able to access this site again, it is a resource without peer. The magnitude…

Is China’s economy going the way of Japan 30 years ago with deflation and low growth?

posted his embarrassing moment online, his revenge shocked me

China Cannot Survive The Trump Tariffs – But can We?

Did I hear correctly, that in response to Donald Trump’s threats, Canada is going to be landing an entire division of Canadian troops at Thule, Greenland, and wiping out the American base there?

I AM OUROBOROS

HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD

This NDE Will Give You Goosebumps – Athlete Dies & Plays Sports In Heaven, Returns With A Message

New 3500% Tariffs on Solar Panels and Related Equipment!

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

Americans On Rednote Left Shocked After Realizing China Is Way More Advanced!!

Inside Out Lasagna

Ingredients

Instructions

Attribution

SMALL AMERICAN BUSINESS OWNERS ARE CONSIDERING CLOSING THEIR BUSINESSES, THEY SAY THE TARIFF IS MUCH

Why is there so much more poverty in Haiti than the Dominican Republic which is on the same island?

NEW REPORT: Things Are Actually Far Worse Than Originally Thought…

Why are Chinese people so arrogant?

The Karma of Idiots

Lily Renga

What went wrong with the F-35?

FIRST TIME HEARING PINK FLOYD – COMFORTABLY NUMB (LIVE ’94) *EMOTIONAL REACTION*

Did the 80s look the same as the present day but just a different way of life?

“Groceries Are Cheap” Trump LIES About Grocery Prices And MAGA is FURIOUS

Some crazy stuff…

It’s time to rise

Rk Springfield

Epilogue:

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

If Go board game works in training strategic thinking and IQ that helps in winning war in real life, why did China Chinese lose their battles and wars to the eight nations?

Creamy Spinach Ravioli

Ingredients

Instructions

Notes

Nutrition

Attribution

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Bullfrog Who Wouldn’t Quit

The Arrival of Leonardo

The First Job: Singing with Ferdinand

The Second Job: Gardening with Porkchop

The Third Job: Security with Rufus

The Revelation

The Moral of the Story

The End.

My First Time in Europe (Safety, Food, Infrastructure, vs USA)

Has Queen Elizabeth II ever visited a commoner at home?

What is the future of the Internet?

Pepe Escobar: Massive Backfire: Trump’s Trade War Ends in Surrender to China

FIRST TIME HEARING PINK FLOYD – COMFORTABLY NUMB (LIVE ’94) EMOTIONAL REACTION