What do kids need these days?
A cellphone with a myriad of APPs loaded? And then just give the kids bread and rice?
Nope.
I’m old school.
Kids need stuff that inspires their interests. What ever they might be.
If a girl likes music, fashion, and animals. Then there should be items that appeal to her senses in those areas. Like fabrics, and scrap books. Dolls with clothing swaps and what not.
If the boy is a “boy” then opt for adventure.
Same thing is a girl is a “girl”.
You can’t go wrong with adventure.
So, on that line… I would suggest a globe, and maps for starters. Then add a few devices that promotes mystery, discovery and interests. Whatever they might be.
What I am saying is that all children should have a big globe, and a extra large wall map if they are even remotely interested in travel and adventure.
Then, you can flush out their interests, what ever they might be. Metal detecting, bottles, perfume samples, books, or stories. Tactile. Things that you can physically touch. A globe that you can spin.
A large wall map that you can look at and study.
Tactile… things that you can hold, and toss around in your hands.
And so…
It’s just a musing. But I believe that things need to be TACTILE.
If you have children do not rely on videos, computers and software. You need to provide them with things that they can physically manipulate. Tactile.
Velvets. Silks. Hard. Soft. Carved. Weighed coins. Etc.
And that’s all for today.
Think tactile.
And with that, today…
What happened in your office that became the stuff of legend?
We had a staff member who had narcolepsy, for whom we provided a nap room when she felt an episode coming on. This room was in an unused corner office with no windows, and originally only held a bed and a small table.
In our industry it was common for staff, particularly younger staff, to work extremely long hours and even spend the night in the office. Before we had the nap room, these folks would sometimes camp out under their desks, so they were understandably excited that a more hospitable option was available. Even after the woman with narcolepsy left the organization, the nap room remained.
At some point our staff photographer, who was responsible for taking headshots among other things, found that the plain white walls in the nap room were great for this purpose: easy to light, with no distracting background elements. She started regularly snapping headshots in the room when it was not occupied. People being photographed would sit on the bed.
Enter, one day, an important client. Being shown around the office by our CEO.
Walking to, and looking into a windowless room in a professional office with:
- A bed.
- A large light and baffle.
- A tripod with a large camera on it.
- Pointed at the bed.
The nap room was decommissioned and turned into a regular office shortly after that 😀
Can the Singapore Police carry a gun in the metro?
The police generally don’t use public transport on uniform duty.
I’ll just describe one operational risk. A petite female officer can be overpowered physically and the crowd subjected to a unprovoked spree shooting.
Of course plain clothes officers may be lurking, but the public is none the wiser unless an arrest is made.
What the police did is to set up Transcom or the Public Transport Security Command which trains and schedules FPGs or Foot Patrol Groups for regular high visibility patrols in the subway system. These are armed and uniformed officers who operate in groups that stay within sight. They patrol stations and trains as part of everyday show-of-force duties.
Ghobi Parathas (Cauliflower Filled Parathas)
Yield: 9 (5 inch) breads
Ingredients
Dough
- 4 cups whole wheat flour
- 1 to 3 cups cold water
- 3/4 cup ghee
Cauliflower Filling
- 2 tablespoons ghee
- 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh ginger root
- 1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic
- 1/2 cup finely chopped onions
- 1 teaspoon turmeric
- 1/8 teaspoon ground hot red pepper
- 1 medium cauliflower, trimmed, and coarsely chopped
- 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh hot green chile
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 6 to 8 tablespoon ghee
Instructions
Dough
- In a small bowl, combine the whole wheat flour and 1/4 cup of the ghee. With your fingertips rub the flour and fat together until they look like flakes of coarse meal. Pour 1 cup of water over the mixture all at once, knead together vigorously, and gather the dough into a compact ball. If the dough crumbles, add up to 2 cups more water, 1/4 cup at a time, until the particles adhere. On a lightly floured surface, knead the dough by folding it end to end, then pressing it down and pushing it forward several times with the heel of your hand. Repeat for 7 or 8 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Again gather it into a ball. Place the dough in a bowl, drape a kitchen towel over the top, and let it rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes before rolling it.
Cauliflower Filling
- Meanwhile, in a heavy 10 to 12 inch skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of ghee over high heat until a drop of water flicked into it splutters instantly. Stir in the ginger and garlic, then the onions. Lower the heat to moderate and, stirring constantly, fry the mixture for 7 or 8 minutes, until the onions are soft and golden brown. Watch carefully for any sign of burning and regulate the heat accordingly. Stir in the turmeric, red pepper, cauliflower, chili, cumin and salt. Reduce the heat to low, cover tightly and cook for 10 minutes, or until the cauliflower is tender but still slightly resistant to the bite.
- To make the parathas, divide the cauliflower mixture into 9 equal portions. Divide the dough also into 9 portions and drape a dampened kitchen towel over them to keep the dough moist. One at a time, on a lightly floured surface, roll a ball of dough into a round about 5 inches in diameter. Place a portion of the filling mixture in the center of the round and fold the edges over it, pressing them together to enclose the filling securely. Pat the filled paratha flat with your hands, then gently roll it again to make a round about 5 inches in diameter. As you shape and fill the parathas, set them aside, covered with a dampened kitchen towel to keep them from drying out.
- Heat an ungreased 10 to 12 inch skillet with a nonstick finish or a well seasoned cast iron skillet or griddle until it is hot enough for a drop of water flicked into it to splutter instantly. Place one of the parathas in the pan and, moving it about constantly with your fingers or the edge of a metal spatula, cook for a minute or so. With a wide spatula, turn the paratha over and brush about a teaspoon of the ghee on the top. Cook for 2 minutes, then turn it over, spread with another teaspoon of ghee and cook for I minute. Turning frequently, continue to cook until the paratha is brown on both sides.
- Serve the parathas warm, as a mealtime bread. They are traditionally accompanied by plain yoghurt or any rayta.
Notes
Parathas may be cooked ahead and reheated in a hot ungreased skillet for a minute or so on each side.
What funny but slightly inappropriate thing has happened to you?
I am a white female who isn’t prejudice. I went with my husband to fast food place few years back.
At the counter checking out was an African male. I thought he looked familiar. On the way out he stopped. To asked me where he knew me from. We couldn’t figured it out.
Awhile later while husband and I were eating the same person came back to talk to me.
He said I know now where I knew you. He named a health club which I had gone several months to for the pool. Then gave me his name.
I said oh yes. You was great about helping me. Whenever I needed help.
So as he left …he loudly said “You didn’t recognize me. Because I had clothes on.” He was thinking before he always had only swim trunks on Whenever we had seen each other in the past.
Then he realized how it sounded. And tried to explain to our audience what he had meant. He profusely aprogized to my husband and I.
I was laughing my head off. Because I was thinking how upset some of family would be if they were there.
But he had always been a perfect gentleman to me. So I wasn’t upset. But thrilled to be able to introduce him to my husband.
Is China a good country for India to become friends?
I have been to China. Before reaching there I had been quite apprehensive about how I, holding an Indian passport, would be treated by the Chinese people.
On my arrival at Beijing from Hong Kong, I was pleasantly surprised by the behaviour of the immigration officials. A man at the counter behind a glass window took my passport and gave a small form to fill in. I was wondering what was awaiting me.
When I handed it over to him, he just looked at it, then into my passport pages containing my personal details and the visa pasted therein, glanced on the computer screen before him, stamped my passport and handed it over to me. No question was asked. The whole process took less than 5 minutes.
A policewoman in uniform opened the side gate and said in clear English “welcome to China” with a smile. Such gestures were repeated by almost everyone I met there, even by the people on the street.
This was my personal visit. I do not know how they would behave with Indian officials at the government to government level.
This was in sharp contrast to my experience on my first arrival at an European city few years earlier. I was under the impression that those countries were friendly to India. I was bitterly disappointed by the behaviour of the people in general there.
In the air forces of the world, I believe there is an onboard device called IFF i.e. Identification Friend or Foe. This is useful in avoiding any friendly fire upon a fighter aircraft of the same country. I think India needs to recalibrate its diplomatic IFF while dealing with China and the majority of the western powers. Without meaning any bitterness with anyone, we have to approach this subject with a balanced perspective.
Hearts A-Pfishing: A Romance as by J.D. Robbed
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about an AI or person trying to inject a ‘human touch’ into their work.… view prompt
Martin Ross
“Lance” grunted a series of long words neither Alexis nor most of her readers would have understood even had they been in English rather than some rural Slovenian language. Only her fondant sous-chef Russian Mikhail back home was poly-Slavic, but while he had insisted on accompanying her on her journey, Mikhail himself had found bliss with the lady day-trader from the city who’d finally taken her face out of her laptop long enough to discover the true meaning of rapture and pre-molded frosting at the town bake-off and comforter fair. The ceremony was next week at the old fiction mill by the river, the Reverend Dodge officiating.
Alexis thus implored Lance to repeat his declaration into her cellphone. Her Cunning Linguist app translated.
“It is you, my Alexis, at last. You have made the future of my destiny a reality!”
He shoved the plank aside and emerged. Aside from the gnarled and possibly infected face-navel that had once served as his left eye, Lance was perfect. Hours of hacking and scamming in his dark garret had chiseled his upper arms into Greek statue kind of arms, and his jogging suit-draped legs had been shaped by constant escape from global law enforcement and Bulgarian mobsters. Lance’s was a life lived large, and Alexis felt a stirring in her loins wholly different than her reaction to the boiled garbanzos.
Alexis fell into Lance’s arms, and his eye leaked dewy tears of love moisture. Lance grunted again, his Tokarev gun dipping sensually below his pelvis.
“Can you forgive me?” Cunning Linguist recited.
“Forgive you???” Alexis gasped, catching a lungful of waste dump sulfur. “You silly, beautiful Cyclops! You have made my humble paranormal suspense novella a classic in five Eurasian markets, and Kindled the long-extinguished embers of desire in my heart furnace. And besides…”
She displayed the locket she had blinded a cabbie/former surgeon to protect. The woman had gone down hard and valiantly, and Alexis vowed to name a werewraith in her next novel after the driver, adding a few vowels for reader ease, of course. The filigreed gold clamshell was inscribed with her non-nom de plume fake writer name. Lance squinted at the florid mall engraving, then switched to his good eye.
A.I. Chatt.
Alexis’ digitalized heart swelled with love blood as the thief of that previously mentioned heart realized there was nothing for his future life mate to forgive. No more torture or remorse or fear of mercenary revenge squad retaliation. Lance’s life of underground plagiarism had nearly ended in violence numerous times – the Kindle Unlimited attack on his favorite wifi coffee shop/arms dealer; Nora Roberts’ Mossad-trained hit squad coming after his mother as she prepared his beloved borscht and cloned stolen Discover cards. The grainy photos of the meeting between a coldly vengeful and immaculately put-together Danielle Steele and Ivan the Badger in a Budapest Chik-Fil-A his bro Sergei the trafficker had Messenger’d him.
As colleague after colleague had been “Kristin Hannah’ed,” as those in the trade called it, Lance had stayed one step ahead. Now, he had been apprehended by this spunky paperback word-poet, his heart clamped in the titanium grip of Alexis’ love-cuffs. His sentence? Life, in a maximum security prison with Alexis as his love-jailer.
Lance grunted. Cunning Linguist processed Alexis’ newfound language of love.
“So. You want to see the place?”
“Oh, yes, YES! On the soul of Stephenie Meyer, a million times YES!” Alexis exclaimed, flattening a feral cat as she hurled the plank aside. She felt like a bad Eastern European knockoff of Pinocchio (one of Lance’s top-selling works in the Russian children’s market and unedited, on the YA list). Alexis’ Intel chip glowed warm within her OEM bosom.
Tonight, she would become a real woman, if they could figure out a workable interface…
Ex Tried To Take My Son Away, Now She’s BEGGING Me To Help Raise Her Baby After Lover Abandoned Her
The Reaction of Western Legacy Sites to Xiaohongshu / Rednote: A Requiem
This is not an attempt at “both side’sing”, justification of any national policy on any side, etc. This is just something I’ve been noticing more and more as I continue lurking on Western social media. In a nutshell, I want to establish a few, if a bit cynical, items that I think are highly likely to be true if not outright true by definition:
- Governments in general monitor the internet space. This can be for legitimate purposes like terrorism, or not-so legitimate purposes such as shutting down discourse otherwise defined as legal.
- There is very little anonymity on the internet. Don’t post anything you are not willing to have exposed. From my profile, if you are determined enough, you can probably triangulate what area I live/lived in, what hobbies I have, and how frequently I do those hobbies and thus, find me at those places.
- From point #2. This means that government “infiltration” of apps means little, legal or otherwise. This does not mean this is not meaningful legalistically, but practically, there is not much meaning. Yes, the Chinese government can probably see my XHS profile and access the data I provided to XHS. However, the same can be said of any of Meta’s apps. I do not doubt that the US government can easily access my information as a British citizen with little, if any difficulty.
- For those about to jump into the comments about how the CIA/FBI would never do anything illegal like accessing the data of American citizens ad-hoc because they need a court order, and that the CIA cannot act against Americans citizens above the law, I can only vaguely gesture my hands in disbelief and point you to the list of times the CIA has done exactly that. Reminder: this is just a list of the times they were caught.
Having established that, we can agree that despite all its flaws, social media does have a strength in that you can generally feel the pulse of its userbase and/or management in regards to sentiment. Artificial behaviour is relatively easy to spot.
If I see a majority of posts on /pol/ organising pro-LGBTQ marches, or moderate socialism in opposition to right wing politics taking off on X, or a sudden majority influx of boomers suddenly going “Kumbaya” shouting about how hard working millennials are, I would be very suspicious in regards to the authenticity of such a shift, unless an external factor, such as a major event that changed the minds of a large number of people, or an influx of new users, which is clearly documented, can explain this.
Hence as a general whole, governments have tended away from outright manipulation campaigns. Censorship is possibly the most surface level of manipulation techniques, since you are fooling no one. People who witnessed the censored event know it took place, and remember.
What you’re doing is damage control, which is mitigation rather than influencing, hence, censorship is also the most common. The desired outcome is much easier to achieve. That’s why North Korea with its claims (as a hypothetical example) that ‘Kim Jong Un invented the hamburger in 1998’ or whatever are laughable. People notice ‘new facts’ more than they do ‘now hidden things’.
This post on the popular subreddit r/antiwork is what made me kick off the dust on this account and draft this. It’s simply bizarre.
For reference, antiwork is a ‘socialist’ subreddit, famously clowned on because one of the mods went on American national television, and decided an impromptu interview was the best course of action, despite looking like the exact caricature of a weak, unwashed millennial. In other words, a loser:
Regardless of whether or not that mod is representative of the average user in that subreddit, the relevant points are:
- Reddit is already one of the most left/liberal-leaning Western social media platforms (for what that’s worth)
- This is a subreddit for workers globally, not just Americans
- This is a subreddit that is more left than the Reddit average due to socialist politics.
So… What gives on the third bullet point? It’s been over a week since Americans (many users of that sub) jumped on Rednote. Tiktok has been around for years. The impetus for this is no doubt the former, since it correlates with the “X-Meta blockade” a lot of subreddits are doing in response to Elon outing himself and doing 2 Nazi salutes:
So again, where does the CCP angle come in? “Hostile foreign government” is solely from the view of the US (state. I’ve always been the proponent that if most Americans got to know China, they’d largely agree on most things, and that both sides generally comprise of good people. History has vindicated me on this :smug:)
Never mind the fact that a lot of Reddit users aren’t even American! On what grounds can an American position be forced on say, the Russian, or Somalian, or Mauritian Reddit user? Or even those near the Imperial core such as the EU?
Note the 41k updoots (the up arrow at the bottom, aka internet points). That means most users agree right? Keep in mind, the Reddit upvote system is a simple subtraction/addition formula. A user can upvote a post, giving one point. A user can downvote a post, subtracting a point.
Meaning that for something to have 41k upvotes, that can mean any number of combinations as long as the sum total is 41,000:
- +41,000 + ( -0) = 41,000
- +49,000 + ( -8,000) = 41,000
- +100,000 + ( -59,000) = 41,000
By any measure, a 41k margin is a hugely positive reaction. Logically, even if a large minority of users downvote, the sentiment in the post count should reflect the sentiments of the comment generally and the sentiment of real users by extension.
This is not the case. These are the most upvoted comments (barring one about G+ engineering, which I am too computer-science ignorance to grasp). Don’t worry, I’m not cherry-picking shit from the 0–3 engagement range.
I’ve collapsed some sub-comments to give you a more complete view of the top posts that are being most engaged with, but feel free to view the thread. Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m trying to rehash Yellow Peril stereotypes and my best bet is pulling out fringe comments out my ass to paint a distorted picture.
Ok. Let’s go back to what we talked about regarding censorship versus influencing. Mind you, you can influence via censorship. That just appears in the form of algorithms feeding you more and more of one side in order to induce an opinion change. They can even create accounts that do nothing but post political agenda:
https://theconcernedbird.substack.com/p/elon-musks-and-xs-role-in-2024-election
However, looking at this microcosm, I hope you can agree that logistically, it’s much easier to create a mass bot farms for the purpose for upvoting, than it is to create a mass bot farm for the purpose of pushing out semi-unique content for comment sections/posts even with LLMs, even if we leave behind the “how easy is it to spot manipulation” angle.
It’s much easier to make a swarm of bots to upvote a post, and leave, than it is to make the same swarm consistently engage in the comments due to simple technological constraints (sending data back and forth, running LLMs, etc).
Yes, those accounts commenting against the XHS ban could be suspicious, but there is a narrative reason for that which is well documented – American Tiktokers going on XHS en-mass to the tune of multiple millions in a day, and being shocked at what China actually looks like. I’ve combed through quite a lot of the thread. Comments backing the ban are simply not common, and when they appear, they are downvoted overwhelmingly by other users instead of upvoted. The positive sentiment on the post is simply not reflected in the comments. There is little pushback (numerically) against the criticism of the third bullet point.
I don’t know if it’s just a few mods coding a bunch of bots, real (but unnatural) activity from a silent majority, or even more organised actors. I am not a journalist, or someone with the investigation skills to do much more than speculating on a strange pattern.
I’ve seen much, much more people go mask off as well as more ‘intervention from above’ to make sure you have the ‘right-think’, in response to the XHS-Tiktok exchange creating a lot of Americans who have in a couple weeks, drastically changed their view of China.
Post link:
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Forgotten Root Cellar
Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another whimsical adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale takes us deep beneath the barnyard, into a long-forgotten root cellar—a place shrouded in mystery, cobwebs, and the faint scent of turnips past their prime. What begins as a simple exploration quickly turns into a laugh-filled mystery, complete with puns, wordplay, and a moral that will warm your heart like a freshly baked potato. So grab your flashlight (and maybe a clothespin for your nose) as we dive into The Case of the Forgotten Root Cellar.
The Discovery
It all began on a crisp autumn morning. Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual sunbeam on the barn’s roof when Rufus the dog came bounding up, his tail wagging like a metronome set to “hyper.”
“Whiskerton! You’ve gotta see this!” Rufus barked, panting heavily. “I found something… underground!”
“Underground?” Sir Whiskerton said, raising an eyebrow. “Rufus, unless you’ve discovered a secret tunnel to the farmer’s cookie jar, I’m not sure I’m interested.”
“No, no, it’s better than cookies!” Rufus insisted. “It’s a root cellar! And it’s full of… well, I don’t know what it’s full of, but it smells… interesting.”
Sir Whiskerton’s whiskers twitched with curiosity. “A root cellar, you say? Lead the way, Rufus. But if this turns out to be another one of your ‘buried bone’ situations, I’m deducting points from your detective license.”
The Descent into Darkness
The root cellar was hidden beneath a rusty trapdoor near the old apple tree. As Sir Whiskerton and Rufus pried it open, a cloud of dust billowed out, causing Rufus to sneeze so violently he nearly fell in.
“Bless you,” Sir Whiskerton said dryly. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”
The two descended a rickety set of stairs into the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of mildew, old potatoes, and something that could only be described as “mysterious.”
“This place is like a time capsule,” Sir Whiskerton mused, shining his flashlight around. “A very smelly time capsule.”
The cellar was filled with ancient jars of preserves, sacks of grain, and a suspiciously large collection of turnips. But what caught Sir Whiskerton’s eye was a strange, glowing object in the corner.
“What in whiskers’ name is that?” he muttered, approaching cautiously.
“It’s… it’s a glowing… thing!” Rufus said, his eyes wide. “Do you think it’s treasure? Or maybe… alien cheese?”
“Alien cheese?” Sir Whiskerton said, rolling his eyes. “Rufus, I think you’ve been watching too many late-night barnyard documentaries.”
The Mystery Deepens
As Sir Whiskerton inspected the glowing object, he realized it was a jar of glowing pickles. Yes, pickles. They pulsed with an eerie green light, casting strange shadows on the cellar walls.
“Glowing pickles,” Sir Whiskerton said, stroking his whiskers thoughtfully. “This is either a scientific breakthrough or the farmer’s idea of a practical joke.”
Before he could investigate further, a loud thud echoed through the cellar. Sir Whiskerton and Rufus spun around to see the trapdoor slam shut, plunging them into darkness.
“Uh, Whiskerton?” Rufus said, his voice trembling. “I don’t think we’re alone down here.”
“Nonsense,” Sir Whiskerton said, though his fur was standing on end. “It’s probably just the wind. Or… a very enthusiastic turnip.”
Just then, a low, gurgling sound filled the air, followed by the unmistakable squish of something moving in the shadows.
“Okay, that’s not a turnip,” Rufus said, backing up against a sack of grain.
The Culprit Revealed
Sir Whiskerton aimed his flashlight toward the sound, revealing… a raccoon. But not just any raccoon. This one was wearing a tiny chef’s hat and holding a spoon.
“Who dares disturb my secret kitchen?” the raccoon demanded, his voice dripping with dramatic flair.
“Your… secret kitchen?” Sir Whiskerton said, raising an eyebrow. “In a root cellar?”
“Yes!” the raccoon said, puffing out his chest. “I am Chef Remy LeRaccoon, and this is my underground gourmet laboratory. Those glowing pickles are my latest creation—Pickles à la Lumière!”
“Pickles à la what now?” Rufus said, tilting his head.
“It’s French,” Chef Remy said, rolling his eyes. “It means ‘pickles of light.’ I’ve been experimenting with bioluminescent brine. It’s revolutionary!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Chef Remy, while I admire your culinary ambition, you can’t just set up shop in the farmer’s root cellar. This is private property.”
“Private property?” Chef Remy scoffed. “Art knows no boundaries! Besides, I’ve been here for weeks, and no one noticed.”
“That’s because no one comes down here,” Rufus muttered. “It smells like a sock full of regret.”
A Happy Ending
After a lengthy debate (and a taste test of the glowing pickles, which Sir Whiskerton declared “surprisingly tangy”), Chef Remy agreed to relocate his laboratory to a less… aromatic location. The farmer, amused by the raccoon’s passion for cooking, even offered him a corner of the barn to continue his experiments.
As for Sir Whiskerton and Rufus, they emerged from the root cellar with a newfound appreciation for turnips, glowing pickles, and the importance of following your dreams—even if they lead you underground.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Sometimes, the most unexpected discoveries are found in the darkest places. And while it’s important to respect boundaries, it’s equally important to embrace creativity—even if it comes in the form of a raccoon in a chef’s hat.
As for the glowing pickles? They became a farmyard sensation, with Doris the hen declaring them “the most egg-citing thing since sliced bread.” And Chef Remy? He’s now the farm’s official gourmet chef, serving up dishes that are equal parts delicious and dazzling.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
I hope you enjoyed this rootin’-tootin’ adventure! Let me know if you’d like more puns, more mystery, or perhaps a sequel featuring Chef Remy’s next culinary creation!
Chinese “capital flight” fuels Hong Kong’s rise as the BRICS’ banking and financial center
Shorpy
How much money is America saving by walking away from the World Health Organization?
Let me put it this way……. I need to park my car. I have three options. I can pay $15 for a parking garage, or I can pay $10 at a parking meter, or I can just park in a space and not pay.
I decided to save my money and not pay.
Now three different things can happen…. either I can come back and find my car and drive away, or I can come back and find a $75 parking ticket, or I can come back and find that my car was towed and the impound fee is $325.
Now, walking away from the World Health Organization is like parking your car illegally. You might save a few dollars, or it might cost you some distress, or it might cost you big time. Don’t you think investing your $10 and feeling secure is worth it?
The difference between the two scenarios is that the $325 will look like peanuts compared to the monumental damage that we can experience by not being a part of the WHO. We could be left out of the latest research, medications, information on air borne illnesses and even the knowledge that a deadly virus has been spreading.
The lunatic in the white house doesn’t understand healthcare, medicine or science. He is also almost 80 years old and doesn’t have much life left to lose, so he’s fine with risking the lives of people he doesn’t care about anyway. We saw proof of this already with Covid.
And my argument here is that he wants to save money that isn’t his money anyway!!! It’s the taxpayers money! He’s wanting to save our money in exchange for putting our health at risk. And just like Covid, he’ll take credit for saving a few bucks while people are dying.
U.S. Tariffs Bombshell UPDATE, Canada Sounds Annexation Alarm, Downfall of US Auto Sector
How Do I Make You Feel?
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about an AI or person trying to inject a ‘human touch’ into their work.… view prompt
Jonathan Page
“Of course, it is your condition… the—”
“—Alexithymia,” I interject, knowing no one can pronounce uh-lek-suh-thai-mee-uh.
“Right, that,” she says, giving a knowing nod and continuing, “that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.” Jamie points as she says ‘right,’ and turns her head dramatically to the left side to think before continuing.
You should probably know what Alexithymia is. Internally, I am a blank. Any expression of emotion feels fake. Smiling feels like reciting words in a foreign language. I learned to do it. By rote. But it is just a learned response. When someone gives me a hug, I feel nothing. At Christmas, when gifts are being opened and everyone is upbeat and jolly, I have to smile, laugh, and act cheerful. I feel like I am lying. Acting. Which I am. So it is a lie. We all have an innate desire to find connection. Except me. We need others. Thirst for belonging. I don’t. We seek fraternity. Search for intimacy. But I am no joiner. No pack animal. Isolation is my safe place. I am at home in solitude.
“Ok. Shoot,” I tell her, a bit bored.
“Well, Alex, the ith-mee-uh-thingy and all, that is part of the reason we thought you’d be such a great fit at the YES Network. We were right. You are one of our best cameramen. You are punctual. [counting off on her fingers] Diligent. Talented. You are a great employee, and your work is top-notch. But some people have gotten concerned.”
“Because they saw my arm when I gave the thumbs up while being hauled off on a stretcher across the infield?” I help her.
“Right. Can I see your arm?” Jamie asks.
I hold out my arm to reveal a series of deep cuts forming a tic-tac-toe pattern on the underside of my forearm.
“There,” Jamie says with hand to mouth, “that’s not normal, and it was televised—which makes me responsible to take some kind of action. Do you know why I feel that I have to do that?”
“I understand,” I say.
“I’m genuinely concerned for your well-being Alex,” Jamie says, changing her facial expression in such a way that I am meant to know that this is Jamie “the person” talking and not “the H.R. Director” talking. Then she says, “It isn’t normal. And even though you are a little different, I still have to take some kind of action—for your sake—or I’d be accused of neglect of my responsibilities. For starters, I’m giving you a week’s suspension, with pay.” She pauses, chewing on her finger, which I know is a self-soothing technique to diffuse tension—something I’ve learned in therapy but haven’t experienced myself.
“I’ve been really thinking about it, and what I think would make a lot of sense for you is to make a real human connection,” Jamie says, and continues, “at first, I was going to recommend a psychologist—but, I guess, with your condition, that could be a lot like a blind man trying to analyze a Picasso—so I thought, maybe a girlfriend would be good for you… and, uh, brighten things up!” Her cheeks round and blush to show she is satisfied with the idea.
“If that is what you want,” I tell her. Though I feel nothing, I do want to keep my job. I think that I should be feeling something, with my entire identity at stake, not to mention my livelihood.
I think of a starving jaguar at the end of its reserves perched in a tree branch about to pounce on a virgin opossum, which is suddenly playing dead. I imagine the regal jaguar, with its life at stake and all the power in its fearsome limbs draining away—feeling completely neutral and being present in the task of the moment—detached from the life and death stakes inherent in the encounter. Isn’t this detachment necessary to the jaguar’s primacy and dominance over its jungle habitat?
“I have made the arrangements. You are to see Neve.ai, she is a Ukrainian-American-modeled dating coach with her own company, ‘The Human Touch.’ She is down at 302 W. 45th Street, right next to the Off-Broadway Production of Moulin Rouge,” Jamie commands.
It is just a quick ten-minute walk to the West Side of the City.
* * *
As I stroll westward along 45th Street with the card for my AI dating-coach in hand, I cross 5th Avenue and then Broadway. A string of inviting pubs, like Connolly’s, dominate the scene. Signs for “The Book of Mormon” and “The Lion King” dangle from lamp posts as I approach Times Square, the very center of humanity.
I log into “The Human Touch Dating App” as I continue on my way, swiftly creating an account and a dating profile. My chosen avatar? Spock from Star Trek. My tagline quote: “Emotions are alien to me. I am a scientist.” What I’m looking for? The lyrics come to mind, and I go with it: “Logically, I just want someone to talk to and a little of that…” but omit the phrase ‘human touch’ intentionally.
I immediately select my favorite profile out of the first five I scroll through on Neve’s site. Arashi Isoarashi. 5’2”, Japanese American translator at the United Nations, bilingual, loves Karaoke Bars and puzzles, and has a closet online Scrabble addiction. Her chosen avatar? Hermione Granger. Her tagline quote: “One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.” What she’s looking for: “Someone to break the rules with.” Perfect. Swipe right. Done.
Walking through the gated wrought iron fence and the red formerly-church-doors of “The Human Touch,” I look to my left and right noticing this odd curiosity is nestled between the front of house entrance for Moulin Rouge and the velvet ropes and red carpet leading into Flash Dancers Gentlemen’s Club.
I am beckoned in by an upbeat voice with a singsong tone that whistles over the consonants and hums at the end of a thought. “Right this wayy,” the voice says. I step into a waiting room with white walls covered in a floral scene composed of every different kind of leaf, arranged geometrically in a fascinating pattern of greens, yellows, oranges, blues, and purples. Beyond that a long hallway arch. Train tracks drawn on the floor beneath. The hall is in the shape of an arbor but depicts a Ukrainian train tunnel in autumn with leaves of various autumnal hues covering every inch. Looks like a portrait of a real place.
The butler robot “Mavka” greets me and says, “Neve is ready for you now. I will take you back to her presentlyy. Would you like a beverage—some tea or coffee—before you go to see herr?” I decline. The robot is about five-feet-tall and has long green hair and yellow eyes and bears the white frame of a girl with tuxedoed lapels, and scoots around on wheels like those on a boosted scooter. The yellow eyes blink with white lashed eyelids, the small pink lips move, and she has a bowtie and an actual tray in one hand, seemingly for serving beverages. “Very well, be my guest and let’s goo.” Walking back through the Ukrainian train tunnel, with the words “Tunnel of Love” written on the crown of the arch, we arrive at Neve’s office.
Neve is a Slavic lamia who sits, slender, toned legs crossed, tapping her fingers on her glass desk with a chrome “N” base. She swivels and shoots me a sideward glance—a sly Delphic glance—holding a secret in escrow. Neve is fair-skinned with freckled cheeks that frame her pawky green-hazel eyes, and her chic raven-like hair draws the eyes to her powerful and prominent collar bones. She wears a one-piece v-neck floral mini-dress exposing plump breasts that look real and firm. It is a white traditional Ukrainian Vyshyvanka with bright multi-colored flowered embroidery.
“How do I make you feel,” Neve, my AI dating-coach, asks—but it isn’t a rhetorical question.
“I am incapable of feelings,” I tell her. She bites the right side of her lip and crinkles her right brow, closing the eye and cocking her head in an expression of disgust, then looks back with a mock smile.
“It’s sad you so detached from your emotions—”
“—It’s not detachment. I lack them entirely,” I interrupt.
“That so,” she says, “then how you explain this—” and she waves her hand in the air and like magic the one wall reveals a seventy-inch wall-to-wall screen with a picture of Arashi Isoarashi.
“She matches 48 out of 50 of my responses on the compatibility profile,” I tell her, lying. This draws a huge shit-eating grin from Neve.
“Bullshit!” she says, “you answer ‘c’ to all question on personality profile, fill-in in 35 seconds between 5th and Broadway—and Arashi no fill out.” She’s got me there. I guess my quick-witted efforts at deflection are less effective with AI. “What you liking ‘bout dis girl,” she asks, “you pick her 1-out-of-5, twenty percent chance, no is random—why her?”
“Just picked her at random,” I say.
“I am woman doesn’t like to be denied. Don’t play with me. Why you no humor my perspwective,” she says. I’m beginning to feel like I am I a psychotherapy session with someone as tone-deaf to my way of seeing the world as I am to human emotions.
“What,” I say.
“You lie. You are liar. You lie yourself, mal’chik. I know exactly what feel. You lonely. You feel this loneliness, malyish. Maybe you don’t call dis. But you feel same. Because this why you take compatibility test, this why you talk me, because Arashi can be cure. And you don’t have a clue how approach this date,” she says.
“Date,” I say, “what date? I didn’t sign up for a date, I just selected her and swiped right,” I tell her.
“You no pay attention details, mal’chik. You no read fine print. You slipping, malyish. Once you select match, I plan for date. Date is tonight.” She looks at her gold square Cartier Tank wristwatch. “You have two hours for planning dis date.” I notice my heart rate increasing and my blood pressure rising. One thing that gets a reaction out of me is a surprise.
“Ok, hot shot. Nice try, but there is some missing information you aren’t privy to. They noticed at work that I had some cuts on my arm, and Human Resources got involved. The YES Network can’t have a cameraman out at the games with a tic-tac-toe board on his forearm, so they ordered me to get help. It isn’t because I’m lonely,” I clarify.
“Wrong again, Einstein. Tic-tac-toe board ma’it as well be tattoo of the word “loneliness.” Besides, numbers can quantify probability, but relationship is unpredectable. One quote calls it “religion with a fallible god.” Me and Dr. Isaac perfect example. We watching “The Twilight Zone” episode “The Lonely – Can You Feel Pain,” about lonely, insecure man that falls in love with robot woman, who believes is mocking hem. Ironic, don’t you think? But science fiction for me is dry. Isaac loves it! He eats et up! And when have our Netflix and chill nights together, I eat et up that he eats et up. It one of my favorite thing ‘bout him. He sees awe and wonder in things that I don’t see et—and I see this through his eyes—and appreciate that I not overwhise take time to look at. As a Rabbinical scholar with doctorate Hebrew Studies, he tell struggling student with faith that “there is no sacrifice like heartbreak” or “one does not complain about evil, but add justice.” Beautiful, no? Isaac sees skepticism of student as begin story that God allow pain—pain of feeling shut out and abandoned—so better prepare way for reward of adoption, and belonging God’s people. Isaac’s religion idea sound like romance to me. Maybe God made me logical, I can better see dese things I lacking through Isaac. Allowing me get lost in his world.” I try to process the idea of Neve with a human boyfriend, a Rabbi no less, but this is going to take a while, and I store it away for when I have sufficient time to contemplate this weirdness.
She paused for a moment. Then, after some thought she asked, “Tell me, Alex, where you want take Arashi on your date?”
“Isn’t that the question of the hour!” I say. “She mentioned liking karaoke, so I was thinking of maybe taking her to a karaoke joint in K-Town.”
“This is good. Doing someting she like, rather than someting you like. My, my Alex, I’m impressed. You must be really vibing on this girl, sounds like you are really swinging for the fences, babe! Here my number. Text me if problem, now scat,” she says.
* * *
Walking into Ms. Kim’s with the red brick walls and mosaic tile floors and the mood lighting, looking for Arashi, I am totally out of place. I actually feel myself breathing heavy. A DJ with headphones is behind the wooden DJ booth facing out toward the floor to ceiling windows at the lit Empire State Building, in red-white-and-blue for July—a banner against the purple clouds of the hazy summer night. The DJ is blasting “Empire State of Mind,” by Jay-Z and Rihanna and twenty-somethings at the window tables are on their iPhones documenting their night out, before their parties arrive to go and get hammered singing karaoke. There’s nothin’ you can’t do, now you’re in New York, these streets will make you feel brand-new, big lights will inspire you, let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York…
Before the hostess can ask my name, Arashi struts over from the bar and says, “you must be Alex!”
“I am,” I say. “And you must be Arashi Isoarashi—50 storms, right?”
“The Ikarashi River is the home of Swan Park in Niigata. Swans come in November to mate in the frozen lakes beneath the snowcapped mountains. It is a very secluded place, I think you like visit this place,” she says.
“Very nice to meet you—I think I would,” I tell her.
“Come, come. Our room is ready, now we sing,” she says. And I already feel like I am in the 50 storms and not the secluded swan mating reserve in a remote northland village.
The room is smaller than I imagine. Not much bigger than a booth at a theme restaurant. Just a small table, two mics, and a video screen. Our Korean hostess, Zoey Kim, gives us some brief instructions and leaves.
Before I have time to process what is happening a song comes on and Arashi goes in on “Sweet Caroline,” perhaps the most predictable Karaoke song of all time.
Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing
But then I know it’s growing strong
Was in the spring
[“You gonna join in here dude,” she says, and I start singing along with a strained grin]
And spring became the summer
Who’d have believed you’d come along
Hands, touching hands
Reaching out, touching me, touching you
[then both of us shout… in unison… but not quite in unison to the bouncing ball on the monitor]
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I’ve been inclined
To believe they never would
But now I… bump, bum, bum
We go on like that until the end of the song. I let out a deep belly laugh. Didn’t know I had it in me. And the two of us smile at one another. I am not quite sure why I am smiling. But I know that I am having fun.
Arashi turns to me and asks, “How do I make you feel?”
“You already did,” I tell her.
Why do the Chinese use English names? Are they ashamed of their original names?
They are not ashamed of their names. They live in a world where for a long time business, education, the justice system, the financial system, and other systems are/were primarily conducted in English. For your convenience and the convenience of others, they chose or were given an English name to use in those systems. They still have and use their Chinese names. They still take pride in their Chinese names and in their culture.
They just know you probably can’t pronounce their name and instead of spending ten minutes teaching you the correct tones and pronunciation they’d rather say something like, “Hi, my name is John Chou.” And even then, he knows you will probably misspell his name as Chow. Or Choo. Or Choi.
Can you describe a time that your company only discovered that you were irreplaceable after they fired you? How did you feel? What did they do?
My position was made “redundant” (UK term for we don’t need your role any more) a decision I took with good grace because I had just been offered a position to set up my own software and hardware division and also they had to pay me my notice period (3 months) and a compensation for my loss of job.
I moved on and found out a few weeks later that my junior had been fired for walking in to the office in trainers (He ran to work each day and showered and changed whilst there) and so breached the office attire rules.
I gave him a suitable reference to get a new job and thought nothing of it until the end of the following tax year when the company we had worked for needed to produce annual financial statements for over 1,300,000 individuals including some very , very high worth people.
So the old company contact me and ask me to do a days work at my old rate to help them out.
I declined and said that I needed to run it myself as a contractor as my role had been deemed surplus to requirements.
Having been in contact with three of my old clients who put pressure to bear on my old Company.. I got the job for two years at over 10 time my previous rate, subbed it out to my junior who earned 5 times his rate… we laughed all the way to the bank.. or in my case to fully inclusive two week holidays.. I sent my old boss a postcard from my holiday which could be why it only lasted two years..
What are the biggest challenges facing society today?
Stupidity.
It is unbelievable how stupid people have gotten.
Things like personal finance. How to manage money and debt correctly. Compound interest. Equity. It is a total mystery to 90% of people. Then they can’t figure out how to get out of debt. How to stop living paycheck to paycheck.
Health. I see people routinely share antibiotics for things like a cold. Antibiotics don’t work on viruses. All kinds of stupidity on things like STD. Birth control. Drug use.
How the laws and courts work. Some of the things I hear people say make me want to poke my eardrums out. Bail, juries, appeals, all basic stuff.
I used to do auto repair. I couldn’t believe the things people do. Like zero oil. Diesel in an unleaded car. 40 year old man couldnt change wiper blades or swap out a license plate. Two screws! Common man!
Same with home repair.
I did computer repair for ten years. The things people clicked on were unbelievable.
In the 1970s my new car manual told me how to set the timing. My new car manual now tells me not to drink out of the battery or radiator.
We had really good civics, science, math classes back in high school.
It’s just unbelievable how stupid people have gotten.
Golden Potato Slices
These are usually served with a chutney. A good choice is Cilantro Chutney.
Ingredients
- 4 medium potatoes
- 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/2 cup water
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
- 1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper
- 1 egg
- Vegetable oil
- Salt
- Cilantro Chutney
Instructions
- Heat 1 inch salted water (1/2 teaspoons salt to 1 cup water) to boiling.
- Add potatoes. Heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer until almost tender, about 10 minutes. Drain; cool.
- Mix flour, the 1/2 cup water, salt, turmeric, red pepper and egg with fork until smooth. Cover and let stand for 30 minutes.
- Heat 1 to 1 1/2 inches oil to 375 degrees F.
- Cut potatoes into 1/4 inch slices. Dip potato slices into batter, allowing excess batter to drip back into bowl.
- Fry a few potato slices at a time, turning occasionally, until golden brown, about 2 minutes.
- Remove with slotted spoon. Drain; sprinkle with salt.
Why is Trump very negative towards China, and when can he be positive?
Trump has a lot of grievances against China. Just off the top of my head.
He tried to bend China with his tariffs, viz trade war is easy to win. But he failed.
He threatened to deny China the supply of semiconductors unless it gave up MIC 2025. China ignored him. It is on the road to self-sufficiency.
He wanted to bankrupt Huawei, commandeered the Collective West to ban its 5G and high end chips. He failed. Huawei extends its 5G lead and moving to 6G. Its smartphone business is back. It breaks through to 7nm and 5nm chips and establishes its own supply chain in about 4 years. It achieves near 100% localisation in its latest products of Mate 60, Pura 70, and Mate XT.
Perhaps, the most painful was when Covid-19 spread to the US. He accused China for spreading it, viz. they should have stopped it in China.
WHO refused to join him to blame China. He was furious, stopped funding it and exited the organisation. China stepped into the breach.
The virus rampaged the US. He went berserk and uttered nonsense, viz. it is a mild flu, clorox bleach, and was a laughing stock. Anthony Fauci was caught on video to snigger at his remarks.
He fought with state authorities to garner PPEs and face masks into federal control. Lots of bad blood. Lots of “stop-go” decisions, mass confusions, to open or not open schools, bars, shops, long queues to buy guns, and fights over toilet papers. Altogether a big mess. China’s competence showed his incompetence.
Worst was the large infections and deaths. These cost him the presidential election. He blamed China. And accused Biden and the Democrats for stealing it.
Trump is a vengeful person. He will carry over his grievances. But he will encounter a new and stronger China, more willing and ready to retaliate.
He has now only the tariff card. But China’s exports to the US have fallen to only 2.5% of GDP from 4% during his first term. He has no technology card. Biden fails to achieve after 4 long frustrating years. China is self-reliant on US tech. If push comes to shove, it is prepared to decouple with the US.
Last time China’s retaliations were mild and restricted. It could now play rough and counter-tariff and counter-sanction, or simply not buy US unless at dump-down prices.
China has now multiple sources of supply of the goods it needs. Cutting out the US is quite painless.
It has now the legal tools to impose sanctions.
The Export Control List of Dual-Use Items came into force on 1 December 2024. It covers a wide range of products including rare earth minerals and alloy materials, aviation materials, optical materials, superconducting materials, and important military high-end materials, and related technologies and services.
In October, it used the Anti-Foreign Sanctions law to cut off the supply of batteries to Skydio, US largest drone maker for selling drones to Taiwan. This law could be used to deny US companies components they rely to make their military and high tech wares that are a security threat to China.
China has also its unreliable entities list. Several US defence contractors are on the list for selling weapons to Taiwan. PVH which owns brands like Tommy Hilfiger is being probed for compliance with the US Uyghur Forced Labour Prevention Act.
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