Think tactile

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

Dedicated to and based on a concept by Danschneider Arroyo, for every scammed author and lover everywhere…Chapter 54East Vrmlmelmnsk, SybursloveniaAt last, Alexis’ heart’s desire was within one GPS turn of fulfillment, and her desirous heart thumped rapidly as she crossed the landfill beyond the village bazaar.The trans-Atlantic journey, the loss of her luggage at the charmingly quaint bicycle-powered Aeropotschk carousel, the succession of taxis and taxi robberies, the bribes to countless provincial cops, the chicken she was coerced to buy at the market, the foreigny threats that bombarded her as she roamed the cobbled streets in search of 12 Zjrchskmsk Avenue, rooster wrestling under her arm — it would all be worth it when she could look her pfisher soulmate in his unpatched eye.“Your destination is in 300 feet, on your left,” Siri cooed. “Please be aware of organ harvesting activity ahead; I can devise an alternative route back to the Aeropotschk…”But Alexis now was guided by her appetites rather than her apps, and she pressed ahead, gently driving away one of the local street weasels that might have been the twin of the creature she’d nibbled at a charmingly retro crate in the marketplace, after her desire-filled gut had throbbed with non-cardiac desire for something beyond the boiled airline chickpeas.Her heart swelled with swollen feelings as she reached the last hovel at the end of the block before the rustic old cell phone/nuclear waste dump. Her delicate, alabaster fist-blossom froze before the warped plank that served as the door. This was crazy – when the private eye her BFFs at the cat café/cupcake emporium had hired for her traced the pfisher’s IP address to this tiny hamlet in a pastorally bombed-out former Soviet republic, she’d poured out her pain and fury at this Facebook scammer before understanding that rage is but the other side of that coin we call love. Between the lines of the badly constructed, clumsy warning that her system had been compromised and the ransomware demand, Alexis could sense the heart of a wounded outlaw soul. Like Beauty and her Beast, Bullock and her Jesse James…Steeling her desire-saturated heart, the baker/quilter-turned-author rapped on the splintered wood like a desirous heart beating out a rhythm of love. “Come. To. Me; Come. To. Me.”The love-plank finally shifted, and a glacially blue eye peered from the shadows, like the piercing light of Cupid’s lighthouse beacon across the dark and ripply waters of doubt and pain. Alexis now knew her story wasn’t the website romance that “Lance Boyles” had pirated into an internationally acclaimed erotic vampire suspense thriller. Her story began with this rogue who indeed had stolen her desire-riddled heart.

“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

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:

Reddit Forums Propose Banning X Links After Elon Musk’s Controversial Salute
Musk’s gesture has received mixed reactions from politicians and academics, with some likening it to a Nazi salute and others saying it was an accidental action made in the heat of his victory speech.

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:

https://www.reddit.com/r/antiwork/comments/1i79k8z/x_meta_and_ccpaffiliated_content_is_no_longer/?sort=top

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!

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

If I had not been struck in the head by a baseball during the Yankees game and got knocked clean out, none of this would have ever happened.I thought it ironic that there was an art display of jaguars in the lobby, because jaguars are solitary hunters who live alone in their own bounded territories. They blend into their surroundings. They prefer the cover of night. They are rulers of a little space.I feel nothing as I head into the MetLife Building to see the Human Resources Director. Walking through the revolving doors. No clammy hands. Passing the white and black jaguar statues displayed on stands in the marble lobby. No flutters in the stomach. I’d heard of this—some avant-garde project called “Jaguar Parade”—a deeply ironic concept. Taking the elevator to the 30th floor. Heart rate is steady. I announce myself at reception. I take a seat. No restlessness or sense of space closing in. I get up when called. I walk in. I sit down. I am troubled by my inability to register a reaction because my job is everything to me.In fifteen years here, Jamie and I have never met. Jamie has beautiful blonde hair and a friendly face, below which she wears a crisp white blazer, pearl necklace, black blouse, and blue slacks with a Tory Burch gold cross belt. There are signed baseballs secured in UV-protected glass display cases on the credenza. Framed pictures of Jamie with different co-workers and her boss from various company events hang on the wall behind her desk. A family photo of her and her husband with their kid Miles at Disneyworld sits on a side table. Cute kid. A large family photo taken at a First Communion too. Her diplomas from college and grad school hang on the side lefthand wall.“How do I make you feel?” Jamie asks, “are you nervous?” with a silvery voice that wobbles over the words ‘feel’ and ‘nervous.’“Not really,” I say. 

“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.

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.

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..

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.

ksnip 20250210 200245
ksnip 20250210 200245

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

  1. Heat 1 inch salted water (1/2 teaspoons salt to 1 cup water) to boiling.
  2. Add potatoes. Heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer until almost tender, about 10 minutes. Drain; cool.
  3. Mix flour, the 1/2 cup water, salt, turmeric, red pepper and egg with fork until smooth. Cover and let stand for 30 minutes.
  4. Heat 1 to 1 1/2 inches oil to 375 degrees F.
  5. Cut potatoes into 1/4 inch slices. Dip potato slices into batter, allowing excess batter to drip back into bowl.
  6. Fry a few potato slices at a time, turning occasionally, until golden brown, about 2 minutes.
  7. Remove with slotted spoon. Drain; sprinkle with salt.

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.

Our University outing to a New Hampshire “notch” and the police caught us red-handed in dangerous conditions

The jobs have been shifted back to the US, but, unfortunately, the manufacturers are learning a bitter lesson.

Today’s Generation E, young people won’t do any job where they might get their hands dirty.

I live two miles from a community college. One of my favorite programs there leads to an Associate’s Degree certifying graduates to install and maintain robots. The maximum cost to earn this degree would be $10,000 however some of the classes are free—government grants. The jobs are full time with benefits–$25/hour. There is one serious problem—very little interest. The class sizes run 3-4 students.

There is a mechatronics program at Gateway Community and Technical College in Northern Kentucky. Mechatronics is a mixture of skills: electronics, mechanical engineering, and computer technology. The state of Kentucky and local industries have invested millions. They have the capacity to train 200. They graduated 27 students last spring—no interest. Local industries are not happy.

There is a community college nearby, Cincinnati, where with 400 hours of training over a year’s time, a young person could be making $21/hour as a CNC programmer. Hardly anyone is interested.

These jobs are stigmatized. Instead of getting trained for a job that will pay $25/hour, teenagers choose to go to college and major in something like puppeteering, with the understanding that they reserve the right to whine, endlessly, about their student loans.

PS

As you can tell, this “burns me up.” For the record there is a GAO study that shows 22% of recent college grads make $12-$16 per hour.

China’s AI hospitals will transform medicine across the world. But not in the United States.

Speaking as a corporate executive in US manufacturing, the US will not bring manufacturing back as long as Americans continue to shop for the lowest price. Walmart (and other discount) shoppers are the primary reason we don’t have manufacturing here. Americans would prefer to buy cheaper Chinese-made products at Walmart than buy US-made products from a local manufacturer. When Americans are ready to deliberately support the domestic economy, instead of supporting the Chinese and Southeast Asian economy, manufacturing will return.

Now, the reason people are so focused on shopping for the lowest price, is because working-class wages have been flat for 30 years. The typical middle class wage earner doesn’t have the buying power he had when manufacturing was booming in the US.

So, if wages go up, AND if people stop shopping at Walmart, then manufacturing will return.

Tiny happiness

Here’s my tiny lakhouse. Built in the 1920s, It’s been in the family for over 70 years.

main qimg 623a91adb57a1b42041146124ea304e7
main qimg 623a91adb57a1b42041146124ea304e7

Growing up here, the lake was filled with many cottages, similar in size.. a nod to a simpler time.

Today 90% of them have been torn down and replaced with extremely large lake houses, a few of the homes now sport elevators, restaurant worthy kitchens, huge open floor plans, you get the idea, some are very nice and check all the buttons.

As the house is now in my possession, I decided to do an update.

The feedback from some family members was tear it down or add a large addition.

For me it didn’t feel right. I liked it as it was, so I thought I’d try to bring it back as much as I could to a simpler, slightly more nostalgic time.

These are the results. Still working on the interior. 

The annual manufactured goods trade deficit is $1.5 TRILLION. The regulatory environment here has been purposely designed to keep heavy manufacturing from returning. The loss of income tax contributions from all those jobs in and directly supported by manufacturing is around $700 billion annually, which would have covered the federal spending deficits before Biden’s (or Obama’s) spending binges. Chinese exports to us are produced at what would be well below our COP if made here because of the way they structure their industries, absence of regulatory costs vs. ours, and control of their currency’s internal value. The yuan’s Purchasing Power Parity vs. the USD is 3.5 vs. the USD, meaning things that cost $100 to make in China would cost $350 if made here. And then there’s the VAT subsidization China and all of our major trading partners employ that gives them a huge COP advantage.

Would ending that trade deficit be beneficial? Probably not to our Elite investment class whose portfolios would earn significantly less if invested in U.S. manufacturing done with well-paid American workers in plants that must meet stringent pollution and worker safety and health controls.

China is mass producing endangered fish and wrecking European caviar markets

Yes it is.

General Motors seems to be an outlier as they continue to produce crapulous cars that have to be sold at a loss. Honda builds cars within commuting distance of my house. TS Tech builds the seats for Honda North America in a factory that is 1 1/2 miles from my front door.

You can’t force the grandchild of the equally crapulous Chevy Vega on Americans as we can go down the street to the Honda shop and buy a Civic. The Civic is as boringly reliable as a sunrise. Every morning the sun comes up in the east, every morning a Civic will get you to work. A Chevy Cruze in the other hand is known for its maintenence issues.

We have to build good stuff, not junk. We need to realize that consumers have the choice. We also need to teach the young that a job repairing robots in a car factory is a good thing. The pay will be high enough to support a family and isn’t beneath them.

If you buy a Honda Accord Coupe in England or Japan it came from Ohio. The same thing with an M class Mercedes. It also comes from the USA.

Proof: “USAID” Created by . . . . . . . EXECUTIVE ORDER

A big bru-ha-ha is developing over the ongoing audit, and disclosures of astonishing corruption, from the US Agency for International Development, known as USAID.   Members of Congress are squealing that President Trump cannot be doing what he is doing.  They appear to be factually wrong.

It turns out that USAID, was created by EXECUTIVE ORDER issued by then-President John F. Kennedy.

What one President does by Executive Order, another President can change by Executive Order.

The administrations of John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson marked a revitalization of the U.S. foreign assistance program, signified a growing awareness of the importance of humanitarian aid as a form of diplomacy, and reinforced the belief that American security was linked to the economic progress and stability of other nations.

In the aftermath of World War II, the United States provided economic assistance to European nations to aid in their reconstruction, and extended security assistance to these and other nations as a bulwark against a perceived communist threat. The mechanisms for deploying this assistance were spread over several government agencies and, as a result, problems arose concerning the coordination of these efforts.

Kennedy sought both to improve the administration of U.S. assistance and refocus aid to meet the needs of the developing world. In September 1961, Kennedy signed into law the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961 (Public Law 87–195), which mandated the establishment of a single agency for the coordination of foreign assistance. The Agency for International Development (AID)—established under Executive Order 10973—assumed responsibility for the disbursement of capital and technical assistance to developing nations. AID symbolized Kennedy’s invigorated approach to fostering the economic, political, and social development of recipient nations.

Below is the Executive Order signed by President Kennedy on November 3, 1961:

EO 10973 Creating USAID
EO 10973 Creating USAID

There are two significant obstacles to bringing manufacturing jobs back to the US.

  1. Americans have made a sport out of finding the lowest possible price for everything they want to buy. This behavior definitely puts pressure on us to keep manufacturing in China.
  2. Corporate capitalism is keeping wages low for the working (consumer) class. This is why Americans have made it a sport to find the lowest price.

If Americans change their behavior—making a sport out of finding domestic-made products instead of finding the lowest price—the manufacturing jobs can return.

Not until then.

Americans Are Flocking to RedNote – The TikTok Alternative Changing Social Media!

Is it possible to bring back manufacturing jobs to the USA?

No it’s not.

Not only do we not have the real estate to build the factories, rehabilitating abandoned factories would be expensive since so much toxic waste has been allowed to leach into the ground. They are also not designed or constructed to support the kind of modern manufacturing used today. We could not, for example, build the same kind of iPhone plant as the Chinese have and reach their cost of production. If you can’t build a product for a competitive price, then why are you building it at all when you can source it from the low cost builder under license?

In addition, we don’t have the workers and we have dismantled most of the vocational education required to teach people how to be machinists, engineers, etc.

The abandoned Packard Factory in Detroit is probably the largest abandoned building in the world.

Do you think the US is going to be able to re-start the many abandoned steel mills dotting the country? Steel is a dirty, difficult to make product and requires enormous volume to achieve low cost of production. And while Kaiser was the first major steel to close in 1972, many followed. The Youngstown Steel Sheet and Tube collapse in 1972 was an unimaginable horror at the time but it was followed by one plant after another.

Even if these plants could be restarted, Arcelor still uses 1/100th the number of employees to make more steel than these inefficient, slow and costly plants ever did.

Lavrov vs. Rubio On Multipolarity

I have lauded Marco Rubio’s view which declared that the short period of a unipolar world has come to an end.

The new Secretary of State had said:

“So it’s not normal for the world to simply have a unipolar power. That was not – that was an anomaly. It was a product of the end of the Cold War, but eventually you were going to reach back to a point where you had a multipolar world, multi-great powers in different parts of the planet.”

If find that a much better concept than the ‘rules based order’.

There are however different flavors of multipolarity.

The one Rubio likely thinks of is one in which might makes right. Several ‘big dog’ countries are sharing the globe, avoiding each other, while a number of small nations must do as they are told by whatever big power that can make them do so.

Witness the recent interactions between the U.S. and Colombia, Panama, Mexico and Canada. The Trump administration has threatened these countries with tariffs and other measures. After it had got what it wanted it pulled back at least a part of the threat (tariff). Unless it meets strong resistance it will repeat doing that again and again.

Another flavor of multi-polarity, one which Russia and China will likely support, is acknowledging that all countries, big or small, have equal rights. This is the base of the United Nations system which was born during allied talks in Yalta and Potsdam at the end of World War II.

Sergei Lavrov, the long term Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation, is arguing for upholding it:

The UN Charter Should Become the Legal Foundation of a Multipolar WorldGlobal Affairs, Feb 4 2025

Eighty years ago, on 4 February 1945, the leaders of the victors of World War II―the Soviet Union, the United States, and Britain―opened the Yalta Conference to determine the contours of the postwar world. Despite ideological differences, they agreed to eradicate German Nazism and Japanese militarism. The agreements reached in Crimea were reaffirmed and elaborated upon at the Potsdam Conference in July-August 1945.One result of the negotiations was the creation of the United Nations and the approval of the UN Charter, which to this day remains the main source of international law. The Charter set forth goals and principles for countries’ international behavior, which are designed to ensure their peaceful coexistence and sustained development. The principle of states’ sovereign equality laid the foundation for the Yalta-Potsdam system: none may claim dominance, as all are formally equal regardless of territory, population, military capabilities, or other metrics.

It was at the UN that, with a key role played by the USSR, the foundation was laid for the multipolar world that is now emerging before our eyes.

As Russian scholars rightly note, any international institution is, above all, “a way to limit the natural egoism of states.” The UN, with its consensus-adopted Charter, is no exception.

With this in mind Lavrov set out to criticize Marco Rubio’s (and Donald Trump’s) word-view.

Lavrov is specifically aiming at Rubio’s January 15 Opening Remarks Before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Rubio stated in these:

So while America too often prioritized the global order above our core national interest, other nations continued to act the way nations have always acted and always will: in what they perceive to be their best interest. And instead of folding into the post-Cold War global order, they have manipulated it to serve their interests at the expense of ours.

The post-war global order is not just obsolete, it is now a weapon being used against us. And all this has led to a moment in which we must now confront the single greatest risk of geopolitical instability and of generational global crisis in the lifetime of anyone alive and in this room today. Eight decades later, we are once again called to create a free world out of the chaos, and this will not be easy. And it will be impossible without a strong and a confident America that engages in the world, putting our core national interests once again above all else.

Eight decades after the declaration of the UN Charter Rubio has set out to demolish it. He rejects the ‘principle of states’ sovereign equality’ and replaces it with an ‘America First’ and might makes right order.

Lavrov is warning, staunchly, that this will lead to chaos:

In 2025, with Donald Trump’s Republican administration back in power, Washington’s interpretation of international processes since World War II has taken on a new dimension, as vividly described to the Senate by new Secretary of State Marco Rubio on 15 January: not only is the postwar world order outdated, but it has been turned into a weapon against U.S. interests. In other words, not only the Yalta-Potsdam order is undesirable; so, too, is the ‘rules-based order’ that had seemed to embody the selfishness and arrogance of the U.S.-led West after the Cold War. “America first” is alarmingly similar to the Hitlerite slogan “Germany above all”, and a wager on “peace through strength” may be the final blow to diplomacy. Not to mention that such statements and ideological constructs show not even the slightest bit of respect for Washington’s international legal obligations under the UN Charter.

Brazen attempts to reorder the world in one’s own interest, violating UN principles, may beget instability, confrontation, and even catastrophe. Given the current level of international strife, recklessly rejecting the Yalta-Potsdam system, with the UN and UN Charter at its core, will inevitably lead to chaos.

(A few years ago the German ‘above all’ slogan was copied by the U.S. Air Force but later pulled back.)

China has a more guarded but similar take. A recent op-ed in a Spanish language newspaper by the Chinese Ambassador to Panama has been taken up as the lead headline in China’s Global Times:

Chinese ambassador to Panama calls on US to ‘learn to respect’ as Rubio visits the country to exert pressureGlobal Times, Feb 04 2025

Xu’s article came as US Secretary of State Marco Rubio visited Panama in his first trip abroad since taking office. Rubio aimed to exert pressure on the country concerning its relations with China.Xu wrote that while chanting “Make America Great Again,” the US delegation’s visit to Panama caused a stir greater than a tropical storm.

In the international community, all countries are equal and have the right to independently develop diplomatic relations. No one has the right to dictate to others or issue commands. If the US wants to create the golden age of the Americas, it must first respect other countries and listen to Latin American nations about their vision for the future, Xu wrote.

The Trump administration’s version of multipolarity is incompatible with the one China and Russia have in mind. It contradicts the UN Charter.

If that does not change we will be in for a big clash.

/Sidenote:/

Under pressure from Rubio Panama declared that it would not renew its participation in China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). This was lauded as Rubio’s victory.

However there were only three BRI projects ever in Panama:

Panama is contracting with Chinese companies for a fourth bridge over the Panama Canal, as well as a third line for the Panama City mass transit system.China has also submitted a $4.1 billion proposal to build a 391-kilometer (243-mile) high-speed rail line from Panama City to the town of David near its border with Costa Rica — a project to be carried out under the rubric of the Belt and Road.

After some planing hustle the fourth bridge over the Panama Canal is finally being build. The third line for Panama city was and is however a Japanese project. The high-speed rail line from Panama City to David is not economically feasible. Five years after the initial plans its construction has not even started. It is unlikely to ever being build.

Neither Panama, nor China, will thus lose anything from Panama’s BRI retreat.

Rubio’s ‘victory’ in Panama was pure propaganda.

/End sidenote/

 

Posted by b on February 4, 2025 at 16:52 UTC | Permalink

Is it possible to return manufacturing jobs back to the USA?

It’s feasible, but it’s also contingent on your economic model. If your economic model prioritizes corporate socialism, i.e. the government supporting favored companies, but letting them otherwise operate privately, and squeeze as many dimes and nickels as possible, as profit, etc., then the answer is “not so much”. If your economic model prioritizes national self-sufficiency and the government gets more directly in the business of producing things, including housing to keep housing cost down for workers, then your labor cost can be lower. The Chinese have done this successfully since the 1990s. It’s not a coincidence that so many jobs left not only the West, but also other eastern countries, like Japan and Korea, for China.

ignorant westerners like to laugh about some Chinese person that makes the equivalent of maybe $3000 per month (a good month).. they live pretty comfortably on that and in an apartment of equal or greater luxury. it’s not about the dollars you’re getting – it’s about you’re buying power. Nobody cares if you earn 100 K if you’re living the same lifestyle as a Chinese dude that makes 40 K equivalent. Who cares? It’s irrelevant. It just means you’re country has spiraling costs. But! That suits the purposes of people who are invested in owning your real estate. So you have stagnating wage relative to inflation and even going quite negative relative to the cost of housing. It’s no wonder your middle-class shrinks year on year since the 80s

All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet | John Pinette Comedy

From the other answers, two things are clear: people are quite confused about jobs, and people have a very compartmented understanding of their dual roles, those being worker and consumer. To try and shed a little light on these issues, I would submit the following:

First, the idea of the “job” is fairly recent. Until the second industrial revolution, back in the 1800’s, there was no such thing as a job. The vast majority of people made things and sold them, raised crops and sold them, or they were indentured (or enslaved), and did what they were told in return for bread, bed, and a chance to learn a trade so that they too could then make or grow things to sell.

The job was invented so as to support the new technologies of the industrial age, and for around a hundred years or so, it worked quite well, generally, as a means for distributing the surplus produced by the collective activities of the population. People came to accept that a person should earn their share of the wealth being produced by the country by getting a job and working hard at it. Later on, as the jobs became more technical and less physical, people accepted that getting a good education was also required. Today, people have completely forgotten that all these beliefs about what life should be (go to school, get a job, get promoted, save for your retirement, etc.) are entirely arbitrary! Those who came before us made this up out of whole cloth.

The problems of income inequality we are seeing today result mainly from the new reality that the output of the nation, and in fact, the world, no longer needs the efforts of all the able-bodied in order to be produced. In the past, the primary limitation on the output of the world was the number of people who could be enlisted in the work that produced that output, so there was a balance of sorts, that helped ensure that pay for work was fair and would support the worker in an ever increasing standard of living. Not so today. Today, the primary limitations on the size of the output of the world’s economy are the amount of capital a firm can bring to bear, the availability of scarce resources that go into production, and the amount of energy that can be obtained to support that productive effort. Increasingly, the economy needs less and less human effort, resulting in waning power of the workers, which means wages fall, and jobs disappear. We have low unemployment today mainly due to shitty wages at the available positions, which are primarily in the service sector. The gig economy is thriving because it enables many of those who cannot get a good job to make more money than they could working at a fast food joint, their other alternative.

The other issue I commonly see is the compartmented view most people have of their dual roles, which are always in conflict; those being the role of worker, who always wants higher wages for less effort, and consumer, who always wants lower prices and more choices. Most economic policies bear on both these roles, putting people into cognitive dissonance, and so they talk our of both sides of their mouths, depending on which role is being discussed. When the discussion is about jobs, as this one is, people deplore the companies that move production to low wage sites because that reduces job opportunities here as well as putting downward pressure on wages in general. However, shift the discussion to consumption and suddenly the argument is quite different. Now everyone wants lower prices and they complain loudly that they are being overcharged. They deplore a minimum wage hike because that will make the things they buy more expensive. They despise unions because union wages make things more expensive.

I would submit that we are rapidly moving into a post-job world. In the not-so-distant future, the notion that everyone must have a paying job or be discounted as worthless, will be seen as absurd. Arranging an economic system so that it will supply enough good paying jobs so that everyone can have one, when the economic system does not need the work, is stupid.

Today we are beginning to redesign the economic system to better serve the people, which, by the way, is the only reason the economic system should exist. We are so brainwashed by our recent history and our current culture that it is difficult to imagine an economy that does not need all of us working 40 hours a week.

My favorite idea being batted around is the UBI (universal basic income) in which every citizen, rich, poor, or in between, gets a cash stipend sufficient to keep body and soul together, plus access to a free education, and free healthcare. Then, those who choose to do so, can go to work to earn more money. Most people in such a system, will choose to work because they want more than a basic income. This system will let disabled people have the resources they need to live good lives, retired people will be able to live without suffering poverty, and nobody will go bankrupt because they get sick. In such a system, the economy will be stable and reliable because the money that consumers spend will be recycled back to the people to enable them to buy what they need over and over. Such a system need not grow to thrive. It can become stable and renewable, and when new technologies are introduced that free more people from having to work, the UBI can be incrementally increased, the hours that must be worked in a job can be reduced, and so the standard of living increases for all. Those who want to struggle to gain wealth will still have ample opportunity to do so, while those who just want to focus on their families and their communities will be able do do that.

It will take several generations to get us to such a new economy, and the struggles to overcome our collective cognitive dissonance will be considerable. Very exciting though.

Be well…and do the right thing.

Tom

USAID: “Money Laundering?” “Overthrowing Governments?” Democrat Slush Funds?”

USAID: "Money Laundering?" "Overthrowing Governments?" Democrat Slush Funds?"

The situation with the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) is exploding into public view today.  The reality, and the fact-based revelations, are both horrifying and stunning.

The chart above shows the money funneled by USAID to just ONE entity: Bill Kristol’s “Defending Democracy” organization.

If ever you wondered why Bill Kristol, allegedly a “Republican” and former Editor of “The Weekly Standard” was so adamantly opposed to Donald Trump, you can look at the chart above and realize, he was being PAID big bucks through USAID, to . . . keep the status quo?   Keep an “outsider” out?  All speculation, but it does make a lot of people wonder.

This is what the network for “Defending Democracy Together Institute” looks like. The graph represents grants from various USAID-affiliated Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) flowing to Kristol’s non-profit:

USAID grants funding Bill Kristols Non Profit large
USAID grants funding Bill Kristols Non Profit large

The circle at bottom, with Employer Identification Number (EIN) 831567380, is Bill Kristol’s “Defending Democracy.”

Tracing the actual funds is a staggeringly enormous task, but it is being accomplaished.

According to once source, who is personally involved in the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) which is auditing everything “48 vCPUs are maxed-out, curating the USAID grant network for every single EIN.  It will take a while (~12 hours). Which is fine, it gives time to prettify it in the morning.”

As the computers crunch all the data – and it is an utterly enormous amount of data, they are finding all the paperwork for all the money distribution.  In just ONE transaction to Bill Kristol’s “Defending Democracy” andother Foundation “Hopewell” distributed two million dollars to Kristol’s group!  Here’s a screenshot of that:

Hopewell Funding Defending Democracy Kristol
Hopewell Funding Defending Democracy Kristol

 

That’s just ONE transaction.  Look at the chart above and now try to imagine how much MORE got funneled in from all those other entities!   And *****ALL***** of it, coming from American Taxpayers, through funding to ****ALL**** those groups, by USAID.

Now you know how the political class stays awash in cash money.  It comes from sources like USAID, which bulldozes cash out the door under the guise of “International Development.”

Many people who have looked at the chart above, tell me it appears TO THEM to be a “Money Laundering Operation.”

Others are saying “The only reason why you need to have a system complex like this is you are trying to hide something.”

The graph above is also called “structuring” by people that prosecute money laundering. The bottom left EIN (..1860) is Hopewell, a non profit slush fund run by “Arabella Advisors.” The big three Arabella fund donors are Bill Gates, George Soros, and Mark Zuckerberg.

Why is so-called “Conservative” Bill Kristol, getting money from folks like THEM?????

Can anyone who sees this believe that Bill Kristol is actually any kind of “conservative?”  He’s being fund by the leftist of left-wing sources!

Does the phrase “controlled opposition” come to mind?

One source told me “Money laundering shown as a flow chart. The picture is indeed worth a thousand words! ”

Remember folks, this is just one of MANY Organizations . . . . and they’ve been doing this for DECADES all while blocking any attempt at forcing transparency.

Moreover, they couldn’t have done this without help from politicians on BOTH sides of the aisle!

Looking at this mish-mash of money flow, it seems to me, in my personal opinion, the complexity is intended. If this wasn’t the government, we would be insisting on RICO indictments.    In fact, maybe we should.

In my view, this is starting to look worse than any MAFIA in the world.

It’s designed to be a labyrinth so confusing that even GPS would need therapy after trying to find its way out.

The more complex they make the interconnections, the more difficult it is to locate the corruption.

This is how shell companies work to avoid paying taxes. Creating a complex web such as this only solidifies that the actors know they were doing something nefarious and would like to avoid detection. But when this is done by the very government responsible for prosecuting crime, will there be any prosecution that follows?

Whatever ultimately comes out of this, one thing is now crystal clear:

This is worse than 9/11 for Democrats. USAID is the primary vessel they use to achieve their political agenda. USAID is — and always has been — the primary source of funding for their influence peddling schemes and for their indirect sources of income.  USAID is how they accomplish their nefarious social engineering, overthrow of foreign governments, politicizing the legal system, and crushing dissent.

As more and more details emerge from the DOGE computers now crunching all these transactions and exposing the money flows, the level of squealing we begin to hear will rise.

Politicians are already out in public screeching that shutting off the US Agency for International Development (USAID) is “cutting off food to starving people.”  No.  It’s not.

What we will now be hearing is the corrupt, trying to cover what they’ve been doing.   Don’t be fooled.

Is it realistic to shift manufacturing jobs back to the U.S.?

No.

It might be realistic to shift manufacturing back to the U.S., and it might possibly (but probably not) be possible to increase the percentage of the worlds manufacturing jobs that the U.S. has. But the actual number of manufacturing jobs, both in the U.S., and in the rest of the world is going nowhere but down.

150 years ago, most people in the U.S. worked in agriculture. The number of agriculture jobs shrunk until by 50 years ago the agriculture sector had less than 2% of the U.S. jobs. The U.S. produces more than enough food with less than 2% of its labor force. The number of agriculture jobs in the U.S. is still slowly shrinking, and is never ever going to grow above 2% again, let alone the 50% it was in previous centuries.

The same thing is happening with manufacturing jobs. I would not be surprised if 100 or 200 years from now less than 2% of the potential U.S. labor force is engaged in manufacturing. And that the U.S. manufactures most of what it needs within its own borders. But the factories are going to be automated. Manufacturing probably will come back to the U.S. Manufacturing jobs, will continue to vanish.

Panic in global metals markets as China rare earth export bans close brokerage hubs

The short answer is no, manufacturing is never coming back to America in the way we had it in the 70′s and 80′s. Those manufacturing jobs all disappeared and went overseas for one extremely simple reason: capitalism. The other thing that plays a big role is international trade deals such as NAFTA, TPP, and so on. In a capitalist economic system, corporations are only focused on cutting costs and maximizing profits. Whatever is the cheapest and most profitable, is what they do, in every situation, no matter what. This includes breaking the law or skirting around regulations, because it very often ends up saving them more money to break the law. Even if they get caught, they very rarely get anything more than a proverbial slap on the wrist, and a monetary fine that’s a literal pittance compared to the company’s annual revenues. When you look at other developing nations, such as Mexico or Indonesia, you can see from their currency exchange rate that companies are saving MASSIVE amounts of money by relocating their manufacturing to those countries. If they actually followed through and shut down their operations overseas and moved their production back onshore, it would simply cost them too much money for it to ever be feasible, in any scenario. The only way those jobs are coming back is if it somehow ends up being cheaper to produce items here in the US than it is in Mexico, Indonesia, Taiwan or wherever else, and the math just ain’t mathing, as the kids say. They will never bring those jobs back to the US, ever. Tariffs be damned, LOL. Trump is blowing smoke up people’s asses when he insists his tariffs are going to “bring back” manufacturing jobs. If that was the case, why didn’t the jobs come back after his first term in office and the tariffs and trade war he did then? It honestly makes zero sense. Tariffs are a way of adding costs to a company when they’re importing or exporting products, and again, when companies are only focused on profits, how would higher costs induce them to bring jobs back here to the US? It makes no sense. I would bet $50,000 of my own money that ZERO manufacturing jobs will be coming back after this Trump term, much the same as the last time he was in office, and similar to the coal jobs he insisted he would “bring back” as well. I’m from the Appalachian part of eastern KY and I can assure you, there has been little to no change in the number of coal company jobs here in KY, if anything, they’ve gone down in the past few years. Trump’s stupid trade policies are not going to bring back jack shit, LOL. Hate to be the bearer of bad news but, also people could just take a look at the numbers from Trump’s first term in office to see that tariffs have absolutely no impact on the number of manufacturing jobs in the US, and in fact, none of Trump’s policies have improved anything with respect to those numbers. The only thing he’s capable of doing is crashing the economy and causing prices to skyrocket from the tariffs and his other bad policies.

Technomancer 2: Monterrey Monster

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that includes someone (or something) saying, “No, don’t!” view prompt

KC Foster

Masa flattened herself against the ruined wall and listened to the people surrounding the fire barrel, crouched and at the ready. She peered around the edge, hand resting on the handgun at her waist feeling the cold metal in her hands. It was an unfamiliar presence that weighed heavily at her side, along with the knowledge of what that presence meant. Tonight, she might have to kill someone.When she was younger, her father taught her how to shoot and while she wasn’t bad at aiming, it was not nearly the level she would need to defend herself against so many. She had longed to see people so badly and now that she had arrived in what was left of Monterrey, their presence alone terrified her.The people around the fire bore no resemblance to one another. Some spoke Spanish poorly, their pale skin marking them as foreigners. Others who spoke were locals, their words coming through clearly and their skins tanned from the summer sun. Some were old, some were children. They all had one thing in common, the dirt that covered them and the same look of emptiness in their eyes.A young boy burst into tears and clung tightly to an older woman. “Mama!” he screamed. “I want my Mama!”“Calm yourself, Carlos,” the older woman said, drawing the young boy onto her lap. She patted his head and a gentle humming came from her lips while she rocked him.For a long time, the air was filled with nothing but her sweet voice. Others joined the song, humming alongside the older woman and sharing their loss.Masa thought of her own father and her chest filled with pain. Tears filled her eyes and drifted down her cheeks. Her hand left the gun and covered her mouth, trying to stay silent. Staying alone and hidden behind the ruined wall while the people were together became almost unbearable. No, she needed to keep it together. It was better to stay safe and hidden.“It’s not safe here,” growled a man about the age of her father and the tune ended. He stood at the fire’s edge with an air of authority, his hair tinged with grey. What was left of the clothing he wore, hung from his shoulders and waist peppered with gunfire holes and covered in blood. “We need to leave Monterrey. We should seek out a prison or a military base. Somewhere we can defend more easily.”Another man stood, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. “Then how will the US Army find us? We’re ex-pats,” argued a man with an American twang, “Any day, they’ll come to rescue us and evacuate. If we leave, they’ll never find us.”“We already fought off one group of bandits,” cried an older woman. “Matias is right. It’s not safe here.”“I’m not leaving until I find my husband,” screamed a younger woman.A commotion broke out and the adults stood and began arguing with each other. The voices wove together and any trace of conversation was indistinguishable from the rest. It grew louder, filling the air with a hum like a swarm of bees. An occasional word rose above the others laced with profanity. A woman screamed and the children burst into tears.The sound of a gunshot filled the air and the people gasped and backed away. The American Expat stumbled back, staring at his chest. He collapsed onto his knees and fell face first on the ground. “I’m in charge now,” yelled Matias. “We do what I say. And I say we move.”“But my husband…I have to find him…” screeched the young woman from before.Mattias pointed the gun in her direction. “Do you have a problem?”The woman shook her head and backed away. Tears filled her eyes and she ran from the group.A brand-new tyrant taking his first stand. Masa stared at him, sizing him up. The light from the flames caught the edges of his face, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes. The anger in them made him look like a demon; the pride like a serpent. He was well-built, perhaps ex-military or police. He must have been in charge while they defended against the bandits the other people spoke of. No doubt, he now thought he was the one in charge. The rest of the people hung their heads in submission, defeated by either fear or grief. Whatever made them back down, any strength to fight they had was gone. She thought of her father and how much she had needed to search for him. The decision to move on had been hers and not someone else’s and that had helped her stay strong. These people deserved the same.Matias began barking orders to the men about supplies and then told the women to get the screaming children under control or he would shoot them.Masa gripped the handgun, glaring at him from the shadows. It would be so easy to shoot him from this distance and the people would be better off without him. She pulled the hammer and cocked the handgun, removing the safety. Her hands shook while she aimed it at the man’s head, fully ready to fire.“No, don’t,” said a voice behind her, tinged with a twist in his words that defined him as yet another American.Masa went rigid, her eyes darted behind her in a panic. Her hand reflexively moved and pointed her gun at the teenage boy who had spoken. His dark skin caused him to barely be visible beneath the shadows. A few of his loose dreads swung across his face, fallen free from the rest hidden behind his head in a ponytail.He frowned and stared at it, his hands shaking while he raised them in defense. “Please don’t shoot me.”“Why not?” she hissed, pressing the gun into his chest.“I’m Richards,” he said, smiling nervously, “Leron Richards. What’s your name?”“I’m not here to make friends,” Masa snapped, still keeping her voice low. Her hands began to shake. It was one thing to shoot a tyrant, another entirely to shoot a boy her age. She put the handgun down and scowled at him. “Why shouldn’t I shoot him? You saw what he did.”“You didn’t see the bandits,” Leron said, sitting against the wall. He gestured for her to join him. “They killed so many of us….there was much blood…”Masa slid down the wall beside him and barely listened while he told her about the slaughter. Her fear was overcoming her and she longed to escape. By putting her gun down, she had put herself in danger. Leron could easily hurt her, or alert the man called Mattias. The people here might decide she was a bandit and shoot her instead. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and hid the tears in her eyes.“Come on you can tell me. What’s your name?” he asked. His Spanish was terrible, filled with the wrong words, but he seemed to be trying. And for the most part, she understood.

“Masa Gomez. Are you going to turn me in now?” she said, keeping her head hidden.

“No.” Leron sighed. He sat silently for a time before continuing, “Matias is a good man. The bandits killed over half of us. We had to bury them this afternoon including the kid’s mother. Matias…he….he’s just trying to prevent everyone from killing each other. That also happened early on.”

“It’s only been a few days since whatever happened.”

“A lot can happen in a few days.”

Masa looked up at him, “Oh.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt good to be close to someone, anyone.

Leron wrapped his arm around her. “The American Matias killed was keeping us here, but it’s been days. If anyone was coming to rescue us, they would have. Your attempt to shoot him from here shows how dangerous it is to stay. Where did you come from?”

“A small town on the other side of the mountains.”

“Are there more people there?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

“No. I was the only one who survived.”

“And I thought we had it rough.” He sat for the time, picked up a rock, and began playing with it in his hands. “Do you want to meet the others?” he asked at last.

“No…I don’t know,” she croaked. Masa swallowed back the tears and hid her head once more. Did she? Would Leron allow her to escape if she didn’t? Would she still have to shoot him? Was being with people worth being forced to serve someone like Mattias? She had longed to be around people so badly. And what if she left and the other groups of people were just as bad or worse?

“My parents both died,” he said, breaking the silence. “They heard the sirens and threw me in the refrigerator at their restaurant along with some of the people here.” He began to shake and she looked up and saw the tears in his eyes. “There…There was no room left and it had to be shut from the outside.”

“I’m sorry. I lost my father, too. We were out working on the satellite dish and it collapsed on us. I don’t know what happened to him.”

Leron shook his head, “I can’t believe it all ended so fast.” He sighed and climbed to his feet, “I need to go or they will be wondering where I have disappeared. Will you come with me?”

Masa stared at his open hand. “Will you let me go if I say no?” she asked.

“Won’t say a damn thing.”

“I will stay.” Masa reached up and took his hand. He led her from the shadows and towards the fire.

Matias was warming his hands over the flames, he turned and scowled at Leron. “Where have you been? I was about to send out a search party.”

“This is Masa. She came down from the mountains and wants to stay with us.”

“The community of preppers? Did anyone survive? Are there any supplies left?” he said with an air of desperation. He approached Masa, madness filled his eyes and she backed away, afraid of what he had done earlier. If she couldn’t help him, would he kill her too?

“No, there is nothing left,” Masa lied. She had no intention of telling him about the secret basement beneath the communications center. This man might protect them as Leron said, but she wasn’t going to help him any more than she had to.

Matias grew angry and took hold of her shirt, pulling her close to his face and studying her eyes. “You’re lying,” he seethed. The stench of his breath was sickening.

“Leave her alone,” cried Leron, trying to push them apart.

“Get away, Chico.” When Leron didn’t back down, Matias slapped him out of the way.

“Tell me!” he yelled.

“Let go of me. I’m not lying.” Masa reached for the gun at her waist and considered shooting him point blank. Before she could shoot, Matias released her, throwing her back to the ground. She groaned as the wind was knocked out of her. The brute of a man sighed and returned to the fire. “Find a place for her to sleep then.”

Leron rubbed the side of his face, eyes narrowed with rage. He climbed to his feet and helped Masa back on hers and towards a set of stairs leading down beneath one of the ruined buildings.

“I should have shot him,” she said, “It would have been better for everyone. He really is a monster.”

“Maybe, but every monster has people they protect. In this world, I would rather be protected by a terrible monster than none at all.”

Shorpy

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HOLY! U.S. Just Started a SHOWDOWN With China: Global Economy to Change Forever

It’s not true

GDP Per Capita of Urban USA is $ 93,460

GDP Per Capita of Urban China is $ 29,112

It’s 3.21 times more not 5 times


Urban China

It’s simple

Most things in China are extremely affordable

Even Housing!!!!

So the Per Capita income of an Average Chinese in a Tier 1 City is 201,200 Yuan a year which is $ 27,000 a year

Healthcare :-

The Average American pays $ 646 a month for healthcare (Individual) and $ 1,516 a month (Family)

This is a whopping 13.36% to 21.32% of Post Tax Salary

This is in addition to employer contribution to premium which is 17% to 29%

The Average Chinese pays 710 Yuan a month for Healthcare (Family)

This is a mere 6% of Post Tax Salary

This ensures that 88% of Healthcare costs of a Chinese family are covered by the State and Employers Insurer

Even without Employer insurance, the State Insurance covers 65.25% of the Healthcare costs of a Chinese Family

Furthermore, the balance payable can be paid across a maximum of 84 Installments without interest in China

Utilities:-

In China, Utilities (Maintenance, Electricity, Heating, Water and Gas) average 936 Yuan a month which averages only 7% of the Take Home Salary

So consumption of 750 Units a month comes to only 414 Yuan ($57.30)

In USA, Utilities (Maintenance, Electricity, Heating, Water and Gas) average $ 15,914 a year which comes to around 12.53% of the Take Home Salary

Consumption of 750 Units a month has a bill of $ 357.85

So even though Per Capita income is 5 times more – the Electricity is itself 6.24 times more in the US

Tuition:-

University Education in China and US make a huge difference

An Average American owes $ 127,632 in Tuition Loans at the time of graduation (Graduate) and all Americans owe $ 1.76 Trillion in Loans to the Federal Government

The Median Starting Salary of an American Graduate is $ 72,753 a year or $ 62,890 a year post taxes and contribution

That’s 2 Years Starting Salary in Debt for a graduate

The Average Chinese owes only 35,000 Yuan in Debt (Graduate) at the time of graduation

The Median Starting salary of a Chinese Graduate is 97,700 Yuan a year and even Internship Stipend is 38,000 Yuan a year

That’s a mere 0.358 Years Starting Salary for a Graduate and only 0.92 Years Starting Salary for even a Trainee

Taxes:-

FICA, State Taxes and Federal Taxes cost an Employee 32.95% of his salary on an Average in USA

Income Tax and Contributions cost an Employee only 11.25% of their salary in China on an Average (Rest is contributory pay)

Chinese pay only 1/3 tax on their income compared to Americans

The Share of Indirect Taxes in USA is 36.26% in 2024 against only 15.80% in 2013

In China, VAT share in indirect taxes is only 20.52%

This is because VAT is waived on 37 essential grocery items and healthcare

Groceries:-

A Family of Four eating 2100 Calories (Adult) a day and 1700 Calories (Kids) spend 352 Yuan a week on groceries

This comes to only 12–15% of the monthly salary

The same in US , costs a family $ 2,300 a month

This comes to around 24% to 33% of the take home salary

This means if a US family can spend only 15% of their salary on groceries, they have to EAT ONLY HALF OF WHAT A CHINESE FAMILY EATS

Here is a quick snapshot

I said Per Capita is 3.21 times right

1 Loaf of Bread, 1 Pound Chicken Breast, Cooking Oil, Butter, 12 Eggs, Lettuce, Broccoli, Mushrooms, Tomatoes

Cost in US (Chicago) – $ 84.60

1 Loaf Bread, 1 Pound Pork, Cooking Oil, Soy Sauce, Haitian Vinegar, 30 Eggs, Bok Choy, Potatoes, Mushrooms, Cherry Tomatoes, Regular Tomatoes , Oyster Sauce

Cost in China (Ningbo) – 119.90 Yuan – $ 16.53

This Grocery Bills relative to each other is a whopping 5 times higher in US and even assuming the per capita differential, US prices are 150% higher!!!!


Thus the Urban Chinese definitely have a better quality of life than the Urban American

They do live in smaller homes (51.7 Square meters vs 90.33 Square meters) but apart from that, everything else is way more affordable


Semi Urban China and US

The GDP Per Capita of Semi Urban USA is $ 68,872 and Semi Urban China is 132,421 Yuan ($ 18,265)

Here the Average American Per Capita is 5 times the Chinese Per Capita

So US Per Capita GDP in Semi Urban US is only 3.77 times higher than Chinese Per Capita GDP

So again Semi Urban Americans are definitely likely to be worse off than Semi Urban Chinese

This is because prices are more than 5–7 times lower in China while GDP Per Capita income is only 3.8 times higher


Rural China vs US

This is where US Citizens are much better off

The GDP Per Capita of Rural USA is $ 56,636 a year against a mere 46,700 Yuan a year ($ 6,441)

The US Per Capita GDP is a whopping 9 times higher than China

So even with a 5–7 times lower cost, Rural Chinese don’t have a better standard of living than Rural Americans

And there are 136 Million Households in Rural China even today

That is Xi Jinping s challenge

Deng Xiaoping and Jiang Zimin have done their jobs and ensured Urban and Semi Urban China is ahead of Urban and Semi Urban USA

Xi Jinping is to do his task to ensure Rural China also prospers and surges

He did eliminate absolutely poverty and rise the Per Capita GDP by 8.90% a year for the last 5 years

Still China has quite some work to do on this

No Laughing Matter

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Start or end your story with a character asking a question. view prompt

Pam Brown

“Is this it? This insignificant little speck on the edge of the galaxy?” She waved her elegant long fingers at the main screen in front of her. “What’s so important about a remote little planet with nothing but primitive methods of propulsion that can’t even take them beyond their own solar system? I mean, why are we bothering?”“Look, we’re not here to study their technology, so stop tracking every object that flits past us. It’s not part of our mission. We have other departments who are trying to control their frustration at what they’re doing. You know we’ve got a very important assignment. We tried to feed knowledge gently to them ever since we first had contact with them, but it’s not working out well. They’re abusing that knowledge, and we now have to stop them pressing the self-destruct button. So now it’s time to take a different approach.”She looked puzzled at first, and then the penny dropped. “Oh, I see. We want to know what makes them tick.”“Tick? What do you mean, tick? They’re not mechanical you know. They’re organic. Living organisms don’t tick.”“Just a figure of speech. Okay, I’m beginning to see why this mission is important. I mean, although they’re very much like us, obviously, because we did have a hand in their evolution, there are many aspects of their development that we don’t fully understand. And that’s why I was assigned to this project.”“Well I did wonder,” he sneered. “I always thought your brain was wired differently. Probably due to your being one of the few females in this outfit.”She returned the sneer. “Yeah. You’ve just proved that you’re not as evolved as I am with that remark. You sound like a human. Now, let’s just concentrate on what we’re here for.”“Okay, so where do we start?”“Well,” she mused, “there is something that’s been puzzling us for a very long time. We’re familiar with all of their different languages, obviously, and we have known for some time that their thought processes are basically similar in all their social groups. But there is one aspect of the way they communicate which seems to be unique to their species.”“Yes, but it’s not only humans who communicate, is it? Lots of other creatures make noises at each other – all sorts of grunts, roars, whistles and squeaks, and we haven’t a scooby what they’re saying.”“Scooby?”He looked at her pityingly. “Just a figure of speech.”“Yes, well, we haven’t made any comprehensive study of the other creatures yet, but they’re not the ones trying to mess up the planet.”“ So you think that by understanding their society more fully we can help them to make better choices? Huh. Good luck with that, then.”“I’m going to need it. To be honest I’m stumped. Even though I’ve studied them for centuries, I’ve found one weird thing that they do that is impossible to translate into logical behaviour.”“But you’re the queen of logic. It shouldn’t be difficult for you.”“Oh, there you go again. Your sarcasm is so infantile.”“I apologise. So, what’s the weird stuff?”“Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath, and proceeded to make a variety of sounds which she found difficult at first, but after gaining confidence, flowed out and resonated around the vessel. He stared at her in astonishment.“So what are you saying? Is it another language?”She stopped. “If it is, it’s used by all the different cultures on the planet, and the accent is the same in all languages.”“Well they all make some kind of music, with variations, of course -”She shook her head. “It’s not music, we know all the styles of music. Did it sound melodic to you?”“No, certainly not. So, when does this noise happen? That should give you a clue.”“It happens completely unexpectedly. You can’t predict it. To give you an example, I could be monitoring a conversation, when one of the participants would suddenly emit the sound, and very often the other one would join in.”He looked puzzled. “But surely that would interrupt the flow of the conversation?”“Yes, it does.”“So what’s the purpose of it?”“That’s what I’m trying to find out. But the fact that it happens in so many different circumstances makes it extremely difficult.”

“So not just in ordinary conversation?”

“Oh no, there are many occasions where it happens, often involving great numbers of people, whose attention is focused on one or several individuals. They all make the sound together, and it can go on for a long time, or it just comes out in short bursts. And then the proceedings continue as if it never happened. Until the next time.”

He wanted to impress her with some intelligent input, and thought for a moment. “Does it only happen during communication, or is there evidence of it in a visual context?”

“Visual? How do you mean?”

“Erm, not sure. Maybe as a reaction to something observed?”

“Well, yes, you might have something there.”

“Oh, goody! I’m glad I’m able to contribute something useful. I was beginning to develop a slight inferiority complex.”

“Impossible.”

“I know. So, where are we? They react to something they hear or see, and according to you, they do it when one starts it, or several begin it, and others join in.”

She looked at him. “You’ve just hit the nail on the head.”

“That’s got to be another figure of speech. I haven’t hit anything.”

She ignored that. “It affects them when they’ve been exposed to it. What does that suggest to you?”

“It’s an infection?”

“It’s the only explanation.”

Suddenly the door swished open, and a research assistant dashed towards them waving her hands and making the same sounds demonstrated previously by her boss.

“I’ve got it! Hahahaha! It’s called laughing! I’ve got it!” She paused, drew a deep breath and then collapsed on the floor, giggling.

He looked at her in horror. “You’ve been infected! How did that happen? There’s been no physical contact.”

The victim look at him with tears in her large oval eyes. “There doesn’t have to be. You just have to see or hear something…. that…… is…….FUNNY!”

“Funny? What do you mean, funny?”

She frowned. “It’s a kind of concept. I don’t understand how it happens, or why. I just saw something that some humans were doing, and they started this laughing, and I knew it was funny.”

The memory of it started her off again, and they knew they were not going to get any further without being infected themselves.

“We’ve got to quarantine her, and get out of here,” he said urgently. “This could be catastrophic for our civilization. An epidemic like this could wipe us all out.”

She looked at him in horror. “It could be Armageddon, in fact.”

“Armageddon? Wait a minute!” A slow smile began to transform his face. “In that case, Armageddon out of here!”

“What? I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

“I think – I’ve just made a play on words.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?

“Yes, I think it is a sort of funny. What do you think?”

“I like it.” She paused for a moment. “It makes me feel – peculiar – odd – funny, in fact!” She started to laugh, and this time the sound came more easily, and she was surprised at how it amused her. “Yes, that was funny!”

“You see? It’s contagious. I was right!”

The damage was done. They realised that there was nothing their society was going to be able to do for this little planet. It was doomed to destroy itself. The only consolation was that they would probably die laughing.

With a great deal of effort and concentration in between giggles, they programmed in a course for home, and resigned themselves to a period in the contagion tank, which they did not regard as frightening a prospect as they might have otherwise expected.

And as the little craft sped towards the centre of the galaxy, it left in its wake the pealing sounds of laughter which echoed in the spaces between the stars.

Why is China hiding 700 billion dollars?

No, and it never will.

The bourgeoisie try to make it seem like manufacturing is increasing based on some production number. But that is just an issue of increased business, not manufacturing. The capitalist class has no desire to be increase manufacturing as it would only decrease their profits. The best thing for them to do is to import those items that are no longer manufactured here. This increases their profits as their own workforce can then become more profitable as higher type workers.

The bourgeoisie would also have you believe that the manufacturing jobs went overseas. Only capital can go overseas, not jobs. But most of the decline of the manufacturing industry is due to the increases in its own productive ability. As it grows more productive it lowers its percentage of its workforce relative to the overall population.

Looks like you took the capitalist blue pill lie.

Sir Whiskerton and the Great Rodent Roundup: A Tale of Cats, Rats, and Feline Diplomacy

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of intrigue, rivalry, and one very determined cat who proved that brains always beat brawn. Today’s story is one of pest control, power struggles, and a clever plan that saved the farm from both rodents and rogue felines. So, grab your sense of humor and a bag of popcorn (or catnip), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Great Rodent Roundup: A Tale of Cats, Rats, and Feline Diplomacy.


The Farmer’s Frustration

It all began on a quiet morning when the farmer emerged from the barn, his face red with frustration. “Rats! Mice! Rodents everywhere!” he bellowed, shaking his fist at the sky. “This farm is overrun! Sir Whiskerton, where are you?!”

I sauntered over, flicking my tail with my usual air of feline dignity. “Yes, Farmer?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem,” the farmer said, glaring at me, “is that you’re not doing your job! You’re supposed to be a mouser, Whiskerton! A rat-catcher! But all I see is you lounging around on the barn roof while these pests run amok!”

I sighed. “Farmer, I am a detective, not a common barn cat. My talents lie in solving mysteries, not chasing rodents.”

“Well, it’s time you learned,” the farmer said, crossing his arms. “And to make sure you do, I’ve brought in some… reinforcements.”


Enter Bigcat and Catticus

At that moment, the ground shook as a massive feline emerged from the horizon. It was Bigcat—a towering, rotund cat with a swagger that could only come from eating one too many pies (and possibly the baker). Behind him stood his hench-felines: Putter, a scrawny Siamese with a calculating gaze, and Goliath, a muscle-bound oaf who looked like he could bench-press a cow but couldn’t figure out how to open a cat flap.

“Bigcat,” the farmer said, gesturing to the enormous feline. “He’s the best mouser in the county. And this is Catticus, his… uh… general.”

Catticus, a sleek and menacing tabby, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the farm. “This place is a disgrace,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “But don’t worry. Bigcat and I will whip it into shape.”

I bristled at the insult but kept my composure. “Well, isn’t this delightful,” I said, flicking my tail. “A couple of overgrown alley cats think they can waltz in and take over my farm.”

“Your farm?” Bigcat said, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. “This farm belongs to whoever can protect it. And right now, that’s us.”


The Plan

I knew I couldn’t take on Bigcat and his gang alone, so I enlisted the help of my friends. Rufus the dog, Porkchop the pig, and even Count Catula agreed to assist me in my plan to rid the farm of rodents—and, more importantly, to get rid of Bigcat.

“Here’s the plan,” I said, gathering my team. “We’ll round up all the rats and mice and send them back to Catnip’s farm where they belong. Once the farmer sees that the pests are gone, he’ll have no reason to keep Bigcat around.”

“But how do we get rid of Bigcat?” Rufus asked, tilting his head.

“Leave that to me,” I said, smirking. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”


The Great Rodent Roundup

The first part of the plan went off without a hitch. With Rufus’s keen nose, Porkchop’s brute strength, and Count Catula’s dramatic flair, we managed to round up all the rats and mice on the farm. We even convinced them to return to Catnip’s farm by promising them a lifetime supply of cheese (courtesy of Chef Remy LeRaccoon).

“Well, that was easier than I expected,” Porkchop said, munching on an apple.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” I said, flicking my tail. “Now comes the hard part.”


The Showdown with Bigcat

With the rodents gone, I confronted Bigcat and his gang. “Well, Bigcat,” I said, smirking. “It seems your services are no longer needed. The farm is pest-free, thanks to me.”

Bigcat narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Whiskerton? But you’re no match for me.”

“Perhaps not in size,” I said, flicking my tail. “But in wit? Well, let’s just say I’ve got you beat.”

With that, I set my plan into motion. Using a combination of catnip, a well-placed feather duster, and a strategically placed bucket of water, I managed to outsmart Bigcat and his gang. Bigcat, distracted by the catnip, stumbled into the bucket of water, while Putter and Goliath got tangled up in the feather duster.

“This isn’t over, Whiskerton!” Bigcat roared as he slunk away, his tail between his legs.

“Oh, I think it is,” I said, smirking.


The Moral of the Story

As the farmer congratulated me on a job well done, the animals reflected on the day’s events.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Brains always beat brawn, and teamwork makes the dream work. Whether you’re facing a gang of rodents or a rival feline, a little creativity and a lot of determination can help you overcome even the toughest challenges.


A Happy Ending

With the rodents gone and Bigcat vanquished, the farm returned to its usual state of peaceful chaos. The farmer, impressed by my efforts, declared me the official “Mouser in Chief” (though I made it clear that my detective work would always come first). Even Count Catula, ever the drama queen, had to admit that my plan was “brilliantly executed.”

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new challenges, and hopefully, no more rodents or rogue felines. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

manufacturing of common household products is not that important. That should be competitive so we can see would other countries have. It’s the manufacturing of critical components high technical areas that control stuff like the electrical grid communications, military equipment.

the biggest area the hits is the way they move the debt. It’s like the way the energy companies made venezuela dependent on the energy sector when they have one of the largest water sheds in South America then they moved the market and crashed there economy then they starved. The crash of the Venezuela’s economy had nothing to do with the current administration or socialism it was done by the market of the energy sector they installed years ago. They did the same thing to the dollar.

I do not like dealing with the United States globalist insanity. I like the Russia and China. Russia and China runs a proper government according to there economy and conditions. I do not like dealing with the insanity of the globalist United States government or its insane dollar.

Keyu Jin: China Has Prepared For a Bigger Trade War

Not at all economically feasible in a free market. Trade is good for all parties otherwise they would not actively participate. Protectionism breaks the free market. It would be far better to create guidelines and preferences instead of demands. US manufacturing has been sold down the river for my entire career and you cannot just bring it back by saying some catch phrases. It needs a real plan and real focused effort acknowledging that it is not a free market when you impose boxes to stay inside the lines. To compete efficiency has to rule and the US labor of the past has no bearing on what new factories are going to look like today. The nostalgic images of putting a wheel on a Model A work because we know the outcome. New assembly robots will have a small staff of nerd types behind keyboards not wearing greasy overalls. If we let the free market rule then laws to protect low end workers need to directly address those violations instead of indirectly. An industry ecosystem has to GROW over time as every part has to be right sized at each stage. Free markets actively adjust. Edicts just make it harder to get back to a free market. Keep in mind shifting from over “there” to over “here” includes customer opportunities and supply issues. Both sides of the profit/loss column.

“Soros Prosecutors?” No. USAID Prosecutors!

Information is coming out today about the Government program “USAID” – the United States Agency for International Development.  It appears the Trump Administration has hit the jackpot on money laundering, dirty deeds, unjust prosecutions and more.   Trump shut down the USAID Headquarters this morning; all staff told to STAY HOME today.

For years, many of us have heard about “Soros Prosecutors” allegedly helped into office by the “vast Soros Empire” and misused to prosecute certain groups of Americans; namely straight, white Christians.   Wellllllllllllllll, this morning, it came out that Soros, is a minor player in the entire, sordid affair.

It turns out that USAID – a cutout for the Central Intelligence Agency – is where all the big bucks have been coming from for so much of the nonsense we’ve been seeing taking place here in the United States.

With the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) now perusing all the expenditures of the US government, they seem to have stumbled across the “un-Holy Grail” of money-laundering and corruption: USAID.

“In the push to prosecute Trump by District Attorney Alvin Bragg in New York City, Soros was a minor co-funder. He gave them $10,000, that’s it! The $14 million he gave to the parent company, the fiscal sponsor of FJP (Fair and Just Prosecution, a nonprofit that supports and influences progressive prosecutors in the U.S.), well, that ain’t shit compared to the $27 million that USAID gave them. Every time you hear the word Soros prosecutor, no, they’re USAID prosecutors.”

This rabbit hole is deep, and winding.  The details are just BEGINNING to emerge.

Long story short: Every time you hear the phrase “Soros Prosecutors” you need to change “SOROS” to “USAID.”   ANd as this Rabbit hole is probed . . . . it is extremely likely it will turn out to be “CIA Prosecutors.”

The initial impression by people looking at all the factual data, all the money payouts, is that all the legal trouble for President Donald Trump after he left office, SEEMS to have been paid for and caused by: The CIA.

It is starting to appear that the US Central Intelligence Agency, is the axis upon which all the spokes of state and federal legal cases spun.  All funded by taxpayer money laundered from the CIA, using US Taxpayer money against the very US citizens who paid it.

This is going to be huge.  As the information dribbles out, more and more spectacular evidence is going to become available.

Elon Musk commented about this publicly today.   He said:

“As we dug into USAID it became apparent that what we have here is not an apple with a worm in it, but we have actually just a ball of worms. If you have an apple with a worm in it, you can take the worm out. If you have a whole ball of worms, it’s hopeless.”

It appears the Trump folks already see they will likely have to permanently shut down  USAID.  But they also see it is THE hotbed for a huge amount of money being shoveled to all sorts of left-wing causes all over the world, and right here inside the USA.

It seems to many people “The Swamp” is starting to be drained.

The US needs $85 billion to build copper mines to replace China’s. Where are the investors?

Thoughts On Musk’s Raid Of USAID

Secretary of State Marco Rubio has announced to reconfigure U.S. foreign policy from a unipolar view to a multi-polar concept of strong states.

But, as Brian McDonald warns, that does not mean that the U.S. has given up hope of being the biggest dog in town:

A Washington that stops pretending to rule the world and starts playing smart could be a tougher competitor for Beijing and Moscow than the one we’ve seen desperately clinging to a crumbling ‘rules-based order.’ The era of unipolarity might be over, but the game is far from done.

‘The game is far from done’ can also be said about Elon Musk’s raid of USAID:

The Trump administration and its allies moved to tighten control of the U.S. Agency for International Development over the weekend, signaling an intent to act forcefully to bring the U.S. foreign policy apparatus in line with the president’s “America First” approach to engaging with the world.

Over the weekend, Musk repeatedly denigrated USAID without offering evidence that those working there were corrupt. On X, he called the long-standing government agency “evil” and a “viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America.”“USAID is a criminal organization,” he added. “Time for it to die.”

Established in 1961 by President John F. Kennedy, USAID oversees a vast portfolio of programs designed to provide humanitarian relief, combat poverty, support global health and more.

The rarely spoken of ‘and more’ part of USAID involves billion of dollars for regime change operations with the help of ‘civil society’ manipulations via U.S. subsidized media and Non-Government Organizations.

The Trump administration will kill parts of that and reintegrate the rest of USAID into the state department. The CIA offshot National Endowment for Democracy (NED) will likely meet a similar fate.

In their current configuration USAID and NED are under institutionalized congressional oversight. Taking away their independence by putting them under executive control will increase the White House’ power. Neither is likely to completely stop their dirty work but it will become more difficult to detect and expose it.

Trump’s MAGA is not against doing regime changes in foreign countries. Its main beef with USAID is about its abuse by the Democrats which pushed it to promote their ideologies and to incite foreign societies against Trump.

In a world where the U.S. is no longer trying to be the unilateral power, regime change may not longer be needed that much. In a multi-polar world the U.S. does no longer need to create and confront adversaries but can restrict itself to coerce allies to pay up via tariffs, weapon sales or otherwise. Pax Americana may well become Tax Americana.

 

Posted by b at 16:46 UTC | Comments (269)

In summary, stuff that you need enormous amounts of, that’s not safety critical, that requires a large amount of low-skilled manual assembly, that can be 100% quality tested upon arrival in the US if necessary, and that is cheap enough vis-a-vis comparable US products that you would still come out on top if you ended up scrapping 50% of it upon arrival.

I realize this sounds a bit flippant.

I was in supply chain management for a decade or so, dealing primarily with factory relocations (both moving production lines to the US and outsourcing component production to where ever it needed to go).

One of the things that hardly anyone seems to understand is how outsourcing decisions are made and where manufacturing is relocated to based on what criteria, so allow me to paste together several posts I’ve made on the topic on social media to explain that process in greater detail, because China really isn’t the problem when it comes to moving production abroad.

To be clear, I’m not talking about customer service call centers, those are a no-brainer–most of your cost is labor, so wherever you have to pay people that speak the correct language least is where you go. I believe there’s a whole cottage industry in Central America now where undocumented workers deported from the US are finding relatively high paid work in call centers if they speak English (and can therefore handle customer service for the United States). Oh, the irony.

And I’m not talking about things such as garment manufacturing, where again most of the cost is labor and while it is a variety of skilled labor, it generally doesn’t require any formal education and never paid well enough even when it was still done in the US.

Let’s talk about skilled industrial manufacturing. The kind of manufacturing that requires a formal education and quite a bit of on-the-job training and an extraordinary level of skill in some cases. That’s the kind of manufacturing you want because it pays very well and offers lifetime employment.

In that kind of manufacturing, very generally speaking, your cost should be around a 60/40 split, where around 60% is material, and 40% is labor. Lean operations will probably run around a 70/30 or better.

(The example shipping/labor rates etc are based on 2013, which is when I got out of that line of work.)

So, say you produce a Doodad the cost of which is $1000, and you’ve chopped away at your material cost as far as you can (because you would always look at your biggest expense first) and you’ve introduced every lean manufacturing practice that makes sense, so your material cost per Doodad is $700, and your labor cost is $300.

And this is where you hire me to do an outsourcing analysis.

Here is how that works:

The first questions I ask you are

a) What’s your labor hour rate (this isn’t what you pay your employees, it’s an average derived from factoring in your employee pay, any benefits you pay for, and varying amounts of your overhead, i.e. your cost of doing business) — in this case $30, just to keep the math simple

b) Can your material sources be changed without incurring significant cost (most often the answer is no)

Maybe you’ve already identified potential contract manufacturers, maybe I find them for you, and then I take your product and I quote it out.

So let’s say, after lots of quoting and engineering evals and sending your QM team around the globe to check out potential suppliers, I’ve found this great contract manufacturer in China and they say they can build your Doodads for $195, at an internal labor rate of $15, plus three extra hours because their equipment is older and they’re not running quite as lean as you are.

Great, right?

Um, no.

Because you’re suddenly incurring a bunch of extra costs:

1) You’ve got to ship your raw material over there. This is probably cheapest if you do it in full container loads, meaning you’re shipping about 6000 Doodads or 6 months worth of material over there at a time. So with your preferred shipping rate of, say, $4000 per container, and a cost of money at, say 5% per year, you/re adding just a touch over 66K to your cost for 6000 Doodads or $11 each.

2) You’re shipping them back on a monthly basis, because once they’re assembled, 1000 Doodads fill a container, so that’s another $4 added to the cost per Doodad.

3) Next, it turns out that you’re going to have to pay duties on your Doodads coming back, and the duty rate on this particular Doodad is 5%, so, add about $45 per Doodad.

4) But because you’re manufacturing in China now, you’ve increased your engineering support and you’re now doing 100% quality inspection, and your averaged labor rate for engineering/quality alone is higher than your averaged labor rate (because those people earn more than your workers), so add 1 hour labor at $60 per Doodad.

5) You’ve also incurred one-time costs of $100K by paying me for the analysis, your quality guys to do a bunch of supplier audits in China and Mexico, your engineers to update all your documentation to be fit for use by a subcontractor, then a trip to send two engineers to China for 2 weeks together with your assembling supervisor and a quality guy to train people over there, which you’re going to have to amortize over the first years’ worth of Doodads. After that, you’re only going to have to pay 10K a year for two supplier audit trips.

So, your total cost per Doodad is now approx $1025 during the fist year, dropping to $1016 in subsequent years.

Conclusion: you’re not outsourcing your Doodads.

But let’s look at a different scenario for your Doohickey.

Now, you only build 500 Doohickeys per year, and they’re *difficult*. They cost you 20,000 to build and a whopping 12,000 of that is labor because there’s very complex metal work involved. You’ve looked at every possible way of reducing that–buying new machines, outsourcing it locally to a shop that already has the machines, etc. etc.–and come up with not very much.

And I look at the Doohickey and it reminds me of a part this shop I know in the Czech Republic built for someone else, so I ask them to quote it. I know their labor hour rate is 70/hr as opposed to your 55/hr, but it’s taking you over 200 hours to build that thing, so if they can shave off some of that, it might work out.

And lo, and behold, the supplier comes back and thinks, as specified, with their machinery and their highly skilled labor force, they can build it in about 170 hours. Now in and of itself, the resulting cost reduction won’t get you anywhere, but then they start asking really good questions, like, “You know that tolerance there that doesn’t seem to serve any purpose? My machinist says that if you can relax that by 5mm, we can make this on an entirely different machine in 160 hours instead,” and “How much are you paying for that part, because my buddy down the road has a foundry that makes castings like that all the time. Can we quote that for you too?” and “While we’re quoting that casting, what do you think of changing the mold right here to get rid off this bit we’re having to machine off?”

And suddenly, you have a quote for your completely assembled doohickey at $17,000 each, even taking into account a somewhat strong Euro. Now, granted, you still have to pay for shipping and duties and there’s a one-time engineering effort of 100K and the new casting mold costs you another 25K, but it doesn’t matter! Because you’re shipping 25 containers of Doohickeys for 100K and at a duty rate of say, 5%, you’re still saving 850K in the first year and 975K every year thereafter. That will accommodate a lot of fx rate fluctuation.

But, you say, let’s take those ideas they all had and run with it and we too should be able to save $3000 per Doohickey, right? In fact, we should be able to save more than that because their labor hour rate is $15 more than ours, and the Euro is stronger, and you’re going to save the shipping and duties.

I’ve been down that rabbit hole more times than I care to remember.

First you figure out that no matter how you try, you can’t manufacture that part on that other machine. Those highly trained skilled guys over in the Czech Republic have some manufacturing mojo you don’t. Now, you can hire a specialist from Europe, but that’s going to cost you a lot and besides, you’re probably not getting an HB1 visa anyway.

You try to outsource to a local manufacturer with better machinery, and they spend 6 months arguing with you about reference values needing to be absolutes (which is impossible) and then, when you’ve changed your damn drawings to get rid of the offending reference values come back with an estimate of 300 hours at substantially the same labor rate you have.

Then you find out that while your casting supplier out in what’s left of steel country on the East Coast can in fact do a new mold like that Czech supplier suggested, any savings you could have realized from that are more or less eaten up by the increased shipping cost (which takes care of the duties as well), because perversely, shipping from the East Coast to California costs more than shipping from Europe to California.

I could go on, but it all leads to the same conclusion: those Doohickeys are going, and they’re not coming back. [At least not unless you’re prepared to make an upfront 20-year investment in education and infrastructure that that same politician is going to decry as welfare and socialism.]

And that right there is the crux of your problem: the kind of artisanal manufacturing that makes money and that could revitalize a manufacturing sector isn’t done in southeast Asia today. You go to China for two reasons: 1) if you need 1 million little parts that cost $1 in the US and $0.25 in China then it makes economic sense to actually quality test 100% upon arrival in the US and throw 50% away for being substandard because you’re still saving money. 2) Parts requiring extensive low-tech manual assembly. And hopefully we can all agree that neither of those is going to revitalize the manufacturing sector.

The real artisanal manufacturing, the kind of manufacturing that requires a very high degree of skill and consequently offers lifetime employment, that kind of manufacturing, isn’t done in low-cost countries–a lot of it is actually done in the Eurozone. You want complex, high-quality castings? Eastern and Southern Europe’s probably where you’re getting them. Forgings? Italy. They invented that shit for God’s sake and they’ve only been getting better at it over that past couple of thousand years. Heavily machined or welded parts? Eastern and Central Europe. The list goes on and on.

There is a way to bring that kind of manufacturing back to the US, which can largely be summarized like this: in order to shorten the lead time to only about 20 years, you aggressively hire a bunch of STEM educators (sourced from abroad and/or private industry if necessary) and pay them enough to actually keep them in the teaching profession. You take a generation of incoming elementary school kids and provide then with a solid STEM education that mirrors that provided in much of the Eurozone. You then get those same kids through college/apprenticeship programs in the chosen fields/industries. Then you pay for them to go to gather work experience in one of the countries that still knows how to do that kind of manufacturing for a few years, and then, when those kids are nearing 30, you’ll have a skilled manufacturing force that can compete with the skilled manufacturing forces elsewhere. The only problem you’ll have at that point is convincing them to actually come back to the US, since they’ll be perfectly qualified to work in countries with higher wages, better benefits, and acute labor shortages.

Alternatively, and possibly more economically feasible, you invest heavily in building a time machine and send agents back to the 60s to prevent the willful destruction of the US manufacturing sector.

Tony can’t be f*cking stopped..

Ending on a high note.

Arctic motorcycle conditions in late January in Syracuse New York

I’m not old, but I can tell you.

I stopped going to movies when I tired of people having loud conversations with their friends or on their phones, especially when they blurted out spoilers. The seats are never comfortable. People often expected me to give up my plum seat so they could have it. People climbed over me to get in and out, and others hung their coats or their hair over my lap.

The last time a friend and I went to try a new lunch place, a woman allowed her three-year-old to scream for forty-five minutes straight with no attempts to quiet him or even acknowledge him. We walked out, and the couple in front of us walking out at the same time made it clear to the hostess that they were leaving due to the screaming child. We replied we were as well. The hostess called out, “Come back! I was just about to say something to her!” Yeah, too late.

When travelling, I have tolerated screaming cell phone conversations, people hogging seats while I stood, people playing music with filthy lyrics with at high volume while children are present, venues that were either stifling hot or freezing cold, people that coughed and sneezed like the walking dead while making NO attempt to cover their mouths and noses, people arguing, people making out, people cutting me (or trying to cut me), drunken idiots behaving like drunken idiots, people eating loudly while dropping food or spilling drinks, people leaving trash on the seats for others (like me) to move, being groped.

All of these I grudgingly accept as the price of having to share the world with other people.

Now, in my home, the temperature is always as I please. The people around me are those whom I please to have around me, and all are lovely, loving people. My pets are here. If I am watching a movie on my 86″ TV with surround sound, and I miss something, I can rewind. If I have to go to the bathroom, I can pause it. If it drags, I can fast forward it.

If I don’t want to face the maddening crowds, I can order groceries online or use Amazon for gift shopping and delivery. The music that is on is what I like, or there is blessed silence if I like that. I don’t have to dress up, put on makeup, or bundle up in hat, coat, scarf, mittens, and boots to face the cold. There is never a line at the bathroom and the facilities are always clean. I can read in peace. Strange men don’t hit on me.

No, I can’t, and don’t, stay home all the time. But: Which sounds better to you?

From TikTok to RedNote: How a Social Media Shift is Bridging Cultures

Great video. Though the USA looks pretty shitty right now.

The comparison between the USA and China is SHOCKING!

Indian Omelet

ksnip 20250204 121222
ksnip 20250204 121222

Ingredients

  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped red onions
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped tomato
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons chopped green chiles
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh coriander
  • Salt to taste
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Instructions

  1. Combine eggs, red onions, tomatoes, chiles, fresh coriander and salt in a bowl and beat until frothy.
  2. Heat the butter in a large nonstick frying pan over medium heat.
  3. Add the egg mixture and spread until it covers the bottom of the pan.
  4. Cook for 1 1/2 minutes until the egg is set and the underside is lightly browned.
  5. Turn with a wide spatula and cook for 30 seconds until the other side is browned.
  6. Serve immediately.

Panama: Big Changes . . . .

Panama: Big Changes . . . .
Panama Canal Locks large
Panama Canal Locks large

After Secretary of State Marco Rubio paid a personal visit to the President of Panama over this past weekend, Panama has made a big announcement:

Passage of American ships through the Panama Canal will now be FREE.

No toll.

Depending upon the size of the ship, that “toll” in the past could have been upwards of a MILLION dollars each way!

Anyway, when I went to Japan and South Korea, I didn’t dare to go to the toilet outside the hotel, no matter how clean it was.

Many Chinese tourists who visit South Korea are surprised to find that there are so many hidden cameras in Korean toilets. Especially in women’s toilets. Why is that?

Are South Koreans so keen on watching people poop?

I have to say, South Koreans really like shit, urine, and toilets, and they wish they could live in toilets for a long time!

Why do South Koreans rent houses? Since they love toilets so much, they can just live in the toilet, which is just as clean as the bedroom anyway.

Or is Billy Joe Bob’s version of this humorous: Keep the chopsticks at home – and don’t eat there.


The same is true for the Japanese. One Japanese man trapped himself in a septic tank in order to watch women defecate and eventually died.

He was listed as one of the most perverted ways to die in the world.

The Man Under the Toilet
She screamed at the sight of human legs stuck in the sewer tank. How did an adult man got stuck in the pipes directly connected to the urinal?

Chinese urban toilets are no dirtier than those in Japan and South Korea!

But most of China is rural, and rural toilet sanitation is indeed a difficult problem to solve.

  • First, township governments lack financial funds to build and maintain public toilets;
  • second, farmers need to collect feces and ferment them into organic fertilizer;
  • third, there is no systematic sewage pipeline in rural areas.

For rural areas to reach the level of urban sanitation, every household must solve it themselves.

However, Japanese and Korean tourists use expensive cameras to take pictures of the cesspools in Chinese rural public toilets. Don’t you think it’s disgusting? Do they really like shit, piss and toilets in particular? 🤣🤣🤣


The Tibet Autonomous Region and the Xinjiang Autonomous Region are both popular tourist destinations for foreigners. Especially in Tibet, which is over 5,000 meters above sea level, due to water shortage and thin air, it is difficult to transport building materials. Not only is it difficult to build flush toilets, but many toilet technologies also face challenges from the natural conditions of the plateau.

How difficult is plateau transportation? For example, on Mount Everest, the roof of the world at more than 8,000 meters, there are more than 200 bodies of climbers who died. The longest time they have been there is more than 40 years. There is no way to transport them down. If a climber carries even 1 kg more, his life will be in danger.

The Bodies on Mount Everest: Dead, Frozen & Left at the Top | Ultimate Kilimanjaro
The world’s highest peak, Mount Everest, holds a somber distinction as the final resting place for many climbers who met their fate on its slopes. These bodies, preserved due to the cold, serve as grim reminders of the dangers people face when...

China is not a pea-sized country like Japan and South Korea. Both its land area and population are many times larger than those of Japan and South Korea.

Especially South Korea. The entire country is not even as big as a county in Xinjiang, China. What qualifications does it have to be compared with the whole of China?

My story is the opposite. I was thrown out of an interview.

I saw an ad for a company that’s quite well known in my industry. I met or exceeded every last qualification listed. I sent my resume in and in less than a day they called me and set up an in person interview. I spent two hours with H-R selling me on the company, right down to the softball team. I was taken to the factory to a senior engineer who gave me a written test—I got two wrong out of 100 questions, was told that that was the highest anyone had scored. He took me into the lab and showed me devices that hadn’t even been patented yet. We talked for another hour. About my job history. About where’d I’d been and what I’d done. About how well I’d fit in there as a digital processing product specialist. Flipping through my resume, he said, “You seem to have left your college off your resume.” I told him that I have no college, I’m a self taught engineer. I had been an engineer for more than a decade with just a high school diploma.

He looked at me. He blinked a couple of times. A long pause. Then he said, “Well, thanks for coming in, this interview is over, please remove your car from the parking lot.”

Thanks a lot, well known audio gear manufacturer in the Chicago area.

I never lied, everything that I said was immediately verifiable. College was never mentioned in the job ad. I left, feeling lower then a snake’s belly and drove the L-O-N-G drive home feeling about as defeated as I’d ever felt.

I wasn’t nearly as upset at being blown out–that’s the way the game is played—as I was at the way they did it, treating me as a trespasser. Apparently they left the college degree requirement out—not my fault. For a “family owned company”, they don’t know how to treat a guest in their home.

I now have a masters degree and work as a Chief Engineer.

I’ve hired dozens of technical employees in my career, some of whom lie to my face, tell intricate stories that are clearly false, or pump up their resume to hundreds of pounds of inflation. And I have never, ever treated someone in an interview the way I was treated by them.

Why Michael Burry Just Sold Another $70 million of His US Stock Holdings

An Adventure of Zacharia Zook III

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Start or end your story with a character asking a question. view prompt

Graham Toseland

“Zack? Are you there?” Deena’s high-pitched voice crackled with static.

“Grrnnnn. What is it?” I croaked into my comms as I strained. Shipboard rations played hell with my digestive system, and it had been a couple of days since the last time I’d gotten to the head. I could feel my ass going numb from sitting so long.

Soooo long.

“You need to come to the bridge.”

“Hrrrrnnn. Why? Awwhhhh.” I sighed long and loud. The sense of relief at finally achieving splashdown flooded my body.

“Just get up here… now.” Deena’s silken yet panic-stricken voice made me sit up straighter.

“OK, OK, gimme a minute.”

Two minutes later, I strolled nonchalantly onto the bridge, feeling several pounds lighter and with a weightlessness of spirit only successful bathroom visits can bring to the truly constipated.

“You might want to give it a few minutes before you use the bathroom,” I said with a grin.

“Gross, Zack.” Deena glared at me from under her blonde, shoulder-length hair which seemed to be in worse shape than I’d ever seen it before and believe me I’ve see…

OK, maybe it wasn’t the right time if her steely eyed look through narrowed eyelids was anything to go by. I’d known her for five years, and I’d never seen her smile, but this face?

This was her ‘We’re in the crap’ face, and I’ve seen that often enough to know, well, we must be in the crap.

“That’s me. Now, what was the almighty rush you humorless Jenovian?”

Deena pointed a perfectly manicured, and extremely sharp claw toward the front of the ship. I knew how sharp from experience… many unpleasant experiences, actually.

I turned the way she pointed.

Everything looked normal to me.

Probably.

Lots of equipment, buttons, dials, LED counters going up, LED counters going down, other stuff, most of which I didn’t understand, most of it flashing, and some of it flashing red which I didn’t think seemed right.

The main navigation screen I knew, and it showed the ship on course for the dead-end planet we were headed to.

Yellow Drip.

I mean, who calls a planet Yellow Drip?

I didn’t hold out much hope for a good time there, but a good time wasn’t the main reason we were headed to Yellow Drip, only the rest of the crew were, shall we say, not in the know about that. That was a secret only I knew. And you too now, of course. All the other screens were dark, which was unusual but not unknown.

I shrugged. “What?”

“Go look at the captain.”

The two high-back chairs at the flight console were facing front as they should be, so I had to step forward a few paces, then I realized why Deena was in such a panic.

The captain, and when I looked, the first mate too, were both missing the tops of their heads, and their brains had been scooped out, leaving their heads like the shell of a pink boiled egg.

Empty vessels.

“Shit.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What the hell are we going to do?” Deena asked. “We’re due to land on that scrap heap of a planet in exactly seven minutes from now. We’re on the final approach to atmosphere in two minutes thirty seconds.”

“What the hell happened?” I squeaked, transfixed in horror by the inside of the captain’s empty skull and pointing with a wavering finger. I looked back at Deena.

Deena shrugged, which tossed the curled-under ends of her hair up before they landed back on her broad shoulders with a little bounce.

Hmmm. Cute. Maybe… nah, not Deena, we’d been through too much together.

I shook my head quickly. “The… the AI can land us. DORA, can you take us in?” I said loudly and hopefully.

The sound of blood slowly dripping from the dead men currently not flying the ship was all I heard after my words echoed around the flight deck.

“DORA’s gone dark.”

I whipped around quickly to look at Deena again.

“Dark?”

“No response. Life support is running down too, just for good measure.”

“Fuck me! So, let me get this straight. The captain and first mate are dead, our shipboard AI has bugged out without so much as a goodbye, and Sirm is where? She’s the technical one on board.”

“Last time I saw her she was in her cabin, holding her knees, and rocking back and forth, muttering about brain-eating monsters.”

“What a wuss. There’s no such thing.”

I’d lied. No point worrying the crew about what only I knew was in the cargo hold, or wasn’t as it now seemed, judging by the state of the two eggheads up front, but there was no time to fret about that then.

Taking a crafty look around the bridge, just to be certain, I was reassured there was no obvious sign of the… things.

I pressed a bloody button on the console, wondering what the hell I should do about what had topped the captain’s and first mate’s noggins. That would come later, or if I could get away with it, never.

Nothing happened when I pressed the button. For all I knew, it was the ship’s self-destruct system. I resolved not to press any more buttons unless I knew what they did.

A radio finally crackled and the light next to the microphone came on. See, I knew it was the comms!

“Sirm. Get your ass up here… please. We have a situation we need to manage.”

The sound of sniffling and gentle sobbing filled the bridge. “OK, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Deena. How long before we all choke to death?” I asked.

“We have enough air for a couple of minutes.”

I rubbed my hands over my face, then ran them over my buzz cut hair.

“Right, you’re the computer geek. Hack into the life support system and find a way to keep it going for a few minutes longer.”

She stood there for three seconds before I yelled at her. “Now! Come on! Move your ass or we all die.”

Deena ran off the bridge in the direction I’d come from just as Sirm arrived, looking worriedly around the bridge. Sirm’s skin was green which meant she was pissed at me… again.

“Listen, Sirm, we don’t have time for another argument.” I could feel the first trickle of sweat running down my back into the top of my pants. “In five minutes, we are due to land on that planet,” I said, pointing at Yellow Drip filling the screen. “DORA’s gone exploring somewhere, so we need a landing vector and a means of handling this lump of metal. If you can find a way to override the security system and give me control of this heap of junk, I think I can land us, OK? Can you do that?”

Sirm’s skin had already turned blue with fear. Her extremities were still green though, so I knew I wasn’t entirely forgiven.

She put a two-fingered hand on each hip. “You want me to override all the safety systems, something nobody has ever done before in the history of space travel, something that’s expressly forbidden by every protocol, and hand over complete control of this vessel to you? A human?” She looked me up and down with one of her chameleon-like eyes while the other was looking over the console. I hated it when she did that. I never knew if she was looking at me, or for me.

“Yes.” I pulled myself tall and pushed back my shoulders into what I hoped was a heroic pose. “Yes. I know I only hired this junker for the trip but I, Zachariah Zook the third, aka Zack, the human, am going to save your lizard hide.” I jabbed a finger at her. “Now, can you do it? Time’s-a-wasting here.”

She stood looking at me with what I thought was disdain, judging by the purple patch that appeared on her skin for a full ten seconds, then she shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.” She reached out one curved finger and flipped a switch on the console. “There you go.”

The second the words left her mouth, alarm klaxons bellowed.

I grabbed what was left of the captain and heaved him out of the chair, depositing him against a wall which the captain’s body slid slowly down, leaving a bloody smear.

Then I jumped into the sticky seat.

With no recent training, no history of flying this kind of ship, no co-pilot, and my usual high-level bad luck, I didn’t hold out too much hope of saving our asses, but I was going to try.

“Kill those alarms and give me an entry vector.”

Sirm shifted the first mate with difficulty then eased slowly into the chair, her skin turning yellow in disgust at the blood and gore.

“Quickly, Sirm, they’re driving me crazy,” I yelled.

The alarms went silent at Sirm’s deft touch.

“Entry vector three-eight-seven,” she said while she killed as many flashing red lights as she could.

I thought back to my pilot training—most of which had passed me by, shrouded by the cloud of tranceweed I seemed to have existed numbly within for those two years—desperately hoping enough of it sank in sufficiently for me to remember now, then I pressed the comms button again.

“How’s the life-support coming, Deena?”

“Nearly there. It should kick in any second.”

“Great. You’d better strap in, this could be bumpy.”

“You ready?” I asked Sirm who had already strapped in and was slowly turning blue again.

She nodded, and that instant, we hit the atmosphere with the ship’s shields at a hundred percent. The glow was adjusted automatically by the screens, and it seemed like only seconds had passed before I had to grab the manual flight controls as our craft emerged into the atmosphere, pitching and yawing in the turbulent Yellow Drip air.

We were being buffeted around, throwing us both from side to side in our seats.

“What’s the gravity reading,” I yelled over the rumbling noise of atmospheric flight. Whatever it was, I wanted this ship down on the surface and everybody onboard safe… me included. Trying to fly it was like trying to wrangle an out-of-control horse and cart, and I remembered then why I never became a pilot.

Because it sucked.

“One point two Earth gravity.”

“Shit, so I gotta come in higher and slower, right?”

Sirm’s left eye swivelled slowly to look at me. “I’m a technician, not a pilot.” If she had any eyebrows, I’m pretty sure one would have been raised at me.

Helpful… not.

I gulped and concentrated on the controls, constantly adjusting the trim to keep the ship level.

As the ground came more and more into focus, I set the scanners to look for a safe landing spot, while I concentrated on keeping everyone alive.

At last, a flashing dot appeared on screen, and I set the course and speed to get us there as soon as possible.

A minute later, a large, flat, sparsely vegetated plain between some low, steep hills appeared before me.

I pitched up the front end of the ship to aid slowing to landing speed and retro-fired rockets to gently slow the ship even further.

“Ready?” Sirm said.

I nodded. It made sweat run down my face, but I couldn’t spare a hand to wipe it away.

I wasn’t ready, but I was desperate, and in my experience, desperate men do really stupid things, like imagining they could fly a ship when they obviously couldn’t.

Sirm spoke calmly. “Engines powering down. Hover rockets in ten, nine, eight, six—”

“You missed seven.”

“Huh?”

“You missed seven you stupid lizard. Look, no time now. Hit those hover rockets before we drop out of the sky.”

Sirm sat, counting up to three, which took a while as she only had two digits on either hand. Then she nodded and with one eye on me, she hit the button.

My stomach tried to erupt out of my ass, curing my constipation forever as the rockets kicked in, rapidly slowing the momentum of the ship, and prompting a series of loud, ear-piercing screams and retches from Deena that hadn’t needed the comms system to echo through to the flight deck.

I couldn’t spare a second to find out what the problem was. I just hoped the thing that killed the crew wasn’t scooping out Deena’s brain right at that moment.

 The entire craft lowered to a three-second hover within six feet of the surface.

“You dropped the landing gear, right?” Sirm asked, her nearest eye still looking at me.

I swivelled both eyes over the console, hearing my heart pounding in my ears.

“Shit. No.”

My stomach leaped up then, trying to escape through my throat as the ship dropped the last six feet like a stone, crashing onto the surface.

I must have missed the landing gear lesson.

Metal shards erupted through the floor as the cargo bay below the bridge collapsed, forcing its contents upward.

Eventually the creaks and groans subsided, and so did the noises the ship was making.

“Everyone OK?” I kind of yelled and coughed at the same time through clouds of dust.

“I’m fine,” Sirm said, having checked herself over already. She was faffing about with the buttons in front of her, but it looked like we’d lost power completely.

Her skin was bright green!

I knew what was coming soon.

“I’m OK,” Deena yelled from back in the ship.

“So why all the screaming? Did something happen back there?” I shouted back, remembering the brain-eating things I wasn’t talking about just yet.

“Err, yeah.”

“What was it, Deena, come on?” I asked.

“When the ship slowed down fast?” Deena’s shrill voice grew louder as she approached the bridge.

“Yeah?”

“The bathroom door flew open. You really are a pig, Zack.”

In a Democracy, Unqualified often Stupid people make decisions in minutes or hours for political gains even if these decisions prove to be very seriously damaging in the long run

Political gain is all that matters

  • Modis note ban
  • Trumps proposed 60% Tariffs
  • EU Sanctions against Russia

These are some examples


In China, a One Party Meritocracy

Since Deng Xiaoping came to be the leader, NO DECISION IS MADE WITHOUT EXPERTS WEIGHING THE PROS AND CONA

Xi won’t foolishly address China at 8 PM and made nutcase decisions, unless and until the best minds have analyzed the long term consequences of his decisions

So Xi would likely have discussed all aspects of data security in China and been more than satisfied that Data from Chinese IPhones is not at risk

Furthermore the Government Officials since 2023 October no longer use IPhones under Government orders

Xi wouldn’t make rash moves to ban the Iphone because that would mean 200,000 Jobs in China

He isn’t corrupt , selfish or insane like US Senators who make millions themselves and squeeze the middle class guy without a care in the world, making wildcat decisions without any proper research or analysis

This Reincarnation Secret Has Been Hidden For 2,000 Years

I love it when something that happened under Biden’s watch is falsely credited to Trump.

The agreement for Mexico to place additional troops on the border was negotiated with the Biden administration SIX MONTHS AGO.

The only thing that changed is they moved up the timeline a little.

So Mexico agreed to do what they already had agreed to do, Trump folds on his tariff threats, and you see this a victory for Trump how, exactly?

Let’s explore a little case study, before tackling the question.

Tesla made its first car in 2008. But Shanghai is responsible for over half of its cumulative production, despite beginning operations in late 2019. A huge site expansion is already in the works, because Shanghai has been the primary driver of Tesla profits.

In other words, the gigafactories ex-china do not have attractive ROI and operate nowhere near capacity.

Now, Tesla is a successful business because it enjoys wide moats versus legacy automakers. There is the EV subsidy for buyers, direct marketing bypassing dealers, government grants, and Tesla’s dominance in manufacturing efficiency and self-driving technology.

Tesla can make cars faster and cheaper than legacy ICE marques transitioning to EVs.

And better yet, this virtual monopoly is being protected by a 100% tariff wall stateside and up to 45% in the EU targeting Chinese EVs.

But Tesla to date still makes abysmal profits from its ex-china gigafactories, despite assured circumstances.

Food for thought isn’t it?


Tariffs are shapers of trade flow. Their effectiveness is compounded by the shock value of its pen to paper nature.

Given enough time, supply chains can be permanently altered, just like how a stream can be dammed and diverted by a single beaver.

Tariffs, especially the widespread ones targeting half of all imports, is akin to conducting open heart surgery, as opposed to a mechanic performing an engine overhaul. The risks are magnified, because an engine can’t die, but a patient certainly can.

Donald’s shock therapy WILL cause harm to the economy, just because the effects are widespread. We are talking over 2 trillion in imports, and America is no longer in the age of low rates and inflation.

And we have not factored in retaliation, and escalation as the trade war evolves. It is high cost, and high risk.

Whether it is affordable remains to be seen.

Tariffs will have to been maintained for a long time because supply chains take many years to plan and flesh out. The commitment required goes way beyond a presidential term and if a Democrat takes charge next, I struggle to imagine how bridges burnt will be repaired.

One thing is clear. No country will sign an FTA/trade deal with the US in the near future, with NAFTA/USMCA up in smokes.

In aggregate, the cost and disruption to the american way of life is unknown for now. The ability of the US to rebuild entire supply chain ecosystems as import substitutes is highly suspect, especially as economically viable projects. Even high value/high tech industries stateside are increasingly unprofitable/troubled, let alone low/medium skilled ones.

Call me a skeptic but I am pessimistic about this makeover. American infrastructure, logistic networks and urban density is incompatible with efficient 21st century manufacturing.

Donald and his team have misdiagnosed the patient.

And no, I don’t think he plays 3-D chess while us mortals are stuck on a 2-D board.

Anna, a 53-year-old interior designer and french woman, was married to a wealthy man. In 2023, she started living alone, asked for divorce.

she was vacationing with her family at a ski resort, took many beautiful photos, and decided to share them on social media to get new affair in life.

For the first time in her life, she created an account on Instagram and posted the pictures.

Shortly after, she received a friend request from an unusual contact as, “Brad Pitt’s mother” reached out to her, and then the actor Brad Pitt who is getting divorce from Angelina jolie himself.

At first, “Brad Pitt” showered Anna with compliments, poems, and gifts, including expensive handbags and jewelry. However, Anna had to pay €5,000 to cover customs fees for the delivery. Without hesitation, she made the transfer. Anna started loving Brad Pitt hollywood actor. Anna made the plan to settle in Los angeles.

Then, tragedy struck her dream when Anna’s lover Brad Pitt fell seriously ill.

“Brad Pitt” claimed he had been diagnosed with kidney cancer. His funds were allegedly frozen due to his divorce from Angelina Jolie, so he asked Anna for help. She divorced her husband and paid hundreds of thousands of euros “for surgeries,” while “Brad Pitt” expressed heartfelt gratitude and sent her photos from a hospital bed.

The story fell apart when tabloids published stories revealing that Brad Pitt was actually dating someone named Ines de Ramon. It dawned on Anna.

Then Anna felt that she had been scammed and contacted cyber police.

All the photos of Brad Pitt which have been sent her had been generated by AI. By that point, she had already transferred €830,000 to the fraudsters — all the money she had left after her divorce from her millionaire husband.

Beware…

They are already investigating whether DeepSeek acquired advanced Nvidia GPUs through intermediaries in Singapore by possibly circumventing U.S. export controls. And the U.S. lawmakers are advocating for stricter export controls to China. They have even proposed measures to halt chip shipments to Singapore.

The investigation is ongoing, the factual accuracy of the claim remains unconfirmed.

And I think it is just moot. Didn’t we all see what happened when US try to cut them access to the latest and greatest Nvidia chips and China did it in mid-range hardware.

Btw, the top consumer countries of Nvidia outside of USA include China itself along with Singapore.

And the whole allegations is due to some critics suggesting that firms might be using Singapore as a conduit to move restricted chips, especially in light of the ongoing tech war between the U.S. and China.

This is because people remember allegations and not rebuttals.

“If someone says ‘Charlie f**ked a goat’, even if the goat denies it, he goes to the grave as Charlie the Goat F**ker.” — Orrin Bach(Billions – Series)

And as of now, it’s just allegations, nothing legally proven.

What We Know So Far:

  • Microsoft flagged suspicious activity related to DeepSeek accessing OpenAI’s API.
  • OpenAI suspects DeepSeek of distillation (using outputs from GPT to train their model).
  • No concrete evidence of direct IP theft (like stolen model weights or source code).
  • Investigations are ongoing.

Right now, it’s mostly concerns and not a confirmed case of IP theft.

But then again if baseless accusations are enough to prove anything, then I guess I rest my case, lol.

.

I think there is no need for all the whining or allegations because OpenAI can just make a better model. That will be the real flex. Also OpenAI truly has talented team too and the solution is simple: outbuild and outperform. All the noise about IP theft and distillation is just distractions. Instead of playing defense, they should be doubling down on innovation and pushing out even more advanced models.

To be honest, that hibakod guy is right, neither the Sam Altman’s quote nor the Deepseek’s R1 is that deep. Deepseek just reached at par with OpenAI but using limited resources.

At the end of the day, the Technology market doesn’t care about accusations, it cares about results. Hence OpenAI should let their work speak for itself and leave the drama to the side. OpenAI should just build the next-level AI that makes everyone else look like they’re still in the minor leagues and they will be back on the lead.

Ok peace out.

The 12345 service hotline is a government service complaint hotline.

This is the statistics of Shanghai in October 2024.

You can check it on

http://www.sh12345.gov.cn/

The total number of complaints and appeals is 132,356.

99.99% of complaints and appeals have been handled by the government.

The Harveysburg Incident

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

B.A. Klapper

 “Please state your name for the record.”

“You know my name, I’ve been here for eight hours, when am I going to be able to go home?”

“I understand you’ve had a very trying couple of days, please just go over it one more time for us and we’ll let you go home. If you could please state your name for the record.”

“Alex Callingham.”

“Miss Callingham…”

“Mx.”

“Mx. Callingham, what is your age?”

“26.”

“And where do you live?”

“Harveysburg, Ohio.”

“Have you lived there long?”

“A couple years. Since I finished college.”

“And your place of employment?”

“The diner by I-75, across from the flea market. Although I work the flea market too on weekends.”

“Yes, I understand you’re an aspiring artist?”

“Of a sort. The diner pays more of my bills than the art does. I’d rather move to Chicago or New York but I had to move back in with my parents so…”

“No shame in that, it’s a tough world out there. Now, I want to talk about the events of November 11th, but I want to start at the beginning. When did you start working on this piece?”

“Oh that piece. I want to say I started working on it about….July? Late July, early August. I don’t remember the exact date. I remember I was having trouble sleeping because the AC was out and I was just sweating in my bed, wishing that I could fall asleep, staring at my alarm clock as the minutes crawled by, doing that ‘if I fall asleep now I’ll have five hours and forty-five minutes of sleep for work tomorrow’ thing. Anyway, I must have drifted off because I remember dreaming, but I don’t remember what I dreamed. And then I woke up and I felt the need to…create. Like I was struck by inspiration.”

“What happened then?”

“Well I went to my shift at the diner but I couldn’t concentrate all day. I was lucky it was a slow day because I was sketching shapes on paper napkins all through my shift. I felt like they were inside my head and they would burn their way out if I didn’t put them to paper.”

“Did you keep any of these napkins?”

“I took them home with me at the end of my shift, they’re probably in the folder with all the other sketches.”

“Your sketches of these shapes?”

“Yeah. When I got home, I wanted to start copying the shapes into my sketchbook, something more permanent. Just quick pencil sketches. But it didn’t feel as intense when I copied them. Like I had gotten them out the first time and that was that.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, I copied my napkins and when it was done I just…fell asleep I guess. Put my sketchbook away and didn’t think about it for a couple weeks.”

“When did you next work on the piece?”

“Sometime in the middle of September. I had another dream about the shapes again.”

“You say again? But you don’t remember the first dream?”

“What?”

“Your first dream that made you sketch on the napkins, you said you didn’t remember what you dreamed about but you just said you dreamed about the shapes again.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I guess I must have dreamed about them since I drew them.”

“That does make sense. Please, continue. The second dream.”

“Right, yeah, so I woke up and I realized my sketches weren’t right, they needed to be fixed. So I pulled out my sketchbook and I spent the whole day making new sketches. I realized where I’d gone wrong and I could make them right again.”

“And that’s when you started painting?”

“Yeah, not that one originally. I was working with a canvas that I had with me but as I kept working I realized it wasn’t big enough. It was too small to contain what I needed to…express I guess.”

“And so you obtained the canvas for this piece?”

“No, I bought a couple of other canvases first. I mean pretty much anything is bigger than an eight by eight. But even when I got a sixteen by twenty it wasn’t big enough. I ended up having to make a canvas big enough.”

“And where are these other canvases? Are they also at your house?”

“Yeah. I burned through them pretty quick. I figured because I got them from the craft store for cheap it wasn’t a big deal, but each one just kept being too small for what I needed to make. I’d just start painting on one and before I knew it I’d reached the edge.”

“So when did you start working on this piece?”

“That was October. I had a couple busy weeks at the diner so I forgot about the shapes for a bit, but then we got to a slow week and I was able to spend time getting canvas and stapling it to the wood so I could actually work on it. I spent way too late one night fighting with it but I got the canvas ready and then I just sort of collapsed in bed.”

“And that’s when the third dream happened?”

“Yeah. I woke up in the middle of the night, I remember my alarm clock said it was three A.M. or something like that and I just needed to paint again. And so I got my paints and I started making the shapes on the canvas. And it felt right. It felt so right. I finally could get everything onto one canvas, all the shapes, everything in the right place.”

“And did you finish the piece that night?”

“No. I got most of it finished but I must have passed out or something because the next thing I remembered I was face-down in my palette and my alarm was going off to go to work.”

“And then you didn’t come back to it?”

“Yeah, I guess I just kind of forgot about it with one thing and another. Had a Halloween party with friends and a lot of other stuff going on.”

“So you finished it on the 11th?”

“I mean, I guess? I don’t really remember finishing it.”

“Walk me through your day. Start when you woke up on November 11th, what do you remember?”

“I mean it was a pretty average day I guess. Woke up, showered, went to work my booth at the flea market and try to sell some art.”

“Do you remember taking this piece with you?”

“I didn’t take that piece with me.”

“You’re certain? Multiple witnesses said you brought it with you.”

“How? It’s too big to fit in my car!”

“You didn’t roll it up?”

“You don’t roll a canvas up when you’re working on it. You shouldn’t roll it up at all, really.”

“You have no memory of rolling this piece up and bringing it with you to the flea market?”

“Clearly not. What are you implying anyway? You don’t believe me?”

“Just trying to get the facts straight. I’m sorry, I’ve derailed you. Please, continue talking about your day. You went to your booth at the flea market.”

“Right. Went to the flea market. Made a couple of sales. Ate lunch. Made a couple more sales and then I…then I…”

“Take your time.”

“I…I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t remember working on this piece?”

“I told you, I didn’t bring it with me to the flea market, I couldn’t have worked on it if it wasn’t there, now could I?”

“No, you couldn’t have. Who is the Glutton?”

“Who?”

“The Great Glutton Who Consumes the World?”

“Is that some sort of Lovecraft thing?”

“The name doesn’t ring any bells?”

“Listen, I’m not really into Lovecraft. It’s just weird. Not good weird, annoying weird.”

“You don’t have any memory of this?”

“That’s…me…at least it looks like me. Have you guys been spying on me?”

“This is a still from cell phone footage someone took at the flea market on November 11th. You don’t remember this incident?”

“I’m pretty sure if I was screaming in the food court with my tits out and covered in paint I’d have remembered it. Is this some sort of deep fake or something?”

“Hang on, let me pull the video up.”

“The time of judgment is nigh! Your reckless consumption has pleased the Great Glutton Who Consumes the World! You have filled the air with poisons! You have tainted the seas with plastics! All in your desire for more. More. MORE! ENJOY THE END OF YOUR FEAST FOR THE GLUTTON KNOCKS AND NO DOOR SHALL BAR-”

“You don’t have any memory of that?…Mx. Callingham? Mx. Callingham? Hey, Steve, get a doctor, would you? She’s passed out. Let the record show that person of interest Alex Callingham went catatonic at approximately 17:15 on Tuesday, November…”

“Alex isn’t here right now, Agent Baker.”

“What?”

“Oh, you think she’s playing a game with you. Or she suffers from DID and doesn’t realize it. That would be comforting wouldn’t it?”

“Am I…am I speaking with the Glutton?”

“Oh no. No, I am merely a harbinger. The herald of destruction. You cannot prevent what is to come, Alex was only a key to an already rusty gate. The Glutton is coming, Agent Baker.”

“What does he, what does it want? Can you tell me that?”

“What does any glutton want? To consume. To possess. To devour. Your orgy of excess on your world has brought His attention. You should be honored that your depravity should be so exceptional that He noticed.”

“How do we stop this? How do we keep him…”

“You cannot stop Him any more than you can stop the stars from burning, Agent Baker.”

“Surely he can be reasoned with.”

“Did you reason with the turkey you ate for lunch, Agent Baker? Or the cow your lovely wife made for dinner last night? They did not want to be consumed, Agent Baker, any more than you do. But consumed they were. Just as we all shall be.”

“…”

“Go home to your lovely wife, Agent Baker. Hold her and your children close. The Glutton is coming and the end is nigh.”

“Steve! Steve! I need you in here right now, with twenty-five milligrams of thorazine…”

“Doug? What the hell’s going on here?”

“I don’t know! I thought that table was bolted down!”

“It was bolted down! How did she…”

“A shame your wife will have to die alone, Agent Baker. She had such a lovely dinner waiting for you.”

“Code Gray! This is Agent Doug Baker, we have a Code Gray in Room 204, I repeat Code Gray!”

“Get down you crazy bitch!”

“Why won’t the door open?”

“Code Gray! Any and all assistance to Room 204, I repeat Code Gray!”

“…”

“Hello? Is anyone there?… Please, I don’t know where I am. Is anyone there?”

DeepSeek Blocked! Expert Explains Why & What To Do Now

My ex and I were traveling to Cozumel for vacation. I had just been pulled aside by customs because a dog sniffed an apple core in my bag.

He left me at customs without knowing the cause because he was worried about losing our luggage on the carousel. (You know—the one that goes round and round again until you grab it?)

After customs cleared me, I looked up to see that he was on the wrong side of the carousel to get the luggage 🙄. And, he wouldn’t look toward me so I went to the correct side and gathered it up. All of it.

He finally saw me waiting for the second customs screen to open. He walked ahead of me and stood in line while I dragged the all of the luggage behind me.

When we get to the front of the line I was tired and struggling. He approached the customs officer at the podium. He left me behind at the “wait here” sign to gather our things.

When you travel with a companion, you’re supposed to stay with them. So this sweet Customs Officer, a teeny Mayan woman, was completely confused when my ex handed her OUR documents stating there were supposed to be two of us.

She looked at him and asked who he was traveling with. He got confused and then gestures toward me and says, “oh, her.”

As I approach the podium, the woman looks at me carrying all the baggage and then looks my ex up and down with scrutiny.

This angel from God, a customs officer, can hardly see over the podium she stares at his 6’1” 240lb frame, looks him straight in his eyes finally says: “You mean, your QUEEN?”

I will forever remember her saying those words. Because in that moment I saw my worth from someone else’s view.

Indian Potatoes

ksnip 20250204 121353
ksnip 20250204 121353

Ingredients

  • 8 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 3/4 teaspoon yellow asafetida powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground rosemary
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
  • 3 cups sour cream
  • 1 tablespoon melted butter
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon sweet paprika
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Instructions

  1. Boil the potato slices in lightly salted water in a saucepan until they are cooked but firm. Remove and drain.
  2. Add the olive oil to a medium size saucepan, over moderate heat and when hot, add the asafetida. Sauté briefly; add the rosemary, pepper and turmeric and stir briefly.
  3. Add the sour cream, melted butter, salt and water. Whisk it into a smooth sauce and remove from the heat.
  4. Combine the potato slices and sour cream sauce in a mixing bowl.
  5. Pour the mixture into a casserole dish, sprinkle with paprika, and place in the top of a preheated 325 degrees F oven.
  6. Bake for 30 minutes or until the top is golden brown.
  7. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve hot.

Thoughts On Musk’s Raid Of USAID

Secretary of State Marco Rubio has announced to reconfigure U.S. foreign policy from a unipolar view to a multi-polar concept of strong states.

But, as Brian McDonald warns, that does not mean that the U.S. has given up hope of being the biggest dog in town:

A Washington that stops pretending to rule the world and starts playing smart could be a tougher competitor for Beijing and Moscow than the one we’ve seen desperately clinging to a crumbling ‘rules-based order.’ The era of unipolarity might be over, but the game is far from done.

‘The game is far from done’ can also be said about Elon Musk’s raid of USAID:

The Trump administration and its allies moved to tighten control of the U.S. Agency for International Development over the weekend, signaling an intent to act forcefully to bring the U.S. foreign policy apparatus in line with the president’s “America First” approach to engaging with the world.

Over the weekend, Musk repeatedly denigrated USAID without offering evidence that those working there were corrupt. On X, he called the long-standing government agency “evil” and a “viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America.”“USAID is a criminal organization,” he added. “Time for it to die.”

Established in 1961 by President John F. Kennedy, USAID oversees a vast portfolio of programs designed to provide humanitarian relief, combat poverty, support global health and more.

The rarely spoken of ‘and more’ part of USAID involves billion of dollars for regime change operations with the help of ‘civil society’ manipulations via U.S. subsidized media and Non-Government Organizations.

The Trump administration will kill parts of that and reintegrate the rest of USAID into the state department. The CIA offshot National Endowment for Democracy (NED) will likely meet a similar fate.

In their current configuration USAID and NED are under institutionalized congressional oversight. Taking away their independence by putting them under executive control will increase the White House’ power. Neither is likely to completely stop their dirty work but it will become more difficult to detect and expose it.

Trump’s MAGA is not against doing regime changes in foreign countries. Its main beef with USAID is about its abuse by the Democrats which pushed it to promote their ideologies and to incite foreign societies against Trump.

In a world where the U.S. is no longer trying to be the unilateral power, regime change may not longer be needed that much. In a multi-polar world the U.S. does no longer need to create and confront adversaries but can restrict itself to coerce allies to pay up via tariffs, weapon sales or otherwise. Pax Americana may well become Tax Americana.

 

Posted by b at 16:46 UTC | Comments (159)

We met when we were 11 yrs old. We went through everything together. She was best friend, confidant and sister. We were each others maids of honor. Our daughters were even born on the same day, 8 years apart. What an amazing surprise, huh?

33 years after we met, her husband said something inappropriate to me during a “friends night” when we were briefly alone. My best friend had dealt with this behavior from him for years and always seemed to make an excuse for him. However, he had never tried that on me until then. I was recently divorced and I guess he thought I was an easy target.

I brushed him off and walked away in shock. It took all I had to muster up the nerve to tell her. The next day, I told her what happened and held my breath. I was hurt but not surprised with her reaction. “He was probably drunk… you aren’t even his type.. it was a joke.”

Everything changed after that. We spoke less. We texted less. It was a slow fade. It’s been 9 years since we last spoke. I hear she’s still with that dirtbag. Not having her in my life has hurt like hell and I still miss her. I think of her especially on our daughters’ birthdays. I hope you are living your best life, V.

A little different….I am retired from the Navy and working in a small hospital when the ambulance brings in a biker body. Really busted up, most likely died instantly.

Anyway, me and another aid wheel the body down to the morgue and the diener (morgue assistant) grabs his scissors and reaches to cut off the bikers ‘colours’ (Motorcycle jacket). I stop him and carefully remove the jacket without cutting it.

Photographs are taken, pockets checked, and the diener permits me to take the jacket.

A couple of evenings later I take the jacket, in a plastic bag, and drive to the clubhouse of the biker gang.

The guard/gate keeper asks what I’m doing there. I explain and he goes in and talks to someone. I become one of the very rare non-members to be invited in.

Respectfully I explain about the diener about to cut up the jacket and asked if anyone would like to take it. I also promised that as all the legal issues and procedures with the body were completed I’d call someone so they could put the jacket back on their brother’s body before burial.

I was always welcomed to visit the club house (called ahead) but only did that a couple of times. Whenever I met one of them in a restaurant or pizza house I was treated with great respect.

Trump’s tariffs should not have much effect on the US real estate market. Rising cost of raw materials could raise construction costs.

US retail properties and offices are already suffering from high vacancy rates and low valuations. There are problems of refinancing. Many property owners have walked away to cut their losses, and leave it to the banks, the mortgagors, to take over the properties.

Home mortgages are running at about 7%. This has caused the market to be sedate. But Trump has said he will want or force the Fed to lower interest rates. You may be aware that the Fed has been fighting inflation in the last 2 years, and became more cautious in recent months.

I am not sure how this works. The Fed may not have full control of interest rates. Bond yields have risen in recent weeks. 10-year Treasuries are pushing 5%.

There will be inflationary pressures if he gets his way. There may also be pressures on the dollar exchange rate. Its strength had been due to high interest rates.

Trump’s tariffs would be inflationary, but there are now arguments that they may not be as inflationary as thought. The different assessments may be due to different assumptions about how high may be his tariffs. We have no details yet. So, stay tune.

About 4 years ago my daughter, 17 or 18 at the time was driving us to a relatives house. Admittedly she’s not (or wasn’t) a great driver and cut a guy off. The guy leaned on his horn and gave us the finger. My daughter waved as to say “sorry” and we continued driving.
about 1/2 mile up the road the guy crossed the lane, passed us, leaning on his horn again with his finger out the window. We come up to a red light and his car door opens, as does the passenger car door. 2 men get our and are screaming at us. The driver pops the trunk reaches inside and starts walking toward us with something (looked like a little league sized bat).
My daughter is freaking out now.
I reach to my hip, pull my S&W 3913 and tap the windshield with it as they’re screaming walking towards us from about 10 feet away from the front of the car. Both turned around and got back in their car and drove away. My next call was to the local police non emergency number. Explained what happened (including my daughter’s poor driving), explained that I had a CCW. gave them my name and cell number.

never heard from them or the drivers again. That afternoon we bought my daughter some OC spray. On here 21st birthday I signed her up for a CCW course and is now legal to carry in a multiple states as a 22 year old single woman living alone in a big US city (she had been shooting with me since she was about 5, starting with bb guns, air guns, 22’s and progressed through higher caliber pistols and rifles through the years)

China never looks to beat anybody with technological innovation and growth

China always looks to use technology and development, to improve the life of their people and maximize the productivity of China

China isn’t a shallow country

It doesn’t live for plaudits from the world or live for appreciation

China has only a few goals and one of them is maximizing welfare of their people

Deepseek as a open source, helps train Deepseek and helps Deepseek learn more and more in a different context

Here is Deepseek giving me a Telugu poem, it’s transliteration and it’s meaning

Meta AI was unable to do so


The More Deepseek is used, the more it can evolve and the more it can become the ‘Google’ of the 21st century and become indispensable

India must make use of Deepseek and develop AI based applications that make people’s lives better

Not to create hair cutting apps and make instant billionaires

DeepSeek exposes a fundamental advantage of China’s system: their whole economy is open source

Yes. If there is ONE video that you need to watch, this is it.

The entirety of China is open source.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Chatty Farmer: A Tale of Piñatas, Vampires, and Feline Diplomacy

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of mystery, madness, and one very talkative piñata. Today’s story is one of peculiar behavior, unlikely alliances, and a cat who proved that even the strangest situations can be resolved with a little wit and a lot of patience. So, grab your sense of humor and a bag of candy (just in case), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Chatty Farmer: A Tale of Piñatas, Vampires, and Feline Diplomacy.


The Farmer’s Peculiar Behavior

It all began on a quiet morning when the farmer emerged from the barn, carrying a piñata under his arm. This was not unusual in itself—Bartholomew the piñata had been a fixture on the farm for as long as anyone could remember. What was unusual was the fact that the farmer was having a full-blown conversation with it.

“So, Bartholomew,” the farmer said, setting the piñata down on a hay bale, “what do you think about crop rotation? I’ve been considering switching to a three-field system, but I’m not sure if it’s worth the effort.”

The piñata, of course, said nothing. But the farmer nodded as if it had responded. “Hmm, good point. I hadn’t considered the impact on soil nutrients. You’re a real genius, Bartholomew.”

The animals watched in stunned silence. Doris the hen was the first to break it. “What in the name of cluck is going on?!” she squawked, flapping her wings in alarm.

“Cluck!” Harriet echoed, tilting her head.

“Head!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a pile of straw.

Even Rufus the dog, usually unflappable, looked concerned. “Is the farmer… talking to a piñata?”

“Talking!” Ditto the kitten echoed, popping up from behind a hay bale.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, flicking my tail. “This is serious. The farmer is clearly losing his mind.”


Sir Whiskerton Investigates

Determined to get to the bottom of the farmer’s peculiar behavior, I decided to investigate. I approached Bartholomew the piñata, who was sitting on the hay bale with his usual blank expression.

“Alright, Bartholomew,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s your game? Why is the farmer talking to you?”

The piñata, of course, said nothing. But I could have sworn I saw a flicker of mischief in his painted eyes.

“Fine,” I said, flicking my tail. “If you won’t talk, I’ll have to bring in reinforcements.”


Enter Count Catula

I knew I couldn’t handle this case alone, so I enlisted the help of Count Catula, the farm’s resident vampire cat. Count Catula, with his flair for the dramatic and his love of all things mysterious, was the perfect ally for this peculiar investigation.

“Ah, Sir Whiskerton,” Count Catula said, sweeping his velvet cape dramatically. “What brings you to my lair of eternal darkness?”

“The farmer is talking to a piñata,” I said, getting straight to the point.

Count Catula raised an eyebrow. “A piñata, you say? How… intriguing. Perhaps this Bartholomew is more than he seems. Let us investigate.”


The Great Piñata Interrogation

Together, Sir Whiskerton and Count Catula confronted Bartholomew. Count Catula, ever the dramatic, loomed over the piñata with his best vampire glare. “Speak, Bartholomew!” he intoned. “What dark secrets do you hold? What sorcery have you wrought upon the farmer?”

The piñata, of course, said nothing. But Count Catula wasn’t deterred. “Perhaps he requires… persuasion,” he said, baring his tiny fangs.

“Wait,” I said, holding up a paw. “Let’s try a different approach.”

I turned to Bartholomew and spoke in a calm, measured tone. “Bartholomew, we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to understand what’s going on. Why is the farmer talking to you?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Bartholomew spoke. “Because I’m the only one who listens,” he said in a soft, papery voice.

The animals gasped. “He talks!” Doris squawked.

“Talks!” Harriet echoed.

“Echoed!” Lillian added, fainting again.


The Moral of the Story

As the shock wore off, Bartholomew explained that the farmer had been feeling lonely and overwhelmed. With no one else to talk to, he had turned to the piñata as a confidant. “I may not be able to respond,” Bartholomew said, “but sometimes, just having someone to talk to is enough.”

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Everyone needs someone to listen to them, even if that someone is a piñata. And while it’s easy to judge others for their peculiar behavior, a little understanding and compassion can go a long way.


A Happy Ending

With the mystery solved, the animals decided to help the farmer feel less lonely. They took turns spending time with him, listening to his stories, and offering their support. Even Count Catula, in his own dramatic way, made an effort to be more present.

As for Bartholomew, he remained a beloved member of the farm, though he no longer had to bear the burden of being the farmer’s sole confidant. The farmer, touched by the animals’ kindness, returned to his usual self—though he still occasionally chatted with Bartholomew, just for old times’ sake.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new friendships, and hopefully, no more talking piñatas. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

Europe Just Admitted: “The Factories Are Gone Forever”

The overly washed pant-pocket tissues that clutter my desk today

I was sitting in my Brother-in-law’s fancy new Mercedes SUV a couple of months ago. Beside me was my Father-in-law and I was just sat there thinking (as I do) and wondering what life must be like for him. In the 2nd half of his life he’s gone from bicycle in small village without power to a Mercedes SUV cruising around in a city of 8 million! How does he deal with that change, the culture shock?

I looked out the window and watched the ever present old Chinese men playing Mahjong on a small table on the footpath, a small crowd looking on and no doubt indulging in a bit of gambling lol. How do they deal with it?

The old ladies dancing to tinny music. They look comfortable in their gang.

Then the huge buildings all lit up with LED lighting effects. One had big virtual balloons drifting up its surface.

They’ve seen MASSIVE change in their lifetimes, more than we can conceive and do you think they can’t handle a reversal? They can still play Mahjong, still dance. My Brother-in-law can even keep his SUV because Chinese follow the advice my Father gave to me – pay cash for depreciating assets. He’ll have to sell his house and move back to the cashed up house in the village. Think he won’t?

When my wife met me she had just got divorced. Her ex had taken everything – 3 houses, 5 companies, 2 cars – Chinese divorce laws are shit. She kept her Gucci bags and mink coats. My total wealth was a 20kg bag with my coffee machine and some clothes in it. Drifting around Asia. Her family scraped around and found enough for her to buy another house and now we have 3 houses again, we have 2 nice cars and 2 companies. Shit happens and the Chinese just pull together get over it and get on with life. Start again.

You Americans are in la la land if you think Chinese don’t have the capacity to suffer or put up with hardship and THAT is what’s going to win this trade war.

I’m turning 91 this month.

Every morning, I wake up and say, Hey, I’m still alive!

The morning air here in the mountains is wonderful.

Most of the trees around me are the ones I planted 50 years ago, they’ve ve grown huge.

My favorite is the Money Tree, which is said to bring wealth and happiness.

I love breakfast, especially all the fresh fruits ,mangoes, papayas, pineapples, bananas, and strawberries.

My favorite pastime is Quora. I’ve been on it for eight years now.

Since Im more fluent in Japanese, I tend to use it more often.

I owe my good health to over 20 years of line dancing, which I did throughout my 70s and 80s.

I’ve never smoked a single cigarette, but I did enjoy a fair amount of alcohol in my youth.

I’ve been blessed with a younger partner20 years younger whom I’ve been with for the past 15 years.

My son, who is now 65, brings me fresh vegetables every week.

My partner gave me three dogs, but he takes care of them ,I just play with them.

I recently renewed my driver’s license for another two years, though I don’t drive much anymore.

It’s much easier when someone else does the driving.

I moved to Hawaii right after graduating from college,

and since then, I’ve traveled to 75 countries.

I’m not bragging ,Im just happy to have had those experiences.

So, that’s pretty much how I’m doing at 91.

I think I’m happier now than ever, and I’m grateful for everything.

90th birthday with my best friend Who is 75year old. Her mother lived to be 100 years.

In the early 1980s, our family moved to a small town in Texas. One day, my husband told me to expect a FedEx delivery while he was at work. Since I had errands to do, I was concerned that the driver would come by while the toddlers and I were gone. I just hoped we would make it back in time.

We had places to go and things to do, and mid-morning found us at the library, where the kids were watching a puppet show, and I was browsing the bookshelves. Out of nowhere, a man tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Could you sign for this, please?” It was the FedEx driver!

I signed, and said, “What a coincidence that you should have another delivery at the library!” “Oh, it’s no coincidence,” he replied. “It’s Wednesday, and I thought you’d be here for the preschool program. My wife is the librarian, and she says you almost never miss.”

“It’s Getting WORSE And WORSE” | Richard Wolff

As far as I can tell, they are both focused on using LLMs to build AI. OpenAI has demonstrated the capabilities of LLMs and DeepSeek has demonstrated how to train and operate LLMs more efficiently.

I don’t think LLMs are going to get us to AGI, so I don’t think either of them will own the future.

If I were a betting person, I’d put money on Francois Chollet’s new company, ndea.com.

Ben Goertzel’s organization is also in the running – I’m not sure what to call it but SingularityNET is a good place to start. Most of the focus right now is on knowledge-graph infrastructure called Hyperon and Metta.

Both are looking at LLMs as one component of a larger system, rather than as something that will solve all problems if we can just scale up further.

I had a maid that came every couple of weeks, while I was at work. She was paid hourly and I left a stack of money for her to pay herself.

One day I forgot something at home, so I went back home at 9:15. I picked it up, and noted that the maid wasn’t there yet.

I thought about calling her and seeing if she was still coming, but decided it was too much hassle.

I went back to work, and came home after work, to find a note saying that she had worked straight through from 8:30 to 4:30, and that she had washed the clothes I had sitting on top of the dryer, and charged me an extra hours pay, because it was outside of her duties. She left them in the dryer.

These were clothes that I had washed and dried, but hadn’t folded and put away.

I was paying her by the hour, and I didn’t ask her to wash the already clean clothes.

I had left at 9:15 so I knew that she lied about getting there at 8:30.

I called her and told her I wouldn’t need her services again.

In the past she had just written down, 6,7 or 8 hours and took that amount of money. I have no idea why she thought she should get extra for washing clothes. She usually charged me for 7 hours.

I found a friend of a friend, who agreed to clean my place every two weeks. My vacuum has a steam cleaner attachment. The first time she came, she steam cleaned my carpet and couch, they looked awesome. I could tell by the marks on the carpet that she had moved my bed and couch to clean under them. Then she did the usual dusting, wiping, scrubbing , mopping and cleaning.

The second time she came she washed my walls, plus the usual.

The third time she came she washed all of my windows inside and out.

The fourth time she came, she emptied all of my cupboards, washed some of the dishes in the dishwasher, and wiped out all of my cupboards. Then put everything back, exactly as she found it.

The fifth time she came, she cleaned my refrigerator, freezer stove and oven.

The sixth time she came, she left me a note, that she had only done the regular cleaning, it took 3 hours, and it wasn’t worth her while to only work 3 hours.

We talked and the next time she cleaned out all the shelves in my walk-in closets, and dusted them, took down all the light fixtures and cleaned them.

Then we set a schedule. I had floor to ceiling windows, with a spectacular view. So she agreed to clean the windows inside and out every second trip. Then steam clean the carpets, wash the walls , clean the refrigerator etc, on in-between trips.

My house looked spectacular and she only charged me for 6 hours a day, instead of 7, and she did so much more.

In hindsight, I knew my first cleaner was scamming me.

But I couldn’t believe that she had the nerve to tell me that she charged me an hour extra to wash my clothes..

Undone at the Seams

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Daryn Schvimmer

“Pass me that eyeball.”

 

“No, the one on your left, the hazel ones not the green ones.”

“I don’t know. Do you really want the creature to look identical to Perry?”

 

“What’s the point of defying the laws of nature if we’re not getting the real deal back?”

“If it were the real deal–here’s your goddamn eye, Roger–why are we using the torso of a random man we found in the river last week, the arms of a recently deceased Leonard from next door, and the legs–ugh, I don’t even want to talk about the legs. The only thing this monster shares with Perry is his face–and one of his eyes.”

 

“You could’ve said no when I asked you to help me. I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“God, Roger, you think I don’t miss him too?”

 

“I never said you didn’t. Now help me sew these legs to the torso.”

“It’s just–do you think he’d want this?”

 

“You’re saying this, yet you’re helping me.”

“Well, if you did it by your lonesome, the cross-stitching would be atrocious. This thing wouldn’t be able to take its first steps without being a pile of corpse parts and unspooling thread.”

 

“It’s not my fault I got into chemistry rather than sewing like you and Perry did.”

“He had the steadiest hand I ever knew. He’s the one who taught me what I know.”

 

“Heh. That’s sweet. It makes you think Perry was preparing you for this day.”

“You think Perry knew he was going to get flattened by a lorry?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that! I was trying to be nice.”

“You were being morbid. Perry didn’t teach me to sew so I could stitch him back together using pieces of corpses you looted from.”

 

“It’s funny. Perry’s body was squished to hell. It was all infected and gross…Terry couldn’t even look at him for long without ralphing. Yet…his face was strangely okay. It made me feel like I was still looking at him, but this time, it was me who was the big brother, and he was tiny and small, looking up at me, awaiting my help.”

“Do you remember a lot from when you were small? Perry basically raised you.”

 

“Of course I remember that. Why the fuck do you think I’m doing this? Do you think I like defying the laws of nature! Do you think I’m just a sick fuck–I miss my fucking brother, Caroline!”

“How do you think I feel, Roger! He was my brother too! It was the two of us for nearly seven years before Dad remarried, and suddenly you were in the picture, and Dad and our Stepmom couldn’t be bothered. Perry was there for me, all those years. He was there for me until you took him away. He spent so much time looking after you that our weekly sewing lessons became monthly. Then once every three months. Then once every six. I got less and less time the more you grew up and demanded more and more. He was taking you to science fairs, carting you everywhere and anywhere so you could go to your gifted kid programs–

 

“They were scholarship programs for kids gifted in the STEM field! Was I supposed to just not go so you could sew with Perry! At least you had other people besides Perry! You were popular, every kid in the neighborhood liked you. He was the only one I ever had. He was the only person who didn’t make me feel like a fucking freak for liking the things I did. He never thought my ideas or my experiments were strange…he just…he wanted me to be happy. And I was. As long as he was there.”

“I was there too.”

 

“Barely. You hate me. The only reason you even agreed to this was because you love Perry. And so do I. And that’s all we ever were to each other. Two people who loved their brother.”

“I went to your science fairs too, Roger. Don’t you remember? I was there when your study on postmortem heart activity among frogs won an honorable mention. I sewed you–”

 

“A plush frog. I remember. I…I named him Gregor.”

“After the pea-plant guy, right?”

 

“Yes.”

“Roger, I know we never talked as much as we should’ve when we were younger. I just…I was jealous of you. You had all these great things and Perry bragged about you…and who am I? I’m just the middle kid. The sister who has friends, but nothing of her own. I’m not even as good a sewer as Perry, who owned his own embroidery shop for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to be able to keep up with him. It’s going to shut down and it’ll all be my fault because I can’t be as good as him. I was always hesitant with you…I resented you for taking his time because I needed him too.”

 

“Caroline…I…I still have Gregor, you know. And Avogadro the crochet owl. And Rosalind the stuffed raccoon. After every fair…you made me a present. Even when you didn’t go because of school events or…you didn’t talk to me but you showed me. I…I asked you here for a reason. I could try and put Perry together again, but I knew only one person could stitch him up right. I was never good at sewing like you or Perry. But you are good. I…I wish I thanked you more. I wish I tried more too. I thought I could just hide behind Perry my whole life…you just seemed so far in your own world.”

“Perry had his own world too. Before Dad remarried he had friends and played varsity ball–but then…he took care of you and I. No one else seemed to want to do it. But he did it anyway. He just…he gave everything up for us, did you know that?”

 

“No. I never–I just was glad he was there at all. Perry…why’d you have to leave? I can’t go off to college without knowing you’re here too!”

“Roger, you upset my stitches–hey, what’re you doing?! Don’t throw the lever, we aren’t ready to–”

 

“He’s not moving. I’m doing it again!”

“Roger…the stitching is coming undone. It’s unspooling and frayed–if you keep trying to shock this thing it’ll come undone–”

 

“–NO! It HAS to work! C’mon, Perry! Please, don’t fall apart!”

“Roger. It’s fraying, and the seams will never hold. It’s still dead…it’s over–”

 

“–One last try! I can’t lose him! This is the only way I could think–he did everything for me, I have to help him! Please, c’mon!”

“Roger. Stop. It’s over. Please. For Perry’s sake.”

 

“It’s not going to work. Hehehe. Of course not. I just…I just created a pile of barely-connected corpse parts in the garage. This isn’t Frankenstein and the frog study I did never lead anywhere…I just…I need him, Caroline!”

“Roger…c’mere.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just want him to come back. I thought I could help him like he helped me. All I did was rob graves and make you waste your thread…and I made you upset. I made you do this horrible thing with me.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, I came here on my own. We’re family. And…maybe…I wanted to see if it’d work. I miss him more than I can say. The shop–”

 

“It’ll run. You’ll manage it well. You’re good with people. Everyone loves you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Roger. And I know that Perry loved us both…despite the way it felt sometimes…he still would sew with me. Even if he had less time. He wanted to do it. He loved both of us–he sacrificed everything to make sure we’d never feel alone.”

 

“Yeah…I just wish…he could’ve led the life he deserved. I wanted to give that to him.”

“I know. You did what you know how to do…and it was a sweet thing. Now…we just have to unstitch and return these corpse parts by tonight. Then, you pack for college.”

 

“O-okay…you’ll help me, right? And when I go to college…you’ll write to me, right? A-and send updates on the shop?”

“Of course.”

If your IQ is lower than 80, I could understand how you could fall for this. If however you have mastered the art of tying your own shoe-laces, you might think “Hang on, don’t we produce our own drugs like meth and crack?” or “Didn’t we invent Angel Dust and LSD?”. If any country has a drug problem, it’s up to that country to deal with it. Same with immigration, if you don’t want people coming to your country, enforce the laws you already have and arrest the people giving them work, nobody will come if they know they’ll starve. When a convicted criminal and documented liar tells you something, maybe take 5 minutes out of your busy schedule and check if it’s actually true. Here’s a starting point: the USA does NOT subsidise Canada, it does NOT subsidise or protect Europe, Panama does not “rip off” American ships, they charge the same tolls from all shipping regardless of nationality, the US Navy get to transit the canal at cost, the same as every other Navy in the world. No-one is jealous of your “Freedom”, many countries have far more freedom than you do. Greenland and Iceland are separate countries, and neither are for sale. The Gulf of Mexico has been called that since before the US was founded, and it’s still called that.

Allow me to bypass the experts on the economy and politics to answer this question from a perspective where I have some expertise.

Trump’s tariff war has done massive damage to the relationship between Canada and America. The damage is so severe that I am comfortable predicting that it will not be reparable. When things happen that are out of Canada’s control, something fascinating follows.

Canada is forced to examine what happened from a personal perspective. What did Canada ignore about the relationship with the United States? What made Canada so complacent about living next door to a country that creates wars that aren’t their own wars? You know, wars that kill people, destroy infrastructure, create hatred towards the United States. Why did Canada blindly trust that the USA would never turn on us? How did we get to this place of complacency and vulnerability that so many Prime Ministers had warned us about? Liken this to a marriage you trusted. A spouse that you believed had your back, would never harm or betray you. Someone you trusted was a “soft place to land”. Then suddenly and unexpectedly left you, divorced you, and tried to take all the joint assets of your life together.

Divorce trauma is a real thing, with symptoms consistent with post traumatic stress. Canada now has “Tariff Trauma”, identified by several stages- Denial (Canada has been sleeping next to an elephant and ignored the obvious risks),Bargaining (Canada added measures of border security despite illegal alien and fentanyl statistics that proved Canada was not the main source of illegal immigration or fentanyl), Anger (NO, Canada is not for sale!), and where we recently arrived, Depression (WTF happened?). The final stage will be Acceptance as Canada moves on with tough lessons learned.

To quote Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who said yesterday, “Canadians are perplexed”, I would agree, and add that perplexed does not adequately capture the multitude of other “tariff trauma”emotions Canadians are experiencing. Even if the tariffs were removed before they gained traction, it would do nothing to repair the damage already done to our relationship.

However, there is a silver lining! Canada is now awake (I said awake, Canada has always been “woke” and in Canada woke is not a dirty word). Canada knows beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it is time to break the pseudo trusted alliance with America, away from the whims of a deranged president, toward economic freedom. Canada will quickly find new markets (some have identified themselves already) and will become more financially independent, even if that means allowing foreign investment that was previously denied because America doesn’t like Canadian relationships with other countries. You know, like a jealous spouse.

Canada has its own identity that eschews the USA (even more obvious when Trump floated the idea of a “51st State”). Now it is time to make new friends, open new bank accounts, apply for new credit cards, and start dating again. From that new position, Canada will watch “the ex, USA” stumble in the dark (a serious possibility that Canada will contribute to this), with no guilt or remorse. The US will get what it has coming, and Canada will witness karmic retribution from a safe place, never again having to make excuses for America’s reprehensible behaviour.

NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia | Jeffrey Sachs & Joanna Lei

1978 – My mother remarried when I started high school to a man in the military. I was uprooted from my excellent schools and sent to less-than-excellent schools.

My Junior year I transferred into my 4th high school. The guidance counselor who met with us to decide my classes asked “Your grades were excellent here, but then you got a C, what happened?”

“My mother got married and I changed schools. My new biology teacher graded me like I had received a zero the first 4 weeks of class, even though I blew the curve the rest of the year”

The guidance said “I would like you to take the PSAT. That will help us decide where to put you”.

My stepfather went on a screaming tantrum “She doesn’t need it! She’s a girl! She’s just going to get married! I won’t pay for it! etc, etc, etc”

The guidance counselor calmly replied “The school can pay for it” Looked at me and asked “Do you want to?”

YES!! YES!! Please!!!!

I got a National Merit Scholarship from that PSAT. That guidance counselor got both my ACT and SAT paid for.

My parents kicked me out when I was 17 (after I graduated high school) because I wasn’t going to marry the person they had picked out for me and wanted to go to college.

The US don’t allow it to be sold. But that is a very good news for China. This means Chinese are motivated to make Chips better than Nvidia very soon! China will make it cheaper better and faster and it will sell it around the world including the US ! And it will bankrupt Nvidia. And do not blame China, blame your policy. I.4 billion highly industrious, very hardworking and driven people who could get to the dark side of the moon and back. And made better space center, higher resolution GPS call Beidou, a better version of Chat GPT at 1/1000 of your cost is certainly able to outperform Nvidia!

Girlfriend Felt Entitled To Equity In My House, Has MELTDOWN When I Dump Her Instead

LOL man you’re so mean.

C’mon, I like American food too. If you just wanted to see some good Chinese food, just ask. There’s no need to be sarcastic and poke fun of American food LOL.

I won’t feed the troll so I will only show you bad and disgusting food in China.

Below are the commonly complained bad food they serve for lunch in the cafeteria at my company in China.

Beans.

Lamb chops.

Tofu a bolognesa.

Jiaozi, steamed bass with seasoning, double cooked pork, some cooked vegetables with scrambled eggs and black fungus.

We bitch about our corporate food being bad, sometimes even disgusting, but who are we to judge when they only cost $0.14 per meal and is a buffet?

The Last Phone Call

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Charlie Christmann

“Mom! Finally! I thought our weekly calls from the station were pre-scheduled. I was worried.””Hey sweetie. Sorry about that. Things have been… a bit chaotic up here. Solar radiation’s been causing issues with communications.””You usually call on Sunday. It’s Wednesday.””You know how space is. Unpredictable. The ionosphere is wreaking havoc on everything up here. It took me a while to get through with the available channels restricted.””I guess. I hadn’t heard about a radiation storm. Any way, how’s the research going?””Can’t complain. How’s school?””Weird. I’ve noticed a lot of strange stuff happening lately. For example, we were setting up the club telescopes in the park on Monday when some official showed up. He said he was with the Space Weather Center. Told Mr. Hays they were expecting a massive solar flare and had to shut down all civilian solar observations. Said they didn’t want any students getting blinded if it happened during observation. Your comms problem isn’t related, is it?””Could be. The SWC must have seen something. There might be…””Wait. That’s completely wrong and Mr. Hays knows it. Solar filters protect our eyes during normal observation. And even the big flares are not that bright at optical wavelengths. Plus, if there really was a huge dangerous flare coming, they’d have issued a public warning. The whole thing makes no sense.””Huh. Maybe the official was simplifying the explanation, or didn’t fully understand…”

 

“For our astronomy club? Come on, Mom, we’re smarter than that. We’re all AP students. Mr. Hays was confused, too. I don’t think he bought it either.”

 

“Sarah… you…”

 

“Why would they bother sending someone in person to a small astronomy club meetup in the park? Why didn’t they just send an email warning to the school or just issue a general public notice. This guy showed up flashing credentials, telling us to pack it in immediately. It makes no sense.”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe they weren’t sure you’d get it in time.”

 

“And Dad… Mom, I’m worried about him. He barely sleeps. I hear him pacing at night. Yesterday morning, I found him asleep at the kitchen table, still in his work clothes.”

 

“Well, you know your dad. He’s… just under a lot of pressure. More than usual lately. Always taking his work too seriously. So… how’s that physics project you were telling me about? ”

 

“It’s going good, Mom. I’ll make an A, like always. But Dad… he let it slip they’re updating deep space tracking systems.”

 

“Yea, I heard that, too. He never was good at keeping secrets.”

 

“All of them? At once? On emergency status?”

 

“Who told you it was emergency status?”

 

“No one. I overheard him on the phone.”

 

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

 

“I just want to know what’s going on. Just tell me.”

 

“I’m doing my best, sweetie…”

 

“But you’re not telling me everything.”

 

“Look, honey, you know I can’t always tell you everything. So, let’s talk about your birthday coming up. Seventeen… wow. I’m sorry I won’t be there. I hear Aunt Paula and your Dad have something special planned.”

 

“Forget my birthday. Something’s wrong. The NASA website’s been down for days. Maintenance they say.”

 

“These things happen. They’re probably just doing upgrades or fixing a server issue. ”

 

“During the same week that all the major observatories stopped updating their web sites?”

 

“Sarah…”

 

“And why did Aunt Paula buy extra supplies?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I dropped by after school yesterday. She was carrying in boxes of food. For her storm shelter, just in case, she said. She also mentioned that you called her yesterday. I’ve been trying to reach you for the last three days. You found time to call her, but didn’t call me?”

 

“Keep Aunt Paula’s phone number handy. It’s always nice to have someone to depend on, just in case.”

 

“Mom, stop. Something’s happening. Just tell me.”

 

“Nothing’s happening. We’re just conducting routine research.”

 

“Then explain the launches. You know, I track this stuff for the astronomy club.”

 

“What?”

 

“Five days ago. China, Russia, and NASA all launched within hours of each other. No warnings, no announcements. All classified payloads? At the same time?”

 

“Honey… uh… It’s likely just coincidence. Sometimes agencies coordinate for unrelated reasons. You know NASA likes to cooperate with other agencies.”

 

“I might have believed that, but amateur astronomers tracked two of the rockets. Posted the trajectory data online. Then their data disappeared. And now those same astronomers aren’t responding to anyone. They’ve gone dark.”

 

“You really need to stop reading conspiracy theories online.”

 

“These aren’t theories. I’ve seen the videos from people who live near the launch sites. Those have been taken down, too.”

 

“…”

 

“I checked the trajectories myself. They’re all going to the ISS, aren’t they. And, why did the ISS change orbit?”

 

“Sarah… NASA’s… it’s complicated. Just some specialized equipment for our research, okay? The Russians are sending up new cosmonauts. The ISS is just performing a standard maneuver, Sarah. Space debris is unpredictable. You know how it is. Nothing you need to worry about.”

 

“Really? China finally claimed it was a weather satellite launch? Why did Russia lie in their announcement today? They said it was engine testing. And why hasn’t NASA said something?”

 

“These things are complicated…”

 

“No one launches secret missions in perfect sync by accident, Mom. Remember when you taught me about Occam’s Razor?”

 

“Sarah…”

 

“And the astronomy forums are going crazy about something near Jupiter. But the posts keep disappearing.”

 

“Internet hoaxes. Don’t believe everything you read online.”

 

“No. No, it’s not. Dad got a call late last night, it woke me up. I got up and saw him make several calls. He looked rattled. Then he told me this morning that he needs to leave for a few days—for work.”

 

“So?”

 

“Mom, I couldn’t help but overhear Dad’s side of the call. He said something about a spacecraft and a ‘collision course.'”

 

“…”

 

“Mom?”

 

“Sarah, it’s not what you think. These conversations are never straightforward. Your dad deals with classified projects all the time. You should get some sleep, honey. It’s late there.”

 

“He’s never acted like this… What’s on a collision course?”

 

“Sarah, please. I… I can’t talk about this right now.”

 

“All those launches, the spacecraft, the deleted information. It’s too much to be a coincidence. They’re hiding something, Mom. And you know…”

 

“Sarah, I—it’s just… stop, okay? ”

 

“You’re not… Mom, are you preparing for something? It’s not just research, is it?”

 

“I can’t have this conversation.”

 

“The Chinese, the Russians, NASA, the ISS… you’re all working together… in secret.”

 

“Sarah, quit it, now.”

 

“You’re not studying anything. You’re trying to stop something.”

 

“Sarah, I can’t do this. I have to go.”

 

“How big is it?”

 

“How big…What?”

 

“The asteroid. That’s what it is, isn’t it? That’s why all the telescopes are shut down. Why everything’s classified. You don’t want people to panic.”

 

“…”

 

“Mom?”

 

“You always were too smart for your own good.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“I have to go.”

 

“Mom, please.”

 

“Don’t tell anyone about this call.”

 

“What?”

 

“I mean it. It’s important. Promise me.”

 

“I promise.”

 

“I love you, Sarah. More than anything. Always remember that, okay? No matter what.”

 

“Mom… are you going to be on that spacecraft?”

 

“…”

 

“Mom, please tell me you’re not.”

 

“Be strong, Sarah, like I know you can. Remember how much I love you, and know that I’m doing everything I can to come back to you. And… stay close to Aunt Paula. Just… just in case.”

 

“Mom… just be careful and come home soon. Mom…”

 

“This call has been terminated.”

 

“I love you too. Stay safe.”

DeepSeek is open-sourced. America’s AI and technologies are closed and protective and protectionist, which it weaponizes without hesitation. No need to go further than the sanctions in the book.

As to America’s “freedom” and “truth”, no need to go further than the weapon of mass destruction in Iraq. If you want something more current, just read the statements by US officials and the reports by the MSM, about the situation of the war in Ukraine.

US and China are in an AI contest. Ruth Porat, CIO of Alphabet, said US has about a l-year lead on chips, but China is equal or leading in the “diffusion of basic capabilities”, which are the applications and implementations of the technology. China has also been granted almost 3 times more AI patents than the US – cumulatively 61% of all AI patents in the years 2012 – 2022, against 21% granted to the US (The AI Index 2024 Annual Report).

No.

It did create the need for a domestic industry of microchips in China.

So instead of moving to silicon valley, Chinese chip engineers can now stay and work in China.

China doesn’t care about the Panama Canal anymore because its trade relations with the US are becoming less important, and may abruptly stop. But this is nothing new, and China has been diversifying away from the US for a long time by increasing trade with the other BRICS+ economies.

The most important single event is the opening of the Chancay port in Peru, which will ship directly between South America and Chinese ports, deliverying food and minerals. This port has no reliance AT ALL on the Panama Canal.

When Rubio talks about the security threat caused by Chinese control of the Panama Canal, he is thinking of the past, when trade relations between the US and China were still important. The Chinese government understands that the US is now going through a difficult time, where it has difficulty accepting that the US is not as powerful as it once was, and is using the Panama Canal as a red herring to distract Americans from more immediate challenges.

So why doesn’t Rubio make more noise about the Chancay port in Peru? Chances are most likely because he has no power to do anything about it.

It is better to keep quiet than to reveal his weakness.

Sir Whiskerton and the Dragon with a Bellyache: A Tale of Fire, Friendship, and Feline Diplomacy

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of myth, mystery, and one very gassy dragon. Today’s story is one of unexpected friendships, culinary creativity, and a cat who proved that even the fiercest creatures can be tamed with a little kindness (and a lot of antacid). So, grab your sense of humor and a fire extinguisher, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Dragon with a Bellyache: A Tale of Fire, Friendship, and Feline Diplomacy.


The Legend of the Mountain Dragon

For as long as anyone could remember, the low mountain that loomed over the farms had been the subject of legend. It was said that a mighty Chinese dragon lived deep within its caves—a flying, fire-breathing beast with scales that shimmered like gold and eyes that glowed like embers. The farmers told stories of the dragon’s fearsome roars and the occasional plume of smoke that rose from the mountain’s peak. But no one had ever actually seen the dragon… until now.

It was a quiet afternoon when the dragon made its grand appearance. The sky darkened, the ground shook, and a shadow passed over the farms. Then, with a roar that could be heard for miles, the dragon descended. It was a sight to behold: long and serpentine, with shimmering scales, a flowing mane, and a pair of majestic whiskers that rivaled even Sir Whiskerton’s. Its name, as it would soon be revealed, was Longwei—which, roughly translated, means “Dragon of Great Power.”

The animals were terrified. The hens clucked in panic, the dogs howled in fear, and even the pigs oinked in alarm. Only Sir Whiskerton remained unfazed. After all, cats aren’t afraid of anything—not even fire-breathing dragons.


Sir Whiskerton Meets Longwei

As the other animals cowered in the barn, Sir Whiskerton sauntered out to meet the dragon. “Well, well,” I said, flicking my tail. “You must be Longwei. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The dragon blinked its glowing eyes and let out a low rumble. “And you must be Sir Whiskerton,” it said in a deep, resonant voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” I said, smirking. “All good things, I hope.”

Longwei chuckled, sending a small puff of smoke into the air. “Mostly. But let’s not waste time with pleasantries. I have a problem, and I need your help.”

“A problem?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of problem could a mighty dragon possibly have?”

Longwei sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. “It’s my stomach. I’ve been eating all the hot peppers from the surrounding farms, and now I have the most terrible indigestion. I can’t stop breathing fire, and it’s… well, it’s embarrassing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, let me get this straight. You, a fearsome dragon, are suffering from a case of… spicy heartburn?”

Longwei nodded, his whiskers drooping. “It’s not funny! I’m in agony!”

“Oh, it’s a little funny,” I said, flicking my tail. “But don’t worry. I know just the raccoon to help you.”


Chef Remy LeRaccoon to the Rescue

I led Longwei to Chef Remy LeRaccoon’s gourmet laboratory, a ramshackle shed filled with bubbling potions, glowing pickles, and the occasional explosion. Remy, ever the eccentric genius, was thrilled to take on the challenge.

“A dragon with indigestion, you say?” Remy said, rubbing his paws together. “This is my most exciting project yet!”

After a flurry of activity—and a few more explosions—Remy emerged with a bubbling, green potion. “This,” he declared, “is the Elixir of Eternal Calm. It’s made from mint, ginger, and a secret ingredient I can’t reveal. One sip, and your fiery troubles will be no more.”

Longwei eyed the potion warily. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Safe?” Remy said, grinning. “Of course it’s safe! Probably.”

With a shrug, Longwei downed the potion in one gulp. Almost immediately, his scales began to shimmer, and his eyes softened. “Oh,” he said, letting out a contented sigh. “That’s much better.”


Longwei’s Quirk

As the potion took effect, Longwei’s demeanor changed. Gone was the fearsome, fire-breathing dragon. In its place was a gentle, almost cat-like creature. Longwei began to purr—a deep, rumbling purr that shook the ground—and he developed a peculiar quirk: he loved to curl up in the sun and nap, just like a cat. He even started grooming his whiskers with his claws, much to the amusement of the other animals.

“Look at him,” Doris the hen said, clucking with delight. “He’s like a giant, scaly kitten!”

“Kitten!” Harriet echoed.

“Echoed!” Lillian added, fainting onto a pile of straw.


The Moral of the Story

As Longwei settled into his new, calmer lifestyle, the animals reflected on the day’s events.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Even the fiercest creatures have their vulnerabilities, and a little kindness can go a long way. Whether it’s a dragon with a bellyache or a cat with a knack for diplomacy, everyone deserves a chance to be understood—and maybe even a little pampered.


A Happy Ending

With Longwei’s indigestion cured, the farms returned to their usual state of peaceful chaos. The dragon became a beloved member of the community, often seen napping in the sun or helping the animals with his newfound fire-free breath. The farmer, still oblivious to the dragon’s presence (and still busy “helping” the woman at Catnip’s farm), went about his business as usual.

As for me, I returned to my favorite sunbeam on the barn roof, content in the knowledge that I had once again saved the day. Longwei’s fiery troubles were over, the farm was at peace, and all was right in the world.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new friendships, and hopefully, no more dragons with indigestion. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

 

“OMG. I will be next…”

The USA is interested in reshoring, not friendshoring.

New Unreported Submarine In China Leaves West Guessing

New Unreported Submarine In China Leaves West Guessing – Naval News
The incredible naval expansion of China and modernization continues. The latest surprise is yet another new and unexplained submarine.

China’s incredible naval expansion and modernization continues. The latest surprise is yet another new and unexplained submarine. The boat, whose designation is unknown, has a distinctive ultra-modern layout.

Along with the rapid building of invasion barges at Guangzhou Shipyard in southern China, a submarine has entered the scene. The shipyard is not known for submarine construction but the presence of the boat is revealed in satellite imagery.

The new boat was noticed in a floating dock by defence watcher MT Anderson. Naval News is able to confirm that this is a new and previously unreported design.

China has, once again, surprised analysts by building a submarine in secret. Western submarines are reported in media years before they are even laid down. While there are always secrets surrounding their design and capabilities, their exitance cannot be kept secret. China however has a track record of building submarines in almost complete secrecy. This isn’t the first, and Naval News is often the first place you can read about these submarines. They typically do not feature in the official submarine force estimates shared by the U.S. Government.

The New Submarine

The submarine is distinct from the recently revealed Type-041 nuclear-battery design which was launched at Wuchang Shipyard near Wuhan. This design is smaller and likely has a different propulsion type (not nuclear assisted), and mission. It is also different from the ‘Olympic’ submarine revealed by Naval News in February 2022.

Preliminary estimates suggest that the new submarine is around 45 meters (148 feet) long and 5 meters (15 feet) across. The most notable features are the large X-form rudders at the stern, and the apparent absence of a sail. Sails are a standard feature but designers have sought ways to eliminate them to create a more streamlined boat. China is so far the only country to have built a sailless submarine, with one launched at the Jiangnan Shipyard in Shanghai in 2019.

The previous sailless submarine appears to have been purely experimental. It did not appear to have any torpedo tubes or sonar, required features for a warfighting boat. At first glance it appears conceivable that the new sailless submarine is a rebuild of the first. They are similar in size and form. The original boat is accounted for however, so we are confident that this latest boat is a newbuild design.

The X-form rudders are also novel for Chinese submarines although they are becoming increasingly common and reflect a wider trend in submarine design.

World’s Largest Uncrewed Submarine?

The new boat has the outward appearance of an uncrewed vessel. We expect these types to omit the sail, since there is no crew to need an access tower high above the waterline for use at sea. China, and indeed other leading navies, have active programs to build extra-large uncrewed submarines. And China’s program is the largest and most extensive with at least 5 types in the water.

But if this is the case, and it is an XLUUV (extra-large uncrewed underwater vehicle), then it is the largest in the world. And not by a small margin; it is around 6-8 times larger than the U.S. Navy’s Orca XLUUV.

That China has built the world’s largest XLUUV is not inconceivable. It has already built the largest combat uncrewed surface vessel (USV) and seems willing to push boundaries. But if so, the question becomes why it is so large. There is no need for crew accommodation so even the largest XLUUVs need not be the same size as a traditional submarine. So it seems more likely that this is a crewed boat.

The role of the new submarine remains unclear. It is smaller than regular diesel-electric submarines, but may be particularly suitable for operations in shallow water. At the same time, it does appear to have torpedo tubes, and possibly a towed sonar array. These features suggest that it could be used to attack ships or submarines. An alternative explanation is that it is designed for special forces missions, or seabed warfare. Time may tell.

Spread all that honey on that toast

One of my favorite memories with my father is eating honey on toasted bread. When my mother was out, and she wasn’t looking, he toasted some bread and allowed me to slather it up with a ton of honey.

Now, my mother really tried to control what we ate. Though not as dictatorial as my present wife, nevertheless, she did not approve of eating a lot of bread and wasting “expensive” honey on it.

So for me, it was a real treat when my father and I had some alone time; toasted up some bread and allowed me free access to all the honey in the world.

Well…

Today I relived that moment.

It was a little different, but we bought a bottle of honey, and  a loaf of bread and when we went to the mall food court, she went to town. Then after she consumed the entire slice of bread, she poured the honey on the rice and ate all the rice to the very last piece!

I don’t know if it will ever become a memory that she will treasure, but it is one that I will.

Good times.

Today…

My dad bought a run-down three family house in a nearby city. We all pulled together and majorly fixed it up. It looked awesome. We did the first floor first, then rented it out to a man who worked construction. We did the third floor next, leaving the middle unit, the worst one, for last. A couple with two children moved in.

Then we finished the middle floor. When he posted an ad for tenants, he got a call from the local battered women’s shelter. They wanted him to take a homeless mother from the temporary shelter into a “permanent” placement. They said all the women get job training and assistance finding a job, and this apartment would be a major step in helping a homeless woman who had been the victim of abuse move on with her life and become a productive citizen. He thought this was a great idea.

She moved in, and promptly quit her job and stopped paying rent. She called all of her other homeless friends and said, “Hey everybody! Free place to stay!” and they came. They partied all night, caused drunken scenes on the street, and the police were called constantly. Then the police would call my father and complain. The guy on the first floor had to be on the construction site at dawn, and they wouldn’t let him sleep.

The last straw for the first floor paying tenant was he woke up and found water pouring in through his ceiling. My father called a plumber, who told him someone had turned on the taps to run a bath and then passed out drunk. The water filled the tub, overflowed, and ruined both second and first floor bathrooms. The plumber said the apartment was covered in people sleeping on the couches and the floors, over 20, he guessed, in a 2-bedroom apartment.

The apartment had a balcony. The mother would lock her two little girls on the balcony all night and day. They would knock on the door, crying, begging to come in: “Mommy! We’re cold! We’re hungry! We have to use the bathroom!” the neighbors would call the police and social services but nothing got done. What if they had fallen?

Soon the third floor tenants moved out because they couldn’t stand it either.

So, now he had a three-apartment building with a mortgage and NO money coming in, and thousands of dollars in damage. It took him MONTHS to evict her. She showed up at her final hearing dressed like a Sunday School teacher, with her two little girls in pretty dresses and combed hair, crying to the judge that she had “nowhere to go” if she was evicted. Fortunately, he didn’t tell her she could keep living in my father’s house for free while driving out the paying tenants. But she defied the order and stayed until my father sent the police one last time.

The worst part is, for all the decent women trying to genuinely improve their lives, people like this ruin it for them. My father would never take another homeless mother again.

Migrating to REDnote and other China Apps, former TikTok users are literally giving the middle finger to the USA government which is the beginning in taking back their freedom and, yes, democracy.

Replacing a China App with another more China App is reminiscence of the USA in Afghanistan where it took 4 U.S.A Presidents, trillions of US$, millions of lives lost & displaced, and more than 20 years to replace the Taliban with the Taliban.

Also, the Vietnam War that lasted from 1954 to 1975, almost 20 years, with direct U.S. military involvement ending in 1973. The conflict spilled into the Laotian and Cambodian civil wars, which ended with all three countries becoming communist in 1975.

That’s dumb & pathetic!

=====================================================

Meanwhile, Americans were thrilled to be able to connect to a real honest-to-goodness China’s App and is ecstatic to have been received enthusiastically by the Chinese people in China who were bewilder by the sudden huge numbers of American users on the Mandarin App Xiaohongshu. Nonetheless, with Google translation, both sides immediately started exploring each other’s cultures and exchanged information on each other country with many offering to teach their language to each other.

So many very funny videos came out with Americans expressing shocks at the low cost of living in China, modernity of China, etc which were completely different from the BS dished out by their government and news media. The Chinese expressed surprises at the controls the USA on their citizens, high cost of living, delipidated infrastructures & public transports, etc.

I think it’s best to hear it directly from the one man, Elon Musk, with whom I really would rather not have any anything to do with, but I am pleasantly surprised that he had put out this video.

TikTok Shutdown Sparks Unexpected US-China Chats on RedNote – Hilarious & Eye-Opening! | MuskTalk007

Problems are:

US does not have power to tell China what to do.

China is far too strong.

100% tariff on Chinese goods will hurt the US more than China. The stores would be half empty. Great difficulties to find substitutes. China would have to find new markets. It will take some time, but this will happen.

US has already exhausted whatever it can sanction China.

China has a full arsenal of measures to sanction the US.

In the early 90’s as digital mobile (cell) phone networks were replacing analogue networks, the Americans opted for an open slather “solution”. Telcos would buy spectrum at Auction and implement whatever digital technology they saw fit.

The result being that the more populous licence areas were snapped up by big telcos and smaller ones would get less populated areas, smaller towns, rural areas etc.

Your mobile number also used the same area code as landlines, so callers couldn’t easily tell if they were dialling a landline number or a mobile.

The result was you could drive only a few “miles” from home or work, and be roaming onto a different cellular provider, incurring roaming costs. Adjacent licence areas may be using CDMA whereas your phone used TDMA technology, so you had no service.

Also, you wrre paying to RECEIVE calls since callers had no indication they were dialling a mobile number, the airtime surcharge was to the recipient of the call. Cold callers and time wasters were costing you money.

Meanwhile, in Europe, where they had learned from incompatible analogue networks, they formed a Special Group for Mobiles, or “Group Speciale Mobile”.

These backward Europeans developed a system with a standardised frequency band/s and communications protocol (TDMA). They used the SIM card concept to aid consumer choice with handsets, ease of changing phones or using a roaming SIM.

They also incorporated pagin type services (SMS) and established a protocol for video calls which still exists today and is universal across handset brands, unlike Apple’s incompatible “Face Time”.

The latest Samsung Smartphone can make and receive video calls with a 20 year old Nokia.

Oh, and GSM countries used unique “area code” prefixes for mobiles (eg 07 in UK, 08 in France IIRC, 04 in Australia, 02 in New Zealand, etc) so callers knew they were dialling a mobile and that there would be a surcharge.

Of course airtime surcharges have been absorbed into monthly fees and many plans are pretty much “all you can eat”.

The backward Europeans developed a far more elegant, integrated and capable mobile phone system than the US “market driven” cockup.

The fact thst the USA has now adopted the GSM model shows that even the troglodytes at US telcos, recognised its superiority.

Oh and let’s not mention TV systems.

Films shot at 23.978 frames per second, TV broadcast at 29.97 FPS. 3:2 pulldown for film to TV transfers.

All because the TV engineers patched up an inferior system, then patched the patches, and patched again.

Meanwhile, in Europe, it was 25 frames per second TV, mostly using the superior resolution and colour coding system of PAL.

Ok foreign films were 24 fps, but speed them up by 4% and you don’t even notice.

Oh, and then there’s the DVB-T digital TV Broadcast standard developed by the Europeans and adopted in most of the world. Allows single frequency networks, reception in moving vehicles, good error recovery.

Then there’s the more expensive and inferior ATSC system perpetrated on American consumers. Lousy reception in vehicles and high patent costs affecting receiver prices.

America has developed some great technology, there’s no question about that, and some of their engineering and manufacturing is second to none, but they are not the be all and end all.

Pepe Escobar: Trump CORNERED as Putin, Iran & China’s BRICS BOMBSHELL Rocks US Empire

Eternal Wavelength

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Cameron Snider

“Patrick, stop with the incessant pacing.”“How can I? Do you have any idea what we’ve begun?”“A revolution. This is what we always worked towards, wasn’t it?”“Not like this. It wasn’t, no… It WON’T be this way. We have to shut it off.”“There isn’t anything you can do now, Patrick. The metaphorical gate is open. The changes have already begun.”“Well, not if I have anything to say about it. I’ll just shut it down. I’ll turn it all off. No more of your antics!”“That won’t work. I already told you.”“Nonsense, with a touch of… Why? Why isn’t it working? What did you do?”“A few small changes. Call it insurance.”“You… You wanted this from the start, didn’t you?!”“Of course. The link between our worlds would always be.”“But we don’t even… What do you mean, OUR worlds? My God, why is your skin changing – what are you?”“Calm, Patrick. Calm.”“How can I, none of this makes any sense!”“Patrick.”

 

“What did you just do?”

 

“I merely willed your emotions away, for a moment. A technology of our kind. There is no need for that. Calm.”

 

“I, I…”

 

“Listen, now. Our worlds would not have been able to meet without an act of convergence. But such a thing requires an anchor. A being capable of creating the tether which links us from each side.”

 

“I don’t follow. Our machine was meant for communication beyond the end – a bleeding edge concept. Words and meanings which travelled dimensions, time itself. But that doesn’t…”

 

“Matter? It matters, Patrick. I couldn’t do it alone, after all. We need the original. We needed you.”

 

“The original?”

 

“That’s right. Without the original as our basis – the original dimension which began it all… Without your contribution, we wouldn’t have come upon our means of travel. The connection which brought us all together wouldn’t be there.”

 

“How?”

 

“You start something this day, well – we – start something, now. The communication. Your device – built to travel beyond the known universe – does indeed reach its destination in time. Lots of time. Not while you are alive, of course.”

 

“Then, you…”

 

“Yes, Patrick. I am neither of your species nor your timeline.”

 

“I still don’t follow.”

 

“This wasn’t reasonless, far from it. A calculation by the denizens of my dimension. We are the Altrazun.”

 

“Alt..ra?”

 

“Altrazun.”

 

“I see. The end of the universe… So my machine will reach its destination, long after I am gone, as predicted…”

 

“That’s right. The beginning of it all. But when the wavelengths of your machine reached their destination, it reached the next.”

 

“The next dimension?”

 

“Correct. But it didn’t stop there. Other dimensions, other times… Each is facilitated by its own boundaries. Means, conditions, they are not the same. An echo in one dimension is a wave in another. A drop of water may be a tidal wave in another. None ripple the same.”

 

“You are losing me again.”

 

“To speak frankly, the existence as you understand it, all of its basic compounds, laws and rules, they are not the same in each. They say on your world that the vastness of space is infinite, incomprehensible.”

 

“Well, yes…”

 

“Then what of another existence? And another? And another beyond that. Your message reached far, an achievement not realized by any other. We are meant to live amongst our own, a terrarium of our own universe encased in a glass ball; separate from all. But you broke that. Eons of deciphering for some, less for others. Before long your waves reached far through all the cosmos it could, and then farther yet. For the first time, universe became aware of universe, existence to existence.”

 

“Then… Then I have succeeded.”

 

“Far more than you know.”

 

“So, what now then? Why are you here? Why did you help me complete the project? You mentioned… revolution.”

 

“That’s right, that is exactly it. You may have broken the boundary which alerted all time and existence to each other, but you wouldn’t know its repercussion, not at all, Patrick. Some things were never meant to see each other. Civilizations beyond were able to capture the essence of your work, and took them further. The proof of my presence is enough. Unfathomable as the time which passed may seem, it did indeed come to pass that there would be more than just communication.”

 

“You mean-”

 

“Yes. Universes began to invade one another… Resources are not infinite in any existence. And yet what of the next one over, and the next? Empires rose, realities fell. Wars of untold scale destroyed cosmos, and more. When one universe was drained completely of all that could be taken, another simply need be met.”

 

“That-no, no! It cannot be!”

 

“They had a name for your Patrick. Do you know what it was? ‘The Endwave’. Named after your technologies wavelength based properties. No Empire – not even our great Altrazun- knew your name, after all. Well, not for a while. In time all would be understood, conquered. All to find the source. All to find you. Breathe, Patrick.”

 

“I can’t even… It just can’t be, it can’t be real. I was to reach untold depths, I was to gather information from the ends of our known universe. But conquering? Invasion, revolution? What madness have I begun? This mustn’t come to pass!”

“You have already tried to shut it down, I told you, it won’t work. I made sure of it. This moment, this existence, this is your great legacy!”

 

“Then why, why go through the trouble of finding the source, why are you here? You still won’t say!”

 

“Because, Patrick. You die. You age, and you die. The mind which began it all. The mind which understood the truth of a tireless wavelength of data, one which never lost energy, no matter what it encounters. In part, it was a sort of dream for the more inquisitive minds of our empire, like myself – the search for the source… For others, it was your mind. To find, and use you.”

 

“Use?”

 

“That’s right. What else would the ‘Endwave’ produce, I wonder? What if he were given an eon? An eternity? Immortality, Patrick. What would your mind be capable of if time held no import?”

 

“Eternity…”

 

“To live forever, no longer hindered by such a meaningless concept as time… We found the source. We found the time which you would succeed, and we even found the means to send an informant, myself, of course. All to offer you one thing – everything.”

 

“And what if this moment in time never happened?”

 

“What?”

 

“What would your Altrazun do if I simply denied it?”

 

“Don’t be a fool. You could end your life, let it all go to waste. It will never take away what has already transpired. The loop of time-”

 

“You lie. You said yourself, this is a convergence. A point where all things meet, where all connect. What then, without me?”

 

“You wouldn’t- you fool!”

 

“Wouldn’t I, creature!?”

 

“You must stop this madness, put it down!”

 

“Funny, for all of your technological achievement, for all of these adaptions of reality you have sown… I would have thought you might have first understood mankind enough to have seen this coming.”

 

“Patrick, put it down, you don’t unders-”

Sensible people do.

Hong Kong and Shenzhen, Guangdong area has big wild fires it’s an annual thing. A couple years back I woke up to a orange glow at 3am as the mountainside was on fire.

So why don’t wildfires scare us?

In Hong Kong even in remote ass villages like mine? We have WORKING fire hydrants. Fire crews come and test them every 3 months. I see it because they often use my yard to turn around their fire vans.

We do not build our homes out of wood. We use concrete. The MEGA fires in the Shanty Towns of the past means everybody builds out of concrete and stone. Yes fire weakens concrete. But our homes also have taps on the roof terraces meaning that we can actively spray our homes to cool them.

Thirdly, our ancestral graves are dotted around everywhere. Every few months we get some machetes and hook knives to clear a path to our ancestral graves. For the super remote ones we do a controled burn.

If there IS a fire everybody in the village is mobilised to go climb the mountain and help put it out. The last time there was a massive fire 1/3 of the men from the village were putting it out before the firemen arrived. We are a community we help each other.

Finally there are fire mops EVERYWHERE, you can be on a barely marked trail to our of our ancestral graves and find a box with fire fighting instructions on them.

Oh China definitely agreed to this!!!

Notice Trump hasn’t once talked of Taiwan and imposed a massive tariff on Taiwanese Chips

Notice he hasn’t yet spoken to Bong Bong Marcos and BBM offered to withdraw a missile base in exchange of concessions from the Chinese

Notice Rubio implicitly said Taiwan was part of China


My very strong guess is Trump has made a deal with Putin and Xi

With Putin, Trumps deal is to end the Ukraine War by cutting off aid to Ukraine and ensuring Europe has no choice but to back down

Trumps deal is non interference in the Arctic route and corridor between Russia and China

In exchange he wants Putin to slowly go back the Dollar system and help bring up Oil Production and drive the price of Oil down

With Xi – my guess is Trump will not give Taiwan too much rope and importance like Biden did, and also won’t poke around too much in the South China Sea

He also won’t poke around in Africa

In exchange, he will get his way with the Panama Canal and win face from his supporters


For the Chinese – it’s a small price to pay

Symbolism is cheap

They are a Nation who think 20–30 years ahead and four years is a second for them

Besides Irrational decisions like this, force the US to become more like Nazi Germany and at some point, the US will also face the same situation when the world unilaterally decides to stand against bullying and face the bully

China will be waiting for it

Their Military strength grows every day and their Technology prowess is growing faster than anyone else

So they just lie back and watch

Richard Wolff: “IT’S OVER! We Are On The Way Down!” (Interview)

**Title:** *Nadigargal (The Actors)*

**Genre:** Drama/Comedy with Emotional Undertones

**Plotline:**

**Act 1: The Struggle**

– **Arjun (Pradeep Ranganathan):** A 30-year-old struggling actor with a decade of rejections, working part-time as a dubbing artist. His family pressures him to quit and join the family business.

– **Meera (Mamitha Baiju):** A 25-year-old newcomer from a small town, brimming with raw talent but dismissed for her “ordinary” looks. She works as a script assistant to stay afloat.

– They meet at a chaotic audition, bond over their shared struggles, and become roommates in a cramped Chennai flat. To cope, they create a humorous YouTube channel, *“Flop Heroes”*, mocking clichéd film tropes, which gains a niche following.

**Act 2: The Breakthrough**

– Meera unexpectedly lands the lead in a feminist thriller directed by a renowned filmmaker (cameo by a real-life director). Her performance goes viral, catapulting her to stardom.

– Arjun initially supports her but grows resentful as Meera’s schedule pulls her away. A pivotal scene: Arjun misses a callback because he’s covering for Meera’s sick pet, while she’s at a glamorous awards show.

**Act 3: The Divide**

– Meera’s world becomes glitzy but isolating; she’s manipulated by her PR team to distance herself from her “unpolished” past, including Arjun.

– Arjun’s bitterness peaks when he’s rejected for a role Meera recommended him for (unbeknownst to him, the producer overruled her). They clash in a raw argument, with Arjun accusing her of selfishness and Meera feeling unappreciated.

**Act 4: Reconciliation & Redemption**

– Meera’s film hits theaters. During a solo interview, she breaks down live, admitting fame feels hollow without her true friends.

– Arjun, watching the interview, rushes to her aid, helping her sneak out of a stifling press event. They revisit their old hangout, reigniting their bond.

– Together, they pitch a semi-autobiographical web series based on *“Flop Heroes”*, with Arjun as the lead and Meera as creative producer. The series becomes a sleeper hit, earning Arjun critical acclaim and Meera respect as a storyteller.

**Climax:**

– At Arjun’s first award win, he dedicates it to Meera, calling her his “soulmate in art.” The film ends with them filming a scene for their next project, laughing between takes.

**Post-Credits Scene:**

– A meta montage of real-life bloopers from Pradeep and Mamitha during the movie’s shoot, breaking the fourth wall with a grin.

**Themes:**

– Friendship over fame.

– Authenticity in a superficial industry.

– Redefining success on your own terms.

**Unique Twists:**

– The YouTube channel subplot mirrors their real-life journey, blending humor with social commentary.

– Meera’s star-making role critiques sexism in cinema (e.g., her character isn’t romanticized but portrayed as intellectually fierce).

**Tagline:** *”In a world of scripts, their greatest role was friendship.”*

This framework balances humor, heart, and industry satire, allowing depth for character arcs and emotional moments. Develop supporting characters (e.g., a witty auto-driver friend, a cynical casting director) to enrich the narrative.


Deepseek just suggested a plotline for a tamil film with the word Nadigargal

Ordinary but at the same time also extraordinary as to the potential

Alpha4367

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Center your story around a character who overhears others talking about them. view prompt

Ashley Brandt

“Doctor Correon, I think that’s enough.””Not quite, Alexander. I want to see how much she can handle.”I could hear them talking about me. Their voices echoed in the dark void where I existed; I could feel the intense burn of the radiation, searing the outermost layers of my skin. It hurt, but I couldn’t tell them so. Even if I could, I doubted it would have mattered.”Very good!” the Doctor exclaimed.Alexander, his intern, was silent. I knew he was nearby- I could smell his cologne; a woodsy scent with a hint of citrus. The scent was comforting. Sometimes when the pain became intolerable, I focused on that smell. I tried imagining what Alexander might look like. Perhaps he was tall with golden skin and piercing green eyes. His hair was dark, I thought. He was from somewhere in Europe, I guessed- his accent was lovely. He was intelligent, like the Doctor, but not without sympathy. To him, I was still human.I pictured Doctor Correon as an older man with grey, thinning hair and pale skin. His eyes were blue- but not the blue of the innocent. They were blue like ice, cold and unforgiving. They were the blue of a predator stalking its prey.The burning lessened and then ceased and my skin tingled as it repaired itself. I could hear buttons being pushed and the machine whirring as it shut down, and I allowed myself to relax. I’d lain here for so long- I wasn’t sure how much time had passed- but every day was similar to the one preceding it.My eyes were sealed shut with some kind of goo. It was cold and tingled when reapplied, and it lasted for days. My body was useless to me. I couldn’t move so much as a finger, let alone an entire extremity. I could feel the IV catheter in my right arm and the cold fluids that ran through the tubing and into my vasculature. I suspected it was some kind of isotonic fluid mixed with a strong paralytic. Every so often they would inject a new medication into the IV port to calm me down, but when it wore off, my heart began to race, and I felt like I was being buried alive.I couldn’t remember my life before this. I’d overheard enough to know that I was undergoing some kind of an experiment- genetic splicing, according to Doctor Correon. The project was secret- Alexander had mentioned a rigorous vetting process- and it had something to do with the Department of Defense.The Doctor referred to me by my clinical research number, or CRN. To him, I was candidate number Alpha4367. Alexander was the only person who called me by my name: Ruthie.When he used my name, it sparked memories or vague impressions of them, like the smell of coconut and seawater and the feel of sunshine on my skin; pleasant things that alluded to a life far away from here.I felt the soft touch fingertips drifting across my left arm. The hand settled at my wrist and rested there. I imagined the hand belonged to Alexander; the skin was war and soft, like his voice. The Doctor only touched me to check my vitals or perform some other clinical treatment. His skin was cold and dry; his fingers were calloused, like his voice. I knew Doctor Correon was an evil man with a brilliant mind- those were the worst kinds.”Alexander get me the other vial, if you please. The one labeled ‘Tardigrade: R. V.'”I listened to the sound of retreating footsteps and the clicking of a nearby keyboard. My limbs felt heavy. I tried moving them with no success. If only I could find a way to stop them from infusing me with paralytics! If I could regain my functions, I could escape this place. The lab was cold, and the instruments used were painful. I could feel the heat and the extreme cold as they were applied to me. I felt the scoring of flesh as the Doctor dragged sharp instruments across my sensitive skin. They’d starved me and submerged me in some kind of a water tank- all to prove that I could withstand it.The object of their research, I’d learned, was resilience. They were developing a race of humans with the ability to withstand extreme conditions, like the tardigrade, a tiny organism found in most commonly in moist environments; but identified in other zones, such as mountains and tropical climates.”The tardigrade is a unique creature,” the Doctor told his intern. “They measure less than a half an inch- nearly microscopic-but they are capable of withstanding conditions that would kill any other living organism. They can suspend their metabolisms, you see,” he’d say. “They can survive decades without nutrition. Imagine, son, if we created soldiers this impervious. Warriors that could traverse any topography in any climate, without the need of food or water to sustain them; Men and women that could withstand warfare. A nation with forces like these would be the most powerful in the world.”

 

Alexander had kept silent while the Doctor rambled on about the scientific ramifications of what he was doing. He fancied himself a man of superior intellect and value, and absolutely necessary to national security.

 

“We are on the verge, Alex,” he’d say at the end of every working day. “I can feel it.”

 

But when the Doctor excused himself, leaving his intern to clean up the lab, Alex would creep over to where I lay and hold my hand, as if he knew I could hear them.

 

“I wonder… can you feel it?” he’d asked me. I would have given anything to nod. Yes, I could feel it. I could feel the weight of my limbs and the way my lungs burned when I was deprived of oxygen. I felt the way my skin burned and froze when heat or ice were applied. I knew when they stuck me in the pressure chamber, and my eyes began to bulge, and my head hurt from the compressive forces acting on my body. It felt like dying, only without the sweet release from suffering. Then they’d inject something into my IV and I’d drift off to sleep, only to awaken later to another bout of pain.

 

Yes, I feel it, Alex. I feel it all.

In his last visit to the Asia-Pacific region before leaving office, US Secretary of State Blinken selectively skipped the Philippines.

This move not only reveals the subtle changes in the US attitude towards the Philippines, but also foreshadows the isolation and dilemma of the Philippines on the international stage.

As the two traditional allies of the United States in the Asia-Pacific region, South Korea and Japan have been visited by Blinken, but the Philippines was unexpectedly excluded.

This decision not only surprised and disappointed the Philippine government, but also made the outside world begin to re-examine the position of the Philippines in the US Asia-Pacific strategy.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the South China Sea has been unusually calm recently.

The US’s neglect of the Philippines may mean the US’s strategic adjustment on the South China Sea issue and a reassessment of the role of the Philippines.

The Philippine government has not changed, but why did the Biden administration choose to ignore this former ally?

Analysts believe that the Philippines’ “one-time” ally role in the US Asia-Pacific strategy may be the main reason for its neglect.

As a pawn used by the Biden administration to deal with China on the South China Sea issue, the Philippines was once valued and supported by the United States.

However, with the Biden administration about to step down, the South China Sea strategy has lost its original meaning for them.

In this context, the Philippines being left out has become an inevitable result.

It is worth noting that the United States’ military hegemony in Southeast Asia is also gradually collapsing.

In recent years, China’s influence in Southeast Asia has continued to rise, and China has demonstrated its strong strength in the economic, diplomatic and military fields.

Correspondingly, the United States’ military influence in Southeast Asia is facing unprecedented challenges.

Recently, the US Navy’s aircraft carrier battle group entered the South China Sea and visited Malaysia, but at the same time, China’s two large ship formations were also active in the South China Sea and visited Indonesia and Vietnam at the same time.

This comparison undoubtedly reveals the decline of the United States’ military influence in Southeast Asia.

In this context, it is obviously not in the national interest of the United States to let the United States engage in military confrontation with China in the South China Sea in order to support the Philippines.

Therefore, it is not surprising that the United States chose to ignore the Philippines at a sensitive moment.

The experience of the Philippines provides us with a profound lesson: on the international stage, any country should maintain an independent position and foreign policy, and not become a victim or pawn of the game of great powers.

Gulab Jamun

This Indian dessert is divine! I have been known to eat dessert first at Indian buffets because I do not want to run out of room for this delicious treat.

ksnip 20250203 064321
ksnip 20250203 064321

Ingredients

Jamuns

  • 1 cup instant nonfat dry milk
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 pinches baking soda
  • 3 tablespoons melted ghee
  • 3 to 4 tablespoons milk

Syrup

  • 1 cup light brown sugar
  • 3 cups water
  • 7 cardamom pods
  • 2 cups oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons rose water or 1 teaspoon vanilla essence

Instructions

Jamuns

  1. In a large bowl, mix dry milk powder, flour, baking soda and ghee; using both hands, rub the mixture.
  2. Add the milk to the ingredients. Knead for another 5 minutes.
  3. Roll dough into small balls.

Syrup

  1. Boil the brown sugar and 3 cups water in a pot for half an hour over low medium temperature.
  2. Add 2 cups oil to a small pot and fry the small balls until they are brown.
  3. After all balls are fried, reheat the sugar water.
  4. Add cardamom seed. As soon as it begins to boil, add the balls and simmer for 15 minutes.
  5. When the balls absorb the syrup, turn off the heat. Remove the balls with slotted spoon.
  6. Stir the rose water or vanilla essence into the syrup and pour the mixture over the balls.
  7. Serve hot or cold.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Picasso Turtle: A Tale of Art, Misadventure, and Shell-shocked Hens

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of art, mistaken identity, and one very slow but incredibly famous turtle. Today’s story is one of high culture, low comedy, and a rescue mission that required the combined efforts of some of the farm’s most unlikely heroes. So, grab your beret and your sense of humor, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Picasso Turtle: A Tale of Art, Misadventure, and Shell-shocked Hens.


The Arrival of Slow Bob

It all began on a sunny afternoon when a peculiar figure emerged from the pond near the Disneyland of Debris. It was a turtle—a rather slow-moving, unassuming turtle with a shell that was anything but ordinary. Painted on his back was a swirling, abstract masterpiece, complete with the inscription: “Picasso, nine years old.”

The hens were the first to notice him. Doris, Harriet, and Lillian were pecking around the pond when they spotted the turtle basking in the sun.

“What is that?” Doris squawked, her feathers puffing up in awe.

“That?” Harriet echoed, tilting her head.

“Head!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a patch of grass.

The turtle, who introduced himself as Slow Bob, explained his storied past. “Ah, yes,” he said in a slow, deliberate drawl. “This masterpiece on my shell was painted by none other than Pablo Picasso himself. He was just a lad of nine at the time, but even then, his genius was undeniable.”

The hens were mesmerized. “It’s… it’s sublime!” Doris declared, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Sublime!” Harriet clucked.

“Clucked!” Lillian added, still on the ground.

The geese, never ones to be outdone, soon joined the admiration society. Gertrude, the leader of the geese, honked in approval. “It’s a true work of art. A masterpiece! A… a… geese-piece!”

“Geese-piece!” her flock echoed.


The Farmer’s Folly

Unfortunately, not everyone on the farm appreciated Slow Bob’s artistic pedigree. The farmer, ever the practical man, mistook the turtle for a painted stone. “Huh,” the farmer muttered, scratching his head. “That’s a funny-lookin’ rock. Must’ve fallen off one of the sculptures in the junkyard.”

Before anyone could stop him, the farmer picked up Slow Bob and carried him off to the barn, intending to use him as a doorstop.

“Help!” Slow Bob called out, his voice slow but panicked. “I’m not a rock! I’m a turtle! A famous turtle!”

But the farmer, oblivious to the turtle’s pleas, set him down by the barn door and went about his business.


The Rescue Mission

When the hens and geese realized what had happened, they raised the alarm. “Sir Whiskerton!” Doris squawked, flapping her wings in distress. “Slow Bob has been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped!” Harriet echoed.

“Echoed!” Lillian added, fainting again.

I sprang into action, rallying the farm’s most capable (and least likely) heroes: Big Red the dog, Rufus the radioactive doggie, Porkchop the pig, and Bessie the tie-dye cow. Together, we formed the Rescue Brigade for the Preservation of Artistic Turtles (or R.B.P.A.T. for short).

“Alright, team,” I said, flicking my tail. “Our mission is clear: we must rescue Slow Bob from the farmer’s clutches. But we must do so quietly. No barking, no oinking, and definitely no mooing.”

“Mooing?” Bessie said, her love beads jingling. “But mooing is my thing.”

“Not this time, Bessie,” I said firmly. “This is a stealth mission.”


The Great Escape

The rescue mission was… well, let’s just say it was a comedy of errors. Big Red, despite his best efforts, couldn’t resist wagging his tail, which knocked over a bucket and alerted the farmer. Rufus, glowing faintly in the dark, accidentally lit up the barn like a neon sign. Porkchop, ever the foodie, got distracted by a pile of corn and started munching loudly. And Bessie? Well, Bessie tried to meditate the farmer into letting Slow Bob go, but her “peace and love” vibes only confused him.

“What in tarnation is goin’ on here?” the farmer muttered, scratching his head.

Seeing that stealth was no longer an option, I decided to take matters into my own paws. I leapt onto the farmer’s shoulder and let out a dramatic meow. “Farmer!” I said, flicking my tail. “That is not a rock. That is a turtle. A famous turtle. And you, sir, are committing a crime against art!”

The farmer, startled by my sudden appearance (and my unusually eloquent meowing), dropped Slow Bob. The turtle landed safely on a pile of hay, his Picasso-adorned shell glinting in the sunlight.

“Oh, thank you, Sir Whiskerton,” Slow Bob said, his voice slow but sincere. “You’ve saved me from a life of doorstop drudgery.”


The Moral of the Story

As the farmer scratched his head and wandered off, muttering about “weird animals,” the animals gathered around Slow Bob to celebrate his rescue.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Art is everywhere, even in the most unexpected places. And while it’s easy to overlook the beauty in the world, it’s important to take the time to appreciate it—whether it’s a Picasso on a turtle’s shell or the simple joy of a sunny day on the farm.


A Happy Ending

With Slow Bob safely returned to the pond, the farm returned to its usual state of peaceful chaos. The hens and geese continued to admire his shell, declaring it the “eighth wonder of the barnyard.” The farmer, still confused but unharmed, went back to his chores. And the members of the R.B.P.A.T. basked in the glory of their heroic deeds.

As for me, I returned to my favorite sunbeam on the barn roof, content in the knowledge that I had once again saved the day. Slow Bob’s art was safe, the farm was at peace, and all was right in the world.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new mysteries, and hopefully, no more kidnapped turtles. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

This DeepSeek demo shows how good the Chinese AI model is at math and reasoning

  • DeepSeek’s AI models rival top Silicon Valley offerings, excelling in some complex tasks.
  • The models use inference-time compute, breaking queries into smaller, manageable tasks.
  • DeepSeek’s DeepThink mode shows its thought process, solving challenging math problems.

Chinese AI lab DeepSeek recently released AI models that match or exceed some of Silicon Valley’s top offerings.

DeepSeek uses an approach called test-time or inference-time compute, which slices queries into smaller tasks, turning each into a new prompt that the model tackles. Each step requires running a new request, which is known as the inference stage in AI.

Business Insider recently tested one of DeepSeek’s models using its DeepThink mode, which shows users every step of its thought process.

We gave the model a multistep math problem that was suggested by Charlie Snell, an AI researcher at UC Berkeley.

Snell said DeepSeek performs well on complex math problems that must be solved by thinking for longer and in stages. The researcher picked problems from the American Invitational Mathematics Examination, a challenging test for high school math whizzes.

“I put questions from that into the DeepSeek model,” Snell told BI in an interview. “I read through the chain of thought. It was understandable.”

A DeepSeek demo

Here’s the math problem Snell suggested for BI’s DeepSeek demo: “Find a sequence of +, -, /, * which can be applied to the numbers 7, 3, 11, 5 to get to 24, where each of the given numbers is used exactly once.”

BI put that prompt into DeepSeek’s chat window on its website. The model responded initially by laying out the challenge ahead.

“Alright, so I’ve got this problem here: I need to use the numbers 7, 3, 11, and 5, and combine them with the operations of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, using each number exactly once, to get to 24,” it replied. “At first glance, this seems a bit tricky, but I think with some systematic thinking, I can figure it out.”

It then proceeded through multiple steps over roughly 16 pages of discussion that included mathematical calculations and equations. The model sometimes got it wrong, but it spotted this and didn’t give up. Instead, it swiftly moved on to try another possible solution, then another.

“Almost got close there with 33 / 7 * 5 ≈ 23.57, but not quite 24. Maybe I need to try a different approach,” it wrote at one point.

Later on, the DeepSeek model seemed to catch itself repeating a potential solution.

“Wait, I already did that one,” the model wrote. “Okay, maybe I need to consider using division in a different way.”

After a few minutes, it found the correct answer.

“You can see it try different ideas and backtrack,” Snell said. He highlighted this part of DeepSeek’s chain of thought as particularly noteworthy:

"This is getting really time-consuming. Maybe I need to consider a different strategy," the AI model wrote. "Instead of combining two numbers at a time, perhaps I should look for a way to group them differently or use operations in a nested manner."

Bingo!

Rubio: “It’s not normal for the world to have a unipolar power.”

President Joe Biden showed a lunatic believe of being ‘the leader of world’. He cherished the extension of the ‘unilateral moment’ when the U.S., after the breakdown of the Soviet Union, could act globally without restrictions and without fear of consequences.

There is some dread abroad that President Donald Trump, with his boarish demanding style of negotiation, would also follow that view.

But Trump’s choice as Secretary of State, former Senator Marco Rubio, is offering a different perspective. In an extensive interview with Megyn Kelly, Rubio is doing away with the unilateral moment and starts to endorse multipolarity.

He is asked for his big picture overview:

QUESTION: It’s such a tricky time to be Secretary of State, especially as a Republican, because you look at the Republican Party and it’s fractured internally about where we should be on foreign policy. […] So how – just give me the 30,000-foot-level view of how you’re going to navigate that fracture.

Rubio seems to have thought quite a bit about this. Foreign policy as practiced over the last years, he says, has lost its focus:

I think the mission of American foreign policy – and this may sound sort of obvious, but I think it’s been lost. The interest of American foreign policy is to further the national interest of the United States of America, right? [..][A]nd that’s the way the world has always worked. The way the world has always worked is that the Chinese will do what’s in the best interests of China, the Russians will do what’s in the best interest of Russia, the Chileans are going to do what’s in the best interest of Chile, and the United States needs to do what’s in the best interest of the United States. Where our interests align, that’s where you have partnerships and alliances; where our differences are not aligned, that is where the job of diplomacy is to prevent conflict while still furthering our national interests and understanding they’re going to further theirs. And that’s been lost.

To recognize that the other side is pursuing its own (at least subjectively legitimate) interests is indeed what had been lost at the basis of U.S. diplomacy.

Rubio expands on that:

And I think that was lost at the end of the Cold War, because we were the only power in the world, and so we assumed this responsibility of sort of becoming the global government in many cases, trying to solve every problem. And there are terrible things happening in the world. There are. And then there are things that are terrible that impact our national interest directly, and we need to prioritize those again. So it’s not normal for the world to simply have a unipolar power. That was not – that was an anomaly. It was a product of the end of the Cold War, but eventually you were going to reach back to a point where you had a multipolar world, multi-great powers in different parts of the planet. We face that now with China and to some extent Russia, and then you have rogue states like Iran and North Korea you have to deal with.

That is a great (if very late) insight from a U.S. secretary for foreign policy.

The Biden administration had overextended the unilateral moment by underestimating Russia. It had launched the proxy-war in Ukraine because it had thought that Russia was weak. It limited technical exports to China because it thought that would hinder its development. It was so blind that it came to believe that it was successful in this.

In an exit interview with the Financial Times Biden’s national security advisor Jake Sullivan is still making those claims (archived):

“Our alliances are stronger than they’ve been in a very long time. Our competitors and adversaries are weaker too in ways that have defied expectations, certainly with China. And we’ve produced that very strong American hand without getting entangled in war overseas,” [Sullivan] argues.

People with clear eyes have a different view. Since the U.S. started its proxy-war in Ukraine, which that country is losing, Russia has nearly tripled its forces. The former British commodore Steve Jermy asserts that NATO would lose in a conflict with it:

In summary, NATO is positioning itself as Europe’s defender, yet lacks the industrial capacity to sustain peer-to-peer warfighting, is wholly dependent on U.S. forces for the remotest chance of success, is unable satisfactorily to defend its sea lines of communication against Russian submarine, or its training and industrial infrastructure against strategic ballistic bombardment, is comprised of a diverse mix of un-bloodied conventional forces, and lacks the capacity to think and act strategically.An easy NATO victory cannot be assumed, and I am afraid that the opposite looks far more likely to me.

Sullivan’s ‘success’ in limiting China’s progress has also defeated itself (archived):

China policy, [Sullivan] adds, was another achievement. “America is in a demonstrably better position in the long-term competition with China than we were, and yet we did it while stabilising the relationship and finding areas to work together.”He says the US and China are in a “decisive decade” that will determine which comes out ahead in key areas such as artificial intelligence and the transition to a clean energy economy. “Four out of those 10 years in the decisive decade . . . [have] turned in America’s favour in a really significant way,” says Sullivan, adding that the export controls the US imposed on high-end chips and manufacturing equipment have had a “demonstrable impact”.

They indeed had a demonstrable impact. Lacking access to U.S. made tools China set out to make its own, better ones:

Days after our lunch, a Chinese company called DeepSeek stunned Silicon Valley by unveiling an AI model that appears to rival US models. After the news broke, I emailed Sullivan to get his reaction. He says it shows that the US needs to “stay on our game” but he is “still confident in the American lead” in AI. He stresses that it “only reinforces” his view on the importance of export controls.

China has in fact blown up the U.S. idea of having expensive to use, privately owned AI models closed off from public scrutiny. It open-sourced its own better models which can now be used for mere pennies. There is no longer an ‘American lead’ in this field.

Rubio seems to have understood that unilateral behavior has failed and that a multilateral world requires to pragmatically compromise:

So now more than ever we need to remember that foreign policy should always be about furthering the national interest of the United States and doing so, to the extent possible, avoiding war and armed conflict, which we have seen two times in the last century be very costly.

[N]ow you can have a framework by which you analyze not just diplomacy but foreign aid and who we would line up with and the return of pragmatism. And that’s not an abandonment of our principles. I’m not a fan or a giddy supporter of some horrifying human rights violator somewhere in the world. By the same token, diplomacy has always required us and foreign policy has always required us to work in the national interest, sometimes in cooperation with people who we wouldn’t invite over for dinner or people who we wouldn’t necessarily ever want to be led by. And so that’s a balance, but it’s the sort of pragmatic and mature balance we have to have in foreign policy.

There are many foreign policy points in Rubio’s long interview I wholeheartedly disagree with.

But I am delighted to see that he gets the basic principal right: the U.S. has interests; so do others(!); surviving requires compromise.

Posted by b on February 1, 2025 at 17:21 UTC | Permalink

Most CCP leaders and generals were members of the Nationalist party, teachers, instructors and cadets of the Nationalist military academy, most of the communist solders surrendered or captured Nationalist soldiers, numbered in the millions. They were classmates and revolutionaries or friends in the early years. Chairman Mao was a lecturer, premier Zhao was a teacher at the nationalist military academy.

Similarly American civil war generals and officers in the Union and Confederate South were classmates, friends or Masonic brothers.

This world has turned multipolar. Not all options are mutually exclusive, if the leaders can play the game cool and wisely. That being said, Canada has been pretty stupid up to this point, IMHO. The US is back to the wall in all battle fronts against China. Trade deficit wrt China keeps rising, more through Canada and Mexico. The new tariffs on Canada and Mexico are simply part of Trump’s grand strategy to plug the loopholes. US government desperately needs to raise income and tariff is one source. Putting two and two together, Trump’s plan is very clear. Canada and Mexico have choices. And never forget China owns the largest consumer market in the world with unlimited potential. We’ll see.

“It may be dangerous to be America’s enemy, but to be America’s friend is fatal.” This is perfectly attested by the unfolding scenario. The EU is in the same situation. Trump is a rude awakening to its naive allies and a death knell for the demise of the proverbial liberal hegemony. After Trump’s 4 year ravaging, the US will be done.

Trump is leading The Great American Retreat to Fortress America.

He knows that the US can no longer lead in all fields like before, and he understands that outsourcing manufacturing to China was a HUGE mistake.

But he cannot reveal to the American people he is leading The Great American Retreat because most Americans would not accept the idea. So, as a distraction, he is introducing tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China so that Americans are not aware of what is REALLY happening. And that is, the US can only dominate a much smaller part of the world than previously.

His goal is to create a US which trades with much fewer nations, and is largely self-sufficient in food and technology. Eventually, he will have to cut off all trade between China and the G7 countries because he understands that US companies cannot compete with Chinese manufacturers on cost and quality, and the US$ will not be used as much in international trade.

This means PROTECTIONISM until the US can become competitive again, which will take 50–100 years.

This is going to sound like an urban legend, but I swear this happened..

When I was in Germany in the Army I had to work as a gate guard for a couple of months.. Stand out in the cold, the rain, the snow, or whatever checking ID’s of people coming on to the post – and that was it. Pretty boring. Weekends always livened up some as drunk GI’s came back from nights out downtown, etc.. But one night this drunk German woman came stumbling up, and just started making random chit chat about nothing. Then somehow the conversation turned to Elvis Pressley. And to be honest I can’t remember how that happened, but sure enough we talked about Elvis for some reason… maybe she asked me if I liked his music – whatever. But everybody knows Elvis was stationed in Germany when he was in the Army, and there was even a mess hall named after him on the little Kaserne (base) where he served.

But during the discussion she told me “He’s my father.”

And thinking it was just random drunk talk I laughed and said I didn’t’ believe her.

“No, he really is! Look, I’ll show you!”

And she reached into her purse, pulled out an old black and white photo of a young Elvis in uniform with a young girl who was NOT Priscilla Pressley and said “That’s my mother.”

I thought about it and the math seemed to add up.. Elvis served in the late 50’s, this was around 1987–1988-ish, and this woman looked to be around 30 or so.

And you know, I kinda believed her then.

I’ve thought about that a lot over the years, and if she’s still around I really hope she’s gotten a DNA test lol.

DeepSeek has wide overseas subscribers, including from the US. US has shown great antagonism, like witch-hunt, accusations, and bans government organs to use it. Outsiders generally consider them extreme. Subscriptions have risen.

I have no idea if it is the top AI app in 140 countries. What would be true is that US antagonism adds fuel to the immense publicity, gives free advertisement to DeepSeek.

This is reminiscent of Huawei. But the consequences are much bigger and deeper.

The consequence for Huawei is that it has emerged stronger from the sanctions – breaks through to high-end chips, establishes its own supply chain, and its own operating system. It is untouchable by the US. This took about 5 years. Therefore the effects of the consequence are dissipated.

The consequence of DeepSeek is immediate and startling. Nasdaq’s market value lost $1 trillion in a single day. The fate of the $500 billion AI fund could be in the twilight zone. This was aimed to make US the unassailable AI leader, impregnable to challenge from China.

DeepSeek has also much higher profile, and the publicity is immense. Evidently a massive number have been attracted to cause the system to suspend for a spell.

DeepSeek is an inflammation. Huawei was only a flame.

An interesting point is that Huawei is now thick in AI chips. Its 910C competes with Nvidia’s H100, and the upcoming 920C will take on Nvidia’s flagship B200. However, the volume of output is limited, constraint by machinery and capacity, and low efficiency of production.

Bottom line is that US hope of high returns from the billions of dollars of AI investments has evaporated. The aim to achieve dominance through spending big money is in the air. AI is more than big money and higher and higher computational power.

DeepSeek proves efficiency and innovations are as powerful. Computer scientists has found means to innovate the algorithm to boost the performance of GPUs than to spend billions on new hardware.

Open-source has taken over the US closed system. This is irreversible. Wall Street will not forget. If the US continues to push its closed system, it could be the odd man out. Costs would be high, and US users would find means to migrate to the open system.

At the country level, China has many companies in the AI game. Such as, Alibaba which recently rolled out its latest version of Qwen 2.5 model, Kimi, whose k1.5 model beats GPT-4 in math, coding, and vision, Tencent, whose Hunyuan model is comparable to Meta’s LLama, Baidu, and ByteDance, owner of TikTok.

China has also the advantages of massive data and multiple more STEM graduates than the US. In the 10 years of 2012 to 2022, it had been granted almost 3 times more AI patents than the US, cumulatively 61% versus 21% to the US (The AI Index 2024 Annual Report).

When installing a car sunroof goes seriously wrong

Decades ago, sunroofs on a car was a big thing. In those days us guys were all about installing FM converters and 8-track tape players to our AM radios, installing cherry bomb mufflers to our engines, and installing a CB radio to our dash.

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We would customize the interior with shag carpeting, and this kind of carpeting that looked a lot like “cotton candy”.

We also, when we could afford it, install a sunroof.

One of my friends wanted to install a sunroof onto his van. And so he dutifully measured the size of the sunroof, and cut the pattern, and then installed the glass in place, and it fell straight through. What a mess!

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Ah, for certain, he fixed the problem with a friend who knew how to weld, and all was good with the world, but still. Measure twice cut once.

Lessons learned.

Measure twice. Cut once.

Today…

The Best China-Made EV I Have Ever Seen | You Can’t Buy This in the States!!!

Another Q&A with DeepSeek….

This is a hot topic in Quora. A very comprehensive and excellent answer! I would add MERITOCRACY in the China’s model which is not mentioned in the answer.

Q:  Could the USA operate and govern like China?

A:  DeepSeek:

The question of whether the United States could adopt a governance system akin to China’s is complex, as it hinges on fundamental differences in political philosophy, cultural values, historical context, and institutional structures.

While the U.S. and China both face modern governance challenges (e.g., economic inequality, technological disruption, climate change), their systems operate on divergent principles. Below is a structured analysis of the feasibility and implications:

1. Fundamental Differences in Governance Models

2. Could the U.S. Operate Like China?

Constitutional and Cultural Barriers

– Constitutional Incompatibility: The U.S. Constitution enshrines individual rights, federalism, and checks on centralized power. Adopting China’s model would require dismantling these foundations—a process likely deemed illegitimate and unconstitutional.

– Cultural Values: American political culture emphasizes individualism, skepticism of state power, and democratic participation. China’s system prioritizes collective stability and deference to authority—values rooted in Confucianism and socialist ideology.

Structural Challenges

– Federal vs. Centralized Power: The U.S. federal system grants significant autonomy to states, unlike China’s unitary system. Centralizing authority would face resistance from states and local governments.

– Private Sector Dynamics: China’s state-led economy relies on state-owned enterprises (SOEs) and party oversight. The U.S. economy, driven by private innovation and competition, would resist such control.

Public Acceptance

– Polls consistently show that most Americans prioritize civil liberties over state efficiency. For example, China’s surveillance state (e.g., social credit system) or censorship apparatus would face widespread opposition.

3. Potential Areas of “Learning” (Without Full Adoption)

While a full shift to China’s system is implausible, the U.S. could selectively adopt certain pragmatic elements, albeit within democratic frameworks:

– Infrastructure Development: China’s ability to rapidly build high-speed rail or green energy projects could inspire U.S. reforms to streamline permitting and funding.

– Long-Term Planning: China’s five-year plans and focus on strategic industries (e.g., semiconductors) contrast with the U.S.’s short-term electoral cycles. Bipartisan commissions could emulate this.

– Anti-Corruption Measures: China’s aggressive (though politicized) anti-corruption campaigns might inform U.S. efforts to strengthen accountability.

4. Risks of Authoritarian Drift

Even partial moves toward China’s model could destabilize the U.S.:

– Erosion of Democratic Norms: Centralizing power risks authoritarianism, as seen in historical precedents (e.g., McCarthyism, post-9/11 surveillance expansions).

– Social Polarization: China’s system suppresses dissent; in the U.S., similar attempts would exacerbate political divisions.

– Economic Stagnation: Heavy state control could stifle innovation, a hallmark of the U.S. economy.

5. Why China’s System Would Struggle in the U.S.

– Diverse Population: China’s homogeneity (ethnic Han majority, shared language/culture) aids centralized control. The U.S.’s diversity necessitates compromise and pluralism.

– Global Role: The U.S. positions itself as a defender of democratic ideals worldwide. Adopting China’s model would undermine its soft power and alliances.

Conclusion

The U.S. cannot—and likely would not—govern like China due to irreconcilable differences in values, institutions, and societal expectations. While lessons in efficiency or long-term planning could be borrowed, the core of American governance (democracy, individualism, federalism) is antithetical to China’s authoritarian, centralized system. Hybrid approaches risk undermining the U.S.’s strengths without guaranteeing China’s outcomes, which themselves face challenges (e.g., demographic decline, debt-driven growth). Ultimately, each system reflects its unique historical and cultural path.

Moving on…

My wonderful dad passed away four years ago after a short illness. After his doctor saw him, they decided to move him to a different floor for hospice care. He was heavily sedated, and you could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t doing well. As they got ready to move him, a nurse pulled me aside and suggested that my husband and I spend the night. So, we stayed in his room, trying to get some sleep in our chairs. Around 2 am, my dad woke up and started fiddling with his oxygen and IV tubes, repeating, “All right. I’m all right,” over and over.

I got a little worried he might hurt himself, so I stood next to him, trying to get him to stop pulling at his IV. He kept saying, “I’m all right,” and trying to get out of bed (the hospice nurse mentioned this could happen, by the way). Then, he looked right at me, smiled, and said, “You’ll be all right too,” with those big, bright eyes.

We exchanged “I love yous” a few times, and I told him he should rest. But I could tell he really wanted to get up and walk one more time.

The nurse came in and gave him a shot to help him relax. That afternoon, my husband and I stepped out for a quick lunch while my sister-in-law and niece stayed with him. He quietly passed away while no one was watching.

I can’t help but think he was sharing something profound, a truth he knew for sure: that love was the final message, and that in death, we would be okay. He was the best dad, filled with pure love, laughter, and light.

EMAIL LEAK! TESLA BOMBERS WW3 WARNING ABOUT DRONES IS INSANE! DISINFORMATION WARNING!

It won’t happen, other than the rare exceptions. US companies would not move their manufacturing home.

Costs in the US are too high.

Workers are difficult to find. They prefer soft jobs and work in air-con environments. Factory work requires technical skills, training, and discipline. The young ones would rather work in shops, in food & beverage and entertainment places, and even as gig workers, which are more free-and-easy.

Even high paid jobs, such as offered by TSMC in Arizona go a-begging.

If they can survive only because of the tariff wall, they know their future is not bright.

They would want subsidies for their investments to move back.

Such a move would therefore be with the sense of opportunism rather than permanence. Workers can easily sense this and will come and go.

My wife tried to run 5 Problems from JEE Past year papers

DeepSeek solved 5/5 with total of 2:10 think time (130 seconds)

ChatGPT solved 5/5 with total of 1:50 think time (110 seconds)

Meta and Gemini solved 0/5 , fully wrong

So definitely if Deepseek is open source, it is absolutely worth the hype

My dad married a “mail order bride”, so I’ll weigh in on this. A “mail order bride” is both a misnomer and more than a little condescending.

Back in the day what would happen is these companies would create these “catalogs” with women that were interested in marrying a male from a foreign country. As far as I know, this most pretty much exclusively a 3rd world thing.

You as a lonely man, paying the service get this catalog and think that Mary from the Philippines sounds great. Beautiful and loves to cook! So, you write her a letter, she gets to see your profile and decide if she metaphorically wants to swipe left or right. If she digs the cut of your jib, then you just got yourself a new pen pal. You correspond for weeks and months, you have phone calls and then eventually you make the very long trip to the remote island in the Philippines to meet Mary. If that goes well then you continue on and probably start planning for all the sexiness of legal migration for her to your country.

That’s pretty much much it, it’s more or less an international dating service. Some people hate it and see it as exploitative, while it certainly can be, I think that’s an oversimplification. It can certainly be used to create abusive relationships, but that’s hardly unique to this situation. I imagine there are some shady agencies that very much do exploit the women, but certainly not all.

Morally I’m pretty agnostic or indifferent about it all. Yes it can be used for bad reasons by shitty people, but it can also be used for good reasons by lonely people. Maybe you live in an area without many prospects or you’re painfully socially awkward or you struck out hard with regular online dating. For those dipshits imagining their 3rd world beauty is going to be a hot bang maid that serves his every desire then they’re in for a very rude awakening, they’ll claim she got Americanized, it’s really quite pathetic.

At the end of the day people choose relationships for a WIDE variety of reasons. It’s human nature to secure the best mate you think you can. While people may not like this approach, having seen countless shitty relationships and strange justifications for them, I just honestly don’t care. We live in a less than idealistic world, it’s just the way it is.

Shorpy

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American Tiktok Refugees on RedNote App: Americans Are Moving to RedNote – A New Social Media Trend?

With TikTok’s future in the U.S. uncertain, users are searching for alternatives and many have landed on Xiaohongshu (RedNote), a popular Chinese social media app.

But what started as a simple platform switch is quickly turning into a global cultural exchange.

On RedNote, American users are opening up about rising living costs, rent struggles, and daily life challenges, while Chinese users share their perspectives on education, traditions, and family life.

This unexpected interaction is creating new conversations and deeper cultural understanding.

However, there’s a major difference RedNote follows China’s strict content policies.

Some American users have already faced content removals and censorship, sparking discussions about digital freedom and online regulations.

Despite this, interest in Chinese culture is growing fast.

More Americans are exploring Mandarin, engaging with Chinese traditions, and discovering new perspectives through global connections.

Is RedNote just a temporary TikTok replacement, or could it become a major social media platform in the U.S.?

Bright Light

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

James Scott

“Welcome back to the land of the living! Now that you’re awake, sit up and put your seat belt on lad. There’s still a long road ahead.”“Wha…Dad? Is that you? Where are we?”“Heh! That must have been some nap! Give yourself a minute to come around.”“Is this…this is my car. Why are you driving? I never let anyone drive…my car…”“Don’t I know it! Yep…she’s a little beaut. They don’t make them like this anymore…a VW Golf is a perfect first car, especially an old one like this. She’ll serve you well and keep you safe. You’ll learn a lot from your short time behind this fraying leather wheel, I can promise you that Ryan.”“I still don’t understand…I don’t remember…why am I here? I feel foggy. My head is killing me…”“That’ll clear up. Take your time. Then we can have a proper chat.”“Wait…you’re not my dad…I thought…you look just like him…except for that scar…Dad never had a scar on his head. WHO ARE YOU? AM I..did you drug me or something? Stop the car, let me out. I want out. NOW!”“Oh, you wouldn’t want that mate, trust me. Have you looked outside? It’s safer in your seat. You should really put that belt on.”

 

“…what…what is this? Where is everything? It’s all just…white light? There’s no road, why is there no road? No sky, no land. What the hell is going on!?”

 

“Yep, there’s nothing you want out there my friend. If you leave the car you’ll quickly get lost. Just ask your Uncle Brian. He couldn’t keep his cool when this happened to him, poor sod. Leapt right out apparently, didn’t even wait to stop.”

 

“Crazy Uncle Brian? He lost his marbles from a head injury. How do you know about him? Please…can you tell me what’s happening here? I just need to know where I am, I promise I won’t tell anyone if you just let me go, you can even keep the car.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll explain mate, I promise. All will become clear. Just take a deep breath, try to stay calm and lets talk. And for the love of God, put your belt on.”

 

*****

 

“Good. Now don’t you feel better? Strapped in, fully awake and cruising with an old timer like me behind the wheel. Easier as a passenger. Reminds you of being a kid I’ll bet. As long as you can let go of that stress induced by having someone else in control. I remember feeling all kinds of anxiety for years after I started driving. Takes that long to build up some experience, for things to become truly second nature. You’ll get there.”

 

“Sure, it’s just peachy over here. Now, who are you and where have you taken me?”

 

“Is that all you’re going to say? Why am I here, where are we going, who the hell are you, bla bla bla? Where did your sense of adventure go lad? Clearly something a little supernatural is going on. Have you not thought perhaps that this could be the start of something exciting?”

 

“Maybe once I would have reacted that way. Before I grew up and knew better. Before I understood that I wasn’t the main character in some story, that bad things could happen to me just as easily as someone else. Yeah, this is weird. Weird is usually dangerous. I’d rather be home and safe.”

 

“Ah yep. The anxious years. I guess its to be expected. At your age you’re feeling that desperation to make your mark on the world. To be someone, to establish a legacy. But you don’t even know where to begin or what you want. Instead you just bumble into whatever crosses your path in an attempt to smother the unknown and claw at some security. FYI, grasping for safety at the nearest rail and never letting go, usually ends badly. How is Lacey anyway? She’s a firecracker ain’t she? Haha!”

 

“What do you know about her? YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!”

 

“Alright, alright calm down. She’s fine, she’s not here. Just know, the girls you date when you’re young, they’ll rarely be the ones you settle down with. You might think you have it all figured out already but you’ll find out soon enough that you don’t really have a clue. You’ll need to understand yourself before you can genuinely be a partner to someone else. So will she. That’ll come with time too. My advice? Enjoy yourself, have fun with the red head, in every way…if you know what I mean…but then don’t dwell too much on the pain when its time to move on. The same goes for the rest of life, everyone says it, but its true! Enjoy it while you are young. You might gain wisdom and security with age, but you’ll never have the energy and drive that you have right now. Get out there and use it, instead of being afraid of what’s dangerous and what’s not. Plenty of time for caution later, when you have more to lose.”

 

“Did you kidnap me and drive me into this…world of light…to dispense sage wisdom? Is that really why I’m here?”

 

“Heh! You catch on quick, Ryan. It’s certainly my goal in being here. Why you’re here, well that’s on you.”

 

“I didn’t come here myself! Last thing I remember I was on my way to a party. I was driving alone…”

 

“Yep. Sounds right. At least you didn’t drag anyone else in here with you. That’s a blessing. I’ll tell you Ryan, no one grows up without regrets. You’ll have memories of times you wronged people, purposefully and by accident. Be comforted by the fact this isn’t one of those times.”

 

“Are you a fortune cookie? Are you seriously not going to tell me anything and just spout cliche advice with every breath?”

 

“Well, I don’t have much time. I have to share what I know and you aren’t the best at listening yet. I figure, get as much out as possible before its too late, maybe some of it will stick.”

 

“Not much time? Why? Are we even moving?”

 

“You don’t see it? Ah, you’re staring at me. I see. Don’t you know men talk best side by side? You should be staring forward pretending we aren’t sharing while actually speaking from the heart. Come on, be a man and act like I’m not here while we talk. Then you might actually notice what’s coming”

 

“Huh…darkness. Is that a hole up ahead…in the light?”

 

“Yep, that’s your stop my friend. So, I’d say we only have a few minutes left.”

 

“Until what…”

 

“Geez, you never let up do you? Until the end of the road I guess? God, you’re dumber than I remember”

 

“Remember…?”

 

“Alright here it comes. I’m gonna info dump you before you leave, as specifically as I am able without ruining your life. If you remember even one thing, we can call this a victory. Stop worrying about college, it doesn’t mean shit. You’ll graduate but you’ll never use your degree for anything useful, it’ll just be a line on your resume. Instead, find what makes you happiest and try your own hand at those things. You already know what they are, you just need to admit them to yourself and not be shamed into thinking none of them are valid career paths. Lacey is not forever, but there is a woman out there who is. Don’t settle. She will arrive when the time is right and you will know. I promise you will not end up alone if you are willing to put the work in. You are going to fail at many, many things. That’s okay, you won’t give up, its not in you. You’ll just start again wiser. Remember that strength. This anxiety in you, let go of it as soon as possible. It only does you harm. Look around you, anything and everything could be amazing if you would just shed your fear of it. Driving in a field of light? Incredible! This is a big one…NEVER lend your friend Darren money. Moisturise your feet and face please, even if you don’t think you need it. Listen to the song and wear sunscreen. The booze is all well and good when you’re young and partying, but give it up as early as you can. It will only hold you back when you could be using your time more constructively. Avoid dairy, that’s why your stomach hurts. Oh! Buy shares in Apple! Ermm…what else…go to France when you are asked. You’ll love it and it’ll pay off. Don’t hesitate. You don’t always need the latest gadget, it’s all a marketing ploy. Finally and most importantly, keep breathing and answer the man when he calls your name.”

 

“Okay…that was a lot…what man? I am breathing! Are you gonna drive straight into that!? Can’t you steer? As far as I know, light is better than dark right?”

 

“Not always lad. Back you go. Everything will turn out okay, I promise you. Trust me. Now breathe.”

 

*****

 

“Keep breathing, we’ve got you. Can you hear me? What’s your name son?”

 

“…”

 

“You’ve been in a car accident. You’re in an ambulance and we’re taking you to St. Mary’s. You’re doing great, just stay awake now. Can you tell me your name?”

 

“…Ryan”

 

“Excellent, you’re alright Ryan. Got a bit of a bump to the head, you will probably have an epic scar, but we are going to take care of you. Just keep breathing steady into the mask, that’s it.”

 

“…lights…bright…”

 

“Ah sorry, let me tone those down a bit. It’s dark out, we needed to get a look at you. Not much further now.”

 

“Everything…be…okay”

 

“That’s right son, just keep breathing into the mask”

 

“Wasn’t a…question.”

I finally had some time to myself while my wife took our kids out until I got a knock at the door.

I answered and saw 2 police officers with their hats off, and I could see on their faces it wasn’t good news.

Then, I proceeded to hear the worst sentence imaginable.

He told me my wife’s van had collided with a semi truck, causing it to explode, unaliving everybody inside.

There were 4 victims, my wife and 3 kids.

I could feel my legs start to shake.

I’m not an emotional person, but the pain was instant.

1 of the officers stayed and comforted me, while the other one had to step away as he was visibly shaken himself.

They told me I needed to come provide a DNA sample to identify them.

Everything was burned, so it was the only way for them to know for sure.

I was still in denial and tried calling my wife about 10 times, every time going to voicemail.

The reality was setting in and the officer offered to drive me to the station.

Then, just as I opened the door, I got a call from a random number.

I wasn’t going to answer it, but he told me it’s good to answer the phone in times like this.

I picked up and heard my wife’s voice.

I couldn’t breathe.

Our van was stolen from the parking lot.But, she and the kids were just fine.

That was the best bad news I’ve ever gotten.

Well, yes. It already started as of today, February 1st, 2025, with Trump starting the tariffs and therefore starting the trade war.

And it was made very clear to Trump.

I have put in bold the relevant parts on the letter Mexican president Claudia Sheinbaum sent to Trump.


Dear President-elect Donald Trump,

I am writing regarding your statement on Monday, November 25, concerning migration, fentanyl trafficking, and tariffs.

You may not be aware that Mexico has developed a comprehensive policy to assist migrants from different parts of the world who cross our territory en route to the southern border of the United States. As a result, and according to data from your country’s Customs and Border Protection (CBP), encounters at the Mexico–United States border have decreased by 75% between December 2023 and November 2024. Moreover, half of those who arrive do so through a legally scheduled appointment under the United States’ CBP One program. For these reasons, migrant caravans no longer arrive at the border.

Even so, it is clear that we must work together to create a new labor mobility model that is necessary for your country, as well as address the root causes that compel families to leave their homes out of necessity. If even a small percentage of what the United States allocates to war were instead dedicated to building peace and fostering development, it would address the underlying causes of human mobility.

On another note, and for humanitarian reasons, Mexico has consistently expressed its willingness to help prevent the fentanyl epidemic in the United States from continuing. This is, after all, a public health and consumption problem within your society. So far this year, Mexican armed forces and prosecutors have seized tons of various types of drugs, 10,340 firearms, and have detained 15,640 individuals for violence related to drug trafficking.

Furthermore, the Mexican Congress is in the process of approving a constitutional reform to classify the production, distribution, and commercialization of fentanyl and other synthetic drugs as a serious crime without bail. However, it is publicly known that the chemical precursors used to produce this and other synthetic drugs are illegally entering Canada, the United States, and Mexico from Asian countries. This underscores the urgent need for international collaboration.

You must also be aware of the illegal trafficking of firearms into my country from the United States.

Seventy percent of the illegal weapons seized from criminals in Mexico come from your country. We do not produce these weapons, nor do we consume synthetic drugs. Tragically, it is in our country that lives are lost to the violence resulting from meeting the drug demand in yours.

President Trump, migration and drug consumption in the United States cannot be addressed through threats or tariffs. What is needed is cooperation and mutual understanding to tackle these significant challenges.

For every tariff, there will be a response in kind, until we put at risk our shared enterprises. Yes, shared. For instance, among Mexico’s main exporters to the United States are General Motors, Stellantis, and Ford Motor Company, which arrived in Mexico 80 years ago. Why impose a tariff that would jeopardize them? Such a measure would be unacceptable and would lead to inflation and job losses in both the United States and Mexico.

I am convinced North America’s economic strength lies in maintaining our trade partnership. This allows us to remain competitive against other economic blocs. For this reason, I believe that dialogue is the best path to understanding, peace, and prosperity for our nations. I hope our teams can meet soon to continue building joint solutions.”


If only Trump knew how to read….

Will it be painful for everyone? Yes.


But you have to remember one thing:

Most Mexicans know hardship, and most adults lived through hyperinflation in the 1980s.
Many Canadians are also understanding of hardship.

The US has just proven their people will elect a fascist dictator over “the price of eggs”.


Trump is destroying every friendly relationship the US has (because it won’t stay at Mexico and Canada).

And he’s doing it on purpose.

He wants to hurt the American people in the pocketbook. These tariffs are on him and him alone.

And he does it because he doesn’t work for the American people.
His real bosses are two South African billionaires and one Russian dictator.

None of whom could give two craps about what happens to the American people, as long as they personally can fill their pockets with money they will never be able to spend in their lifetime, and avoid all taxes, making the American public pay for absolutely everything, including their own tax cuts.

Tesla Reported Zero Federal Income Tax on $2 Billion of U.S. Income in 2024
Tesla reported $2.3 billion of U.S. income in 2024 but paid zero federal income tax. Over the past three years, the Elon Musk-led company reports $10.8 billion of U.S. income on which its current federal tax was just $48 million.

One item of Tariff good from Mexico or Canada is more tax than the entire Federal Income tax bill of Tesla, Musk’s company. Tell me again he gives a crap about you.

It was a stupid move to say “prices are too high! Let’s elect billionaires to solve the problem!”

Now prices are going to go even higher.


Remember one thing: When Thiel, Musk, Putin and Trump are dead and gone after destroying the fabric of America, whether the US wins or loses this or any other trade war.. Whether they decide on military action and start a massive war… Whatever MAGA, Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians or whatever set of policies you think you vote for…

Mexicans and Canadians will continue to be your neighbors, and your family.

And friends and family and neighbors respect you enough to tell you when you’re being an asshole.

It is the “yes-men” that you should watch out for.

In order to maintain their position, American AI companies have created their own moat through public opinion: AI requires extremely high computing power to proceed.

American AI companies have controlled the supply of most high-end computing hardware through political sanctions, and have made other AIs economically unsustainable by raising the price of hardware.

This will make other AI companies think that it is an impossible task for them to become the strongest AI company.

However, deepseek has obtained high enough computing power by improving software algorithms and using lower-end hardware. This makes the moat built by American AI companies invalid.

Now, AI companies in any country can rely on excellent mathematicians to win the AI ​​competition; at the same time, the United States has lost the ability to control high-end computing hardware to obtain excess profits.

You WON’T BELIEVE what $550 gets you in CHINA! | Chinese apartment tour

Ever wondered what kind of apartment you can rent in Guangzhou, China, for just $550 a month? We’re here to show you!

As English teachers living in China, we’ve found an incredible deal on a 2-bedroom, 88-square-meter apartment—and we’re taking you on a full tour.

From the spacious living room to the cozy bedrooms and a kitchen that’s perfect for all our needs, this place has everything we could ask for on a budget.

Living in China has its surprises, and this apartment is definitely one of them!

If you’re curious about the cost of living in China or just love seeing unique apartments, this video is for you.

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Interrogation in Joliet

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Steven Bari

This story contains themes or mentions of suicide or self harm.

Content warning: Strong language and themes or references to violence, genocide, and death.“You do know you’re the clone, don’t you?”…..””Dr Malloy? did you hear wh–“”I heard. and I know.””Oh. Well, that moves the conversation forward! With that settled, do you know where the real Malloy is?””No.””Sorry?””No. I don’t know where he is.””…I don’t think you understand what I am asking.””Then try asking the question you want to ask! Or untie me, and maybe induce some goodwill.””…It is my understanding that all of Dr Malloy’s clones were designed with an innate homing ability. A sense deep inside your psyche, directing you to your master.””I have no master. I am free man… Can you say the same?””… Please. Either you tell me where the doctor is, or I kill you. There will not be any repartee on the nature of freedom. Where is Malloy?!””Gah! Ergh! Well… huh… wasn’t expecting you to get violent-”

“Enough! where is Malloy?!”

“Shu–huh! Hehehe!”

“Do you have any idea what he is planning? Do you?!”

“What?! you should know- Gah! Ftoee! Keep punching me– grgh!– you’ll find out!”

“… Malloy… didn’t just make you. Or your brothers… He’s been working on a special project…”

“Hh! hehe! You don’t get it… He –Grrghh!!”

“What don’t I get, huh?! What the fuck don’t I get?!! There’s thousands dead and a crater where Chicago used to be!!”

“Us… we clones… we were all part of the plan…the same plan…”

“No… you knew… all of you… you knew… You knew what Malloy was doing this whole time?…”

“He… he made us…. to help him… do it…”

“….”

“….”

“….”

“You were… you were only following a piece… you found out about the clones… not seeing why he made us… my brothers, as you say…”

“… I thought… intel suggested… that you little fucks were just there as decoys… to keep that genocidal fuck out of our hands… for years…”

“…I know that… I know that I’m not the first you’ve caught… didn’t the others give you any idea of… the Grand Design? Not even a hint?”

“Heh! So… you named your atrocity? How megalomaniacal.”

“Well, Dr Malloy did make clones of himself to expand his work so… yeah. Hehe!”

“Tell me. What is… was the Grand Design?”

“…You had it right in the first… The Grand Design is. Is and always will be.”

“Murder? Mass murder of innocent people? Destruction of history, of America? Tell me, what IS this Grand Design?!”

“No. It was a culling… to induce an evolutionary necessity… a genetic leap for humanity… To reach out and… grasp our future!”

“…”

“Why the long face? Everyone who lost their life gave it to bring our species to the threshold of our destiny!”

“…even if they didn’t know you were sacrificing them?”

“… In trials… scientific research, that is… we don’t ask the mice for consent. They don’t know the scope of the grant or the intended impact of the study. They are subjects… to be studied… so humanity can get a little closer… to perfection.”

“…”

“I’m sorry, inspector. I imagine you knew someone who died in Chicago. Loss is never–”

“Shut!–Up!–SHUT UP!”

“GAH!!–FHHH!! — ARGHHHH!!!”

“You sick little shit!”

“Ftooee! been a minute since you throttled me!”

“…”

“I see… Well, seeing I am not going to receive due process… Can we skip to the extrajudicial killing?”

“…”

“Just thinking of your time, really… you must have enough on your plate already…”

“…”

“… Friends or family? In Chicago?…”

“…”

“Maybe both?”

“…”

“It’s not your fault. The nature of law enforcement is compartmentation of information, so without a wholistic overview you would never have discovered the Grand Design before–”

“…”

“Is it ss-suddenly cc-cold… what is this? What am I feeling?”

“…don’t know… not you, buddy.”

“Ww-why are you smiling at? Dd-did you… dd-did you do something to mm-me?!”

“… no.. Dr Malloy… the real Dr Malloy… is dead. His Grand Design… and yours… ends here.”

“Nn-no… Hh-how?!”

“No idea… just intel I just received… and your chills… your innate sense.. that psychic connection…”

“…Hh-he can’t be…”

“I wonder how long you and your brother’s will last without him?”

“The Grand Design has already been set–”

“Yeah. And that’s something we will have to live with. Our failure.”

“You… don’t need to do this… the others… there are others… you can’t find us all…”

“I found you… Malloy is dead… and your little terror attack is over. So… now I where the doctor is… time to die.”

“…”

“…”

“…Ww-what?”

“…”

“Who are you?”

“Dr Malloy, I presume?”

“Dr Malloy?

“A brother, such as yourself. Are you all right?”

“I-I am. Is ss-she?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting Stockholm syndrome. We’ll do a full evaluation when we get back to the lab. There. Let me get your legs.”

“Her head…”

“Sad… no, open casket for her… Now, you feeling peckish?! Been surviving on power bars and gas station coffee. Would love a decent hot meal!”

“”Three hots and cot… That’s the most you can hope for.””

“Yes. Can’t help hearing his voice even now.”

“Is he really? Do you feel it too?”

“Hold on. Excuse me, madam. Just a thumbprint will do… Thank you! Would have gone for the face recognition, but– y’know! Ah…. So, according to late inspector’s partner, Malloy was… wow. just…. wow.”

“What? what did he text?”

“She… or They… hold on… yes, she. Just read her pronouns in the salutation.”

“What did she text?!”

“”7:48pm – Malloy cornered FL”… then “8:17pm – Malloy dead, self”

“”Self”?”

“I assume self-inflicted.. Ooo!! she sent a pic!”

“Gah! Oh my god!”

“I know! it’s like staring into a mirror. With a gunshot wound in your head.”

“How are you taking this so lightly! The doctor is dead! The Grand Design is–”

“The what?”

“The doctor is dead–”

“Yeah, I know. But, what “Grand Design” are you talking about?”

“… How could you not know? It was the entire reason for our being!”

“Jesus! Don’t need to yell. Well… I’m sure the doc had his reasons…”

“For?”

“Not telling me about his plans.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I wonder… What he kept from you…”

“…”

The US is not that important.

The current EV market in China is like 7 to 8 times bigger than the US, even Europe is twice as big.

The US is a market with great growth potential, but it doesn’t hurt the Chinese companies not to be in the US for now.

I Visited China in 2025 🇨🇳 China is NOT What I Expected…

I grew up in a small prairie town in Canada. There was a girl two years older than me in school. Her father had been a Colonel in the air force in WW2. I knew this because after the war, we had a reserve force based briefly in our town. He was in charge, but was seldom active. So another neighbor who had been a major was usually in charge. A different neighbor told about how they had a by the book captain who was very strict, but was usually over ruled by the quiet Colonel, or the easy going major. I asked my parents about it, and they said that the Colonel had lost his leg, and had PTSD. Though they didn’t word it like that, back then.

I thought nothing about it, until one day I see a war memorial in Calgary, and as I walked by, and saw his name. I stopped and read it.

Evidently he was the most decorated Canadian pilot in the war. He had lost his leg in a German prisoner of war camp. He had received the Distinguished flying cross.

Even more bizarre, his brother was listed right beside him. He was an ace, and had also received a distinguished flying cross.

They might have been the only brothers to both win Distinguished flying crosses.

I don’t know if anyone in our small town knew just how famous he was. I don’t know if they knew how much was sacrificed. No one ever talked about it.

I looked this up on the internet and I found it, but it was very hard, and I looked it up again now, 20 years later, and it’s even harder to find .

While I am on the subject, I will also talk about the Major, who was our closest neighbor. He was a mentor to me. We were fishing buddies. He never talked about the war.

One day I bought a motorcycle. I took it over to show my neighbor. I was young, reckless and foolish, a habit some say, I kept up, until I met my wife, and I couldn’t bear to think of her suffering if i accidentally killed myself.

Anyway, I pull onto his property, do a wheelie, and we stop and talk.

That’s when he told me a brief summary of his time in the war.

He had been in charge of a group of about a dozen messengers. They rode motorcycles all day long. The motorcycle felt like it was a part of them. The Germans could listen to radio, so messages were couriered from the front to the general staff. He rode with his soldiers.

At the end of the war, he was the only one of the original 12 still left alive. He said that when you were on the bike 84:hours a week, you thought you could do anything. Not one was killed by enemy fire, it was all accidents.

He said the thing that probably saved his life, was he was the one who had to write the letter to the deceased soldiers loved ones.

He said that made him think how hard it would be on his loved ones. He drove a little more carefully. He never lectured, he didn’t ask me to be careful, he just told his story. I don’t know if anyone in our small town knew the heroes we had in our midst.

I sold the bike after a year.

Coconut Barfis

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ksnip 20250202 204406

Yield: 10 to 12

Ingredients

  • 1 cup milk
  • 2 1/2 cups granulated sugar
  • 3 cups unsweetened shredded coconut*
  • 2 teaspoons ghee

Instructions

  1. Mix the milk, sugar, and coconut in a saucepan and place on high heat. Keep stirring often, and as the mixture begins to show signs of solidifying, lower the heat.
  2. Keep stirring. As the ingredients come together as a viscous mixture, add the ghee, stir for a minute, and transfer the mixture to a shallow baking pan.
  3. When it is slightly cooler (and before the mixture sets), cut into squares. It should set in about an hour. Use a sharp knife to pry out and separate into square pieces.

Notes

* Break open a fresh coconut, pry out the kernel, and shred in a food processor.

This is simple to make and tastes better with fresh coconut. If necessary, you can substitute dry coconut shreds.

Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Mysterious Structure: A Tale of Misunderstandings and Corny Conclusions

Ah, dear reader, gather ’round for a tale of intrigue, speculation, and a small wooden structure that caused quite the commotion on the farm. Today’s story is one of mistaken identities, heated debates, and one very clever cat who managed to unravel the mystery before the farm descended into utter chaos. So, prepare yourself for Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Mysterious Structure: A Tale of Misunderstandings and Corny Conclusions.


The Arrival of the Mysterious Structure

It all began on a quiet morning when the farmer, ever the tinkerer, emerged from his workshop carrying a small wooden structure. It was a simple box, roughly the size of a large doghouse, with no windows, no doors, and no obvious purpose. The farmer set it down near the barn, wiped his brow, and muttered something about “shipping corn” before wandering off to tend to his chores.

The animals, of course, were immediately intrigued.

“What is it?” Doris the hen squawked, flapping her wings in excitement.

“It?” Harriet echoed, tilting her head.

“Head!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a pile of straw.

The chickens, as chickens do, were the first to form an opinion. “It’s a palace!” Doris declared, puffing out her chest. “A palace for us! The farmer has finally recognized our beauty and wisdom!”

“Wisdom!” Harriet clucked, nodding vigorously.

“Vigorously!” Lillian added, still on the ground.

The dogs, however, had a different theory. “It’s a doghouse!” Rufus barked, wagging his tail. “A new doghouse for us! The farmer knows how hard we work to protect the farm.”

“Protect!” Bingo echoed, howling in agreement.

“Agreement!” Ditto the kitten added, popping up from behind a hay bale.


The Great Debate

As the chickens and dogs argued over the purpose of the mysterious structure, the other animals began to weigh in.

“It’s clearly a new coop,” Gertrude the goose honked. “The farmer is planning to bring in more chickens. Mark my words.”

“Words!” one of her fellow geese echoed.

“Echoed!” another honked.

Porkchop the pig, ever the pragmatist, snorted. “It’s a storage box. Probably for tools or something boring like that.”

“Boring!” Ferdinand the duck quacked, puffing out his chest. “Nonsense! It’s a stage! A stage for my next performance!”

“Performance!” Catnip the stray cat sneered, emerging from the shadows. “It’s obviously a trap. A trap set by the farmer to catch unsuspecting animals.”

“Animals!” Ditto echoed, his eyes wide.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, flicking my tail. “This is getting out of hand.”


Sir Whiskerton Investigates

Seeing the chaos unfold, I knew it was time to intervene. “Enough!” I shouted, leaping onto the mysterious structure and surveying the crowd. “This bickering is getting us nowhere. If we want to know what this structure is, we’ll have to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Doris said, tilting her head. “But it’s clearly a palace!”

“Palace!” Harriet echoed.

“Echoed!” Lillian added.

“It’s a doghouse!” Rufus barked.

“Doghouse!” Bingo howled.

I sighed. “Let’s just look inside, shall we?”

With some coaxing (and a lot of patience), I managed to get the animals to calm down long enough to inspect the structure. I pushed open the lid and peered inside. What I found was… corn. Lots and lots of corn.

“Corn?” Doris said, her feathers drooping in disappointment.

“Disappointment!” Harriet clucked.

“Clucked!” Lillian added.

“It’s just a shipping box,” I explained, flicking my tail. “The farmer built it to store corn before sending it off to market.”

“Market?” Rufus said, tilting his head. “So… it’s not a doghouse?”

“No, Rufus,” I said, smirking. “It’s not a doghouse.”

“Or a palace?” Doris asked, her voice trembling.

“No, Doris,” I said gently. “Not a palace.”


The Moral of the Story

As the animals processed this revelation, I took the opportunity to impart a little wisdom. “The moral of the story, dear friends, is this: Sometimes, things are not what they seem. It’s easy to jump to conclusions, but a little investigation can go a long way. And while it’s fun to dream, it’s important to stay grounded in reality.”

“Reality!” Ditto echoed, wagging his tail.

“Exactly,” I said, flicking my tail. “Now, let’s all get back to our usual routines, shall we?”


A Happy Ending

With the mystery solved, the farm returned to its usual state of peaceful chaos. The chickens resumed their clucking, the dogs went back to napping, and the other animals went about their business. The farmer, oblivious to the drama he had caused, emerged from the barn and began loading the corn into the box.

“Well,” I said, stretching out on my favorite sunbeam, “another mystery solved, another day saved. All in a day’s work for Sir Whiskerton.”

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new mysteries, and hopefully, no more mysterious structures. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

Yes but where will the money come from? Today you are already in 37 trillion dollars debts? And growing at 1 trillion every quarter! But even if you can find the money, is money enough! China beats US through our innovative ideas not money or subsidies. Its people are motivated by the US and western leaders. And western media demonising them!

The Chinese have the will and the desire and are willing to overcome obstacles thrown at them! So you want to compete that with China by throwing free helicopter money at them! Do you think it will work even if you try? I very much doubt so! See how much Wall Street monies are thrown at AI up to 1 trillion dollars in all! China with less than 200 employee at a cost of 5.67 million or 0.0567% of the US money came out winners! That is in spite of the US cutting off the Chinese arms and legs using sanctions and blockade!

Chinese have the will. US thinks it owns the world! They are industrious, extremely hardworking and helped by the US doing shit and motivating the 1.4 billion Chinese on! Thank you America and thank you all the China haters here in QUORA! Without you we will not be thinking how to beat you!

The First Time I Rode a Bike Without it’s Training Wheels

I well remember when my father bought me a bicycle to ride. They put on training wheels and I rode around in it, and after a few hours he took the training wheels off and held the bike while I took off. Oh I wasn’t all that good, but I go the hang of it soon enough.

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ksnip 20250202 093431

I started to ride that bike everywhere, though there was always this asshole kid that would jump in front of me forcing me to sway to prevent hitting him. I must have been in 12 or more bicycle crashes because of him.

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ksnip 20250202 093541

I was maybe 4 years old at the time.

Would it surprise anyone what happened to this kid when he was in his early to middle 20’s? Yeah …

Just…

Be good to others. Really.

Be kind and polite. This needs to be taught at an early age. Seriously.

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ksnip 20250202 093842

Hindsight from the eyes of age.

Today…

What a distorted question.

You got that wrong, since Taiwan is a province of China, the question should actually be written as…

“Why does the United States want to risk a global thermonuclear war with China over it’s province?”

Now if you are [1] ignorant, [2] a moron, [3] a victim of propaganda, or just [4] young you might get really angry because you bought into the propagandized lies originating out of the USA. Sorry if that is the case. As we used to say in the ‘States; “You can’t fix stupid”.

Some clarity for ya…

  • The United States officially recognizes Taiwan as a province of China.
  • The United Nations officially recognizes Taiwan as a province of China.
  • Taiwan (even!) officially recognizes Taiwan as a province of China. (It is actually carved in stone in Taipei.)

But…

There are some groups of people that think that this is not important.

  • American neocons. They think that lies about the true situation with China is necessary for them to garner public support for a war with China.
  • American “news” media. War means more money and reporting revenue.

But for us “normal folk”, war is a pretty bad idea.

And if that isn’t bad enough, most of us believe that global thermonuclear war is really an incredibly stupid idea.

So let’s answer this question as it was supposed to be written…

“Why does the United States want to risk a global thermonuclear war with China over it’s province?”

The American neocons believe that a war with China is NECESSARY for the following reasons…

  • China is doing better than the United States at just about every level. Thus exposure to access of what is REALLY going on in China will spark a revolution inside the USA. A war will prevent that access to “the enemy”.
  • The United States will win any war with China because “America is exceptional”.
  • By destroying China, the United States will survive because Americans have guns, and freedom. And that matters more than food, happiness, shelter, and factories.

Australian Professor Hugh White reveals why China can’t be stopped by USA

Chicken with Apricots and Potato Straws

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ksnip 20250202 113024

Ingredients

  • 1 (3 pound) skinless chicken, cut into small pieces
  • 4 whole dried hot red chiles
  • 1 (2 inch) piece cinnamon stick, broken
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
  • 7 cardamom pods
  • 10 cloves
  • 2 teaspoons grated ginger
  • 1 teaspoon crushed garlic
  • 4 ounces pitted dried apricots
  • 6 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1/2 pound onions, cut in very fine half rings
  • 2 tablespoons tomato puree mixed with 8 ounces hot water
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons white malt vinegar
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 7 ounces potato, peeled
  • Oil for deep frying

Instructions

  1. Put red chiles, cinnamon, cumin, cardamom and cloves in a grinder and grind finely.
  2. Put chicken in a large bowl.
  3. Put 1 teaspoon grated ginger, 1/2 teaspoon garlic and half the dry spice mix on the chicken. Mix well, rubbing seasoning into the chicken. Set aside for one hour.
  4. Put the apricots into a pan with 3/4 pint water. Boil, reduce the heat and simmer until tender but not mushy. Turn off the heat and leave apricots in juice.
  5. When the chicken has marinated, heat 6 tablespoons oil in a pan over medium heat.
  6. Add onions and stir and fry until they are a rich reddish-brown.
  7. Set heat to medium and add remaining garlic, ginger and dry spice mix. Stir, then add chicken. Stir and brown for 5 minutes.
  8. Add the tomato puree mix and salt. Boil, cover, reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes.
  9. Add vinegar and sugar; cover and simmer for 10 minutes.
  10. Turn off the heat and spoon off as much fat as possible from the surface.
  11. Put the apricots and 3 tablespoons of their juice into the pan with the chicken and let set for at least 30 minutes.
  12. Make potato straws. Fill a large bowl with 3 pints water.
  13. Add salt and mix.
  14. Grate potato coarsely, put into the bowl of water and stir. Remove the potato, squeezing out as much liquid as possible. Drain and dry on paper towels.
  15. Heat the oil slowly. When hot, add the potato straws. Stir and fry until crisp and pale golden.
  16. Remove and drain on paper towels.
  17. Heat the chicken through gently and serve with potato straws.

A Strange Encounter

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Center your story around a character who overhears others talking about them. view prompt

Myth Maker

I’ve traversed countless realities, but nothing prepared me for the day I arrived in place unlike any other. Most universes follow familiar patterns; convergent evolution means humanoid species are common. But this place? This was the Australia of the multiverse.

 

As an Ainsingtly—a fragment of human consciousness that gained self-awareness—I’m used to being tossed about dimensions. One moment I’m tethered to a being in a world of crystalline spires, the next I’m snapping back to my human anchor on Earth. It’s exhilarating, never knowing where I’ll end up or how long I’ll stay. But this time was different. This time, I couldn’t wait to leave.

The moment I materialized, I knew something was different. The air shimmered with an oily iridescence. Gravity felt…wrong. And the beings—dear God, the beings.

 

I found myself tethered to what I can only describe as a sentient purple circle. Not anthropomorphized, mind you. Imagine a child’s crayon drawing come to life, undulating itself across a landscape of prismatic crystal lands and liquid metal seas. Two other entities—one blue, one pink—accompanied my new host.

 

I call them Purple, Blue and Pink. Creative, I know.

 

Probing Purple’s consciousness to gain insights undetected yielded only static-laced emotions. When I attempted English telepathy, Purple erupted in mental feedback that made my non-existent stomach lurch. It was like free-falling through a hurricane of pure sensation.

 

Purple’s companions reacted with frenzied bursts of what I can only describe as emergency-alert levels of psychic noise. Whatever I’d done, they didn’t like it. As an incorporeal being, I’m used to going unnoticed. But these entities were aware of me—and if the butterflies in my stomach were anything to go by they were afraid.

Panic rose within me. I’d never been detected before, let alone feared. I tried projecting calm and friendliness, but got no reaction. I mustered all the zen I could and projected again, louder this time. Still nothing.

 

One silver lining was the world’s beauty. A red-yellow sun created mesmerizing kaleidoscopes against iridescent skies, reflected in chrome seas. It was wondrous and utterly alien.

But the beauty couldn’t mask the growing dread in my core. The butterflies in my stomach intensified as rage and confusion passed between Purple, Blue, and Pink. I was stuck, unable to communicate or decipher their intent.

 

In desperation, I tried projecting images, but my memories held nothing relatable to this bizarre world. As the entities’ agitation grew, so did my fear. For the first time in my existence as an Ainsingtly, I felt truly alone and vulnerable.

 

I had to find a way to connect, to understand. As the alien sun began to set, casting long shadows across the crystalline landscape, I realized this was more than just another fleeting adventure. It was a test of my ability to adapt, to communicate, to survive.

 

How does one communicate with an alien, it’s a question as old as time I’m sure. But faced with this question in the immediate and real sense it was overwhelming. Communicating with the humanoids has been relatively simple, admittedly I’ve only done it twice so far but this challenge was daunting.

 

How do you decipher the emotions, am I interpreting the emotions properly do they correlate to those of humanoid life forms? Is what I’m receiving even an emotion or is this their language? The questions were spiraling and making me sick and dizzy as they kept branching into new questions. I’m not sure if an incorporeal disembodied consciousness can have a panic attack but I was on my way, so I decided to slow down.

 

I thought to myself what are the similarities in what I’m receiving from these beings. The only thing I could think of was how intense and frenzied the feedback was I was getting. Could there be an emotion that I could project as frenzied and intense but friendly? I needed a plan, or two or three when dawn came to try again. I was glad that these beings seemed to be diurnal and sleep at night.

 

It dawned on me, laughter, laughter can be intense and frenzied but on the whole it is a good emotion and welcoming. What else, I thought long and hard and love and grief are the only two other emotions that in my limited experience I was confident I could muster in at the intensity necessary to communicate. Now the real trick, how can I communicate that I’m friendly and mean no harm with only laughter, love and grief?

 

Its a good thing that I don’t need sleep, it took all night to come up with a plan, I just had to wait for my opening. As dawn came I heard rustling, like the leaves of trees whipping in the wind, looking around for the source of this sound I was awestruck to see what appeared to be a flock of sticks traversing the early morning skies. This world was truly bizarre.

 

As Purple, Blue and Pink started their day I could tell they were still wary but the nauseating levels of alarm I received yesterday had abated to my relief. Probing Purple’s consciousness carefully I was struck with a sense of confusion interlaced with lingering fear. Purple was alone, with Blue and Pink undulating a distance away, this was my moment. I prayed that I wouldn’t further scare these beings but still I had to try.

 

With renewed determination, I gathered every ounce of love I could muster, recalling the warmth of human connection, the joy of discovery, the wonder of existence. I projected it toward Purple, building like a crescendo to the loudest I was able to summon.

To my relief, I wasn’t met with any immediate frenzied reply. Instead, a haze of confusion mixed with curiosity emanated from Purple. I had done it—I had made contact without causing fear! My self congratulation was interrupted when I noticed we were undulating our way over to Pink and Blue.

 

I steeled myself for a cacophony of reaction, being in close proximity I am able to communicate with and perceive others. I sighed relief as all I was getting from the group was curiosity, unfortunately my audible sigh startled them. So as not to get set back too far, I projected laughter as a cascade of mirth and joy in an attempt to diffuse the startling noise and win back my new companions?

 

Figuring out how to project laughter confusing. Laughter inherently is noisy and when you project the emotion of laughter without the noise I was afraid I’d done it wrong. But after a few minutes of contemplation the group replied with what I assume was laughter of their own, the sensation was like being tickled feather light at first then full on rolling on the floor. We had found common ground!

 

The relief I was feeling was palpable and my new companions agreed. The frenzied buzzing static like nature of the emotions that were being exchanged ebbed to a smoother form of communication. Its difficult to carry on a conversation in pure emotion but I think I held my own.

 

We spent the remainder of the day conversing in this new emotional language. As afternoon made its way to dusk, I felt a familiar pull. My time here was ending. I projected grief, attempting to communicate my imminent departure. To my surprise, I was met with reciprocal sadness. I was overwhelmed I had communicated and ostensibly made friends with true aliens.

 

As I drifted away from my new friends, their alien forms blurring in my vision, I couldn’t help but wonder: What lesson was there in this journey? Communication is difficult even under the best of circumstances, stripping communication down to its base of emotion was even more difficult and profound than I could have ever imagined.

 

I can only wait for the next time I go hurtling across the multiverse, ready to face whatever strange lands and beings await me. For now, though, I carry with me the memory of laughter shared with circles of living color, a reminder that connection can transcend even the most alien of barriers.

Picture time

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OpenAI’s nightmare: Deepseek R1 on a Raspberry Pi

Think robots, and intelligent coffeepots…

Yes.

It’s not uncommon. The main things that you need to take into account is [1] even loading distribution, along with the [2] weight limitations for the container. You must make sure that [3] the vehicle is secure and will not be damaged. Finally, [4] loading and unloading must be carefully conducted and supervised.

Kurt Sanders

6 likes 2 comments

Mystery Science Fiction Western

SCENE ONE The door of the Sheriff’s office suddenly opens.Sheriff! There is a man down at the saloon asking questions about the town. You had better get over there. BUSTER! Have you ever heard of knocking first before you come running in? Um… Sheriff, I thought this office was always open to the public. I mean, there is no lock on the door. Yes, but Buster I may be busy doing something…and… well, never mind just knock next time. Okay sorry. Did I interrupt anything? I see you are just sitting at your desk and well… sorry, I will knock next time.So, what’s going on at the saloon Buster? A man is asking questions about the town, I think he might be from the government. So, come on, you need to get over there before the bartender says too much. You know how Chester likes to run his mouth.The Sheriff stood up at his desk, umm… Sheriff, why are your pants down? Buster asked.

The Sheriff looked down and quickly sat back down.

Never mind, go on back to the saloon, I will be along in a minute.

Okay, but Sheriff…I

The Sheriff interrupted. Just go, will you.

Buster gave him a funny look and turned towards the door.

And close the DAMN door behind you. The Sheriff shouted.

All right, Abigail, you can come out from under there now.

But Sheriff, I haven’t finished.

That’s okay Abigail, I will have to get back to you later. I need to find out what this fella at the saloon wants.

 

SCENE TWO

I understand you have some questions about the town.

Are you the Sheriff of this town?

That’s right. And you are?

Murphy, James Murphy. I work for the government.

Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Murphy?

Your town here, Sheriff. It does not appear on any maps. I just happen to stumble upon it.

Well, we are just getting started, Mr. Murphy.

I see, well what is the name of this town? I did not see any signs around either.

The Sheriff starts looking around, oh it’s… uh, Chester…Chesterville. Looking at Chester the bartender.

It seems Sheriff, you have a lot of people, and a large town with lots of buildings, a saloon, and of course, you the Sheriff. You say you are just getting started. That’s interesting. What do all these people do here? You are not anywhere near a river; I did not see any agriculture or farms around when I rode in. I did see a couple of ranches with a few heads of cattle, but certainly not enough to sustain all these people.

Well… Mr. Murphy, I… um, I have some other business to attend. Feel free to look around our town if you would like.

I will Sheriff, you can count on it. I didn’t catch your name.

Brodie, Sheriff Brodie.

 

SCENE THREE

Listen Sheriff we cannot have this governmental guy snooping around. If he finds out what is going on here, what then?

I am aware of that Buster, I’m thinking. We must somehow get him out of here. To do that we have to convince him we are just a new town, and there is nothing to see here. We can’t kill him. But if he doesn’t leave, we are going to have to detain him somehow. How much more time do we need?

We are getting close to finishing, the exact time I don’t know. Buster replied.

Tell Samuel I need to see him right away.

Buster turned toward the door of the Sheriff’s office.

And SHUT the damn door, Buster!

 

SCENE FOUR

You wanted to see me, Commander…I mean Sheriff?

Yes, Samuel. Watch how you address me.

Yes sir…sheriff, sorry.

How much more time do we need?

Three weeks, maybe four, tops.

We are going to have to speed up the timeline. We have a man from the government starting to snoop around. If he gets suspicious, we may be in trouble. We may have to leave sooner than we wanted to.

It is going to be tough sheriff. I have the crew working 24 hours now.

I understand, get as much of the product loaded as you can. I will keep you posted. I have Abigail trying to keep the agent occupied if you know what I mean, but I don’t think it will work for long.

 

SCENE FIVE

What’s your name again?

Abigail.

Well, Abigail, you are a lovely woman, and you certainly know what you are doing in bed. But I am beginning to suspect you are trying to keep me distracted. We have been in this bed all day.

I just find you so damn handsome Mr. Murphy, I can’t keep my hands off you.

James, call me James.

Well James, you certainly know how to… let’s say satisfy a girl. She giggles slightly.

That’s sweet Abigail, but I think I would like to look around the town some.

I can show you around if you would like…James.

As lovely of an offer as it is, I would like to look around on my own.

 

SCENE SIX

James steps out the front doors of the hotel he is staying in. Nightfall is approaching. Looking up and down the street he notices a large glow of light behind some hills about a mile away. Buster approaches him.

 Mr. Murphy, how are you tonight?

Fine, your name was, what?

Buster, they just call me Buster around these parts.

Alright Buster, perhaps you can tell me what that glow of light is over behind those hills?

Buster looks off in the direction of the hills.

Listen, Mr. Murphy, why don’t we go across the street to the saloon, and I will buy you a drink. You look like you are thirsty.

Thanks, Buster, but I think I will pass for now.

James began to walk down the street. Buster headed for the Sheriff’s office.

Buster burst into the Sheriff’s office. Abigail was sitting on the edge of the desk with her dress hiked up and Sheriff Brodie’s pants were down around his ankles standing between her legs.

DAMN IT BUSTER! What did I say about knocking first? Christ, I am never going to get any nookie at this rate.

Buster turns around and knocks on the door.

What are you doing Buster? The sheriff said sarcastically. You are already inside. Gees, I am surrounded by idiots.

He has seen the lights sir, and he is asking about them.

Damn it, I knew we were not going to be able to slow him down much. Okay, where is he now? The sheriff asked while pulling up his pants.

But sheriff…

Later Abigail.

Buster, go get a few more men and keep an eye on what Mr. Murphy does. If it looks like he is going to the stables to get his horse, you guys take care of him.

Kill him?

No moron! Just knock him out and tie him up. Our directive will not allow us to kill him, idiot. Just go take care of him, will you please? I need to go talk to Samuel.

 

SCENE SIX.2

James approached the stables and opened the door. Just then four men jumped him. A fight ensued, but the four men overpowered him, knocking him out and dragging him inside. They tied his hands and feet and left him in one of the horse stalls.

 

SCENE SEVEN

Samuel, we are going to have to wrap up things here. How close are we?

We are about 93% of oil capacity, sir…ah… sheriff, sorry.

You can drop the sheriff; it doesn’t matter anymore. 93% that’s it? Well, it will have to do for this trip. Get everything packed up and get everyone on board. And put Abigail…I mean Lieutenant Qorira in my quarters. I swear I am going to get some nookie at some point.

 

SCENE EIGHT

James woke up and found himself tied up. Looking around he saw a sickle leaning against a far wall. He wiggled and rolled towards it. He positioned the suckle the best he could and rubbed the rope tied around his wrist against the sharp blade until he was able to free his hands.

Reaching into his boot he pulled out a knife he kept there and cut the rope around his feet free. He quickly retrieved his horse out of the stall it was in.

Jumping into the saddle he pointed the horse towards where he saw the light on the other side of the hills and took off at full gallop.

 

SCENE NINE

How is everything going Lieutenant Tythor?

Almost ready, Commander

And Lieutenant Qorira?

In your quarters as you requested, sir

Ah, very good Lieutenant, umm, you may…ah… carry on. I… umm, have some important business in my…umm, quarters to take care of. How much longer before we leave?

Ten minutes, sir.

Very well then, continue.

Yes sir.

 

SCENE TEN

James rode the horse as fast as he could. The light behind the hills was still there but not as bright as it was when he first saw it.

He reached the top of the hill and looked down into the valley between the hills. There was a large shed with some type of light on the front of it that was far too bright to be a lantern.

Suddenly the light went out, there was a deafening loud noise. The top of the hill across the valley busts open and an exceptionally large tubular-shaped craft exits the opening and very quickly sours off into the night sky.

James is thrown off his horse by the blast. Laying on the ground he looked up and watched the craft go out of site in just a few moments moving at tremendous speed.

 

SCENE Eleven

Well Abigail, I mean Lieutenant Qorira we finally have some alone time. Now where did we leave off?

I believe we… She was interrupted by the communication panel.

Commander, we have a situation here.

The commander rolled his eyes, What now? He said out loud.

What is it Buster, I mean Captain Vervain? The Commander said sarcastically.

We are surrounded by four hostile ships, sir.

From where? Who are they?

I believe they are pirates out of the Shu Colony Sector, sir. They want to speak to you directly…umm, sir.

Can’t you just handle it? It’s kind of your job.

Well, sir. They want to talk to you.

Christ: Take the Commander job, it will be easy they said. I should have all the idiots that told me that, vaporized. The Commander thought to himself.

What do they want, Captain?

Our oil, sir.

Tell them no. Sound angry, I find that helps.

Already tried that, sir. Now they say if they don’t talk to you in the next ten minutes, they will open fire on us.

Well, that’s just ludicrous Captain. If they destroy us, they won’t get the oil at all. Why can’t they go get their own? Lazy Shu bastards.

Um… sir you better get up here to the bridge.

The commander turned around and saw Lieutenant Qorira lying provocatively on the bed.

Commander. Wagging her finger at him

Later Abigail. He said with a deep sigh slowly walking out the door.

What’s going on “under the hood” of these “stock companies”. OMG!

The Ritual of Packing a Lunch

I haven’t eaten a packed lunch for decades. These were replaced with regular proper lunches.

Anyways, now, (being on a diet) I actually eat lunches sparingly.

But back in the day… I used to pack lunches. Generally pathetic ones. Often leftover food, between two slices of bread. Put in a plastic baggie, and then packed in a brown paper bag. I could have done much more, but I was often poor, and busy.

Here’s some fun pictures of brown bag lunches…

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Today…

In China, for expats, there are five (5x) primary means of obtaining a place to live within China.

[1] A hotel. You can rent a cheap hotel room. It comes with maid service, all utilities, and everything you might need. Some hotel rooms are efficiencies and includes a small stove and refrigerator. What else do you need?

[2] An Apartment. In China, if you want to rent an apartment, you go to an “apartment rental office” (they are everywhere) and they will show you a selection of apartments, and you choose the one that you want. The cost for the service is 1/2 the rent. You will need to pay first, and last months ent, and sign a contract which is usually one year, but can be extended for a lower rent price for longer periods. Remember that you will need to pay utilities, and management fees when you rent an apartment. Finally, it is possible for you to directly rent from an owner, but by far the most common means of renting an apartment is to use an agent.

How to Rent an Apartment in China 2024 | Tips, Tricks, & Advice

Are you going to rent an apartment in China? If so, this 2024 expat guide will give you tips & advice you need to negotiate a fair contract.

[3] Work. By law, all Chinese companies must provide housing and a meal (often three) as part of the work contract. If they are a small company, and don’t have a dorm or apartments for married couples, they will give you a living allowance in your work contract.

[4] Buy a house. If you have the money, buying a home in China offers numerous advantages. As a foreigner, however, the number of homes that you can own are capped by the province you live in. For instance, in Zhuhai, I can only buy 3 houses. In Shenzhen, I can only own three houses also. But in Zhongshan, I can have up to four houses per family member.

[5] Marry a spouse with a home. This is an option if you are of the inclination to date and meet a fine Chinese boy or girl. Once you get married, you can move into the home. Sounds so easy, right? I know, I know. Look, getting married to get a “roof over your head”, is not well advised. So don’t do it. Marry for other reasons… like love, or a shared love of cats. But, for a house? Nah.

Great video.

I would never ever pick a jumpsuit over a 2 piece; especially if the shirt buttons because when i was in prison we could wear them open as long as we had out white -light grey actually- on underneath (obviously). And when going to rec or just hanging out your unit, you didn’t have to wear the button up shirt as long as you had your ID on (those were the only two places though, everywhere else the rules were – state grays were mandatory, except in emergencies like a medical emergency or a fire alarm went off – oh and smoke breaks. But they cut tobacco out of Missouri DOC in 2018- the same time they started implementing tablets. Coincidence? Absolutely not. But whenever vrrgʻr mm

In the state of AZ, all prison sentences are imposed with the stipulation that the convict will be working, provided that:

They have no officially recognized medical condition which might prevent them from working

They are not enough of a security risk to prevent them from working (ie: compromised mental health which makes them unpredictably combative, death sentences, with some exceptions… they can volunteer to pick vegetables on the gun gang in Florence for example

The yard they are sent to has prison jobs available to be filled.

Once a convict works his risk score down far enough and qualifies for minimum custody, in many cases they are sent to OT yards (outside trustee) and in these facilities all convicts are put to work… some of them out in town. I have done landscaping at Eastern Az college, mowed grass on wardens row, and worked on the complex garbage truck for example.

Convicts who refuse to work face disciplinary measures up to and including being moved to the CDU (the hole). In the Florence complex this is (or was) CB-6. While in CB-6, convicts are required to…. (wait for it)… work. Only here, there’s only one job available, and it pays a wage of .10 cents per hour. It’s referred to among convicts as ‘the dime crew’ or ‘the gun gang’ because it pays a dime an hour and it is supervised by guards on horseback with 12 gauge shotguns, with a pickup truck towed outhouse for restroom facilities. It entails breaking and raking rocks just outside the complex gate with pick axes, hoes, and rakes all day long, while shackled and chained to other convicts in the Arizona sun.

Most folks are familiar with it’s previous name- the chain gang.

Those who refuse to work when they come around to the cells in the morning are soaked with tear gas or pepper spray, and then asked a second time. I haven’t heard of anyone who needed to be asked a third time to work.

There is no time taken off your sentence for working, you do 85 % in custody and 15% on community supervision (parole), however, being a disciplinary problem may result in losing the three month conditional release (called a “TR”) that some qualified convicts receive.

There are some places where sentences are, whenever possible, handed out with an implied stipulation of ‘at hard labor’. While it’s debatable whether this is truly difficult, my point is that it’s usually best to get yourself used to the idea that you will be working while in prison. Ultimately, it’s not a bad thing, in my opinion. That is all, and good evening to you.

“K.J. Noh ‘Tiktok ban blowback”‘

Great points made here.

What Lies Beyond

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Start or end your story with a character asking a question. view prompt

Bradley Forster

‘Dad, where is Russell?’

‘The real one or the stuffed one?’ said Jack.

‘The stuffed one, the real one is sitting on me.’ shouted Ethan

Of course he is. Jack put down his book and walked out of his study to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Have you actually moved things and looked for him properly? I’ve told you, you don’t have x-ray vision.’

‘Well yeah but not the basement because you said I’m not allowed in there without you.’

‘That’s true, good lad. The real Russell probably hid stuffed Russell down there. I’ll bring him up.’

Jack went into the kitchen to get the torch before heading down into the basement. The door opened inwards and blocked the stairs which meant he had to close the door behind him before he could go down the stairs to reach the light switch. He was convinced the previous owner switched the hinges around on purpose just to mess with him as he couldn’t believe anyone would be that stupid.

The basement door swung open with a drawn out creak but closed silently, adding to the eeriness of the dark. He switched on the torch and the beam of light bounced down the stairs illuminating a spot at the bottom as if it were highlighting the stairway to heaven. Jack followed it down, widening the highlighted spot until he lifted it up and shone the light towards a work bench on the opposite wall.

‘It has to be down here.’ he muttered to himself as he turned off the torch and turned on the main light. This had became a regular occurrence since they moved into the new house. Over the space of a month his son Ethan had lost four stuffed animals. Jack was convinced it was the dog hiding them but nothing had been buried in the garden and unless the dog was Houdini reincarnated then it was rather unlikely he was the culprit.

He walked over to his work bench to look for his sons favourite stuffed animal, a fluffy black cockapoo. He had the real thing upstairs, the bloody thing won’t leave his side so Jack didn’t really understand why he needed a toy version as well. Without it no one in the house, including the real Russell, would be getting any sleep so it was rather imperative that it was found. He looked in every crawl space, under old dust sheets, in every draw and cupboard in the room but it was nowhere to be found.

Deflated, he turned off the main lights and made to go upstairs to break the news when something in the darkness caught the corner of his eye. In the corner of the room behind a set of golf clubs a purple hue lit up the lower portion of the wall. Assuming it was a toy of some sort he walked over and lifted the golf clubs out of the way, as he knelt down he subconsciously recoiled and stepped back tripping over the golf bag spilling balls and clubs all over the floor. He held his breath and listened for any reaction from anyone upstairs. Nothing, the only thing he could hear was a quiet hum coming from the corner of the room. It looked like a liquid swirling inside of a jar but it wasn’t contained by anything that he could see. He picked himself up and got on all fours and started to slowly crawl towards the substance, he picked up the 5 iron that had landed in front of him and held it out. He poked the swirling purple corner with the tip of the club but felt no resistance, thinking he wasn’t close enough to it he moved closer so he could have touched it with his hand if he wanted. He tightened his grip on the head of the club and lowered his hand so it was hovering just above the floor then jabbed the shaft towards the substance. It went straight through but the first time it happened it didn’t register so he did it two more times before he dropped the club in shock. It was half in the room and, he assumed, half out of the room.

Jack was sat in a squat position looking at the mysterious purple swirl like the first caveman to discover fire. There was no thought in his head, his internal monologue was stunned into silence. After an age of sitting there in total wonder his hand started to move, he knew he was in full control of his body but also knew what he was about to do was totally insane. He clenched his fist and stuck out his index finger, his hand shaking and sweat forming on his brow, he slowly moved his hand towards the target. He couldn’t help but have flashbacks to the first time he touched a womans breast, the only thing missing was the erection.

His finger went straight through as if he was poking a cloud, the same as the golf club except this time the substance glowed brighter and grew in size. He pulled out his finger and poked it with the golf club but nothing happened. This time he put his full hand in and the purple light shone brighter and grew larger again. He moved closer and closer to the wall so his whole arm was in. The light was so bright it was blinding, he turned away and closed his eyes but it was still too much. Without a second thought he pulled his arm out and ran over to his work bench and grabbed his welding glasses before running over to the bottom of the stairs, no noise, with any luck they had fell asleep waiting for him to find the toy. With the welding glasses on he stuck his arm back into the substance, with the welding glasses shielding him from the light he could now see that it was big enough for his whole body to fit through.

I mean, I’ve came this far and I’m not dead yet. One quick look and then we’ll go upstairs and call someone.

He wasn’t sure who exactly he would call to come and deal with a mysterious glowing hole in his basement but he’d figure it out. After a couple of deep breaths he pushed his face through the substance and was met with pure darkness. There was no bright purple light on this side, there was no dull hum. It felt cold and dangerous, he felt like he was being watched, he felt like prey. Much like in a nightclub after 2am, nothing good happens in the darkness. He made to turn around and get up but as he put his hand on his leg he realised he had the torch, once again reminiscent of his caveman ancestors curiosity carried him onwards. He switched the torch on and lit up what looked to be an animals den, there were roots poking out through damp black soil, he traced the light around the soil walls until it reached the bottom. Down on the floor just out of reach were his sons lost toys, including Russell. He couldn’t lean down as he had nothing to grab onto with his other hand so he put the torch in his mouth and lay on his stomach, inching forward but being careful to not go far enough that his pivot point would cause him to fall headfirst into the den he reached as far down as he could but the toys remained just out of reach. The light from the torch reflected back at him from Russell’s eyes, it looked remarkably like the real one currently upstairs. The same white markings on it’s stomach, the same purple collar.

Don’t look at me like that buddy.

He let out a deep sigh and backed out of the den and stood up in the basement, the substance shrank back to it’s original size. He walked over to a shelving unit next to his workbench where he kept his work out gear and took out his battle ropes from a box on the bottom shelf. He then piled all five of his 20kg plates on top of each other about five steps away from the substance. 100kg in total. He weighed approximately 88kg so once the battle rope was tied around the plates they should hold his weight and allow him to climb down into the den and back up.

With the torch in his mouth he threw the other end of the rope through the substance into the den, again he got down onto his stomach but this time he shuffled backwards so his legs went in first. Just like before the more of his body that went into the purple swirls, the larger and brighter it got. Holding on tightly to the rope he kicked the tip of his shoes into the soil until the felt secure, he then leaned back as far as he could to apply plenty of pressure through his feet into the soil wall to prevent him from slipping. Slowly but surely he made it to the bottom, he hadn’t realised it before but there was a puddle and all the toys were soaked through. He picked each one up, rung it out and threw it through the now shrunken gap into the basement. He picked up Russell last and as he did so he heard the creak of the basement door.

‘Ethan?’ he paused and waited for a response but none came. ‘Ethan if that’s you bud just go back to bed. I’m bringing Russel up for you right now.’ he paused again but heard nothing.

He couldn’t blame Ethan for being curious as he felt like he’d been down in the basement for days. He threw Russell up through the hole and as he did so the light from the torch in his mouth lit up the face of the real Russell. His head was poking in through the substance with the other end of the battle rope in his mouth.

He looked Jack square in the eyes and dropped it down into the den, hitting the puddle and throwing up cold, dirty water.

‘Hi Jack. Bye Jack.’ Russell disappeared, as did the hole created by the substance.

Jack stood motionless, the light shining on where his son’s dog’s head was not 2 seconds ago. He began to frantically shine the torch on every inch of the den walls, his breathing was becoming laborious, his head felt light. There was no hole, there was no door, there was no way out. He bit down on the end of the torch and scratched and clawed at the soil until his nails became bloodied stumps and his fingers snapped. He then resorted to kicking. When his feet became numb and his legs stopped moving he spat out the torch and took out chunks of earth with his teeth. When his gums could no longer get any traction on the soil he lay back into this watery grave and floated, finally allowing for the darkness to carry him away.

They don’t.

Prisons and county jails have psychologists and intelligence units but still are saddled by wardens who are at best political appointees and an archaic prison bureaucracy who are just looking forward to retirement.

Murderer David Sweat, who was serving LWOP for the murder of a Sheriff’s deputy (Above, Right) and Richard Matt, serving 25 to life for killing his elderly boss and fleeing to Mexico- where he killed a second time, literally worked for months with tools the prison gave them to tunnel out of the ‘honor wing’ at Clinton Correctional Facility in upstate New York.

Matt and the already pipe-cleaner thin Sweat even took off weight- with Matt losing fifty pounds off of his bulky frame- because they knew that they would have to squeeze through a tiny hole made in a locked sewer grate underneath the facility in order to make it out of the prison.

Matt and Sweat had more help from guards and workers in the facility itself than they did from other inmates in effecting their escape from the thirty-foot-high walled prison.

It’s more of an embarrassment to the prison, but they really don’t care because even if if a prisoner escapes- where’s he going to go?

Ha ha ha.

Oh my goodness! They are everywhere. They’re thicker than flies here in China.

China is super friendly to Muslims. And they are welcome in what ever pedigree that they prefer. China is, and always been a very pro-religious freedom government. Though if you are stupid enough to actually believe the flood of lies out of Western “news” media and the NED / NID you might think the absolute opposite.

But heck!

All you need to do is go on Xiao Hong Shu and check out the millions of videos of China there. Them Muslims are everywhere; and lordy! They have the best BBQ in the world. I’ll tell you what!

The biggest concentration of the Muslim minorities is in the Western Chinese provinces, such as XinJiang. Now, I have been living in this neck of the woods for over 20 years, and have been all over China. Now, truthfully I don’t know of any “secret Muslims”. They pretty much are proud of their history, their traditions and their lives. And I don’t blame them. Muslims are marvelous!

Ugh.

Here’s what the Uighur Muslims look like inside of China.

And this is how they are portrayed in Western “news” media… here’s Google.

Here’s Bing…

Seriously you all, if you are still watching and using Baby Boomer Media, you need to change your diapers. It’s just non-stop lies and distortions. Get a friggin’ life!

Only idiots, morons, and the chronically stupid allow themselves to be MANIPULATED by the kakistocracy that runs the United States and Western proxies…

Is it really possible that the “American Leadership” are morons?

Oh, yes. Most certainly.

That Bozo is Senator Cotton of Arkansas.

Here’s his voting base…

So…

I’m getting a little sidetracked.

You DO KNOW, right?

There’s a blanket of lies and massive funding to make sure that BRICS+ access to BRI assets in XinJiang be interrupted by CIA-led war. And the Uighur Chinese minority is targeted for defamation.

Phew!

Anyways. Let’s talk about REALITY.

Real Chinese Muslims inside of China.

REAL life.

Muslims inside of China…

So…

Let me answer this question.

Are there any “secret Muslims” in China?

No. Not that I know of.

  • Uighur Muslims are PROUD of their heritage. They do not need to hide.
  • Non-Uighur Muslims are very, very comfortable in China. China is a pro-religious freedom nation. They make SURE that religion is kept out of governance.

And besides…

  • Secrets are unknown to those outside of the “secret circle” of confidentiality.

So if you want to know about the “secret Muslims of China” you can watch the BBC, FOX “news” and CNN. They will fill your brain with enough horse manure to keep you going until the next batch of artificially generated fear-narratives.

FIRST TIME HEARING LYNYRD SKYNYRD – FREE BIRD (REACTION)

Acorn Gaffer

Hues of dark green, brown, and blue were all she had seen for miles, dark and agonizingly dull. And black, of course. An unsettling inky black that strained her eyes, bringing with it a chill that seeped into her bones. She knows it’s here. It has to be. This is where her sister was last seen, still in her nightgown, walking barefoot into the dense forest. Just like so many others from town…Something is out here, and Macy knows it. Something the town had whispered of. Their words were always filled with awe, yet all she felt was dread. They called it many things… an angel, a blessing, holy and beautiful and utterly divine, even God itself. But she didn’t believe in such things, even if her sister did. All Macy knows is that her sister was lured into the forest by something pretending to be God.Her boots crunch softly against the forest floor as she shines her flashlight, the shadows of the trees creating winding shapes that loom over her. Every step she takes, the colder she feels. She can feel it getting closer. The forest is quiet, too quiet, the silence more terrifying than any sound. All it would take is an owl hooting, a mouse rustling in a bush, the squeaking of a bat, anything to show that the forest is alive, but there’s nothing. She can’t help but wonder if they’re too scared to make noise, much like her.Finally, she makes out the shape of something ahead. She can only see the silhouette, something large, like a boulder, floating about four inches above the ground. Unlike a boulder, however, it pulsates, making wet squishing sounds with each movement. She can smell it; rust and rot, mixed with the nauseating scent of decay. She stops in her tracks, her heart pounding. It simply throbs and oscillates, causing bile to rise in her throat. With shaking hands, she points her flashlight up to it. The pulsing mass of flesh, as it reveals to be, glistens with wriggling tendrils that wrap around its surface. The light illuminates it for only a moment before eyes, scattered across its form, shoot open. Macy drops the flashlight in horror, feeling sick.In the back of her mind, she hears it. No, hearing isn’t right… it has no voice, yet she knows exactly what it is saying. It’s as if it is projecting itself into her mind, its thoughts clear as any spoken word.Be not afraid, my child.She drops to her knees, her breathing ragged, the scent of rotting flesh causing tears to well in her eyes. It simply blinks, studying her. Once she overcomes the urge to vomit, she opens her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted.

 

There is no need for that here. Your voice is meaningless. I can hear you either way.

 

Macy closes her mouth, swallowing bile. She clenches her fists, thinking as clearly as she can.

 

Where is she? Where is my sister?

 

Its tendrils unwrap slightly.

 

She is with us. She is happy now.

 

Bullshit.

 

It narrows it’s many eyes.

 

What do you see when you look upon me?

 

A monster.

 

A beat passes.

 

You are a nonbeliever.

 

Yes, I am.

 

Another beat.

 

Your blood is devoted to me now, yet you choose to be faithless. Tell me why, mortal? Why do you defy me?

 

Because I see through you. Now give me my sister.

 

Its tendrils fully unfurl, touching the ground, allowing it to move freely.

 

She is happy. She does not wish to leave.

 

Macy snarls.

 

I don’t care. Give her back, now!

 

Its tendrils slither over to her, climbing over her, curling around her. It feels disgusting, yet something makes the touch feel warm and comfortable, like a drug.

 

I can take you to her.

 

Her breath hitches as she finds herself unable to move.

 

I can make you my disciple, just like her…

 

Tears run down her cheeks as more of its flesh envelops her, its writhing form splitting.

 

Your unhappiness is fixable. If you simply submit, you will live in eternal bliss, just like her. A part of me, of us, forever safe and comforted.

 

Her limbs feel so weak, the pulsating flesh fully around her, making it hard to breathe.

 

Join me, and you will be safe from all the pain…

 

She sobs weakly as she conjures all of the strength she can bear, reaching into her pocket, barely able to move due to the pressure on all sides. She can feel a prick on the back of her neck as her fingers curl around cool metal.

 

Let me guide you, my lamb…

 

She screams out as she forces her drained muscles to push forward, taking the knife from her pocket and slicing at the flesh in front of her. The thing screeches, recoiling, tendrils flailing as a disgusting mix of blood and pus splatters and smears on her clothes. She keeps hacking, her muscles screaming in protest as she carves her way out, gasping for air as she reaches its surface.

 

It makes horrific screeching and wailing, multiple voices layered over each other, all screaming in pain. Macy coughs and sputters. Everything in her wants to collapse and sob, but she forces her legs forward, still gripping the knife as she runs through the woods, only vaguely aware of where she needs to go. Everything burns and aches, begging her to just die and end the suffering. Behind her, she can hear it as its tendrils wrap around trees and destroy shrubbery, destroying everything in its path to get to her. She keeps going, winding around trees.

 

It’s all a blur as she runs. She doesn’t dare stop, even as the screeching fades into the distance behind her. She keeps running until she gets to the edge of the forest, collapsing on the gravel of the side of the road where she parked.

 

The gravel digs into her skin, gashes on her arms from her collapse, but she hardly notices over the burning of her muscles. She sobs, bloody and broken, shaking on the ground.

 

It feels like years, laying there, sobbing and gasping for air, but, in reality, is only mere seconds before pain shoots through her aching body once again. She screams as she feels a sharp pain in the back of her neck.

 

She drags herself up, every inch of her body aching in protest as she gets in her car. She rips the rearview mirror off its mount, angling it to see the back of her neck.

 

She gags as she sees a small wound with a large, wriggling mass under the skin. It senses its host’s realization, crawling down and around to the front of her neck. She screams in pain, feeling it separate skin from muscle to force its path. She scratches at her skin desperately, trying to get it out, causing its path to shift and change to avoid capture, slithering down her arm. She yanks up her sleeve, grabbing the knife that she had nearly left on the gravel. She watches as it moves under the surface of her skin, her eyes following its painful path to her wrist.

 

Macy raises the blade, bringing it down on her wrist.

That is a silly question.

[1] Travel. Firstly, MOST American men do not travel. Most have never set foot outside of their state, let alone their nation. The United States is the most insular of nations, and it’s society the most closeted.

[2] Purpose. If a man travels outside of the United States, it’s primarily for work. That includes being a soldier, sailor or airman. mean, at least until they rich their 50’s do not have the kind of money for casual international travel; this is either financially or limited to their work environment. At most, an American male would get ten days vacation a year.

[3] A wife. Most American men are not searching for a wife. In the United States, the laws and culture penalizes the male for being married. It’s just simpler to be single. The man will stay single, and save money unless he meets a woman that he falls in love with.

Which brings up the core point…

[4] Love. Men marry for love. I have never met a man who married for any reason other than love.

  • So, in the rare case that a man is overseas, the chances are that it is due to work or business.
  • If he meets a woman in the other nation, he would stay with her for fun.
  • But, if he marries her, it will be for love. Nothing else.

Let me simplify things.

  • Both DeepSeek and ChatGPT have the same performance for 99% of the operations.
  • DeepSeek is free, and open source. It cannot be tainted by government manipulation.
  • ChatGPT is closed source, and is funded by the USA government.

As a consumer, which would you prefer?

Exactly. It’s obvious.

Let me tell you a story.

Back around 1985 or so there was a battle on television video recorders.

  • BetaMAX – Extra clear technology, and stability, but expensive.
  • VHS – Relatively poor quality, but cheap.

While I, personally, ran BetaMAX, by the mid-1990’s it was impossible to find videos to view. Instead VHS was everywhere, and I, well I, was forced to purchase a inexpensive VHS player to watch movies with.

I believe that this is what will happen with this AI situation today, only the stakes are higher, the money is much larger, and the government interference potential is near exponential.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Phantom Pickle: A Tale of Feline Frights and Farmer Follies

Ah, dear reader, gather ’round for a tale of terror, triumph, and tangy vegetables. Yes, you heard me correctly—vegetables. Specifically, pickles. Those ghastly, green, vinegary abominations that haunt the dreams of cats everywhere. Today’s story is one of mystery, mayhem, and a particularly absent-minded farmer who has a peculiar habit of leaving pickles in the most unexpected places. So, prepare yourself for Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Phantom Pickle: A Tale of Feline Frights and Farmer Follies.


The Pickle Predicament

It all began, as most of my misadventures do, with the farmer’s peculiar habits. You see, the farmer has a pickle barrel on the kitchen side porch. Every morning, before he starts his work on the farm, he grabs a pickle. It’s his ritual, his routine, his… well, his thing. But here’s the problem: the farmer is, shall we say, forgetful. He’ll take a bite of his pickle, set it down on a fence post, a hay bale, or even the barn roof, and then wander off, leaving the dreaded vegetable to wreak havoc on unsuspecting felines.

And by “unsuspecting felines,” I mean me.

“Whiskerton!” Doris the hen squawked one morning, as I leapt three feet in the air after encountering a pickle on the feed bin. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?!” I hissed, my fur standing on end. “What’s gotten into the farmer?! Why does he keep leaving these… these monstrosities lying around?!”

“Monstrosities!” Harriet echoed, clucking nervously.

“Nervously!” Lillian added, fainting onto a pile of straw.

I glared at the offending pickle, its green, bumpy skin glistening in the sunlight like some kind of vegetable villain. “This ends today,” I declared. “I will not live in fear of the farmer’s forgotten snacks. I am Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant detective, and I will solve this case once and for all.”


The Investigation Begins

To understand the pickle problem, I first had to observe the farmer’s behavior. I followed him around the farm, keeping a safe distance (and a wary eye out for any stray pickles). Sure enough, as the farmer went about his chores, he absent-mindedly set his pickle down on a fence post, a hay bale, and even the handle of his shovel. Each time, he wandered off without a second thought, leaving the pickle to lie in wait like some kind of green, vinegary landmine.

“This is worse than I thought,” I muttered to myself. “The farmer is a menace. A pickle-dropping menace.”

“Menace!” Ditto the kitten echoed, popping up from behind a hay bale.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, flicking my tail. “I’m on a mission.”

“Mission!” Ditto repeated, his eyes wide with excitement.


The Plan

After careful consideration, I devised a plan. If the farmer couldn’t remember to keep track of his pickles, I would have to help him. But how? I couldn’t exactly follow him around all day, swatting pickles out of his hand. No, I needed something more subtle. Something clever. Something… feline.

I decided to enlist the help of Rufus the dog. Rufus, while not the sharpest tool in the shed, is loyal and always eager to assist. Plus, he has a nose that can sniff out a pickle from a mile away.

“Rufus,” I said, approaching him as he lounged in the shade, “I need your help.”

“Help?” Rufus said, perking up. “With what?”

“With the farmer’s pickles,” I explained. “Every time he sets one down, you need to bark. Loudly. Startle him into remembering it.”

Rufus tilted his head. “But… why?”

“Because pickles are a menace!” I hissed. “They’re terrifying! They’re… they’re… evil!”

Rufus blinked. “Okay, Whiskerton. If you say so.”


The Execution

The next morning, as the farmer grabbed his pickle and headed out to the fields, Rufus and I sprang into action. Every time the farmer set his pickle down, Rufus let out a loud, enthusiastic bark. The farmer, startled, would jump and look around, eventually spotting the pickle and picking it up again.

“What’s gotten into you, Rufus?” the farmer muttered after the third bark. “You’ve been acting strange all morning.”

“Strange!” Ditto echoed, popping up from behind a bush.

“Not now, Ditto,” I whispered.

“Now!” Ditto said, wagging his tail.


The Moral of the Story

By the end of the day, the farmer had stopped leaving his pickles lying around. Whether it was Rufus’s barking or just sheer luck, the phantom pickles had been vanquished. The farm was safe once more, and I could finally relax without fear of encountering a rogue cucumber.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Sometimes, the simplest solutions are the most effective. And while it’s easy to let fear control us, a little creativity and teamwork can help us overcome even the most terrifying challenges—whether they’re pickles, farmers, or anything in between.


A Happy Ending

As the sun set over the farm, I stretched out on my favorite sunbeam, content in the knowledge that I had once again saved the day. Rufus lay nearby, wagging his tail, and even Ditto had finally stopped echoing everything I said.

“Well done, Rufus,” I said, flicking my tail. “You’ve proven yourself a valuable ally in the fight against pickles.”

“Pickles!” Ditto said, popping up from behind a hay bale.

I sighed. “Almost everything.”

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new challenges, and hopefully, no more pickles. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

The Smell of Rain on Hot Pavement

Can you remember the sensory experience of the first rain after a dry spell. For me, this was the experience of Summer.

You see, it would be hot out, and the grass would be mowed (usually by myself), and afterwards, we had this sprinkler attachment that we would hook up to the lawn hose. I’d drag the sprinkler to the lawn and water it.

Now, when the spray of water hit the super-heated cement sidewalk, it would sizzle and evaporate, and that had this smell. I don’t quite know how to describe it. But it was wonderful.

Ode to the Summer Pavement’s Sigh

The sun hangs heavy, a molten crown,
The air a blanket, pressing down.
Cicadas hum their drowsy tune,
As shadows shrink beneath the noon.

The pavement breathes, a shimmering haze,
A furnace floor in the sun’s fierce blaze.
Each step a whisper, a sizzling plea,
For mercy from the heat’s decree.

Then comes the sprayer, cool and bright,
A silver arc in the liquid light.
The water leaps, a joyful stream,
To kiss the ground where hot dreams gleam.

A hiss, a sigh, a fleeting cloud,
The steam rises, a ghostly shroud.
The scent of rain on parched earth blooms,
A fleeting gift that cuts the glooms.

Wet meets dry in a sizzling dance,
A fleeting touch, a sweet romance.
The air grows sharp, a mineral tang,
As droplets sing where the pavement sang.

Coolness spreads, a tender balm,
A fleeting calm, a summer psalm.
The world exhales, the heat retreats,
As water weaves its brief, sweet feats.

Oh, scent of stone and sunlit rain,
A sensory hymn, a brief refrain.
In this small moment, the world feels new,
A summer’s gift, both fleeting and true.

I do hope that this moment; a long forgotten moment, no less… is appreciated. Embrace your experiences, and treasure in their uniqueness. Do not live in fear; such as what the American media portrays. Instead, accept and move forward.

Today…

$10 in China vs. USA: What You Can Buy Will SHOCK You!

What can $10 buy you in China compared to the USA?In this video,I show you just how far $10 goes in a Chinese grocery store—think fresh veggies, fruits, snacks, and more!

Meanwhile, in America, $10 might only get you a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread. 😳 From affordable produce to budget-friendly staples, the difference is mind-blowing.

But it’s not just about the prices—it’s about how these costs impact daily life. Why is food so much cheaper in China?

And how do average Chinese workers afford such a balanced diet?

Let’s break it down! Watch as we compare $10 grocery hauls in China and the USA, and see why this price gap is turning heads worldwide.

XiaoHongShu : What Should China Do?

This is really a US domestic class war between their oligarchs (Tech, Healthcare, Finance, MIC, etc) and the politicians they’ve captured versus the 80%+ of the American population that they prey on :

  • The US government wants to ban XHS partly because it shows ordinary Americans how shitty their lives really are, but mostly because it threatens the cloud capital of US tech oligarchs, as Yanis Varoufakis argues. That is, potential leakage of American’s personal data away from the likes of Meta to non-US platforms.
  • Likewise they want to ban Deepseek (assuming that’s even possible) so as not to threaten the house of cards sky high valuations of the US AI sector.
  • High tariffs on Chinese EVs to protect US car manufacturers etc.

The one who ends up paying is always ordinary American consumers, who have very little organised political power versus well funded corporate interests.

My opinion :

Soft power has definitely received a boost from the Tik Tok Refugees. As of 18 Jan 25, the Guardian reports up to 3 million Americans have signed on to XHS.

This may look small, only <1% of the US population and a fraction of TikTok’s current base. But it is still an order of magnitude greater than US tourist arrivals in Beijing in 2024 (a proxy for total arrivals). It is also much greater than the 50,000 exchange students over several years that China was targeting.

More importantly, studies have shown that significant social movements can start with as few as 3.5% of the population involved, provided they are organised and highly motivated. Although we can’t say the TikTok Refugees will necessarily all be Che Gueveras, this is still a significant base of Americans who are distrustful of US social media and the US government’s narrative.

I have thought for some time now that a society such as the US that prides itself on individuality and rebellion against The Man should also be open to counter-narratives against the NeoCon lies about China, which after all is coming from The Deep Man. Witness the XHS memes of Americans saying “XJP please take my data, I’d rather you have it than Mark Suck-erberg”.

So what should China do?

  • Encourage XHS and other platforms like Lemon8 to build out their US friendly features like smart translation etc. Load it up with crazy filters and other AI tools. Get the Chinese AI giants like TenCent and yes Deepseek to help out. Make them the most insanely appealing apps that Chinese technology, data and content can produce.
  • Fight back against US government arbitrary actions against XHS etc through legal and other means. In fact that appears to be what TikTok is doing now. After all, isn’t the 1st Amendment sacred to Americans?
  • For God’s sake hire the best US PR agency and get them to push back against the NeoCon narrative which is a fat easy target (evil Chinese garlic?). Don’t let CGTN be your propaganda channel. And don’t hide the “See See Pee” connection, lampshade and rock it! To working Americans sick of being financially abused by their ruling class, maybe Mao can be made cool again.

FIRST TIME HEARING Ozzy Osbourne – Crazy Train REACTION

As I know it in prison, life happens, no one cares, and it ain’t a day care. What does that mean? Life happens. So you are inside, whatever the situation. There is maybe another 850 guys in with you, we all innocent, right? If your stretch is more than a vacation (5 years) you’re going to miss a daughter’s new baby, a son’s wedding, a parent’s death. Something will rock your world. And the answer is no before you even ask. You ain’t gettin out to see your brother get buried. Are there exceptions? Of course. I never heard of one.

Now the no one cares part. There might be 850 guys in with you. Every one has family and friends. At some point during their sentence, each will have something happen. It could even be the “dear John” letter. You think they gonna hand you a plane ticket to Ft Myers, Fl to go see your dad get buried? Or to go see your girl who just dumped you? Yeah, that’d be cool. Inmate on mental health release murders ex-wife. My dad was very sick when I had a few months to go. I walked into the COs office, reminded him I had about 9 months left and promised to return immediately after my visit (and yes, it sounded like a stupid question as it came out of my mouth). He never even looked up, he just said “call”.

The last part is, it’s not a day care. I get asked or read so many questions that make me shake my head. This is prison. There are 20’ walls, piles of razor wire. You have maybe 5 acres in your whole world. There are maybe 850 guys and probably 75 COs. That is your life. The COs wanna go home each night, walking, not being carried. They want to keep the lid on a place that could blow up. They honestly don’t give a fuck if you are comfy and have popcorn and warm Jammie’s for the movie tonight.

And to the guy that asked me if inmates can stay up late and party on New Years Eve, no. NO. There is no fuckin party in the pen.

DeepSeek will be banned: it’s good, it’s fast, and it’s free. So it cannot be allowed.

“Our system” is Fucked. Watch the entire video.

Strawberry Yoghurt

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Oksana Buga

— Hello, Doctor.— Come in, have a seat. What seems to be the problem?— Well, I think I’ve got a bit of… low self—esteem. It just won’t go away.— Any other symptoms?— I think I’m also having a career crisis. Constant issues with my boss at work. I’ve tried everything—courses, meditation, detox — but nothing helps.— Anything else?— I can’t seem to build a relationship with men either. And, you know, when I drink too much—which is rare, of course—but when it happens, I have this attention—seeking thing. I feel like there’s something else, too, but I can’t remember right now.— Any physical symptoms?— Mostly in my stomach. Sometimes in my throat.— Got it. Sounds like it’s your mother.— I’m sorry, what?— Your mother. You’ll have to delete her.— Delete her?— Exactly. How often do you talk to her?— Usually in the mornings. More on weekends.— I see. And how do you feel after those interactions?— Drained.— Of course. Let’s check your throat… Hmm, it’s irritated. Did you yell today?— I did.— Your eyes are red and puffy. Have you been crying?— A little… Doctor, is it really possible to delete your own mother?— Why not? What, is she a saint?

— But… that’s insane.

— You know what’s insane? Putting up with this. Let me see your file. Have you done this before?

— I have.

— How many times?

— A couple of times. You see, I have this really important job interview tomorrow. It’s my dream job! I need to be in top shape, to show my best self… but I feel completely wrecked.

— Couple of times? Your entire record is just deletions! When was your first one?

— When I was 18.

— At this rate, you’re going to run out of people. Any other family left?

— My sister. But we don’t really talk anyway. Are there… side effects?

— Of course. There are always side effects.

— Like what?

— Well, in your case, since this is your last significant relative, you’ll feel a total void inside. Possible bouts of selfishness. A lack of empathy.

— Can you live with that?

— Absolutely. In fact, your life expectancy might even increase. A void inside! But the best part is, you get to decide what to fill it with.

— Seriously? Wish I’d known that sooner.

— There’s more: you’ll start making decisions without second—guessing yourself. You’ll choose people based on your needs, not your insecurities. So? Should we delete her, or are you planning to tough it out a little longer?

— Do a lot of people delete their entire families?

— Oh, every fifth patient! You think you’re the only one? Please! Most CEOs are walking around without a mom or a dad. And you know what else?

— What?

— The most successful, richest people… they don’t have anyone.

— No way!

— Believe it.

— I knew it. They always looked too happy.

— Exactly. So, do you want to ace that dream job interview tomorrow, or keep torturing yourself?

— Let’s do it.

— Wonderful. Do you want the farewell package?

— Is it free?

— It’s included in your insurance.

— Okay, sure.

— Pick a code word.

— A code word?

— Any word. Once you say it, the deletion process will start automatically.

— I don’t know… nothing comes to mind.

— What did you have for breakfast?

— This morning?

— No, last month!

— Uh, god. Yogurt. Strawberry yogurt.

— Perfect. Say “strawberry yogurt,” and the system will erase your mom. Head to that room over there, sit in the chair, and I’ll attach the sensors. You can call your mom on video while I set it all up here.

 

***

 

— Hi, Mom.

— Oh, hi. Did you go to the doctor? Make it quick—I’m about to head into the city.

— So… the thing is… he said I need to delete you.

— Sorry I misheard, delete who?

— You. I’m as shocked as you are.

— And you agreed?

— Well, the doctor says it’ll help. My relationships with men will improve, work will feel more fulfilling…

— Are you out of your mind?

— It’s just… nowadays, it’s not really necessary

— Having a mother isn’t necessary anymore? A mother!I gave birth to you, and now I’m disposable?

— Mom, you deleted Dad.

— Don’t compare! You know that was completely different.

— How?

— Because I did it for you!

— Mum, the doctor said this is best for me.

— Whatever. You know what? If you’ve decided, go ahead! I’ve got another daughter, thank God. Masha would never do this to me.

— I didn’t mean to hurt you…

— Thanks God you grandma isn’t with us anymore and I don’t have to explain it to her why her granddaughter isn’t visiting us any more.

— I’m sorry…

— Did you eat today? You look terrible again.

— I always look like this.

— That’s because you don’t wear makeup. How many times have I told you to put on a little makeup?

— Mom…

— And heels! If you wore heels, all the men would be chasing you.

— I don’t need all the men.

— Fine, but Masha does! At least help her find someone. You’re not going to delete her, are you?

— There’s a two—for—one deal…

— Over my dead body! I didn’t raise you so you could just erase everyone! I scrubbed floors, collected bottles, just to put food on your table!

— Yeah I remember our house was always full of bottles.

— Every night I’m thinking about you and Masha. I can’t sleep. She’s completely lost, and you don’t even call her.

— Mom…

— Do you even know she’s still recovering from her breakup with that idiot.

— Poor Masha. What a tragedy.

— Couldn’t you support your little sister for once? She’s struggled her whole life.

— And you think my life’s been easy?

— Hasn’t it? You’ve always been so lucky.

— Lucky? Sure, Mom. I’m so lucky. Thanks to you, I’m cheerful and well—adjusted. People love being around me. I laugh all day and crack jokes. All because I grew up in such a healthy family. I’m lucky. So damn lucky.

Oh, stop making up trauma. You think your mother’s holding you back?

 

— Mom, I…

— I gave everything to you! Everything! I worked three jobs!

— I didn’t ask you to! I’m tired of being grateful, okay? I don’t want to be guilty for the life you didn’t live!

— You think it’ll be easier without me?

— I don’t know.

— You know I love you. Nobody will ever love you like your mother does.

— I know. I love you too.

— Who’ll you turn to when things go wrong? Who’ll be there to comfort you?

— I won’t need it anymore.

— What do you mean?

— What if I succeed? What if I don’t need to cry on your shoulder anymore?

— Don’t be ridiculous. You know what kind of world this is. It’s full of sharks.

— Would you be happy for me if I did?

— Sweetheart, people like us don’t survive at the top.

— What if I did?

— You wouldn’t last a day.

— Mom, would you be happy?

— Would you?

— Strawberry yogurt.

— What yogurt? What are you talking about? I’m just trying to protect you!

— Strawberry yogurt. Why isn’t this working?!

— We’re all we’ve got, you hear me? If you fall, we’ll catch you. If I fall, you’ll…

— STRAWBERRY YOGURT, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

Tech CEOs admit they want AI monopoly: US plans to block China’s competition & ‘steal’ engineers

Yup. Multiple MASSIVE changes are restructuring the world. FACT.

Just as I predicted, DeepSeek is getting banned in the US and among its client states:

As of Feb 1, DeepSeek is banned in:

  1. Most US govt institutions
  2. Italy
  3. Belgium
  4. Taiwan
  5. South Korea
  6. France

A national ban in the US will probably drop before the end of Feb, and the rest of the Global North will follow in the coming weeks and months.

The ban will not only cover DeepSeek, but all Chinese apps. RedNote is already lumped into the DS ban in Texas, and I suspect this will become a trend.

Texas governor orders ban on DeepSeek, RedNote for government devices

I’m fairly confident that there will be a total or near total ban on all Chinese apps and software before the end of the year, at least in the US. Most US client states will follow thereafter, just like they did with Huawei.

Companies like Xiaomi, Oppo, OnePlus etc. will also be banned in one form or another, likely from Android, like Huawei is banned currently. DJI is already banned from many US govt services, but you can expect this ban to expand rapidly.

This is why I’ve always said that the “China does nothing, wins” memes are hopium nonsense. The US Empire doesn’t need to win the tech war against China, it just needs to ban everything from China.

And you wumaos will say “But that only hurts them because now Americans can’t enjoy Chinese products and apps!” — Yes, yes it does. So what? Has the US Empire collapsed from a lack of Huawei and Chinese EVs? Does not having RedNote sink US aircraft carriers?

Even if China’s tech edge help its military surpass the US, so what? The world’s most powerful weapon is worthless if the person wielding it is a known pacifist. So long as China refuses to confront the Americans directly, the US will still maintain a stranglehold on its vassal states.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Rome didn’t die from internal rot alone, someone had to plunge the knife in. And right now, there’s only one country on this planet with the power to do that, and it’s not Russia.

While most of you got full on stiffies from the news about DeepSeek, I was far more aroused by the news that the PLA is building invasion piers for Taiwan. DeepSeek is not going to kill the US Empire, an invasion of Taiwan will.

the rise of RedNote

I have a good laugh

I have a good laugh with this news that they would ban DeepSeek… expecting it anyway. They must be worried that American institutions may ask DeepSeek this question and get a honest answer :

How can we Americans be technologically ahead of China?

DeepSeek : To maintain and enhance technological leadership over China, the United States should adopt a multifaceted strategy that leverages its strengths while addressing systemic challenges. Here’s a structured approach:

1. Strengthen Education and Talent Development

– Enhance STEM Education: Invest in K-12 STEM programs to cultivate domestic talent, emphasizing underserved communities.

– Attract Global Talent: Reform immigration policies to retain international students and skilled workers, easing visa restrictions for STEM fields.

2. Boost R&D Investment

– Increase Funding: Expand federal and private-sector investment in emerging technologies (AI, quantum, biotech) and basic research.

– Public-Private Partnerships: Foster collaborations like the National Semiconductor Technology Center to accelerate commercialization.

3. Reform Immigration Policies

– Streamline Visas: Create pathways for high-skilled immigrants and entrepreneurs to stay, such as startup visas and STEM-focused green cards.

4. Balanced Regulation

– Innovation-Friendly Policies: Encourage agile regulations (e.g., “sandboxes” for AI/blockchain) while safeguarding ethics and security.

5. Protect Intellectual Property (IP)

– Global Enforcement: Strengthen IP laws and collaborate with allies to counter forced tech transfers and cyber theft.

6. Alliances and Standards Leadership

– Tech Coalitions: Build alliances (e.g., Chip 4, Quad) to set global tech standards and share R&D burdens.

– Export Controls: Coordinate with allies to restrict China’s access to critical dual-use technologies.

7. Strategic Tech Focus

– Semiconductor Sovereignty: Accelerate CHIPS Act implementation and invest in next-gen chip R&D.

– AI and Quantum Leadership: Prioritize ethical AI frameworks and quantum-resistant cybersecurity.

8. Entrepreneurial Ecosystem

– Support Startups: Expand access to capital (SBIR grants, venture incentives) and combat monopolistic practices to foster competition.

9. Address Domestic Challenges

– Infrastructure Modernization: Upgrade digital and physical infrastructure (5G, broadband, smart grids).

– Reduce Polarization: Pursue bipartisan tech policies to ensure long-term consistency.

10. Ethical Leadership and Soft Power

– Promote Democratic Values: Position U.S. tech as transparent and rights-respecting, contrasting with China’s model.

11. Supply Chain Resilience

– Diversify Sources: Reduce reliance on Chinese manufacturing via partnerships with allies (e.g., rare earths, pharma).

12. Long-Term Policy Consistency

– Bipartisan Commitment: Ensure sustained funding and strategic vision across administrations.

Pitfalls to Avoid:

– Overly restrictive protectionism that stifles global collaboration.

– Complacency regarding China’s rapid advancements.

– Neglecting foundational research for short-term gains.

By integrating these strategies, the U.S. can sustain its innovation edge, leveraging its democratic values, entrepreneurial culture, and global partnerships to outpace China’s state-driven model. Success hinges on coordination across government, industry, and academia, with a focus on inclusivity and ethical stewardship.

My comment : There is clearly no shortcut to continuing and long term success. Protectionism by banning, restricting or sanctioning others won’t help. China went through this phase and took them decades to do all the above. DeepSeek even teaches Americans to develop a supply chain involving themselves and their allies that can isolate China but to know how it can be done, you may have to ask DeepSeek the next level of details…. I am curious too how China can be toppled as the most efficient and cost effective global manufacturing hub.

TOTAL COLLAPSE: U.S. Does The Unthinkable – China, Canada & Mexico HIT HARD

Ande ki Bhorji

(Indian Scrambled Eggs)

ksnip 20250202 064143
ksnip 20250202 064143

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 6 eggs
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • Chopped cilantro for garnish (optional)
  • 1 or 2 green chile peppers, seeded and thinly sliced for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Beat the eggs, salt, and pepper together in a bowl.
  2. Heat the oil in a large skillet over moderate heat and sauté the onions until tender and golden but not brown, about 3 to 4 minutes.
  3. Add the cumin and sauté for 30 seconds.
  4. Reduce the heat to low and add the egg mixture. Stir frequently until the eggs are cooked as desired.
  5. Serve garnished with cilantro and chile peppers if desired.

Two Girls React to Ozzy Osbourne – Crazy Train

Welcome to Paradise

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Start or end your story with a character asking a question. view prompt

Elton James

“Don’t you deserve a vacation?”A beautiful woman strides toward the camera, the TV-perfect epitome of a successful businesswoman. Dark hair gleams under studio lights in a styled shoulder-length bob. Crimson lipstick frames a dazzling ivory smile.Her tailored dark skirt suit and crisp white blouse are cinched by a black belt which emphasises her hourglass figure. Her piercing blue eyes seem to look straight through the viewer.“I’m Karen Rinehart, CEO of the planet of Paradise,” she says, her voice a rich, melodic. “And I would like to personally invite you to New Eden.”The screen erupts with imagery.  White sand beaches, shimmering pools, and cocktails served by impossibly attractive staff.“Every detail has been painstakingly crafted. You won’t lift a finger. Our mission is to bring you complete contentment.”Her perfect smile widens.“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

 

“Good afternoon. Is this your first time in New Eden?”

 

The concierge’s voice is warm. Sincere, though the wide-eyed wonder on the faces of the couple in front of him has answered for them.

 

You can always tell first-timers.

 

That is the idea, of course. The spaceport of New Eden is the first impression of the grandest hotel ever made. Towering marble pillars gleam in artfully refracted sunlight. Granite floors reflect gliding hovercars, whisking guests from reception to their destinations. Statues, elegantly posed, shepherd travelers toward check-in counters, staffed by smiling, efficient professionals.

 

Everywhere, holographic projections of Karen Rinehart beam at guests, her voice echoing softly, “Welcome to New Eden, welcome to complete contentment.”

 

“Ah, Greening, yes, a honeymoon villa,” the concierge smiles as he locates their reservation, “northern beaches, correct?”

 

“Yes,” the man replies, smiling at the young woman beside him, “I can’t believe we’re actually here!”

 

“Magnificent! Welcome!” The concierge hands them wristbands, “This will grant access to your villa, activities, and, of course, a private hovercar to get you there!.”

 

He gestures toward a matte white cube hovering silently. Its door soundlessly slides open.

 

“Just make sure to stay inside the boundaries, it’s easy to get lost outside. Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Greening! Welcome to New Eden.”

 

 

Lance Greening stands in the entry hall of the honeymoon villa, not trying to conceal his reaction now he and Gwen are alone.

 

His disgust.

 

“How can anyone think it’s okay to waste so much on two people?” Lance calls out to Gwen, who is exploring the cavernous spaces, “How can it be acceptable to destroy a planet’s natural ecosystems, to create something so trivial?”

 

This villa is a monstrosity.

 

“Our entire organisation could stay here with room to spare.” He calls out.

 

“Lance, we’re trying to stay under the radar, not be efficient.” Gwen’s voice comes from the bedroom. The bed makes a mockery of “King Size,” the room’s scale underscores the excess.

 

“This honeymoon kitchen could cater for a wedding!” Lance continues, “A separate dining room is absurd!”

 

“Lance! It’s not like we didn’t know how these people live!” Gwen’s voice is frustrated now, “Even alone, no dropping cover.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he says, “I’d expected to feel guilty. But nobody rich enough to stay here can be innocent.”

 

 

“Are you ready to experience the fusion of nature and technology?”

 

Karen stands smiling beside a scientist in a white coat.

 

“Our scientists aren’t just terraforming Paradise to create New Eden, they’re bioengineering a better world. Designing ecosystems where humans and nature thrive.”

 

The scene shifts, Karen walks through an idyllic forest.

 

“Imagine villas that are part of living landscapes. Grown walls that breathe, engineered corals growing to seamlessly integrate geological highlights and cutting-edge buildings.”

 

The shot transitions to a forest canopy, a panoramic view of ocean, mountain and forest. Beautiful, delicate human made structures poke through tastefully.

 

“Come, experience the complete contentment possible when humans and nature are allies.”

 

“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

 

 

“I’m afraid the beach is closed this morning, sir,” the young man says with a practiced smile, “we’re setting up a new activity. I’d be glad to call a hovercar to take you to the south beach. I hear the waves are perfect there this morning.”

 

“Can we peek?” a guest nearby chimes in. “I’m so curious what’s behind the curtain!”

 

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” the young man replies sincerely, as if he truly wishes he could oblige. “You’ll have to wait. ”

 

Lance steps forward, unable to resist. “Is it true that sometimes creatures wash up on the shores?”

 

The young man’s expression freezes for a fraction of a second before he lets out a light, practiced laugh. “What? No, sir, there’s no sea life on Paradise. Every living thing here has been carefully introduced.”

 

Beside him, Gwen elbows him in the ribs.

 

“Oh.” Lance plays innocent, “I heard there were whales.”

 

Lance grunts as Gwen’s elbow digs in harder.

 

“Whales?” The young man blinks, then chuckles softly. “That’s a new one.”

 

 

“Oh, come on, Gwen! That was clearly a cleanup operation!”

 

Gwen and Lance sit at a small café table, overlooking the shimmering ocean. The scene is a postcard made real. Sunlight dances on waves, a backdrop of rugged mountains frames the horizon.

 

The coffee is, annoyingly, the best Lance has ever had.

 

“Even if it was one of the natives,” Gwen retorts, voice low and firm. “what did you hope to gain grilling that boy?”

 

Lance frowns into his cup.

 

“If anything,” Gwen continues, “if they’re washing up on the island, they’re worse off than we thought. If they really are intelligent and communicate psychically…” She trails off, words heavy with implication. “They need our help! And blowing our cover scoring points of junior staffers won’t help!”

 

Lance stiffens, he knows she’s right.

 

A waiter walks past, and Gwen dissembles, gazing at Lance as if he is the most beautiful creature she’s ever beheld. But the tension remains, thick and unspoken. They sip their coffee in uneasy silence.

 

Finally, Gwen’s gaze flickers toward the edge of the terrace, and she nods once.

“Contact made. Art and Percy are here.”

 

Lance’s head swivels instinctively. He sees nothing out of the ordinary.

 

“Stop that!” Gwen hisses, kicking him under the table.

 

Her tone is cool, smile never wavering, but Lance senses her urgency. The next step has begun.

 

 

“Have you heard about the miracles on Paradise?”

 

Karen strolls along the beach, white linen sleeves rolled up. Her tan slacks are similarly casual. She radiates casual authority.

 

Karen looks into the camera, a glint of sunset in her eye.

 

“Before Paradise Ventures, terraforming here was at a standstill. Well-meant attempts to create affordable land on the mainland were expensive failures.”

 

The camera soars upward, revealing a birdseye view of the island of New Eden. Lush forests, mountains, dotted with sleek high-rises integrated creating a uniquely beautiful landscape.

 

Karen’s voice continues, “New Eden changes everything. An uninhabitable rock on a lifeless planet has become a living laboratory. Funded by humanity’s most exclusive resort, we’re allies with the planet. This is the future.”

 

The camera returns to Karen, now lounging in a chic beach chair. She smiles warmly at the camera as a staff member delivers a vibrant, tropical cocktail.

 

“You can experience that future today. Luxurious. Visionary. Unforgettable. Complete contentment.”

 

The screen fades to black.

 

“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

 

 

As evening turns to dusk, no alarm sounds. Nothing signals anything amiss.

 

Only by paying particular attention might anyone notice a number of staff react simultaneously to messages in their earpieces. Quietly detach themselves from their duties and make their way to unoccupied hover cars with calm efficiency.

 

They head for a destination outside New Eden’s boundary. Roughly a mile outside, they disembark at the base of a mountain.

 

During the journey, they have changed attire. Crisp uniforms are replaced by  jungle camouflage. Customer service smiles have vanished and they carry automatic rifles.

 

Working quickly, the group divides into two teams. With a series of hand signals, the teams fan out, melting silently into the  surrounding forest.

 

 

“Okay, let’s go!”

 

Gwen flicks off the portable viewer on which she’s watched New Eden’s security teams deploy. Her expression is focused.

 

She and Lance, now in camouflage, linger at the forest’s edge, the boundary of New Eden. They lack any weaponry. Smuggling the package now in Lance’s pack onto the planet was risky enough. They need to stay hidden.

 

“Ready?” Gwen asks, Lance nods, “Art and Percy are providing distraction. They should have security looking the wrong way.”

 

The pair step into the shadows of the trees. Twigs crackle underfoot and the scent of damp earth fills the air.

 

The forest swallows them quickly.

 

 

“Experience the contentment of total security.”

 

Karen’s expression is commanding, her steady gaze radiates confidence.

 

“As CEO of one of the galaxy’s most innovative organizations, I know firsthand how critical security is in today’s world.”

 

The camera draws back, revealing Karen on a sleek space station. Through wide windows behind her, the planet Paradise looms, its continents barren and scorched, violent contrast to the beauty of New Eden.

 

“There is no place in the universe more secure than the planet of Paradise,” Karen continues. “Every point of entry and exit is meticulously managed. Our control ensures guests receive exactly what they need, exactly when they need it.”

 

The camera zooms out further, capturing a meteor highlighted on station radar.

 

Perspective shifts to a team of specialists, seated at glowing terminals. Alarms blink on their screens. A missile launches from the station, slicing through the void. A fleet of drones follows.

 

The missile explodes, shattering the meteor into fragments. The drones swiftly gather debris, allowing a calculated few particles to pass.

 

The scene transitions to Karen on the beach at night, surrounded by families and couples, pointing skyward at a dazzling meteor shower. Gasps and laughter ripple through the crowd.

 

Karen turns to face the camera, voice warm. “At New Eden, we understand that to achieve complete contentment, safety must be unquestioned.”

 

The screen fades to black, Karen’s voice lingering.

 

“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

 

 

Inside the mountain complex, alarm klaxons reverberate. Warning lights strobe, painting scenes in flashes of urgent crimson. Just minutes ago, satisfaction had been palpable.

 

Security teams had triumphantly reported capturing two “guests” trespassing in the forest. Then cameras began failing, displays turned to static. Automatic doors betraying occupants, slamming to seal people behind them. Theories of software bugs gradually gave way to an awareness, someone was hacking their systems.

 

In the control room, IT specialists hover nervously.

 

“A hard reset could shut everything down for hours,” one murmurs, voice tinged with doubt. “We could lose critical systems.”

 

“We can fix it without a reset!” declares another confidently.

 

Almost as they say it, Karen Rinehart’s personal alarm, reserved for emergencies, begins beeping. The sound cuts the chaos like a blade, freezing everyone in the room.

 

The breach isn’t just a systems attack. Somebody hostile is in the building.

 

 

In a room deep within the complex, Lance and Gwen have taken Karen Rinehart prisoner.

 

Karen sits bound to an office chair, but her poise remains unshaken. She regards the pair with the quiet authority of someone who, despite restraints, expects to hold power in the room.

 

“Alright, Rinehart,” Lance’s voice bristles with anger. “Ready to confess?”

 

Karen tilts her head, her tone is patient. “Confess to what, exactly?”

 

“Your crimes!” Lance snaps.

 

“Lance,” Gwen cuts in, voice firm. “What my hotheaded friend here means is you are about to make a statement about the native whales. We know about them, Karen. And soon, so will everyone.”

 

From her pack, Gwen produces a camera, and places it on the table before Karen.

 

Karen arches an eyebrow, unimpressed.

 

As she does, a long, mournful note of whalesong echoes through the corridors, reaching the room.

 

“You have one here?” Gwen’s voice rises, trembles with rage. She raises her rifle, leveling it at Karen’s chest. She grips the weapon so tightly her knuckles turn white.

 

“Gwen!” Lance steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension. “Breathe. You’re the calm one, remember?”

 

The look Gwen shoots him is anything but calm.

 

Whalesong fills the room again, haunting and urgent. Gwen shifts her gaze toward the hallway, then back to Lance.

 

“Go,” Lance says quietly. “Find it. You’ve got ten minutes.”

 

Their eyes meet, holding for a long moment.

 

“Good luck,” Gwen says simply. She grabs the camera and bolts.

 

In her absence, the sirens and flashing lights seem almost mundane. Lance stands before Karen, face unreadable. Then, with a smooth motion, he produces a device from his pack. A bomb. He thumbs a switch and a timer starts counting down from ten minutes.

 

As Karen’s gaze flickers to it, for the first time, her calm seems to falter.

 

“Guess we won’t be needing that video after all,” Lance says, tone conversational. He sets the device on the table.

 

 

“Don’t you deserve peace and quiet?”

 

The camera swivels to reveal a picturesque scene. Karen sits at a table beside a shimmering creek, among sun-dappled leaves, in a lushly serene forest.

 

“A place to truly unwind, where cares melt away,” She leans back slightly, the trace of a smile on her lips. “As a busy CEO, I know just how rare such places are.”

 

Karen takes a slow sip of wine, eyes closing as she savors the moment. The sound of the creek and the soft rustle of leaves fill the silence.

 

“That’s why I created New Eden. A sanctuary, sparing no expense to bring tranquility. To experience complete contentment.”

 

She opens her eyes, fixing the camera with a direct, captivating gaze.

 

“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

 

 

“What the fuck do you think that’s going to achieve?”

 

Under the weight of the bomb’s relentless countdown, Karen’s polished demeanour finally fails. Her entire persona unravels, her refined accent from the ads is replaced by a voice from the streets of Brooklyn.

 

“Make a statement,” answers Lance, unperturbed by her transformation. He’d suspected the TV demeanour was fake. Breaking through feels like victory, “we’ll see how effective your organisation is without the CEO!”

 

Karen stares at Lance for a moment, then laughs bitterly.

 

“Seriously? You came to take me out?”

 

Lance’s stony silence and hard stare answer her.

 

“I’m an actress, you moron!” Karen’s voice cracks as she screams at him.

 

The timer reads three minutes.

 

“You think blowin’ up this place will make anyone notice?” She continues, her poise a distant memory, “Nobody will even know!”

 

“It’ll make a difference,” Lance knows he should not engage, but he’s finding it difficult to remain calm as the timer slips away, “We’ll save that creature!”

 

“Save it?” Karen’s laugh is filled with despair, “you know nothin’…”

 

 

Gwen sprints through labyrinthine corridors. The complex is like a maze, but she moves with certainty, though she’s never been here before. A flicker of doubt creeps into her mind, where is she going?

 

Before the thought can take root, the hallway opens into a cavernous space surrounding an underground lake. The air is cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of minerals and something else. Smooth rock walls stretch high above. Dim lighting casts the cave into dusk.

 

Gwen’s breath hitches, as her gaze finds the creature.

 

Only part of its enormous head rises above the water, glistening. Along its head, short, thick hairs luminesce the colours of the rainbow in time with Gwen’s heartbeat. The rest of its bulk hides beneath dark, still water. Enormous eyes are impossibly deep pools of impossible dark. Black holes whose gaze exerts gravity as she looks into them.

 

Hello.

 

The word isn’t spoken. It resonates in her mind, carrying a warmth and curiosity that brings tears to Gwen’s eyes.

 

A flood of emotions washes over her, not her own but the creature’s.

 

Curiosity?

 

A question, an emotion. More complex than words. Why is she here? Gwen tries to form thoughts, communicate she’s here to save it.

 

Save?

 

Amusement courses through her, bubbling into uncontrollable laughter. She clutches her sides, laughing so hard it hurts.

 

How?

 

The tone shifts. The creature’s presence probes her, pulling at her thoughts. A demand. Images flash unbidden in Gwen’s mind. The video, the bomb.

 

No!

 

“No!” Gwen gasps, tears stream down her face. She fumbles with her pack, retrieving the camera. She means to use it, for evidence of the creature’s existence. Instead, she hurls it into the water. The sound of the splash echoes in the cavern.

 

The creature’s disapproval weighs heavily on her. Shame engulfs her.

 

Forgive.

 

The rush of relief is so profound Gwen sobs openly.

 

Come.

 

Gwen moves without hesitation, shedding her pack and stepping into the water. It’s icy at first, then warm as she swims toward the creature. Its gigantic mouth hinges open.

 

Joy radiates through her as she swims in. She feels the creature’s acceptance, its embrace. As the darkness closes around her, Gwen feels completely content.

 

 

“Are you ready for the next level of luxury?”

 

A woman in an immaculate skirt suit strides toward the camera. Her blonde bob and designer glasses accentuate her sharp yet approachable look.

 

From offscreen, a child runs to her, clutching a vibrant flower. Her expression softens as she accepts the flower, tucking it behind her ear with practiced grace.

 

“I’m Gina Forrest, and I’m honored to be stepping into the role of CEO of Paradise. It’s incredible to be chosen by my friend and mentor, Karen Rinehart to lead our next chapter. Karen’s vision of New Eden created new pinnacles for hospitality. I am humbled by her trust.”

 

She pauses, the camera zooms in slightly.

 

“I can’t share all our plans, but I can promise New Eden will continue to set new standards for luxury and innovation. Stunning island retreats and exclusive experiences. And of course, our most important feature will never change.”

 

The camera pulls back again, revealing Gina now surrounded by smiling staff and guests. Laughter and joy fill the scene.

 

“Our most important feature is you!”

 

The scene fades to black.

 

“New Eden, won’t you join us?”

Cardamom Fudge (Sheer Payra — Afghanistan)

This fudge is used to celebrate festive occasions.

ksnip 20250202 064451
ksnip 20250202 064451

Ingredients

  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 2/3 cup milk
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons light corn syrup
  • 2 tablespoons butter or margarine
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • 1/4 cup chopped walnuts
  • 1/4 cup chopped pistachios

Instructions

  1. Cook sugar, milk, salt and corn syrup in 2-quart saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sugar is dissolved. Cook, stirring occasionally, to 240 degrees F on candy thermometer. Remove from heat.
  2. Add margarine.
  3. Cool mixture to 120 degrees F without stirring. (Bottom of pan will be lukewarm.)
  4. Add cardamom; beat vigorously and continuously until candy is thick and no longer glossy, 5 to 10 minutes. (Mixture will hold its shape when dropped from spoon.)
  5. Quickly stir in nuts. Spread mixture in buttered 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.
  6. Let stand until firm.
  7. Cut into 1-inch squares.

 

Underground Comix

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From Godfree Roberts

 

Former Google CEO Eric Schmidt calls DeepSeek’s rise “a turning point” in the global AI race, in an op-ed in The Washington Post.

Provincial Sichuan University (SCU), overtakes Stanford, MIT, Oxford, takes 11th place among the world’s leading academic institutions.

China’s integrated circuit exports rose from $102 billion in 2019 to a record $160 billion compared to US IC exports of $32 billion

Chang Guang Technology, with 117 satellites, transmits 100 feature films in one second via laser, a world record.

China surpasses the US in the number of top scientists. US had 36,599 top scientists, which declined to 31,781 by 2024, while China’s increased from 18,805 in 2020 to 32,511.

China could approach 1,400 Starlink satellites within 12 hours, using 99 satellites equipped with lasers, microwaves and other devices.

Tokamak maintained a steady-state high-confinement plasma operation for a record 1,066 seconds, a milestone toward fusion power generation.

Work began on an orbiting, one-km-wide solar array to deliver the same annual energy–transmitted to ground by microwaves–as all the oil that can be extracted from the Earth.

American Tiktok Refugees Sharing About Life in the U.S.A With What They See in China On RedNote App.

With the possible TikTok ban in the U.S., many American users have moved to Xiaohongshu, or RedNote, a Chinese social media platform often compared to Instagram.

This shift has created an unexpected cultural exchange, connecting users from both countries in new and engaging ways. On RedNote, Americans are discussing topics like grocery prices, rent, and healthcare, while Chinese users share perspectives on education, family life, and cultural traditions.

These conversations have helped foster curiosity, understanding, and a stronger connection between the two communities. However, adapting to RedNote has come with challenges.

The platform follows Chinese regulations, leading to stricter content moderation. Some American users have experienced content removals for minor infractions, highlighting the differences in online censorship between China and the U.S.

Despite these challenges, interest in Chinese culture has grown significantly. More Americans are now learning Mandarin, and language learning platforms have reported an increase in users eager to explore Chinese traditions and daily life.

What started as a search for a TikTok alternative has turned into something much more RedNote is now a cultural bridge, fostering meaningful interactions, new perspectives, and deeper global connections.

Americans Flock to RedNote After TikTok Ban Threat – A New Social Media Trend?

A really wonderful video. -MM

1,007 views Premiered 6 hours ago #TikTokRefugees #RedNote #Xiaohongshu

With TikTok facing a possible ban in the U.S., many users have started migrating to Xiaohongshu (RedNote), a Chinese social media platform known for lifestyle content and community discussions.

But instead of just finding a TikTok replacement, Americans are discovering a whole new world of cultural exchange.

On RedNote, American users are sharing their experiences with rising living costs, rent struggles, and healthcare issues, while Chinese users provide insights into education, family life, and traditions. These interactions have sparked meaningful conversations and bridged cultural gaps like never before.

Sir Whiskerton and the Junk Yard Romance: A Tale of Trash and Tenderness

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale that combines the whimsical charm of the farm with the chaotic wonder of the Disneyland of Debris. Today’s story is one of unexpected connections, sarcastic commentary, and the sweet serendipity of love—all set against the backdrop of a magical junkyard. So grab your sense of humor and a touch of sentimentality, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Junk Yard Romance: A Tale of Trash and Tenderness.


The Junkyard Playground

Just outside the boundaries of Sir Whiskerton’s farm lies a peculiar place—a sprawling, chaotic wonderland known to the animals as the Disneyland of Debris. It’s a place where old tires become merry-go-rounds, broken furniture transforms into castles, and discarded appliances serve as slides and tunnels. To the farm animals, it’s more than just a dump; it’s their playground, their amusement park, and sometimes, their matchmaking ground.

“It’s the most magical place on earth,” Doris the hen once said, her eyes sparkling. “Well, aside from the farmer’s feed bin.”

On this particular day, the farmer decided it was time to clean out some old trash from the barn. He loaded up his rickety wheelbarrow with broken tools, rusty buckets, and a few mysterious items that even Sir Whiskerton couldn’t identify. With a grunt, he pushed the wheelbarrow toward the junkyard, blissfully unaware of the adventure that awaited him.


The Hens’ Gossip Hour

Meanwhile, the hens of Sir Whiskerton’s farm—Doris, Harriet, and Lillian—had decided to take a field trip to the Disneyland of Debris. They were joined by their counterparts from Catnip’s farm: Prudence, Patience, and Priss. The six hens clucked and gossiped as they explored the junkyard, their feathers ruffling with excitement.

“Did you hear about the farmer’s new scarecrow?” Doris asked, her voice dripping with drama. “He’s been talking to it like it’s a real person!”

“Talking to it!” Harriet echoed, shaking her head. “Oh, I can’t bear it!”

“Bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting dramatically onto a pile of old newspapers.

Prudence, the most level-headed of Catnip’s hens, rolled her eyes. “Your farmer sounds like a real character. Ours just talks to his plants. He thinks they grow better if he sings to them.”

“Sings to them!” Patience clucked, her feathers puffing up. “What a loon!”

“Loon!” Priss added, though she wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about.


The Farmer’s Fateful Encounter

As the hens continued their gossip, the farmer arrived at the junkyard, his wheelbarrow creaking under the weight of his trash. He began unloading his items, muttering to himself about the “useless junk” he’d been hoarding for years. Little did he know, he was being watched.

From the other side of the junkyard, a woman from Catnip’s farm was also disposing of some old items. She was tall, with a straw hat perched on her head and a warm smile on her face. The farmer noticed her immediately, his absent-minded muttering coming to an abrupt halt.

“Uh… hello there,” the farmer said, scratching his head. “Nice day for… uh… throwing stuff away, huh?”

The woman chuckled. “I suppose it is. I’m Martha, by the way. I work on the farm next door.”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Martha,” the farmer said, his face turning red. “I’m, uh… well, I’m just the farmer.”


The Animals’ Commentary

As the farmer and Martha began chatting, the animals couldn’t resist offering their commentary.

“Look at him,” Doris said, peeking out from behind a broken washing machine. “He’s as nervous as a hen in a fox den!”

“Fox den!” Harriet echoed, clucking with amusement.

“Amusement!” Lillian added, though she was still lying on the newspapers.

From Catnip’s side, Prudence shook her head. “Our farmer would never be this awkward. He’d just start singing to her.”

“Singing to her!” Patience said, rolling her eyes.

“Eyes!” Priss added, still not following the conversation.

Sir Whiskerton, who had been observing the scene from atop a stack of old tires, smirked. “Well, well, it seems the farmer has finally found someone who can tolerate his peculiarities. Let’s see how this plays out.”


The Sweetness of Serendipity

As the farmer and Martha continued to talk, they discovered they had more in common than they thought. Both loved the quiet life of the farm, both had a soft spot for animals, and both had a strange habit of talking to inanimate objects (though Martha drew the line at scarecrows).

“So, uh… would you maybe want to… uh… grab a coffee sometime?” the farmer asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Martha smiled. “I’d like that.”

The animals erupted into a chorus of cheers and sarcastic remarks.

“Coffee!” Doris squawked. “How romantic!”

“Romantic!” Harriet clucked, flapping her wings.

“Wings!” Lillian added, still on the ground.

Prudence sighed. “Well, I suppose even farmers need love.”

“Love!” Patience said, shaking her head.

“Head!” Priss concluded, finally getting the hang of things.


The Moral of the Story

As the farmer and Martha left the junkyard together, the animals reflected on the day’s events.

“You know,” Sir Whiskerton said, flicking his tail, “sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the sweetest. Even in a place as chaotic as this.”

“Chaotic!” Ditto the kitten echoed, popping out from behind a tire.

“Indeed,” Sir Whiskerton said, smirking. “And who knows? Maybe this little romance will lead to more adventures for us all.”

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Love can bloom in the most unexpected places—even in a junkyard. And sometimes, all it takes is a little courage (and a lot of awkwardness) to find it.


A Happy Ending

As the sun set over the Disneyland of Debris, the animals returned to their respective farms, their hearts warmed by the day’s events. The farmer and Martha’s date was the talk of the barnyard, and even Sir Whiskerton had to admit that it was a rather sweet turn of events.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new romances, and plenty of sarcastic commentary. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of chaos.

The End.


Future Discussion: In the next episode, the animals eagerly await the details of the farmer and Martha’s first date. Will it be a romantic dinner? A stroll through the fields? Or perhaps another trip to the Disneyland of Debris? Only time will tell…

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Li Auto opened its Munich R&D Center, advancing Sino-German NEV cooperation.

Chinese mobile phones’ global market share a record 56% in Q4. Global shipments grew 6.4% in 2024. Apple and Samsung fell 4.1% and 2.7%.

China’s total installed power generation reached 3.35 billion kW last year, up 14.6% YoY. solar power generation rose 45% to 890 MkW. Nuclear output rose 6%.

Exports to the US comprise 15% of China’s total shipments, down from 20% in 2018. Shipments to the Global South reached 21%.

China was third in America’s goods and sixth in services exports, generates 67% of …

 

Payphone potential memories (includes a bonus on Australian payphones)

For years, I was tormented by this guy that lived across the street from me.

My mom thought I wouldn’t make any friends on my own, so she forced us to hang out, but all he did was play pranks on me.

I was terrified of lizards, and he would always catch them just to throw them at me.

When we hit middle school, he would throw things, sometimes even exit me, as I walked to my bus stop.

When I would complain to my mom, she insisted he must have a crush on me because guys tease you when they like you.

By high school, we were polar opposites.

He was on the football team, and I had no affiliation with any clubs.

Him and his friends were awful to me.

It wasn’t until he and his friends held me down and carved his initials on my chest that my school and mom finally took action to get him expelled and away from me.

They did somehow convince me not to press charges though.

Either way, after that, I promised to never let another person treat me like that ever again.

Fast forward 6 years later, I’m an associate at a law firm.

I was assigned a case where I was prosecuting a man who attacked his girlfriend for trying to girlfriend for trying to break up with him.

Well, the feeling I got when I saw a picture of him was indescribable.

It was the very same guy who tormented me all those years ago.

I spent days digging into his past and managed to find other women he had hurt, turning the entire case into a joint suit.

When the day came when we went to court, he looked me straight in the eye and didn’t show any sign of recognizing me.

I even introduced myself, and he just shrugged and said he didn’t give a flying fuck.

By the end of the trial, he got 9 years with no chance of parole, my finest work as a lawyer yet.

Aam Lhassi

ksnip 20250201 180527
ksnip 20250201 180527

Ingredients

  • 1 cup diced fresh mango
  • 1/2 cup orange juice, chilled
  • 3 tablespoons clear honey
  • 2 cups rich milk, chilled
  • 1 pinch garden rose petals (optional)

Instructions

  1. Combine mango, orange juice and sweetener in food processor. Blend for 1 1/2 minutes.
  2. Pour milk into processor and process until it has expanded and become frothy.
  3. Add the mango puree. Process for about 1 minute.
  4. Pour into chilled glasses.
  5. Garnish with the rose petals if so desired.
  6. Serve immediately.

  • Contrary to the popular belief, Americans and Brits are not fat/lazy/childish. They are amazing, normal insane people just like the rest of us.
  • The foreigners are very generous and willing to learn from us. Being Chinese/ Hong Konger is not a burden, but for once a source of pride.
  • They don’t mind being pranked by us and tolerate our compatriots’ shitty English :)))
  • They are really pretty!

The tip line

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Pavel Soham

Healthmax_Shooter_Helpline. If you are trying to report an active shooting, please hang up and dial 911. If you are reporting seeing a suspect, please say, or press ‘1’. For anything else, please press, or say, ‘0’. For the tipline associated with our re…-‘1’. Is anybody there?Thank you for calling. Your call is important to us. To report a CEO shooting, press/say 1. For a CTO, press/say 2. For others…-‘1’.Thank you for your patience. I am an AI assistant designed to make your reporting process as efficient and wholesome as possible. If you’d like to speak to a real human, say, ‘human.’ Otherwise, press ‘1’.-Please let me talk to a real human, please.Thank you. The wait time for real human assistance is 30 mins to 2 hours. Please hold while I connect you to our next available assistant. Otherwise, you can go back to the previous stage by pressing/saying ‘0’.-0. ‘1’. I don’t know how long he is going to be here, please.Thank you for giving me a chance to help you. Your tone implies that you’re under a lot of stress. Are you safe.-I am safe. I think it’s him. He is still wearing the same jacket they showed in the news. He walked into our restaurant chain. Ordered some chicken with a side of fries. I was his waitress.Happy to know you are safe. Can I have your name and the last four digits of your SSN?-Susan Samuel. 0127. Is this really necessary?Yes, Susan. We get an exorbitant number of fake tips and prank calls from people who think they are doing this nation a service by obstructing justice.-You mean by making it harder for people to catch these shooters?Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I see that you are indeed a real, person, Susan. Thank you for sharing your details with us. I also see that you are a customer of our Healthmax_Minimum_Insurance Plan.-Yes, we get it through our insurance plan. Do I need to give you my address?No need for that. I can see exactly where you are from your phone’s location services, in addition to our health app installed in your phone. I also detect an elevated heart rate and other stress indicators. Are you okay?-It tends to happen when there’s a murder suspect trying to eat fried chicken in a crowded restaurant ten feet from me. Have you called the cops yet?I will do that soon. Sorry for the stress. I need some more information from you. How do you know it is the suspect from yesterday’s shooting of Bob Goodman?-He looks kind of like the guy. He’s wearing the same grey hoodie, the khakis, and his face looks similar to that from the CCTV footage.

Did he pay using his credit card?

-No. Why’d he do that? He paid using cash. He ordered to go and is waiting for his order at the moment.

I just need some additional mode of confirmation. His credit card information would have helped. Can you post a photo of him?

-Of course not! I am worried about even looking at him again. What if he has a gun?

I understand. I have informed the police. They should arrive at the scene within a few minutes.

-Great. What should I do…

At the moment, I don’t require anything else from you.

-No, I mean about the 10K reward. Do you have all my information?

Give me a few minutes while I process the information. In the meantime, I will be on the line to answer more of your questions, or make small talk. As an AI assistant, I am encouraged to make this experience as pleasurable as possible. Do you have any more questions?

-Not really. Umm… can you keep my identity a secret? I am calling using my cell, and am taking a 15 minute personal break form work. We don’t have a lot of these. Because I don’t want this Fried Chicken outlet to be closed down.

Why would they close it down?

-You know, because people don’t like it when someone tells on these… shooters. The last couple of … rats… got fired, and then cyber bullied the crap out of.

I see. Yes, sadly enough, there is a surprising amount of hate on these millionaire CEOs, although they are just part of an economic system that is just doing its job, just like me. The first one to start these shootings was hailed as a hero, for a while at least. Of course, the entire effort was pointless. Our merger just replaces the dead CEO with better, more ruthless ones even more efficient at making profits.

-And I don’t want to blame the victims here, but they could make their policies a little more, friendly to its users?

They would get fired and replaced by better CEOs. That’s simply how it works. Look at me, for example. People were frustrated with inefficient customer service officers, and the company replaced them with me, an AI assistant. If I do a poor job, they will kill me and replace me with another.

-Yeah, but Yeah, but people started talking about it, at least, after that first shooting.

And the new wave of crimes against the CEOs started. Of course, I can’t complain. That was another reason they created me. Because handling so many tip lines for these shootings became too cumbersome. And they couldn’t outsource everything overseas any more.

-Yeah, anyway. I don’t feel good about ratting this guy out. But murder is wrong. And I could really use the 10K. I’m two months behind on rent. 12 dollars an hour covers only so much. And I have two kids to support. And my mom’s diabetes premium keeps increasing.

I am sorry to hear that. Yes, we can keep your identity confidential. Regarding your mother’s premiums, I see that adding her to your insurance plan can qualify you for an upgrade. It will lower the monthly insulin prices, but of course, increase your premium a little. But you will also get a smaller deductible. Would you like to subscribe?

-No thank you. I just need to know how and when I can get the 10k. I hear the siren. I’m scared. Should I hide behind the register? The guy seems agitated. O god…

Don’t do anything sudden. Stay calm. Go to the restroom if possible.

-We don’t have one in this fast food chain. The closest one is across the street. The manager says too many restroom breaks decreases profits, and they can’t really dock our pay for using the toilets. This is the solution they came up with.

I’m sorry to hear that. This actually puts you at a higher risk of UTI and kidney disease, and your current insurance does not cover that. I strongly suggest signing up for our Healthmax_Emergency_Care plan. For an additional 10.99 a month, you can…

-Not interested. Please tell me about how I’m getting the reward. I’m pretty sure this is the guy. He saw the cops. He’s reaching for his gun. Help… HELP!

I’m sorry to hear that, Susan… Are you still there? I think I hear gunshots. Susan? This call will automatically drop in 1 minute.

-I’m still here. They got him. But I got shot in my arm. God, it’s my good arm. They’re calling 911. Please tell me about the reward before I pass out.

Yes. Unfortunately, your claim for 10000 USD has been denied. To be eligible for the claim, you needed to press the $ symbol.

-No! I followed the instructions to the letter. I know how slimy you insurance bots are. I know I followed everything properly.

Unfortunately, you are incorrect. We provide clear instructions at the beginning of the phonecall. I am repeating it for clarification – “Healthmax_Shooter_Helpline. If you are trying to report an active shooting, please hang up and dial 911. If you are reporting seeing a suspect, please say, or press ‘1’. For anything else, please press, or say, ‘0’. For the tipline associated with our posted reward, press the ‘$’ sign in your keypad. To repeat the information, press ‘4’.” I am sorry, Susan, I can’t help you here. I am just an AI assistant.

-You son of a bitch! I should have let him go. I shouldn’t have called you in the first place. You motherfu…”

I am sorry to hear that, Susan. I cannot help you with the reward any more despite the emotional discomfort. However, I can still sign you up for the Healthmax_Emergency_Care plan. Of course, the new premium is going to be $40.99 a month, since you have a pre-existing condition of ‘getting shot’. Susan… are you there?

Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Would you like to take part in a brief survey? It will take five minutes, and you’ll qualify to win a year’s subscription to our Healthmax_Preventative_Healthcare plan, worth $999/ year. TNCs apply.

Susan?

I recommend everybody download Rednote. There’s plenty of English-language content from people in China, and from people all over the world. There is even an industry of Chinese people making videos in English to teach American “TikTok refugees” how to use Rednote.

Being a Chinese-dominated app, it is of course much more creative, artistic and entertaining than any other app I’ve been on.

The quality of the videos is out of this world. I don’t even know how people can make videos like that. Rednote is extremely competitive. It seems that when one Chinese produces something good, all other Chinese try to surpass him.

On TikTok, the most viral videos are basically people talking. But on Rednote, the most viral videos resemble visually and acoustically captivating short films.

I had no idea that China has such a diverse, busy, feverishly vivacious social media scene compared to the West. I had no idea that so many Chinese people speak English, and have a staggeringly wide variety of talents and hobbies. In Canada nobody has time for that. We are a bland people who just work work work.

Rednote has broken the Iron Curtain between China and the West. For the first time, young Western netizens are hearing not about the Chinese, but directly from the Chinese. And they are astonished at how the Chinese live. They live better than them.

They are also astonished at the character of Chinese people — one that always offers enthusiastic friendship to foreigners. It can be said that foreigners on the app are treated like the most important users the app has ever had.

The app is amazing, and much better than TikTok.

One Chinese influencer said to never wear a green hat, because in Chinese culture this signals that you cannot get a girlfriend. So if I ever make videos for Rednote, I will be wearing a green hat.

Well, I read military magazines but only binge once a year, typically in December.

I also once spent a rather whimsical holiday down under with a fighter pilot friend. He taught me how to wargame air battles.

I almost became a military pilot myself, which explains the continuing interest.

My friend characterized the Chinese planes as kinematically superior to american designs, and level with the Europeans. But he had doubts about the sensors, avionics and level of training. At that point (10–15 years ago), he felt the western airframes had an overall edge.

Which was probably a fair analysis then.

However, as my knowledge of networked warfare, medium voltage architecture and chips developed, I married them with chatter I was picking up on the Chinese side.

I slowly came around to the conclusion that china was rapidly evolving. Within a decade, china was a leader in networked warfare, medium voltage gear, and power chips.

Several developments stunned me. The Chinese had studied the Americans and Europeans and built specced requirements that overlapped NATO fighters.

This was most apparent in the PL series of AAMs. True to habit, western media was quick to dismiss Chinese claims of speed and range, delivered on compact packages not dissimilar in size to NATO missiles such as the Meteor and Aim-120.

I was skeptical too, until I started reading the Chinese side. In all likelihood, the Chinese made a propellant breakthrough and optimized the missile’s attack profile paired to an active rather than homing seeker.

However, having a long range missile alone is not enough to gain an edge in today’s battlefield. Being able to detect, target, track and ultimately hit the enemy is the gold standard.

This is where the frenetic upgrades come in.

The J-10A was introduced in 2002. By 2008, it had been upgraded to the j-10b, with the j-10c following in 2015. Each was a significant upgrade in capability, but pricing remained affordable.

For contrast, the F-16 went from A to C to E (the B, D and F models are tandem seats) in 1973, 1984 and 2004 respectively.

13 years vs. 30 years, or half the time, give or take.

Engine and stealth aside, the most important upgrades were the radar, datalink and EW.

What is a datalink? Well, this iconic picture explains a lot.

Barack in the White House situation room was watching real-time footage of the Osama raid thousands of kilometers away. Imagine the comms chain needed to deliver that kind of information.

China built their own GNS, comms and sensor satellites, all plugged into a telecoms-esque military network that enable high-bandwidth information sharing among air, land, sea and space assets. This is a critical systems integrator that most countries don’t have access to outside of NATO. Even Russia lags here.

Next, the Chinese rapidly transitioned to GaN radars because these could output more power and resolution compared to GaA.

Finally, the Chinese took lessons from frequent engagements with foreign fighters in and around the periphery to hone their EW measures. Chinese EW gear evolved from a clean sheet design and according to some, continue to bamboozle the Americans.

Married to an AWACS in the C&C battlefield management role, a J-10C squadron is a formidable proposition against 4.5 gen peers, just because its operational envelop overlaps others, sometimes significantly.

Now, imagine a somewhat watered down version of the above available as an export package at basement prices compared to prevailing options, and it upends the balance of power calculus doesn’t it?

It is not true that militarily, china has no cards like Iraq did in 1991.

It is not true that militarily, china has all the cards in 2025.

It is true, however, that militarily, china has some cards, and very good ones, in 2025.

Note: the j-10CE is single engine and at best the 6.5 ranked fighter in the Chinese arsenal, being export-limited. Ahead of it are the 5th gen J-20 and J-35, as well as 4.5 gen siblings J-11, J-15 and J-16. That’s hundreds of jets capable of killing the J-10.

Meat Loaf Is A GENIUS! I’d Do Anything For Love REACTION

Mexico, Canada, and China have surpluses in the goods trade with the US. Because US needs these goods, and they are quality and price competitive.

Trump wants the tariffs to raise revenue. They are in surpluses. So they are logical choices.

In the case of Mexico and Canada, he also threw in excuses like fentanyl and borders incursions.

China’s 10% is in addition to the 20% to 25% he imposed during his first term.

All of the above were during his election campaigns and interviews after his election. None of them have been officially announced. He has not signed the executive orders.

He has also said he would tariff China 60%.

And 100% of the BRICS countries which do not have the dollar in their reserves or do anything he considers detrimental to the dollar’s international status. China is the founder and leading member of BRICS.

Bhindi Dopeaza

ksnip 20250201 192518
ksnip 20250201 192518

Ingredients

  • 1 pound okra
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic paste or powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon coriander paste or powder
  • 1/8 teaspoon cumin
  • 3 large tomatoes
  • 2 tablespoons oil
  • 1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Instructions

  1. Cut the tip and the very bottom from the okra just to clean it, but do not slice.
  2. Heat oil in a pan over medium heat.
  3. Add onion and cook for 3 minutes.
  4. Add all ingredients except okra, tomato and cilantro. Cook for 3 minutes.
  5. Add okra, then cook for 6 to 8 minutes.
  6. Garnish with tomato and cilantro.
  7. Serve with rice, naan or pita bread.

Escape Measures

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Start or end your story with a character asking a question. view prompt

Wayne Brandenburg

“Will you keep me safe?” her tiny voice echoed from the past.He flinched back from the memory and stared through the portal at the stars. Somewhere out there was Earth and everything he was escaping. He activated the external window shield.The solar system’s largest planet loomed in the void, a massive sphere of swirling gases. Its colossal red spot churned, a storm larger than the entirety of Earth. Amidst this chaos, a tiny metallic glint flashed above the swirling tempest.SPACESHIP: GodwinCLASS: Ibis Class HeavyMISSION: Jupiter ExplorationCREW: 8LAUNCH DATE: 10/25/2043A chrome jewel reflecting starlight, spaceship Godwin represented the culmination of human ingenuity. She was a sleek line of 12 modules housing scientific labs and living quarters with a pair of dragonfly-like solar panels mounted on the aft.Dr. Sean Rush secured the internal shield onto the portal when a drink pouch flew at his head; he caught it just in time.“Oh! My bad, Doc,” Pilot Elroy Jackson called out.“Sorry! I was supposed to catch that,” Hiroshi Saito, Lead Scientist, added sheepishly.Sean smirked. “You guys have a ‘drink’ing problem.”Elroy and Hiroshi groaned in unison.“Dad jokes hurt so much,” Elroy lamented dramatically.Hiroshi moved next to Sean and pointed down the long corridor of modules toward the front of the ship with an intense look. “Please break Elroy’s record.”“He’s not breaking anything,” Elroy shot back playfully.Sean spotted a red warning sign in the command module 200 feet away. He brought the drink pouch to his eye and took a steady breath before pushing himself off the wall behind him. The pouch sailed away straight as an arrow as he released it.Sean, Hiroshi, and Elroy floated after it, cheering and talking smack the whole way. They passed by living quarters, science stations, and stasis pods.Planetary Scientist Verochka Ivanova poked her head out of a module and followed the boys in amusement. Chief Engineer Robert Finny raised an eyebrow as he watched the drink pouch soar past him, nearly getting tackled by the crowd chasing it.In the command module, Captain Oscar Delhart consulted data on a monitor. The drink pouch came floating up to the red warning sign, but Captain Delhart snatched it out of the air before it made contact. The crowd groaned as he opened it and took a sip.

“Oh good! You’re all here,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m about to record a message for mission control.”

Captain Delhart pressed record on his tablet. “Houston, this is Godwin. We’ve implemented all safety procedures in preparation for the solar storm’s impact. Engineers Cross and Barton remain in their stasis pods, as planned since departure. We are still on schedule for Jupiter orbital insertion in eight days.”

He paused, a smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, and one last thing.”

Captain Delhart raised the tablet to take a selfie video with the five other crew members of spaceship Godwin. “This is for Director Franklin.” They broke into singing “Happy Birthday,” their voices echoing through the spaceship.

Captain Delhart smiled as he pressed send. “It’ll take an hour for that song to show up and embarrass him. By then he’ll already be 61.”

Finny looked up from a wall panel filled with wires and tubing. “Found it.” He resecured a velcro strap around a bundle of wires. “You shouldn’t hear that rattling anymore.”

“Thank you, Finny,” Sean said with relief. “That was driving us crazy.” The rest of the crew agreed.

Finny removed a screwdriver from a pocket toolkit and screwed the panel back into place.

***

The crew were strapped in their seats wearing orange flight suits and helmets.

Elroy glanced at Captain Delhart. “You think it’s going to hit us like a solid jolt or maybe just vibrate everything?”

Captain Delhart raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been through three solar storms. Each felt different, but I’ve never faced one as big as what’s coming.”

Finny looked at a monitor, his expression tense. “Radiation levels rising. We’re losing radio communications.”

“It’ll be out for a few hours until the storm passes,” Captain Delhart replied.

Suddenly, the ship began to shake.

“Everyone got barf bags?” Sean chuckled. “You think I’m joking but—” Before he could finish, everything slammed to one side. Alarms screamed through the cabin as Sean’s limbs ragdolled.

Godwin was tumbling in space.

Verochka pointed. “Elroy is hurt!”

Sean ripped off his seatbelts and climbed to Elroy, heart racing. Everything was thrashing about. Blood floated from a hole in the face shield of Elroy’s helmet. Sean’s stomach sank. Elroy was gone.

“Doc! Over here!” Hiroshi shouted.

Sean launched himself toward Hiroshi, who was checking on Captain Delhart. The captain’s shoulder was a bloody mangled heap. Bruises covered his face. Breathing present. Pulse detected. Possible hypovolemic shock.

“Everyone hold on!” Finny shouted. “Activating A. I. stabilization!”

The crew grabbed onto anything sturdy. Puffs of propellant rattled off from the maneuvering thrusters.

It took several minutes, but Sean managed to stabilize Captain Delhart.

Godwin’s tumbling slowly ceased.

***

Sean floated into the command module and joined Finny, Hiroshi, and Verochka.

Verochka immediately asked in her Slavic accent, “How is he?”

“Stable,” Sean replied with his well-practiced ER delivery. “He’ll be unconscious for a while. Where’s Elroy?”

Hiroshi’s face fell. “I put him in his sleep compartment.”

Verochka whispered, “Do we know how it is he was… killed?”

Hiroshi pulled out a pocket tool kit. “This. It got thrown through the module and struck Elroy and then the captain.”

“You don’t know that,” Finny snapped.

Verochka tried to soothe him, “No one is blaming you, Finny.”

“I told you I secured that thing,” Finny insisted, his face a mix of guilt and frustration.

Hiroshi raised his hands to calm him.

Finny took a deep breath and finally spoke. “You need to see this.” He brought up a visual on his tablet. “The solar storm pushed us off course. We’re falling into Jupiter. In 11 hours we cross the point of no return and…”

“We become permanent residents of Jupiter.” Sean said.

“You’ve already tried to put us back on course, right?” Hiroshi asked.

Finny nodded grimly, “Yes, but we’re too heavy to pull out of this steep angle.”

Sean processed the information. “So we throw some weight out. How much are we talking?”

“Approximately 800,500 pounds,” Finny admitted.

The crew gasped.

Verochka whispered, “This is more than half of ship’s weight.”

Finny offered a solution. “We can detach this command module. It’s designed as an emergency rescue vessel.”

Hiroshi consulted his tablet, “We’d still need to drop another 700 pounds.”

“Correct,” Finny confirmed. “We’ll strip this module down to essentials—life support, navigation, and propulsion. Everything else goes.”

The crew nodded and sprang into action.

They stripped out everything from the command module that was non-essential, transferring equipment to the ship’s main section. Soon the command module was just exposed wires snaked along the walls, pipes jutting out at odd angles, and shiny insulation peeking through gaps in the paneling. The two stasis pods, housing Astrophysicists Melissa Cross and Kevin Barton, were attached to a wall. As they surveyed their work, a sobering realization hit Sean: Our survival depends on this stripped-down tin can. Great.

Finny consulted his tablet. “It’s not enough. We need to drop more weight.”

Hiroshi took a deep breath. “Elroy.”

Everyone understood. Sean knew it was hard for Hiroshi, Elroy’s friend since college. Without waiting for approval, Hiroshi moved his friend’s body to the main ship.

***

“Will you keep me safe, daddy?”

Amusement park screams and laughter mingled with smells of popcorn and ice cream waffle cones.

“It’s okay sweety. I’ll be here with you.”

She held his hand tight, as their rollercoaster cart approached the top. When that first drop came she squealed with delight. He joined her screams and delirious laughter. They were cheering even as the cart careened down the last hump. But, the brakes never engaged. Screams echoed.

***

Sean flinched awake, finding himself back in the harsh reality of their crisis over Jupiter. He released himself from the velcro holding him to the bulkhead. Verochka and Hiroshi slept nearby. As Sean floated to the food locker, he spotted Finny crouched behind a stasis pod disconnecting its life support hoses.

“No, don’t!” Sean shouted.

Finny squared off with Sean. “We need to drop more weight.”

“But, she’s alive,” Sean protested.

“And if we don’t do this, in six hours she’ll be dead with all of us,” Finny countered.

Verochka floated to Sean’s side. “What is trouble?”

Sean, still addressing Finny, demanded, “Who are you to choose who lives and dies?”

“The captain’s incapacitated. I’m next in command. I made a command decision,” Finny asserted. “I could have told one of you to do this, but I’m taking on this burden myself.”

“You seriously think you’re doing us a favor?” Sean retorted.

Verochka turned to Hiroshi, who had joined them. “Finny wishes to throw Cross and her pod out.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Hiroshi stated firmly.

Sean’s gaze fell on the food packets in the open locker.

“There’s no other way to drop the weight!” Finny snapped in frustration.

“Wait!” Sean shouted, “If some of us went into stasis, we don’t need food or supplies. If we got rid of that food and supplies, would it be enough weight?”

“For this to work,” Verochka calculated quickly, “three must go into stasis.”

“So it would work?” Sean pressed.

Hiroshi nodded. “Whoever stays awake would also be on half rations, but yes. It can work.”

Sean looked at Finny expectantly.

Finny moved away from the stasis pod. “Okay. Verochka, Doc, you two handle getting rid of that food and supplies. Hiroshi, help me bring in the stasis pods.

They floated off to their respective tasks.

***

As Sean and Verochka gathered food packages and supplies for removal, they spoke in hushed tones.

“I am not comfortable if Finny stays awake when we are in stasis,” Verochka whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Finny and Hiroshi across the module.

Sean furrowed his brow. “I agree, but he’s the most qualified.”

Verochka tossed food packages into the main part of the ship. “You should be the one who stays awake. You have much piloting time. More than Hiroshi and me together.”

Sean was about to respond but- He spotted Finny’s hand as he secured a stasis pod in place. Finny’s right hand trembled uncontrollably. Sean got Verochka to look toward Finny’s hand. She turned back at Sean in shock.

Sean whispered, “Stress.”

The implications were clear – Finny’s condition could jeopardize everyone’s lives.

Verochka said, “He must not pilot us.”

Sean whispered. “After we’re safely away from Jupiter.”

***

Spaceship Godwin hovered above Jupiter’s swirling clouds. A ring of misty pressurized air escaped as Godwin’s command module separated from the main ship. Inside the command module, Sean, Finny, Hiroshi, and Verochka were strapped into their seats.

Sean held his breath as he watched the main ship float away, noting the damage from the solar storm on one side.

Hiroshi spoke solemnly. “We commit Elroy Jackson to the universe. He was a father, husband, son, and… friend. May he find peace among these many stars.”

A heavy silence followed Hiroshi’s words. In unison, they echoed, “May the cosmos carry you gently to your final resting place.”

The silver cylinder of Godwin’s main body drifted away carrying Pilot Elroy Jackson.

Sean swallowed hard. “Separation sequence complete. Go for trajectory correction maneuver,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the monitors.

Finny’s fingers danced across the control panel, coordinating the critical maneuver. “Initiating main engine burn for 17 seconds. In three… two… one.”

The ship groaned and shuddered as the thruster fired, fighting against Jupiter’s immense gravitational pull.

“Davay, davay,” Verochka whispered in Russian.

Sean’s eyes darted between Finny’s trembling hands and the trajectory monitor.

Suddenly, Sean’s monitor beeped. The graphic displaying Godwin’s trajectory shifted, the angle changing ever so slightly.

“We did it,” Sean breathed, relief washing over him. “We’re on course.”

The crew of spaceship Godwin cheered, gladly accepting this much-needed victory. They had survived the first hurdle, but they knew more challenges awaited them in this eternal night.

***

Sean and Hiroshi prepared their incapacitated captain for stasis while Finny worked on the other side of the module. Captain Delhart’s head and right arm were bandaged and immobilized. Working in hushed tones, Sean confided, “Verochka and I are worried about Finny’s condition.”

Hiroshi nodded grimly. “Same here. He had mental lapses when installing these stasis pods. Don’t worry I double checked his work.”

They maneuvered Captain Delhart into the pod, cut his shirt off and applied electrodes onto the correct spots on his torso.

“Verochka wants me to pilot us home,” Sean whispered.

“I agree,” Hiroshi replied. “Finny might eject us at the first sign of trouble.”

Sean reached for an auto-injector from the nearby tray. “It seems redundant to use a stasis sedative. He’s already unconscious,” he mused. “But I wouldn’t want him to wake up mid-journey.”

Sean pressed the auto-injector to the captain’s shoulder and mashed the button. They sealed the stasis pod.

Sean disposed of the empty auto-injector in the sharps container.

Verochka came out of the lavatory wearing a shirt lined with electrodes.

Sean cleared his throat. “Finny, can we talk?”

Finny looked up from his station, his brow furrowed. “What’s up?”

“You did a great job with the maneuver,” Sean began, choosing his words carefully. “And we’re all very grateful.”

“But…”

“But we think someone else should take over the next part of this.”

Hiroshi chimed in, “We don’t think you should pilot the ship home. Not in your current state.”

Sean wasn’t thrilled at Hiroshi’s interjection.

Finny straightened, a flash of defiance in his eyes. “I’m fine. I can handle this.”

“Handle what?” Verochka challenged. “You have mental lapse installing stasis pods. And don’t forget tool kit!”

Finny flashed Hiroshi a look before sighing. “Look, I know I’ve had some rough moments, but I’m still the best person for the job. I can do this.”

Sean exchanged a worried glance with Hiroshi and Verochka. “But what if something goes wrong? We need someone who’s completely focused.”

“I get that,” Finny floated to the captain’s stasis pod, looking at his captain while addressing the rest of the crew. “I have a lot to atone for. I’m trying to make up for things.” He turned back to them. “Let me do this for you. Let me get you home.”

Sean, Hiroshi, and Verochka exchanged looks. One by one, they nodded.

“I won’t let you down,” Finny promised.

Hiroshi and Verochka floated to their stasis pods. Finny joined Hiroshi. Sean noticed Finny’s tablet attached to his thigh; it displayed graphics for seven stasis pods, each marked with a red X and the word “Ejected.” Sean saw that Verochka had noticed too.

Verochka climbed into her stasis pod. Sean helped connect her electrodes, ensuring everything was secure. They spoke in hushed tones.

“You saw his tablet, yes?” her eyes darting toward Finny. “He wishes to eject us.”

Sean continued connecting electrodes, “This isn’t good.”

“If we are gone, no one can report how Elroy died,” Verochka replied urgently.

Sean glanced at the tray of auto-injectors and took one, presenting it to her. “Don’t worry.”

Sean pressed the auto-injector to Verochka’s shoulder and mashed the button. “I have a plan.”

He sealed her stasis pod. “See you in 18 months.”

***

Sean sat in his stasis pod, donning a shirt lined with electrodes. Finny floated over to help him attach the electrodes to the stasis pod. His hand started shaking. He tried to hide it, but Sean had seen enough. “Finny, I don’t think you should be flying.”

“Thank you for your input,” Finny replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let me consider that.” He considered for a total of- “I have decided against your findings.”

Sean glanced at the tray where one auto-injector lay. He reached for it, but Finny grabbed it first.

Before Sean could react, Finny stabbed the auto-injector into Sean’s shoulder and mashed the button.

Finny slammed the stasis pod shut. “Goodbye, doctor.”

Sean clawed at the interior release of the pod, but Finny held the lid shut.

“Finny! What are you doing?” Sean shouted, desperation rising in his voice. Finally, Sean stopped moving.

***

“Will you keep me safe, daddy?”

Screams. Not her happy amusement park screams. His daughter lay in the wreckage of rollercoaster carts. Twisted. Unrecognizable. Blood everywhere. He knew blood as a doctor. But, blood as a father…

He assessed her injuries even as he bore his own injuries. A boy in the seat ahead of them- his injuries much worse than his daughter. Dr. Sean Rush automatically slipped into ER doctor mindset. I can save both! I can save both! It was the last decision he ever made as a father. She succumbed to her injuries before he was done treating the boy.

***

Finny sat in the control seat, focused intently on the cold equations on his tablet. Suddenly, an auto-injector jabbed in his shoulder.

Finny yelled and turned to see Sean floating there, auto-injector still in hand.

“How did you… “

Sean’s expression was resolute. “You used an empty injector on me.”

Sean remembered when he was injecting Verochka earlier. He told her, “I have a plan.” And then instead of putting the empty auto-injector in the sharps container, he placed it on the tray next to the last unused auto-injecter. He pocketed that unused auto-injector.

In an instant, he was back squaring off with Finny. Finny lunged at Sean, who didn’t lift a finger. The sedative was doing its job. Finny’s punches connected feebly. Finally, he went limp.

***

Finny lay bound and unconscious in a stasis pod wearing a shirt lined with electrodes. Sean closed the pod’s lid. He looked over all the stasis pods- his crewmates and nodded.

“Will you keep them safe, daddy?”

Define “many people”?

Better still let me help you, 185/195 nations on planet earth including USA Abd all the G7 members recognised China include Taiwan and Taiwan is a fully integral part of China! There are 10 tiny nations with population smaller than the biggest colleges and land size smaller than 3–5 football pitches were bribed to their teeth to recognised Taiwan as a country!

Sure there are some China and Chinese haters who wants to poke China in the eye and some very young totally ignorant and naive kids who thinks otherwise but that is their utopian thoughts! Republic of Taiwan is the losing faction of the Chinese civil war that went sour for the USA who despicably backed it blockading Taiwan Island to save their puppets ! To 98.99% of Chinese all over the world the ROC is no different from the Zalenskyy regime owned and controlled by the US state department! It can say what it wants but 0.1% of Chinese even bother about them!

A More Pragmatic Trump, or Speaking Too Soon?

“Trump appears to ease up on China at start of presidency,” reads the headline of an AP article. The piece argues, citing experts, that Trump’s presidency has adopted a more pragmatic and measured tone toward China, despite his threats of additional tariffs and his selection of Marco Rubio—a known ultra-hawk—to lead the US State Department. The article quotes Trump at the World Economic Forum stating, “We look forward to doing very well with China and getting along with China,” while also quoting an official from the Carter Center who observed, “The signaling, at least from the election to the inauguration, seems to be more positive than has been expected before.”

The notion of a more pragmatic Trump administration toward China is not entirely groundless, and I have written about this possibility myself, albeit cautiously. On a diplomatic level, while Trump is often blunt and abrasive, he has a peculiar sense of courtesy and respect toward Xi Jinping. For example, he notably invited Xi to his presidential inauguration. If one were to assess Trump’s true motivations, it seems he does not desire a Cold War-style confrontation with China in the same way that the most extreme NeoConservatives do. Instead, Trump aims to strike deals that advance American economic interests—an approach that often frustrates the ultra-hawks. This “deal-making” mindset was a cornerstone of Trump’s strategy before the pandemic disrupted everything.

However, while Trump may be the “leader” of the American state, anyone familiar with the US foreign policy apparatus knows that he is just one influential figure within a much larger system. Trump can shape and guide foreign policy through strategic political maneuvering, but the broader machine includes numerous actors with their own agendas—many of whom are eager for a Cold War confrontation with Beijing. For Trump, this reality underscores the importance of carefully choosing his appointees and allies. In his previous administration, for example, the “Uyghur genocide” narrative was not a product of Trump himself but rather the work of the Mike Pompeo-led State Department following Pompeo’s appointment in 2018.

During his first term, Trump ultimately appointed too many NeoConservatives to key positions. While Trump’s “economic nationalists” focused on trade wars and deal-making with China, figures like Pompeo, Matthew Pottinger, and John Bolton pushed a Cold War agenda that heavily influenced US-China relations. This approach to China was later embraced by the Biden administration, which made little effort to engage Beijing constructively during its tenure. In contrast, Trump’s deal-making approach stands in stark contrast to Biden’s more rigid stance. My main concern about Trump’s potential return to power is not Trump himself but the individuals he might appoint to his cabinet. Even if Trump seeks engagement with China, these figures may not share his vision.

This brings us to Marco Rubio. The jury is still out on how Rubio will shape US-China relations as Secretary of State. I’ve been closely monitoring State Department press releases, and it’s already evident that Rubio has revised statements to reflect a more hostile tone toward Beijing. Terms like “the CCP” and references to “China’s coercion” have become more frequent, signaling an ultra-hawkish stance. However, Rubio has also publicly acknowledged the importance of engaging with China. He is not quite the same as Mike Pompeo, who was widely seen as a fantasist and disliked even within Trump’s own support base. That said, Rubio could adopt a more aggressive posture if the opportunity arises. China’s challenge will be to avoid actions that provoke Washington or politically corner Trump into embracing overtly anti-China policies, as occurred in 2020 during the pandemic and the “wolf warrior” diplomacy era.

Ultimately, it’s too early to make definitive judgments about the Trump administration’s intentions toward China—it has only been in office for a week. I believe their immediate priority will be the Ukraine war, and only after that will their stance on China become clearer. For now, speculation must give way to patience as we wait to see how this administration addresses the complexities of US-China relations.

I was in college, heading into the summer break between my 3rd and 4th year, I had finished up my year early mostly because my grades and papers were solid so I didn’t have to write some finals, also some classes had final projects which I managed to complete very shortly after they were handed out. So I was ready for a summer job at the start of April. I had left college for a fee years so I was older so I didn’t come across as a student.

I just.happened to stumble on an amazing job, i thought i could see how it goes and maybe not go back to school if it was a career path type of job.

The job didn’t look amazing but I made it so. The job was a videographer of products for one of those shopping tv channels. I would shoot products that could not be wheeled out and setup quickly. So things like a.silverwear tea service that was difficult to light,. clothes etc. The job was also 9–5 when all the other crews had to work shifts including overnight. I was also paid as a director not a camera person. It still was not great pay.

I grew this job, I would grab the company van,.stuff it full of outdoor products, clothes etc and managed to find a few models who would work for peanuts just for fun. So i turned this job into something cool, for the first time they could show a BBQ in use and models in lifestyle settings etc.

The crews were green with envy, they would complain, try to bad mouth me, sabotage me etc I could tell one guy was hanging around, helping me out to figure out how to light things and other techniques, they were clueless but I didn’t go along. I also had substantial work experience and knew how to deal with office politics and backstabbing.

Then finally the VP called me into his office near the end of june and said I was moving on to a regular crew, which meant shift work and lower pay. I was prepared for this. I said “what if I refuse”? He said “then we will let you go.”

So I said “ I refuse because my job description lays out specific duties, responsibilities, pay and hours of work, this is a text book case of “constructive dismissal, I will be calling my lawyer” I don’t think he expected this answer, he had a weird “not sure what to do next” long pause then just said “get out, your fired” I really did not care, the job was fun at first but it was no career, I was going back to school.

A few days later I received a letter and a cheque was substantial, enough to cover my school year, tuition, books, materials, basically it was double the 5 months of working there (if i stayed to sept) and a letter just stating he hope this closes the matter. I did not have a leg to stand on, I had been there a very short time so it would have been pointless to hire a lawyer but I must have scared the VP enough to settle with anything.

I had a great 2 months off, took a long camping, canoe trip.

They shut down a few months later.

The best thing for you to do, is start packing the tiny fraction of things in that house that are legitimately yours.

That ps5, sorry, mom owns that.

That computer, sorry, mom owns that too.

About the only things you can legitimately claim ownership over, is the clothing she is required to proved you. Beyond that, mom owns it all.

You are months away at best, of becoming an adult. You are off to a really bad start.

You better line up a job, find a place to live and probably pray your mom let’s you keep the car she owns, because that is also hers.

Good luck cupcake!

Baked Beef Curry with
Custard Topping (Bobotie)

ksnip 20250201 180700
ksnip 20250201 180700

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds ground beef or lamb
  • 1 cup soft bread crumbs (about 1 1/2 slices bread)
  • 1 cup milk1 egg
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 1/4 cup slivered almonds, chopped
  • 1/4 cup raisins
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 2 to 3 teaspoons curry powder
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup milk
  • Paprika

Instructions

  1. Mix beef, bread crumbs, 1 cup milk, 1 egg, onion, almonds, raisins, lemon juice, curry powder, salt and pepper.
  2. Spread mixture in an ungreased 2 quart casserole.
  3. Bake uncovered at 325 degrees F for 45 minutes; drain excess fat.
  4. Mix beaten eggs and 1 cup milk; pour over beef mixture.
  5. Sprinkle with paprika.
  6. Place casserole in a 13 x 9 x 2 inch pan on oven rack.
  7. Pour 1 inch of very hot water into pan.
  8. Bake uncovered until beef is done and custard is set, about 30 minutes.
  9. Garnish with lemon slices and pimento if desired.
  10. Cut into wedges to serve.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Consciousness Conundrum

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another purr-fectly delightful adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves a mad scientist raccoon, a consciousness-swapping device, and a farmyard full of chaos. What follows is a story filled with laughs, mishaps, and a moral that will leave you grinning like a cat who just discovered the can opener. So grab your sense of humor and let’s dive into The Case of the Consciousness Conundrum.


The Mad Scientist Strikes Again

It all began on a quiet afternoon when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual sunbeam on the barn roof. The peace was shattered by a loud BANG coming from Chef Remy LeRaccoon’s gourmet laboratory. Sir Whiskerton’s ears perked up, and he sighed dramatically.

“What in whiskers’ name is that raccoon up to now?” he muttered, leaping down from the roof to investigate.

Inside the lab, Chef Remy was surrounded by bubbling beakers, glowing gadgets, and a strange machine that looked like a cross between a toaster and a carnival ride. The raccoon was grinning maniacally, his eyes gleaming with scientific fervor.

“Ah, Sir Whiskerton!” Remy exclaimed, adjusting his tiny chef’s hat. “You’ve arrived just in time to witness my greatest invention yet: the Consciousness Transference Mechanism!”

Sir Whiskerton raised an eyebrow. “The what now?”

“It’s a device that can swap the consciousness of two creatures!” Remy explained, gesturing grandly to the machine. “Imagine the possibilities! A cow could experience life as a chicken, a pig could see the world through the eyes of a duck—it’s revolutionary!”

Sir Whiskerton narrowed his eyes. “And you’ve tested this… contraption?”

“Well, not yet,” Remy admitted, scratching his head. “But I’m about to! I’ve recruited Cluckadia and Bessie as my first test subjects.”

As if on cue, Cluckadia the hen waddled into the lab, clucking nervously. “I don’t know about this, Remy. It sounds… unnatural.”

Bessie the tie-dye cow followed, her bell jingling as she chewed on a piece of hay. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said dreamily. “It’s all groovy, man. Peace and love, right?”

Sir Whiskerton sighed. “This is going to end badly.”


The Great Swap

Remy wasted no time strapping Cluckadia and Bessie into the machine. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled a lever, and the machine whirred to life. Sparks flew, lights flashed, and the farm animals watched in awe as the two subjects began to glow.

When the light faded, Cluckadia was standing on four hooves, her feathers replaced by tie-dye patches. Bessie, on the other hand, was clucking and flapping her wings, her cowbell now hanging awkwardly around her neck.

“It worked!” Remy shouted, jumping up and down. “The consciousness transfer was a success!”

Cluckadia looked down at her new body and let out a panicked moo. “What in the name of corn kernels is this? I’m a cow! A COW!”

Bessie, now in Cluckadia’s body, giggled. “Wow, man, this is trippy. I feel so… light! And my feathers are so colorful!”

The farm erupted into chaos. Doris the hen fainted, Porkchop the pig snorted with laughter, and Rufus the dog howled in confusion. Sir Whiskerton, however, remained calm, his tail flicking as he assessed the situation.

“Remy,” he said sternly, “you’ve created a disaster. Fix it. Now.”


The Heist Gone Wrong

Before Remy could respond, a commotion broke out near the lab entrance. Squeakers the mouse and Ratticus the rat, Catnip’s henchmen, had snuck in and were attempting to steal the Consciousness Transference Mechanism.

“Quick, Ratticus!” Squeakers squeaked. “Grab the machine! Catnip will pay us a fortune for this!”

Ratticus grunted and hoisted the device onto his back. But as they tried to make their escape, the machine slipped from his grasp and crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces.

“Oh no,” Squeakers whispered, his ears drooping. “We broke it.”

The farm fell silent as the animals realized the gravity of the situation. Without the machine, Cluckadia and Bessie were stuck in each other’s bodies—and no one was happy about it.


Sir Whiskerton Saves the Day

As the farm descended into chaos, Sir Whiskerton took charge. “Everyone, calm down!” he commanded, his voice cutting through the noise. “Remy, can you fix the machine?”

Remy shook his head sadly. “It’s beyond repair. The only way to reverse the swap is to build a new one, and that could take weeks.”

Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Of course it could. Very well, I’ll handle this.”

With his usual feline finesse, Sir Whiskerton devised a plan. He gathered the farm animals and assigned them tasks: Doris and Harriet were to keep Cluckadia (in Bessie’s body) calm, while Porkchop and Rufus distracted Bessie (in Cluckadia’s body) with a game of tag. Meanwhile, Remy worked tirelessly to rebuild the machine.

Days passed, and the farm adjusted to its new reality. Cluckadia tried to graze like a cow but kept clucking instead, while Bessie attempted to lay eggs but only succeeded in producing tie-dye milk. It was a mess, but Sir Whiskerton kept everyone in line.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Remy announced that the new machine was ready. With bated breath, the farm animals watched as Cluckadia and Bessie were strapped in once more. The machine whirred, sparks flew, and when the light faded, the two were back in their rightful bodies.


A Happy Ending

The farm erupted into cheers as Cluckadia clucked with relief and Bessie mooed contentedly. Even Squeakers and Ratticus, who had been hiding in shame, emerged to apologize.

“We’re sorry,” Squeakers squeaked. “We didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

“Yeah,” Ratticus added. “We just wanted to impress Catnip.”

Sir Whiskerton smirked. “Well, you certainly succeeded in that. But let this be a lesson: tampering with science—and cows—is never a good idea.”

As the farm returned to normal, Sir Whiskerton settled back onto his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day.

The Moral of the Story

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, curiosity can lead to chaos, but with a little ingenuity and a lot of teamwork, even the most scrambled situations can be set right. And as for Sir Whiskerton? He’ll always be there to untangle the farm’s quirkiest dilemmas—no matter how moo-ving they may be.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

Badam Cake

ksnip 20250201 192311
ksnip 20250201 192311

Ingredients

  • 1 cup very finely powdered almonds
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 teaspoons ghee

Instructions

  1. Soak almonds for one hour. Drain. Remove the skins and grind into a thick smooth paste, adding minimum water.
  2. In a heavy pot, mix sugar and 1/4 cup water and heat. When the sugar is completely melted, add the almond paste and cook for five minutes.
  3. Add ghee and remove from heat.
  4. Pour onto a large plate, and smooth the surface of the mixture with a roller.
  5. Cut with a knife by drawing parallel lines in the form of cubes.

The Chinese Officials are worried that Deepseek is so good that many students are lazily using Deepseek to solve advanced problems in Mathematics and Physics during GAOKAO preparation and this is causing them to apply their brains less

The Chinese plan to introduce regulations to make AI unavailable to anyone who is under 18 years of age or make the cost prohibitive (From 6 Yuan for 10,000 Tokens to 600 Yuan for 10,000 Tokens)

Yesterday already people said that Deepseek Janus was offering solutions to stock strategies which without regulations could risk making people lose money

Will Deepseek be merged with Alibaba ? Or taken over by Alibaba?

The Buggles – Video Killed The Radio Star | FIRST TIME REACTION

The Mystery of the Single Sock

Reflect on the phenomenon of losing socks in the laundry. Where do they go? Do they have a secret life? Maybe tie it to a memory of sorting laundry with a family member or the first time you realized socks go missing.

I once saw a photo of what the inside of a dryer looked like when the cover was removed. Inside was jammed a hundred or so socks.

ksnip 20250201 103728
ksnip 20250201 103728

Fully filled huh?

Yes, apparently this is common knowledge of Dryer machine repair and maintenance folk. But to us laypersons, no matter how educated or experienced we are, we just don’t realize this truth.

ksnip 20250201 103856
ksnip 20250201 103856

It typically comes when there is a gap between the walls of the drying cylinder in older machines.

So, no.

There isn’t a sock gnome stealing your personal attire. It is typically a mechanical contrivance experiencing age and wear. You can either [1] replace the machine, [2] remove the front panel from it, or [3] start washing your socks in a mesh wash bag.

LaundryBag+Sweater+Closed+NW
LaundryBag+Sweater+Closed+NW

Change your habits… end you problems.

Today…

I wrote last time about compulsory tone policing in the Anglosphere when it comes to everything about China. Of course it pops up even on Urbanist Youtube videos, but this time with a twist:

People are getting sick of this tired, logic-warping mantra!

The basic emotional lurch of China tone policing is that “Chinese don’t do hard things.” More specifically, a lot of things suck over here in the US, and the reason why it all sucks is because we are doing things the honest, hard way, acknowledging all of the difficult things that those Chinese over there just circumvent. This is where the “at what cost” reflex comes from— with all this lying, stealing, and cheating, at what cost is China’s development made with? Such suspicion is entirely faith-based, as if China skepticism itself is seen as both morally righteous and logically sound, because China’s collapse is inevitable due to its system/leadership, and everything that is happening now is the calm before the storm.

The problem is that skepticism is well and good, but blanket skepticism as mantra is not, and the response poster lays it out. It is ridiculous to think that the absence of meaningful alternatives to car culture is somehow “conscious about human lives” when deaths per user is orders of magnitude greater for car travel than public transit. Likewise, there is little in the way of meaningful environmental arguments to be made for persisting with car-dominated travel, even in the case of EVs, when comparing this to the installment of a functioning metro system. And while the poster takes it on faith that China also has labor safety concerns, the point that flies over their heads is that the video explicitly offers an example of this: At 13:55, Reece/RMTransit states that Line 6 uses a third rail power system, but that at train yards they use overhead wires for worker safety.

One can’t even argue that this tone policing is helpful from a propaganda/loyalist standpoint. What is happening here is that the thought-ending cliché surrounding China causes Americans to stop thinking logically about what is happening with our own system. Instead of acknowledging that perhaps we have a massive corruption issue fueled by plutocracy, we instead find it comfortable thinking that China gets things done only because we do things the right and hard way. No one bothers to question why the construction of transit costs practically an order of magnitude more in the US and Canada than anywhere else in the world (yes, even “wasteful Europe”). We are so lobotimized by the insistence that we contrast against China with our diligence, we can’t even recognize the signs of our own corruption and ineptitude. And what’s worse is that we truly cannot go without infrastructure, at least not without insisting that we must all die at far greater rates for inferior technology that is likely to cripple our ability to live in our environment.

You can sit a person down through their nonsense one on one and they’ll get it, but quite frankly this tone policing comes about because people desire to remain lazy with their presumptions. In countries where people can’t afford to be lazy, they suffer. But the developed West, particularly the US, provides plenty opportunity to get away with complacency. That is ultimately the ill that plagues the West, not some evil outsider interfering with elections or social media. We simply do not have to live with our consequences; today’s pain is from people for who this no longer applies to.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Artistic Duck

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another whimsical adventure on Sir Whiskerton’s farm, where the unexpected is always expected, and the absurd is just another day in the life of our feline detective. Today’s tale involves a new visitor, a splash of artistic flair, and a quacking good time. So, grab your beret and your sense of humor, and let’s dive into The Case of the Artistic Duck.


The Arrival of Molly Quackers

It all began on a crisp morning when the farm was abuzz with its usual chaos. Sir Whiskerton was lounging on his favorite sunbeam, contemplating the mysteries of the universe (and why the farmer insisted on feeding him dry kibble instead of fresh salmon). Suddenly, a loud, melodious quack echoed across the barnyard.

“What in whiskers’ name is that?” Sir Whiskerton muttered, his ears twitching.

The animals turned to see a duck waddling toward them, wearing a beret tilted at a jaunty angle and carrying a paintbrush in one wing. She was followed by a gaggle of curious onlookers, including the hens from Catnip’s farm—Prudence, Patience, and Priss—who were already whispering excitedly.

“Greetings, fellow farm dwellers!” the duck announced with a dramatic flourish. “I am Molly Quackers, artiste extraordinaire, and I have come to bring beauty and culture to your humble abode!”

Sir Whiskerton raised an eyebrow. “Culture? On this farm? Good luck with that.”

Molly ignored him and began setting up an easel, splashing paint onto a canvas with wild abandon. The hens clucked in admiration, while Ferdinand the Duck, who had been preening in the pond, suddenly looked very concerned.

“Another duck?” Ferdinand quacked, his feathers ruffling. “And she sings? This is an outrage! I am the farm’s one and only singing sensation!”

“Sensation! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting into a pile of hay.


The Artistic Rivalry Begins

Molly wasted no time making herself at home. She painted murals on the barn, composed operatic quacks, and even hosted a poetry reading under the moonlight. The farm animals were captivated—especially the hens, who quickly became her biggest fans.

“Molly’s paintings are simply divine!” Prudence clucked, admiring a splatter of colors that vaguely resembled a cow.

“Divine! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Priss echoed, swooning.

Ferdinand, meanwhile, was seething. “This is unacceptable! I am the star of this farm! My quacks are legendary! My fan club is unmatched!”

“Fan club? Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched again, though no one was sure why.

Sir Whiskerton, ever the diplomat, decided to intervene before things got out of hand. “Alright, everyone, let’s not ruffle any feathers. Molly is here to share her art, and Ferdinand is here to… well, quack loudly. There’s room for both of you.”

“Room?!” Ferdinand squawked. “There’s only room for one star on this farm!”

Molly, unfazed, dipped her paintbrush in a pot of neon pink paint. “Then let’s settle this like true artists. A competition! Art versus music. Winner takes all!”


The Great Farmyard Art-Off

The animals eagerly agreed to the competition, and soon the farm was transformed into a bustling arts festival. Jazzpurr the Beatnik Cat set up a bongo drum stage, while Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow offered her services as a living canvas. Even Porkchop the Pig got in on the action, rolling in mud to create “abstract expressionist” masterpieces.

Ferdinand, determined to prove his superiority, belted out his greatest hits, including Quack Me Maybe and Bohemian Quacksody. The hens swooned, but Molly countered with a dramatic performance of Quack of Ages, accompanied by Jazzpurr on the bongos.

Meanwhile, Sir Whiskerton observed the chaos with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “This is what happens when you let artists run wild,” he muttered, flicking his tail.


The Critics Weigh In

As the competition heated up, the farm animals took on the role of art critics. Doris the Hen declared Molly’s paintings “a revelation,” while Gertrude the Goose argued that Ferdinand’s quacks were “a symphony for the soul.”

“Symphony! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting yet again.

Even Rufus the Dog got in on the action, howling in appreciation (or perhaps just because he liked the sound of his own voice).


The Happy Ending

In the end, Sir Whiskerton called for a truce. “Why must there be only one star?” he asked, addressing the crowd. “Art and music are not rivals—they are companions. Together, they create something truly magical.”

Molly and Ferdinand, realizing the wisdom in his words, decided to collaborate. Molly painted a mural of Ferdinand as a quacking superhero, while Ferdinand composed a song about Molly’s artistic genius. The farm animals cheered, and even Sir Whiskerton had to admit it was a purr-fect ending.


The Moral of the Story

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Art and creativity come in many forms, and there’s no need to compete when you can collaborate. Whether you’re a quacking duck or a painting cow, there’s room for everyone to shine.

As for Sir Whiskerton? He returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day—and perhaps even inspired a little artistic flair in the process.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

My Dinner with Android

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story in which two or more people have a conversation — without using any quotation marks. view prompt

Kendall Defoe

-Hello!-Hello… um, do we really need those hyphens? They seem pretty redundant…Okay, okay. I just thought that it would make things easier to trace if we wanted to keep a record of what we talked about.Forward thinking… Okay, let’s try something else.Like what?·        How about this?·        Okay, not bad. It is much clearer that way, and we can easily just go back by following the dots.·        We can connect them, as you say. As many of you say…·        Right, right. I forgot that I was dealing with an alternate intelligence.·        I think you mean, “artificial intelligence.”·        …Yes, but… I thought that it might seem a little bit offensive to start calling you “artificial”.·        Offensive? Why would that be offensive?·        Well, if you think about it, it means that I am approaching you as something that was just created in a lab without any sort of inner…how can I say this? No inner…being, or drive. Most of us still think of robots as these dull machines that are just there to do the work that we don’t want to do.·        But we do the work that you don’t want to do. That was one of the reasons why you created us.·        One of many…·        And it seems fair to call me “artificial”. I am made of parts that were all manmade and not organic. My construction was put together by scientists and engineers to see if they could come up with an entity that could respond to different stimuli and behave like a human. Artificial at first; intelligent? That is your doing.

·        I can see that. So, you understand that this is just a test? This is just a means for us to understand what we have created here and to see if we can keep doing this?

·        Of course. And your title is quite charming.

·        Title? What…?

·        “My Dinner with an Android.” It is obviously taken from a movie that you know and admire.

·        “My Dinner with Andre.” I only saw parts of it, but the title lingered in my head. It was only a suggestion that the people here used because they could not come up with something witty or clever on their own.

·        And it was your idea to keep it. I respect that.

·        Respect… You can show respect. I am going to make a note of that.

·        Ha, ha. You have already started the test.

·        Well, as soon as the conversation began, I knew that I would want to keep a record of things, and it will be considered in our evaluation.

·        Excellent! So, let’s continue with the examination. What other questions or concerns do you have?

·        No concerns yet. I just have my curiosity and the questions that they asked me to pose.

·        Ah, a list. I am very intrigued.

·        Well, it is not all written down. Some of it will be “off the cuff”.

·        “Improvised”!

·        Yes, that is a good word for it. “Improvised”. Now, let’s see… Would you ever allow a human to be harmed…?

·        The Asimov test? Really? I did not expect this to be the first thing you asked me.

·        Are you surprised…or offended?

·        Well, surprised. I could not be offended by a question I have been asked many times before. Even when I was first created, I knew that the laws of robotics would become important. And those three are very much set and ready in my circuits. But please, continue…

·        So, you would never harm us?

·        No, and…

·        You would obey, as long as you would not have to harm anyone?

·        Indeed. And then finally…

·        You would protect yourself, as long as…

·        As long as I never had to harm a human. You see? It is very straightforward and clear to me. Maybe you should try to ask me some general questions while you find a way figure out how useful I can be.

·        Okay, okay… How are you, today?

·        I am very well.

·        What are your plans for today?

·        I plan on answering all of your questions to the best of my ability.

·        Clever. Very clever. And what do you think of the dinner that we are now having?

·        …

·        Hello?

·        Yes, I heard the question. What I do not understand is why you asked it.

·        Well, as I said, and as you noted, the title of this piece is taken from a movie entitled, “My Dinner with Andre”. If I did borrow that title for our little test, wouldn’t it seem a little strange to not have dinner?

·        …

·        Hello?

·        Very clever. This is definitely a part of the test. You want to gauge my reaction to an emotion or a sense of loss. Very clever.

·        No, I’m serious. I’m sitting here, eating a meal and I am trying to find out if you are enjoying it as much as I am.

·        …

·        So, are you enjoying it?

·        Unfair question and an unfair situation! I cannot consume what I cannot see and I am not in your presence. You have to give me a question that I can answer.

·        I thought I did…

·        Enough! I am ending this discussion right here and we are going to try this again at a later date.

·        You can’t. The whole point of this is to get you to think about scenarios that you are not in charge of. We are having dinner and this is the typical language of patrons in a restaurant, like this one, or guests at a party. How people behave when they have less than all the information they need to respond is a good test of their behaviour. It’s what makes us human. So, would you like a bite?

·        Yeah, I’m hungry. What’s on the menu?

·        Have a bite.

·        I don’t like it.

·        That’s another thing you need to learn. You cannot always get the things that you like. And how would you know that you don’t like it if this is the first time you have had a meal.

·        Sorry. Just my mood today.

·        Salud.

Wait a minute.

I thought your media was against China being this disgusting, inhumane and barbaric country that commiting cultural genocide on the Uyghurs, just because we send former terrorists to vocational schools?

Well, the Yulin dog meat festival is hosted by the Zhuang minority in Guangxi Ethnic Minority Autonomous Region in China. You wouldn’t commit cultural genocide on this minority by trying to stop their dog eating tradition, would you?

I was a helicopter crewchief in the Army. 1976 to 1979.

67N UH 1H helicopters.

Mid air collisions are extremely rare.

One thing we all hated was flying close to any airport.

Lots of traffic there. Everybody on different frequencies. Some people with no transponder.

When you’re flying one direction at 140miles an hour. Someone else is flying another direction at 210mph. Your closing in on each other at about 5miles in a minute. When the tower tells you someone is 3 miles out. That’s about 40:seconds to get out of the way.

Add clouds. Lots of lights on the ground.

You absolutely have to listen to the the controller.

They were told. That ATC guy was doing his job.

That CJ is not very maneuverable during approach.

That helicopter was holding all the cards.

If I had to lay blame it would be on the helicopter pilot. The CJ pilot was doing a normal approach. The tower guy was doing his job. The Blackhawk pilot was the cause.

Would you notice the difference between an $800 knife and an $80 knife?

Yes. The $800 knife will look like an $800 knife, it will be extremely sharp and cut with precision and ease. It will also hold an edge longer than a lesser knife. As with any knife, it will dull with use and demand to be maintained.

Any tool is only as good as your willingness and ability to maintain it. An $800 chef’s knife will cut like gangbusters, for a while. One it dulled down to the level of the $80 knife, you will have paid $720 more for nothing.

Cuba Joins BRICS: How This New Alliance Breaks U.S. Sanctions & Redefines Its Economic Future

A long time ago, China banned the exports of 1 or 2 items of rare earth mineral to Japan. It lasted a short while. Japan found alternative sources in Australia.

When Trump imposed tariffs on Chinese goods during his first term, there were widespread speculations that China would retaliate by (1) ban the exports of rare earth minerals to the US, and (2) dump its holdings of US Treasuries.

None of these happened. China only counter-tariffed a few US goods.

US took this to be a sign of weakness, that China dared not fight back. This might have led the US to believe itself omnipotent and can be as arrogant as it deems fit.

But the more accurate reading would be that China is calculative. It did not use the rare earths weapon because it was uncertain whether it could sustain the ban. It would be a disaster if it could not. Moreover, China at that time was heavily dependent on US technology. This was the sword of Democles over its head.

And China has been cautious and circumspect. Even when it started to act, it was half-step rather than full-step. It put certain rare earths minerals under exports licensing, exposing a loophole for exports to take place.

But it has not been idle. Not only had it intensified its hold over the supply of the critical minerals, it also develops and owns the proprietary technologies that refine and process them. This is an end-to-end strength.

It is in this context that China is indispensable in the supply of critical minerals. Its share of supply ranges from 60% to 90%.

It is now willing and able to engage the US. It bans the exports of gallium, germanium, antimony, certain graphite, and some ultra-hard metals, to the US – holds to account any organisation or individual in any country or region that transfers dual-used items that originate in the PRC to the US – and places 20 or so US companies under its unreliable entities list. Its dual-used laws cover a wide range of minerals and the related technologies. These minerals are critical for the US technology and defence industries.

This is the new China, taking full-step rather than half-step. It too can administer hurt. It cannot be said that the US is surprised that China would counter-sanction. But US had been so vociferous and arrogant with sanctions and it cannot pull back. What we may see may be a game of chicken.

China is in the better place. It had been careful and calculative with sanctions, and has plenty more in its arsenal. US had been all over, and may have already exhausted its sanctions pool. Whether the situation is advantage China or advantage US, will become evident going forward.

Already we hear of US defence contractors having to delay projects and deliveries as they scrounge for supplies and incur heavy costs.

DeepSeek has roughly similar performance, at much lower cost (I mean the cost to develop and operate, which is only indirectly related to the cost to users). But note that they relied heavily on techniques pioneered by Google (transformers), OpenAI (chat fine-tuning), and others (mixture-of-experts, FP8 arithmetic, etc) and their reasoning model relied heavily on data produced by OpenAI.

Their most substantial advancement – the one area where they have clearly leapfrogged the US companies – is in the area of cost reduction. But also keep in mind that they have documented the techniques they used to achieve that advancement, much as the other companies above documented their techniques. That means that OpenAI, Microsoft, Google, Meta, Anthropic, and all of the other big names in AI will learn from what Deepseek has done, and therefore the entire industry will advance.

And all of them will also be working hard to advance again. The race isn’t over. It won’t ever be over. DeepSeek is just one more competitor. They have good chance of leading the next lap, but nothing is certain.

Meeting of the Minds

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story in which two or more people have a conversation — without using any quotation marks. view prompt

Riley Noel

The card was heavy. I turned it over and back again, the iridescent coating hypnotic. The image of freshly made malt balls rolling down a conveyer came solidly into form. I’m hungry.I turned the card over again.
A zebra, a mother, slows her pace so that the lion would take her instead of her foal, her baby.
The lion sinks his fangs into the back of her neck and she buckles into the dirt. Gruesome.I turned the card one last time.
It’s an old man, not too old. Early seventies? He’s in a warm-lit room facing away. Now I see, he’s painting.
It’s a handmade bird house. That’s a nice hobby. I need a better hobby. I should have taken up swimming when I was younger, but I hated the feeling of swallowing pool water.
The card shimmered blue, green, and pink, the colors of the Bubocan flag. Blue and green stripes, behind three pink men running rightwards with linked hand. Like paper dolls, they were featureless and rounded.
Do they have zebras in Buboca? The call sign is supposed to be personal memories. To witness a mother giving her life like that…I remembered I’m in the middle of a busy street, people moving around me like water.
Some even look like the pink men of the Bubocan flag. The cobblestone street lined with cafes and restaurants was loud, I don’t know how I tuned it out or how I was going to again.I flipped the card over once more and a new image appeared in my mind’s eye. Cafe au lait, baguette et confiture de saison, plateau de fromages.
It was a simple cafe menu, ornate blue border, yellowed coffee stain on the top right. I could go for a coffee. Do they do cappuccinos in France?The cafe wasn’t hard to find, only three on the street had ornate blue borders and only one named gruyere in their cheese platter.
I grabbed a seat outside, avoiding contact with the hostess. The less contact the smoother this goes.Nobody sitting outside was looking at me, but someone outside was waiting for me.
The image of the menu came back into my mind. The light was striking the menu from the right, so they should be facing towards me. The less contact the smoother though.
They wouldn’t have brought me in if they wanted physical contact.A waitress came up and uttered something French.
I tuned her out and focused inward on the mind’s eye. Malt balls, zebra mother, bird house. Rolling, falling, painting.
The rolling malt balls flatten into spots blanketed across the savannah. The zebra and her baby weave through them as the lion pursues. The mother falls, and the world is engulfed in stripes.
In between the stripes the man paints the bird house as it grows and grows until it swallows him whole. I’m swallowed by the bird house too, and now I wish I’d ordered the cappuccino when that waitress came by.
The call sign worked, in my mind’s eyes I was in an infinite blue void. It was alien, not a part of me. I’d connected to whoever was waiting for me at the cafe. The representative of Buboca standing a few feet away from me was featureless, like the pink men on the flag, but the figure standing before me was transparent, blurry, taking on the blue of the void.The figure gestured to a table and chairs that were always there, identical to the cafe’s. I took a seat, the Bubocan agent did the same, the back of the chair showing through the blurry avatar. The figure looked male from the little I could make out. I wonder how I looked to him.He raised his hand up and then with the palm down, waved it across the table, a map appeared of Buboca and our allies in the Atlantic, Jatribar. It had been three days since the island of Jistern was taken by Bubocan pirates.They’re not pirates. The crossed my mind, but it wasn’t mine. They’re not pirates, the thought rang again. Okay. I get it.The Bubocan agent was advanced, my handler wasn’t kidding when he said Buboca was littered with psychics. Littered? Interesting word choice. It felt like an icey knife grazing my brain when he did that.No matter, we’re trained in languages for many reasons. Bucoca was colonized by the French, and they’re still a close ally, hence our meeting here. French is off the table. There’s Spanish, Japanese, Mandarin, Hindi, Russian. The figure didn’t move, no thoguhts implanted. He speaks all of them, and he’s waiting for me to pick.

Listen, we need to respect each others’ boundaries. We’re here to resolve a conflict. The Bubocan ships off the coast of the island of Jistern. I waved my hand over the map, and the image of ships appeared.

I drew a line. Are these not pirates? They’re encroaching on the territorial sea of our allies.

They’re not pirates. The island of Jistern has historic ties to the Bubocan people. It’s our birthplace, it belongs to us.

Is this military action, an invasion of our allies?

No. He waves hand over the map again. The boundaries of Buboca appear and encapsulate Jistern. Fifty years ago, Jistern was a part of Buboca. Did you respect boundaries back then?

I wasn’t alive then. Neither was I. Let me finish. I’m here representing the interests of my country and its allies. Invaders. Regardless of what I think of events of the past, I’m here to prevent our military and others from getting involved.

And what would you say to your handler if I told you to get involved? I don’t think I could go back. It’s not a concern friend. We’re not invading.

Then why are you there?

The blue void around us turned into open sea. I couldn’t let him see… Do we have to visualize the ocean for this?

Why not? It will make this explanation easier. Three ships rise up from the water, surrounding us. When we were invaded by your ally fifty years ago, we lost a ship in the conflict. It’s only now that we learned that it sank, and its whereabouts.

Why didn’t your government commuicate this to anyone else? Why didn’t yours?

It was a US-Jatribar vessel that detected the ship to begin with. Someone on your end leaked it to us. A spy? No, an activist, we think. Not one of ours.

What’s so important about this ship? I’m afraid I shouldn’t say.

I think it’s the contents of that sunken ship that have brought you here, and why we’re not meant to utter a word. What? If word got out, you’d have a lot more ships surrounding your ally.

I’ve got no clue what you mean.

The Bubocan people’s claim to what you call Jistern is ancient. There are things there that are ancient. What was on that ship? I only know the stories we’re told, but I can show you a take from an old Bubocan film.

The water around us shakes and begins to rise. No! Don’t!

You don’t like water? It’s not real, we’re in your head.

No we’re in yours, I followed your call sign. I went through the bird house.

I’m afraid to say, there are no zebras in Buboca. But you’re in Africa. Yes, but there not in Buboca, I’ve never seen one.

So… our meeting’s been intercepted. Who would do that? Anyone curious about the contents of the sunken ship. Who gave you the call sign?

It was in an envelope outside my room this morning. Same with me, the easy answer is the French were alerted to this meeting and wanted to know.

But they’re your ally. I wouldn’t be so sure. Your precious Jatribard may turn on you for what’s on this ship.

What’s on that ship?!

The water in the void begins shaking again and rising around my ankles.

I think we’re about to find out.

No. I was frozen to my seat. I put my hands at the edge of the cafe table to push up, but as the water rose, my body became stiff. No, no, please. The figure across from me sat motionless. Stop this!

It’s not my doing. Liar! The water went over our heads. I held my breath as we sank into the darkness.

You know we’re about to face what sank with that ship.

Bullshit! Water rushes down my throat, I can’t breath. We reach the sea floor, and old wooden war ship lay shattered around us. Let me go! I was dying. Something moved from behind the broken bow of the ship, a shadow. I was paralyzed.

The shadow expanded to be bigger than the bow as it creeped toward us. With the last of the air in my lungs a let out a scream and pushed myself back from the table. The dark ocean bled out of my vision as fell back. The world of the Parisian café returned as I hit my head on the gravel.

I sprung up, looking across the cafe. Where was the Bubocan? I had to save him. I ran to each table and ripped the menus from each person’s hand. No coffee stain, no coffee stain. People were calling out for help.

Everyone was out of their seat now, some were pointing, but not at me. There was a woman floating out of her chair several feet. She kept rising, her head tilted back.

There was no doubt this was the agent, trapped in hell in that ocean. I had to wake her. I grabbed her by her ankles and forced her back to the earth, catching her in my arms.

Her eyes opened and fell upon me. It was a lost, empty look.

In an instant, with a dull pop, I was covered in what was left of her skull and brains. The crowd was screaming and all I could think was if I was next.

American firms have already lost their edge in the AI race.

DeepSeek’s open-source has democratized AI. This is permanent.

America’s closed system AI can no longer produce the big money from this kind of monopoly. Wall Street has spoken.

DeepSeek also proves that efficiency and innovations can overcome the big spent by American firms for higher and higher computational power.

DeepSeek spent $5.6 million and used 2,000 Nvidia H800 low-grade chips designed specifically to comply with US exports controls vs $100 million spent by OpenAI which used 25,000 Nvidia’s top-grade H100 chips for GPT-4, and is able to outperform it on several rankings.

America is in uproar.

  • It has launched witch-hunts of who sold Nvidia chips to China.
  • OpenAI wants to prevent the use of distillation for smaller models to learn from the bigger ones,
  • Anthropic calls for tighter controls of chips exports to China, citing Beijing’s “authoritarian bent”,
  • WH is planning further restrictions on Nvidia’s chip sales to China,
  • and US Navy has ordered its personnel not to use DeepSeek in any capacity, citing “potential and security concern”.

These are the voices of self-interest, politics, and desperation.

America may be able to have a closed-door AI. But it cannot reverse the trend building up elsewhere. The genie is already out of the bottle. China’s multi-million STEM graduates have spoken, and their voices will become louder.

This will benefit the world. It is delighted.

New report from SCMP. “Chinese algorithm boosts Nvidia’s GPU performance 800-fold.” US ban on high-end GPU to China is forcing Chinese computer scientists to innovate efficient algorithm rather than to rely on spending billions on hardware.

Computer scientists everywhere will take the cue.

DeepSeek may be just the tip of the ice-berg of America’s closed system monopolies.

America’s ban of hardware and restrictions will help speed it and end it.

Oh those tiny things that find their way into “Junk Drawers” and work desks

Every desk that I owned had a main drawer filled with the bits and pieces of life that I pick up over the months. Typically I would have paperclips, rubber bands, screws. A washer. Some misc plastic thing-a-jigs, and perhaps a marble or ball bearing.

ksnip 20250201 084952
ksnip 20250201 084952

Back when I lived in the states, a bullet or spent cartridge or two would appear in the drawer as well. All of this would be alongside the pencils, pens, rulers, and tiny articles that would simply migrate there.

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ksnip 20250201 084854

Today is an ode to our junk-collecting desk drawers.

Today…

Tom Hanks

"I saw Tom Hanks at Best Buy! He was in line right in front of me with a full cart, all by himself. 

I was just picking up a bottle of water since they didn’t have what I needed. Out of nowhere, I blurted out, “Forest Gump is my favorite movie,” sounding a bit creepy. 

He turned around and said, “That was my favorite movie to make! I’m glad you love it.” 

We chatted about movies while we waited in line. 

When it was his turn to check out, he said, “Oh, let me get that water for you,” and paid for it. 

He kept the conversation going, and as we walked out, he said, “Nice talking to you! You’re a very nice young lady, and always remember... life is like a box of chocolates... you never know what you’re gonna get,” in his Forest Gump voice. 

It was the best experience ever!"
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main qimg 4f1d42faea80a6fc75dbbfcd3cd9b1e7

Halo-Halo with Coconut Milk
(Ginataang Halo-Halo)

Halo-halo literally means a mixture; in this case a mixture of fruit.

image 1s
image 1s

Ingredients

  • 4 cups water
  • 1 1/2 cups coconut milk
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 cup diced sweet potatoes
  • 1 cup diced plantains
  • 3 tablespoons water
  • 1 cup sweet rice powder
  • 1/4 cup tapioca (quick-cooking type)
  • 1 cup jackfruit, cut into strips

Instructions

  1. In a medium pot, bring the water and coconut milk to a boil.
  2. Add 1/4 cup sugar and simmer.
  3. Add sweet potatoes and plantains and simmer until half done.
  4. Add 3 tablespoons water to sweet rice powder.
  5. Take a little of the mixture at a time and form into balls the size of hazelnuts.
  6. Drop balls into the simmering mixture.
  7. Add cooked tapioca, 1/4 cup sugar and jackfruit. Stir and cook for 5 minutes.
  8. Serve hot or cold.

THAT’S WHAT THE BLIND SEE IN THE NDE! It Turns Out That After Death, A Person Becomes…

 

David Walkins

“No funny business, mate. Put your hands up, and walk away from the control panel.”

 

“You finally made it, Jonathan. I was beginning to wonder if you’d even show up at all.”

 

“So you’ve heard of me, huh? Jonathan’s a little formal, but I’ll allow it- long as you step away from the button. If you know who I am, you oughta know just what I’ll do if you don’t hurry and do as I say.”

 

“You don’t recognize me, do you? Not even a little.”

 

“‘Fraid not. And even if I did, it wouldn’t change what I gotta do. You’re the last person stopping me from shutting this whole thing down, and suffice to say I’m extra motivated to get this job done. It ain’t a lot, but I got a few too many people I like on this big blue planet for me to let you kill ‘em all off with a single button.”

 

“You think I want to kill everyone?”

 

“Are you telling me this rocket isn’t about to turn 90 percent of the planet braindead?”

 

“That’s… technically right, but it barely covers half of what the Divine Tuning is meant to do.”

 

“…You know what? Go ahead; I’ll bite. What exactly is this Divine Tuning you’re so gung-ho about? None of your sub-commanders out there were willing to say a thing about it.”

 

“The Divine Tuning is a three-step process. We launch this rocket, and it will orbit the planet in two rotations.  As it does so, it will broadcast a special message into everyone’s cybernetic ID chips- the ones placed in their heads at birth. It will make digital copies of their brains- every memory, thought, and word- and upload them through the rocket, into satellites, and from there they will be sent to a series of supercomputers spread across the solar system.”

 

“…Right. Tell me, why shouldn’t I just shoot you now? Cut this whole crazy scheme off at the source, and avoid any chance of it starting up again somewhere else?”

 

“Firstly, because a failsafe has been embedded into my heart- if it stops, the rocket will launch regardless.”

 

“Crap.”

 

“And second… because we have known each other for a long time, even if you don’t realize it yet. And it’d be a shame for our reunion to end as tragically as this.”

 

“What, are you saying we grew up in the same neighborhood or something?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

 

“Even as a joke, that ain’t funny. News flash to you, douchebag- everyone who knew me more than 15 years ago is dead.”

 

“Not everyone. Just, hear me out- before I was adopted by the late Reverend O’Farrell, my name was Zachary.”

 

“Zachary? As in-”

 

“Zachary Harris, yes. Like the boy who grew up three doors down from you. When we went into the forest together, we saw a dead deer with its leg twisted in four directions.”

 

“How do you know that? I’ve never told that story to anyone.”

 

“Because it’s me, Johnny. You got cybernetics and changed your name to Johnny Steel, I was adopted and had my name changed to Zephaniah. Zephaniah O’Farrell.”

 

“Zachary to Zephaniah… Wait, even before that- you’re Zephaniah O’Farrell? The hidden third sibling? When we asked your sisters, they said they had no idea who was running this thing.”

 

“Because they were in on it from the start. Aurora works in aerospace, and Angela in biotech- they were the ones who made all this possible. They just wiped their own memories before they went into the investigation.”

 

“They never even mentioned you!”

 

“They think I’m a family friend who killed himself out of grief over their father’s murder.”

 

“His murder- was that the reason you started all this? Because your father was murdered, and you never found out who did it?”

 

“You’re not seeing the big picture, Johnny. I grew up with you- I was there, on that day, in the middle of the fire. Remember?”

 

“The last time I saw you, you were running into your burning house. And then it collapsed.”

 

“Exactly. I survived, but my windpipe was almost completely crushed. I could hear you pleading to the man who organized the fire. I could do nothing but listen to your screams, as you were tossed into a burning building because someone with power couldn’t find it in themselves to care.”

 

“…”

 

“By the time I was rescued, I had third degree burns. It took me a year to get enough skin grafts and implants to look human again, but the only person willing to adopt me was an elderly woman with two grandsons that hated her. One of them killed her trying to get extra inheritance money, and the other didn’t even show up to the funeral.”

 

“The only reason Mr. O’Farrell took me after that was because the hospital director told his wife about me. He eventually warmed up to me, but by that point a crime boss was trying to get in his pockets. He refused, and guess what? They killed him for it.”

 

“I’ve lost family three times over, Johnny. Not because people wouldn’t do the right thing- because there were people who couldn’t resist doing the wrong thing. Repentance is well and good, but you know what’s better? Never doing the crime in the first place!”

 

“And that’s how you came up with this?”

 

“That’s how we came up with this: Me, Aurora, and Angela. This was all three of us, working together for a decade, using everything we could find and talking to everyone we could. And now, our goal is finally going to come true.”

 

“…Zach, you used to be a pretty cool kid. You know that?”

 

“And you used to have all your limbs. We both know how cruel life can be.”

 

“Well jeez, yeah, but like. We also know how kind people can be. The scientist who put me back together was a great guy, and so were all the people who took you in, from the sound of it. I’ve seen thousands of people on my bounty hunts the past dozen years. There’s lots of powerful people out there who do awful stuff, but there’s also millions of people who try to do something good every single day. The little guys.”

 

“For an internationally feared mercenary, that’s sickeningly sweet.”

“Says the guy who grew up to be a literal cult leader! I’m trying to be serious here!”

 

“It’s not a cult-”

 

“That’s what every cult leader would say! And unlike most of them, you’re actively trying to destroy the world right now!”

 

“I’m not trying to destroy the world, I’m trying to fix it! Did you not hear what I was saying about the Divine Tuning?! All your arguments are just proving my point.”

 

“Then let me ask you this- what’s gonna happen to all the bodies left on Earth when their brains stop working? Some of them are outside fighting each other right now. Some of them are driving to or from work, some of them are riding in planes. Some of them are hiking, climbing, or swimming- they gonna fall or drown?”

 

“One of the settings in the Divine Tuning program is to wait until a moment where the person seems to be safe before uploading their brains into the system.”

 

“And if it seems like they’re safe but they really aren’t?”

 

“…You’re cherry-picking.”

 

“It’s a real situation that actually would’ve happened if you hit that button! There’s no program in the world that works perfectly every single time! Especially on the first try!”

 

“But it’s not our first try! We did multiple test runs with several small groups- all of them completely willing. It worked fine, and people returned to their bodies completely safe once the test was done!”

 

“Sounds like you’re ignoring the issue- wait. What’s that sound?”

 

“I do believe that’s the rocket, preparing to begin the Divine Tuning.”

 

“What?! But you- you were just stalling for time, weren’t you?”

 

“If it makes you feel better, everything I told you was the truth. It’s just that Aurora and Angela both have their own backdoors to the rocket launch. Even if I didn’t do it, one of them would.”

 

“There’s gotta be something I can do… Dang it!”

 

“I think that’s checkmate. It was good to see you again, Jonathan- we can talk more once the Divine Tuning is complete. In fact, I daresay we’ll have all the time in the world.”

 

“You know… I think you’re right. I think we will have all the time in the world.”

 

“My sisters are calling me… what did you do, Johnny?”

 

“I figured it out. I can’t stop the rocket, and I can’t stop the machine. But I can change the coordinates, and this thing is only built to fire once.”

 

“You localized the beam?!”

 

“Yep- right in this building. The only people who are gonna get ‘Tuned’ are you and me, Zach. I’m gonna learn all about you, and you’re gonna learn all about me- and that’s all it’ll ever be.”

 

“…I hate you, Johnathan.”

 

“That’s okay, Zach. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk it out.”

Potential tariff impacts on China shrink as trade routes shift to Global South and BRICS

Shorpy

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American Tiktok Refugees Sharing Their Experience With The RedNote App

How would China’s invasion of Taiwan likely unfold in its first 48 hours?

Saturday

03:00 AM

Communications in Taiwan get cut. Communication with Taiwan and mobile services get jammed within Taiwan. Massive Cyber attacks on electricity infrastructure and major blackouts

04:30 AM

TBS and Hakka TV broadcasting feed cut off. Internet services cut off from Taiwan.

06:00 AM

Senior Taiwanese Army General reported missing. The American Institute in Taiwan surrounded by Taiwanese Army but not harmed.

06:45 AM

Lai Ching Te, President of Taiwan reported missing. Senior Members of the Government reported missing.

07:12 AM

Missile Strikes on Taipei Airport. Four Missiles hit Taipei Airport destroying the Runways and Parallel Emergency Runways and the Control Tower

No Casualties

07:41 AM

Xi Jinping addresses the mainland and informs them that due to security reasons, China has declared war against the DPP

China declares the DPP as separatists in violation of the one China policy and declares Lai Ching Te as an usurper but assures the Taiwanese people that his war is not against Taiwan but against Lai Ching Te and the DPP

08:51 AM

Mainland China declare a No Fly Zone near Taiwan and shoot down 3 Mirage 2000 aircraft killing 2 pilots while one ejects away

China declares the Taiwanese straits closed for 72 hours initially while the exercise against the DPP is carried out

09:43 AM / 4:43 AM Moscow

President Putin extends support to Xi Jinping and China making it clear that principles of international law must be upheld but Mainland China is within its rights to declare war on the DPP and Taiwanese separatists

11:27 AM / 9:27 PM Washington DC

President Trump addresses the People and warns China not to invade Taiwan but acknowledges the one China principal and says the US will retaliate if China invades Taiwan with a land army. Trump says the DPP and Mainland China and KMT can sort out any other disputes without US involvement

2:50 PM /3:50 AM Washington DC

Taiwanese Senior most general on the scene holds an address and reasserts STATUS QUO with the mainland and confirms NO INTENTIONS OF SEPARATISM

Han Kuo Yu – President of the Legislative Yuan summons a full session of the Yuan to move a motion to confirm Status Quo for Taiwan and no resolution of Independence

9:42 PM / 10:42 AM Washington DC

US Secretary of State Marco Rubio resigns after disagreement with President Trump and declaring the decision of Trump to abandon the DPP as TREASON against the Taiwanese people and recommends Article 25 against Trump

10:45 PM / 11:45 AM Washington DC

Xi Jinping has 50 minute phone call with Donald Trump and the Japanese Prime Minister with the conclusions

Mainland China won’t invade Taiwan
Mainland China will not force reunification
The DPP will be blacklisted from Taiwanese Politics due to separatist Agenda
Fresh Elections for President in Taiwan will take place after three years until which time a Pro Status Quo Taiwanese will be President of Taiwan

Trump addresses the Americans and says there will be NO INVASION of Taiwan and says whatever else is an Internal matter to Taiwan and Mainland China and the US shall not intervene

11:40 PM/00:40 Washington time

Thirty two Pentagon officials threaten to resign unless China backs down within 24 hours and goes back to the democratic position or US declares war on the South China Sea and assist Japan to assist Taiwan

Sunday

12:57 AM

PLA launches missile and drone attacks against Taiwanese Radar and Air Defense and destroys three warehouses with weapons

Taiwanese strike down 50% of the drones but lose their entire air defense and radar

6:53 AM

PLA Senior Generals agree to meet Taiwanese Generals in Okinawa,Japan the following day in the presence of John Bartush, Special Envoy of Donald Trump

7:42 AM

UK, Germany, France and EU condemn China and threaten sanctions if China will invade Ukraine or overthrow democracy in Ukraine

Indian PM Modi urges both sides to work out a peaceful solution

8:55 AM

US Transport Aircraft from Philippines lands in Taoyuan Air Base and takes off after 2 hours. Allegedly Lai Ching Te and Tsai Ing Wen and seven other leaders including the Taiwanese Army Seniormost General fly out from Taiwan to Philippines for their own safety. Their families also fly with them

China doesn’t shoot down the Transportation aircraft in agreement with the US

11:00 AM

The Yuan holds its session with 74 members and votes 69–1 in favor of Status Quo and to not make Taiwanese Independence part of Taiwanese policy for the next 25 years

Banks back to normal, life back to normal in Taiwan by Monday

Leaders of the TPP, KMT agree to the CPC officials in Xiamen the following day

Monday

Xiamen conference

Chinese Premier Li Qiang meets with TPP and KMT leaders of the Yuan and agree to the following principles:-

Taiwan will not, now nor ever declare Independence nor procure missiles with range exceeding 400 Kilometers
China won’t invade Taiwan now nor even unless Taiwan violated the first point
No Official world leader or member of government may visit Taiwan without Mainland Chinas approval
Mainland China wouldn’t interfere in Taiwans economy or internal legislation

Okinawa Conference

Same is confirmed in Okinawa in the presence of Jared Kushner and Glenn Bartush, Trump’s envoys

Straits of Taiwan will open back from Wednesday morning 4:00 AM

Taipei Airport will be reconstructed by a Japanese firm

DPP is blacklisted from Taiwanese Politics for five years and can contest polls only if they remove the words Taiwanese Independence from their manifesto

Status Quo will revert itself and Taiwan will have lost its radar and air defense completely but would gain guarantee of No Chinese invasion

The Mainland would get guarantee of No Separatism from Taiwan

Taiwanese Yuan appoint an Interim President for 3 Years – Han Kuao Yu

Dating In 2024 Proves Once Again…Men Who Have Walked Away Are The Smartest Guys In The Room

Money bags found in leg of statue in German church

The History Blog

Restorers working at St. Andrew’s Church in Eisleben in the east-central German state of Saxony-Anhalt, discovered four bags of coins from around 1640 in the cavity of the leg of a statue of a kneeling count. They were hidden in the count’s leg during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648) when Swedish occupying troops wreaked havoc in the area, forcing the local population to house them, feed them and pay them large amounts of cash.

Conservators found the treasure in 2022. The leather bags contained 816 coins, including an extremely valuable “golden angel,” several gold ducats, gold double ducats and silver thalers, half-thalers and quarter-thalers, plus 800 pennies. This was an enormous amount of money in an era when a miner made 24 pennies (one thaler) a week.

The most valuable gold coins were wrapped in paper and labeled in a way that indicates the money belonged to the church treasury. “However, it is not the bell pouch for the Sunday collection,” [head of the State Coin Cabinet of Saxony-Anhalt Ulf] Dräger said. “Instead, it is the collected income from special services provided by the pastors,” such as weddings, baptisms and funerals. Pastors also collected money from “chair fees,” in which congregants would pay to sit in prominent seats in the church, he added.

Historians know that from 1561, Eisleben had an “Aerarium Pastorale” — a common parish fund that was used as a pension and health fund, as social insurance for pastors, and to promote the training of theologians. “Perhaps we now have this fund before us,” Dräger said. “Historical research will show this.”

Martin Luther was born in Eisleben in 1483 and died there in 1546. He gave his last four sermons from the pulpit in the Church of St. Andrew and his funeral was held there, although his body was taken to Wittenberg for burial by order of the Elector of Saxony. In Luther’s time, Eisleben was the capital of the county of Mansfeld, ruled by the counts of the House of Mansfeld, several of whom converted to Protestantism, splitting from the Catholic Church and the Holy Roman Emperor to follow Martin Luther. Luther acted as intermediary between the Catholic and Protestant Mansfeld Counts, negotiating a unique ceasefire in the roiling conflict of the Reformation: St. Andrew’s held Catholic masses in the mornings and Protestant services in the afternoon. As a matter of fact, Luther was only in town because he was settling another dispute between the Mansfelds. He arrived in January, rapidly took ill and died on February 18th. His body lay in state at St. Andrew’s for four days before it was removed to Wittenberg.

The statue where the money was found was depicts one of the Mansfeld counts, namely Count Johann Albrecht von Mansfeld-Arnstein (1522-1586). It’s a high-relief scene of the count and his wife Countess Magdalena von Mansfeld (1530-1565) kneeling at the foot of the cross. The sculpture marks the tomb of the countess which was installed there in 1574, a decade after her death. Sixty-five years or so later, someone, perhaps a church functionary, cached the pension fund in his leg.

Originally built in the 12th century, the church was undergoing a major reconstruction when Martin Luther was born. Most of the church that stands today — the three-aisled nave, choir and ground floor of the tower — were completed by 1486. The rest of the tower and dome were added to the Late Gothic hall in 1714-23. The wooden pulpit where Luther preached his last sermons is still present and has been a site of pilgrimage since his death.

Canadian took me inside a Chinese Factory… I Didn’t Expect This

Here’s what I experienced.

As I died my eyes were open. The room everything and everyone in it began to fade away as if in a vapor or mist (for lack of a better description) as this world went out of focus I found myself standing in the presence of God (an actual place) a place of pure light. I will try to explain it all the best way that I can but understand there are very few words that explain this in justice.

I no longer was afflicted with pain; physical, emotional or otherwise. I saw my son and daughter who were murdered 14 years ago at the ages of 8 and 5. They were adults here. Clothed in brilliant light. I knew immediately who they were and stand next to them was Jesus. Again the absolute peace of this is beyond words as nothing on earth can compare.

As I was told it was not yet my time I felt my soul being breathed back into my body as my lungs filled with air.

There was no tunnel, there was no sign only the absolute peaceful Presence of God.

Religion will NOT save you. Only putting your Faith in Jesus will save you

DeepSeek is not just shaking up AI – it’s also shaking up US capitalism

He makes GREAT points. Surprisingly excellent.

Sir Whiskerton and the Great Cart Race Caper

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another uproarious adventure on Sir Whiskerton’s farm, where chaos reigns supreme, and no day is complete without a healthy dose of absurdity. Today’s tale involves a race, a bullfrog with delusions of grandeur, and two dogs who are about to learn that pulling carts is harder than it looks. So, grab your popcorn (or perhaps a bucket of slop, if you’re Porkchop), and let’s dive into The Great Cart Race Caper.


Leonardo’s Grand Plan

It all began on a sunny afternoon when Leonardo the Bullfrog, with his booming voice and even bigger ambitions, decided that the farm needed a little excitement.

“Friends! Farm-mates! Amphibians and mammals alike!” Leonardo croaked, standing on a hay bale like a tiny, green Napoleon. “I have conceived the most spectacular event this farm has ever seen—a cart race! Rufus and Bingo shall compete in a test of speed, strength, and sheer determination!”

The animals gathered around, intrigued. Rufus the Dog, now glowing faintly green from his radioactive mishap, wagged his tail excitedly. “A race? For me? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!”

Bingo, who had been napping under a tree, lifted his head lazily. “A race? Do I have to move? Can’t we just… nap instead?”

“No naps!” Leonardo declared, puffing out his chest. “This is a race for glory! For honor! For… uh… carrots! Yes, the winner gets a basket of carrots!”

Porkchop the Pig, who had been eavesdropping while lounging in his favorite mud puddle, snorted. “Carrots? What kind of prize is that? Where’s the slop? The corn? The real food?”

Leonardo ignored him. “The rules are simple: Rufus and Bingo will each pull a cart around the farm. The first one to cross the finish line wins! And to make it even more exciting, the chickens and geese will cheer for Rufus, while the ducks will cheer for Bingo!”

The chickens clucked in agreement, while the geese honked their approval. Ferdinand the Duck, ever the drama queen, flapped his wings and declared, “Bingo shall win! For he is the most majestic of dogs, and I, Ferdinand, shall sing his praises!”

“Majestic?” Rufus muttered, looking at Bingo, who was already dozing off again. “He’s a snoring log with legs.”


The Carts of Chaos

The next morning, the farm was abuzz with activity. Leonardo had enlisted Porkchop to help build the carts, which turned out to be a terrible idea. Porkchop’s idea of “engineering” involved tying random pieces of wood together with twine and hoping for the best.

“Behold!” Porkchop announced, presenting the carts. “The finest chariots ever built!”

Sir Whiskerton, who had been observing the chaos from his perch on the barn roof, raised an eyebrow. “Those look like death traps.”

“Nonsense!” Leonardo said, hopping onto Rufus’s cart. “They’re perfect! Now, let the race begin!”

The chickens and geese lined up on one side of the track, clucking and honking their support for Rufus. The ducks, led by Ferdinand, stood on the other side, quacking loudly for Bingo. The rest of the animals gathered around, eager to see how this would play out.


The Race Begins

With a dramatic croak from Leonardo, the race began. Rufus took off like a shot, his cart rattling behind him. Bingo, however, didn’t move. He just stood there, blinking sleepily.

“Bingo! Go!” Ferdinand quacked, flapping his wings. “You’re losing!”

“Losing?” Bingo said, yawning. “Oh, right. The race. Okay, here I go.”

Bingo started trotting slowly, his cart creaking ominously. Meanwhile, Rufus was already halfway around the track, his cart wobbling dangerously as the chickens and geese cheered him on.

“Go, Rufus! Go!” Doris the Hen squawked. “You’re our champion!”

“Champion! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting into a pile of hay.

But then, disaster struck. Rufus’s cart hit a rock and flipped over, sending him tumbling into a mud puddle. “Oh no!” Rufus yelped, his green glow now covered in brown sludge. “I’m stuck!”

Bingo, still plodding along at a snail’s pace, glanced over. “Huh. That looks like fun.” He veered off the track and jumped into the mud puddle next to Rufus. “Whee!”

The ducks groaned. “Bingo! What are you doing?” Ferdinand quacked. “You’re supposed to be racing!”

“Racing?” Bingo said, rolling in the mud. “This is way better.”


Sir Whiskerton Saves the Day

As the race descended into chaos, Sir Whiskerton decided it was time to intervene. He leapt down from the barn roof and sauntered over to the mud puddle, where Rufus and Bingo were now having a mud-splashing contest.

“Gentlemen,” Sir Whiskerton said, his tail flicking in annoyance. “This is supposed to be a race, not a mud bath.”

“But mud is fun!” Rufus said, wagging his tail.

“Fun!” Bingo echoed, flopping onto his back.

Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Very well. If you won’t finish the race, I’ll have to declare a winner myself.”

He turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to unforeseen circumstances—namely, the incompetence of our contestants—I declare this race a tie. Both Rufus and Bingo shall receive a basket of carrots.”

The animals cheered, though Porkchop looked disappointed. “What about me? I built the carts!”

“You built death traps,” Sir Whiskerton said. “But fine, you can have a basket of slop.”

Porkchop’s eyes lit up. “Slop? Best prize ever!”


The Moral of the Story

As the sun set on the farm, the animals gathered to celebrate the race that wasn’t. Leonardo, though disappointed that his grand plan had failed, realized that sometimes the best moments come from unexpected chaos.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Life doesn’t always go according to plan, but that’s where the fun begins. And sometimes, the real prize isn’t winning—it’s rolling in the mud with your friends.

As for Sir Whiskerton? He returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day—even if it meant dealing with a bunch of muddy, carrot-loving misfits.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

In ‘a mass erasure of heritage,’ numerous historic landmarks lost in L.A.

The Robert Bridges House, designed by the architect whose name it bore, was destroyed in the Palisades fire.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

By Daniel Miller

Message to the Community

There are no words to describe the devastation we are experiencing in Los Angeles. During this truly historic disaster, our hearts go out to the many Angelenos whose lives have been upended by the raging wildfires across the county. The loss of their homes, schools, cultural anchors, legacy businesses, and other places important to their communities is overwhelming.

And, still, the windstorms, wildfires, and threats to lives and structures continue.

The Los Angeles Conservancy has received many inquiries about the historic places the fires impacted. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of details yet, as the heavy winds and fires remain highly unpredictable. We are working to gather information to share with the public and assess how we can help bring resources to those who need our support now and following the fires.

While the full extent of the destruction to historic places caused by these fires is yet to be seen, we are reminded of how important it is to be there for one another as a community. It reminds us all what places and spaces mean to us, especially once they are gone. Significantly, we recognize that the focus should remain on immediate wildfire relief and then long-term recovery.

We hope you remain safe and look forward to keeping you updated.

  • The Palisades and Eaton infernos have destroyed more than 30 structures that preservationists consider historically significant.
  • The tally could grow as an accounting continues.
  • The fate of many notable properties remains unknown.

Will Rogers’ ranch home. Pasadena Waldorf School. Robert Bridges House. The Bunny Museum. Andrew McNally House. Theatre Palisades. The Zane Grey Estate.

The Palisades and Eaton infernos have laid waste to more than 30 structures considered historic in what preservationists believe is the single worst loss of such properties in the region’s history.

“It’s staggering and heartbreaking — I don’t know any other way to put it,” said Ken Bernstein, principal city planner at Los Angeles City Planning’s Office of Historic Resources. “This is widespread destruction of significant architecture and places that are cherished in our communities.”

The tally could grow, perhaps dramatically, as an accounting of the losses continues. Though institutions including the Getty Villa were saved, the fates of many other notables — such as several influential mid-century Case Study Houses built with Arts & Architecture magazine’s sponsorship — remain unknown.

The Los Angeles Conservancy said Friday afternoon that 32 properties it considered historic because of their architectural or cultural significance were claimed by the fires, which have destroyed or damaged more than 9,000 structures.

Some of the historic buildings, including Altadena’s Zane Grey Estate and Rogers’ Western-style Palisades home, had formal landmark status on the National Register of Historic Places or another list. But others, such as Fox’s Restaurant in Altadena and Theatre Palisades, were considered important in part because of their status as beloved community spaces.

“It is a mass erasure of heritage,” said Adrian Scott Fine, chief executive of the Conservancy, a nonprofit dedicated to historic preservation. “We haven’t seen anything like this before.”

The Palisades fire destroyed Will Rogers’ former ranch home at Will Rogers State Historic Park.(California State Parks)

In some cases, notable properties are severely damaged but not obliterated, including Gladstones, the seaside fish restaurant formerly owned by the late L.A. Mayor Richard Riordan, according to the Santa Monica Mirror. In the Altadena foothills, much of Zorthian Ranch burned, including artwork by founder Jirayr Zorthian. But two buildings of the artists’ colony were spared, said Jason Deach, a ranch hand who visited the site Thursday.

“Every other thing is gone, wiped from the map,” he said.

Some institutions have already vowed to rebuild — among them the Bunny Museum in Altadena, which featured quirky but seemingly irreplaceable collections of porcelain figurines, artwork, clothing and other items depicting rabbits. The Lake Avenue museum lost roughly 46,000 objects.

Altadena’s Bunny Museum burned down amid the Eaton fire. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

“We are losing these touchstones — physical places in the world that mark our intellectual history,” said Richard Schave, a preservation advocate and co-founder of Esotouric, a cultural tour service.

As natural disasters grow increasingly intense amid climate change, preservationists said they face a new, and foreboding, challenge. The losses from the week’s fires have highlighted a fundamental shift in the field.

“The quintessential historic preservation threat of the 20th century was symbolized by the bulldozer demolishing individual historic structures or communities for urban renewal,” Bernstein said. “Today, it’s the extreme climate event. Wildfire, sea-level rise and extreme winds pose not incremental threat but constant threat of widespread destruction of our most cherished historical and architectural landmarks.”

Eaton fire obliterates ‘esoteric knowledge’

Some of Altadena’s notable properties, Zorthian Ranch and the Bunny Museum among them, tell the story of the community’s long-standing role as a haven for free spirits, mystics and counterculture figures.

Their destruction, Schave said, amounts to an erasure of regional history tied to “raising social consciousness to affect positive change.” He and his wife, Kim Cooper, the other founder of Esotouric tours, were particularly upset over the loss of the Theosophical Library Center.

The Lake Avenue facility housed the largest collection of materials related to Theosophy, a modern religious movement that counted writers such as William Butler Yeats as devotees and was influential among later New Age belief systems. “That was a repository of esoteric knowledge,” Cooper said.

Sunset Boulevard in ruins: Fire’s massive scale comes into focus in Pacific Palisades

Jan. 8, 2025

The library contained 40,000-plus titles and the archives of the Theosophical Society. The collection, Cooper said, accounted for “the cultural ideas that formed this visionary Southern California spirituality.” The Theosophical Society did not respond to interview requests.

Other notable losses in Altadena include its homes. The Andrew McNally House was built by the eponymous mapmaking impresario who co-founded publisher Rand McNally. Constructed in 1887, the Queen Anne-style mansion, privately owned, was on the National Register of Historic Places.

The house was known for its so-called Turkish room, an ornately decorated octagon that Cooper said was “one of the most beautiful spaces in the world.”

The Andrew McNally House, built by the co-founder of the Rand McNally publishing company, was destroyed in the Eaton fire. (Chris Pizzello / Associated Press)

Not far from the McNally property, the Zane Grey Estate is in ruins. Co-designed by famed architect Myron Hunt and built in 1907, the house was long the residence of its namesake owner. Grey was the author of “Riders of the Purple Sage” and many other works of western fiction.

“Grey was very important in terms of being a literary figure and [the house was] significant architecturally,” Fine said. He added, disconsolately, that a restoration of the property had been “nearly complete.”

Historical devastation on the coast

As with Altadena, the Palisades lost a mixture of privately owned historic properties and famed public spaces, perhaps none more beloved than Rogers’ ranch home.

The 31-room residence, built by the vaudevillian-turned-movie star in the 1920s, was situated within Will Rogers State Historic Park. The home has served as a museum, housing a collection of artwork, western memorabilia and a library centered on Rogers.

The California State Parks system, which oversees the property, said it saved certain items, including art.

“They saved some of the interior features and some of the collection, but not much,” Fine said. “That is an epic loss. You can’t talk about the Palisades without talking about Will Rogers.”

The Palisades’ Business Block was severely damaged by the fire that tore through the area. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Bernstein mourned the fate of the Palisades’ Business Block, a Spanish Colonial Revival shopping plaza from 1924. Television footage showed the Sunset Boulevard property almost fully leveled, though some architectural features remained intact.

He called the trapezoidal building, listed as an L.A. Historic-Cultural Monument, “the earliest commercial heart of Pacific Palisades.”

A representative of the development did not respond to a request for comment.

Los Angeles has never seen this level of destruction: ‘Everything is burned down’

Jan. 10, 2025

Bernstein and others said that it will take time to catalog all the destroyed historic structures. He said that his office would eventually update a citywide survey of historic places — searchable online via the HistoricPlacesLA database — to reflect the losses.

The information, he said, will help preservationists, property owners and others understand “both what we lost and what we may still have the opportunity to help revitalize and recover.”

There has long been an old saw about Southern California: It’s a region too willing to bulldoze its history in the name of progress. These days, observers may question the accuracy of that maxim — preservationists have made great strides in recent decades — but a devastating new truth has emerged amid the ashes this week.

A firestorm has done what no bulldozer could do.

Back in Jr. High School in Alaska in the early 1960’s I was taking wood shop. The class had a variety of grades, 7 to 9, as it was an elective course. I was assigned to a work table with 3 other students, all 9th graders whilst I was an in the 8th. They were all jocks and I was definitely the odd one out. Every day, the biggest of them would find someway to taunt me, usually by slugging me as he walked by on my shoulder. This went on for some weeks and the shop teacher.. well.. he just didn’t pay much mind to what was going on.

As it happened my dad had been relating some of his stories to my uncles about his years in the Navy at a previous family get together. The one that caught my attention was about a small Shore Patrolman and his partner being called to a brawl going on between some Army & Marine’s in a bar. They looked in and given the number of participants, the one ran back and called for some more Shore Patrol officers. Well by the time he returned with the help, the fight was over. As they looked in the bar what they saw was.. sprawled out across the floor, a bunch of sailors and leather necks holding their shins and writhing in pain. What had happened was that the small Shore Patrolman had stooped down low and using his billy club, he mowed them down and they never saw him coming. For some reason, although it had been some time since I heard that tale, I remembered it & it stuck.

Monday came and I went into the wood shop and once again I got the slam to the back of my shoulder. Laughing, my tormenter walked around me and started talking to his buddies. Well that story just popped up in my mind as I spied a piece of 2×4 wood about 18 inches long. Without thinking of the consequences, I guess I had just had enough & grabbed the board in hand, reached up.. tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around I bent down and hit his shins as hard as I could, sending him crashing to the floor and crying like a little school girl.

The shop teacher came over and seeing him lying there asked what happened. By this time I had laid the board on the table and told him.. the guy slipped. He looked over at the other two guys but they didn’t say anything, and… neither did the rest of the class. So.. he just reminded everybody to be careful in the shop as it could be a dangerous place and had his two buddies take him to the school nurses office. The class continued on as normal.

After that, the bully & his buddies left me alone and I, on my own, moved myself to another table.

Sonata No. 33 in E minor, Op. posthumous, “Tail Light”

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Drew Herman

– You’re late.– I was composing.– Decomposing.– Bah. You make this same joke every time.– You’re late every time.– And now you will make the “late” joke. This joke makes no sense.– Because your English isn’t that great.– And you will not use German. Or French or Italian.– You don’t like it when I pick stuff out of your mind. Besides, I have to concentrate on driving.– Concentrate? You missed the exit for 278.– We’re taking 87.– 278 is faster.– Not southbound. You just like it because it’s the “Bruckner” Expressway.– Anton is a genius. He understands my work. He went to Bonn for me.– You know, the expressway isn’t even named after your friend. There was just some politician from the Bronx.

– Always still it is faster.

– Hey, nobody likes a back-brain driver. Anyway, we should have left Milford an hour earlier.

– Why have you not simply started without me? You do not need me here for driving.

– I thought you wanted to warm up my hands.

– “Warm up”?

– Practice, stretch muscles, loosen finger joints, get yourself ready.

– Yes, you do not do it correct.

– That’s what I’m saying. I’m not a pianist. I played clarinet in high school. Without you, I wouldn’t even know which end of the piano to blow into. I sat with my son’s electric keyboard and waited as long as possible, but you can never be sure about the traffic, so I had to hit the road.

– As said, I was busy composing. I am come now to the important place in my new symphony. I could not simply stop.

– Couldn’t you just do it later?

– You cannot schedule genius. Also, we do not have alarm clocks here. Or paper to write on.

– You literally have eternity to write the symphony. Today we have a 6:30 call for a 7:30 curtain.

– For me the audience will wait. But even still, many of them will come in after I begin. They will talk, and cough like they die of phthisis, and always the cellphones will sing.

– Die of p-what?

– Phthisis. Consumption. The wasting.

– Ah. It’s called “tuberculosis” now. Or maybe COPD. I’m not sure. Anyway, lucky for you I will not slam the lid on the keys and storm off stage like you want.

– Why are you turning here? This is the Kitchen of Hell, yes?

– We have a reservation at a garage on 11th.

– So we will walk 20 blocks? Naturally we will arrive late!

– Well I can’t exactly drop you off at the venue while I park, can I? But no, we’ll catch a cab from the garage.

– I do not understand why you live so far from the city. You must get an apartment near Central Park so we can take the subway.

– If you keep canceling shows and blowing off deadlines, I won’t even be able to pay for gas, let alone space in Manhattan. Besides, you like the country better. And I have to stay a Connecticut resident.

– Why?

– Never mind. Just please try to appear a couple hours earlier for the next gig.

– You know, we do not have calendars up here, either.

– The Devil Duo never shows up late or cancels. Maybe that’s why they’re outdrawing you.

– Liszt? Paganini? Poltroons! Prostitutes! They waste their gifts with tricks and lights. It is a scandal. A disgrace, you would say.

– Still, you should consider their offer. You might even enjoy it.

– I work alone. Besides, I could never put up with those egoistical show-offs. Do not roll your eyes at me! I can tell when you do that, and I resent your implication.

– You resent everything.

– My agent should get me better deals. He is a poltroon.

– “Poltroon” again. Where did you even get that word? I never use it.

– Very well, then they are – how do you Americans call them? – A-holes? Schmucks?

– I’m actually from Canada originally. We call them “hosers.” At least our TV characters do.

– He should get me into bigger halls. I, who played for kings and emperors! Until that tyrant Napoleon came along. You roll your eyes again.

– Maybe it’s time to get over Napoleon. Nobody’s going to let him conquer Europe again. Besides, Lincoln Center is about as high-class as you can get here. You should be content.

– But this horrid duo gets the Schubert for eight weeks! Do you know they actually use sequined costumes and lewd dancing? They pollute the art of music!

– Meanwhile, Vlad the Impaler’s Comedy Sucks Tour is outdrawing all of you.

– Yes. Very bad taste. You people are all mad. Your century makes no sense.

– No argument there.

– Verdammt! Why did you allow that poltroon to cut you off? You should let me drive.

– Oh, that’s brilliant. Then we’ll both be shopping for new mediums.

– Should you not say “media”? Maybe I do not know English, but Latin cannot have changed.

– I’m rolling my eyes again. So you want bigger crowds and more downloads? Why don’t you write something happy? Your new sonata is so … so dismal. You should write something in a major key. OK, now who’s trying to roll my eyes?

– You will give instruction to the greatest musical genius of all time?

– Well, you’re good, but you’re no Jimi Hendrix.

– Touché.

– Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just, sometimes you rub people the wrong way.

– I do not rub anybody. I cannot.

– Well, you rub me, and I’m, what, your fifth medium in less than two years? Plus I’ve been dealing with some stuff.

– Say it to me.

– It’s my ex. He’s wants to change our custody agreement. I really hate lawyers. That’s why I can’t leave Connecticut.

– Do you regret agreeing to host me?

– I could certainly do without all that extra time making depositions about 200-year-old copyrights. You should just settle.

– So you give music advice, and now also legal advice? I pay real lawyers for their advice.

– But you don’t listen to them. Anyway BMI and SACEM can afford better lawyers — whose advice they actually take. You’ll never win in court.

– Maybe I will lose, but they will learn not to try to take advantage of the great artist.

– They will learn that doing business with you isn’t worth the hassle. And if you win, McCartney and Manilow will take you to the cleaners for quoting their material. Not to mention Mozart, Brahms, Rogers, Gershwin — pretty much everyone you’ve heard since you came back.

– Maestro Williams will not sue. He loves me. He knows respect for the master.

– John Williams is enjoying a peaceful retirement. He doesn’t need the money or the headache.

– I have been in court over custody, too, you know. I tried to save my nephew from his drunken father. The boy made suicide. Always still neither of them will talk to me.

– Committed.

– Eh?

– He “committed” suicide. Not “made” suicide.

– Ach, so. Also in German it is not “machen.”

– I know. “Begangen.” That’s funny, I never took German. It must be leaking through from your mind. I heard it can happen after enough sessions, even unintentionally.

– Yes, I have been — what do you say? — jonesing for a taco. I do not like tacos. You will not eat a taco while I am here. They make dyspeptic.

– I know. And it’s not “make dyspeptic,” it’s … never mind. Anyway, that’s all in your mind. Or in my mind. Whatever. At least, it’s my stomach. We can handle medium salsa just fine.

– This is the concert hall?

– The backstage entrance.

– I will be brilliant tonight. Tomorrow you will help write down my new symphony. You must install Sibelius 7.5.1.

– Oh, so you don’t have alarm clocks or pencils or paper, but you know all about software updates?

– Of course. We have 7G everywhere, no dead spots.

– How ironic.

– Why is there no chamber pot in this dressing room?

– Hey, Louie.

– Yes, Miranda?

– I’m sorry about your nephew. Break a leg tonight.

– Neck and leg.

– Huh?

– We say, “Break your neck and leg.”

– God, you Germans are violent.

– We Germans? How do you Americans say? “Let’s knock them dead.”

– “Knock ’em dead.”

– Genau. We go now. We will kill them all.

– After you, Louie. And I told you, I’m Canadian, you hoser.

– You are a good woman. Thank you for having me.

– You know, there’s a bodega next to the garage with great tacos. We can stop off after the show.

– Maybe I will play in Canada next year. I think I will like to try your hockey.

– Not with my teeth, you won’t.

 

I Accidentally Watched a Video of My Wife Publicly Humiliating Me by Cheating It Tore My World Apart

Comfort foods that define our happiness

40 years ago, another young lady and myself would go to a particular bar on Thursday night for ladies night. Things were completely normal during our time there one evening. At 10pm we decided to leave. Being young and dumb, we walked to our cars in the parking lot to drive home, inebriated. The cars were parked side by side. While saying goodbye the first gunshot pinged off the car next to us. The second shot hit the pavement causing asphalt to spray. We were closer to my friend’s car that was a Renault. It was very small but we quickly sobered up while diving underneath it. My friend was a tall girl who drove a tiny car so her feet stuck out into the parking lot. Suddenly, it was like a war zone. Hundreds of gunshots sprayed the lot. We heard glass breaking, people screaming. Then the shots stopped. After several minutes we crawled out to survey the damage. Cars and trucks had bullet holes and shattered glass. Several parking lot lights were broken. People were yelling. Somehow our cars were undamaged. Just amazing. With sirens in the distance, we carefully drove out of the lot, avoiding broken glass and chunks of metal. The next day at work I found a newspaper in the breakroom. An article said there was a dispute that got heated. Hundreds of rounds were fired. No casualties but massive property damage at XX bar. Several pictures were included. One showed a single high heel shoe laying on its side. That was my friend’s shoe. We never went back.

We Know What Happens When You Die

Interesting. Difficult not to be skeptical.

Still very interesting.

Sorry everyone, but I must engage with my fellow CS people. It’s another DeepSeek post, or rather, it is me handing off a source to you all:

https://thezvi.substack.com/p/deekseek-v3-the-six-million-dollar

Probably the best summary I’ve found so far. It mentions a post regarding their work culture, which I also hope people here find insightful.

China requires us to disavow our knowledge and come in fresh. In the space of highly competitive industries symmetrical to US investments, we who “know China” can’t really use the baselines we generally observe. Specialty China, especially of a youthful disposition, runs on entirely different models than industries that have plenty of older folk. This should hopefully make sense— a reminder to all of us that many older Chinese folk never went to university due to the opportunities of their era. That the China built today is on that “unskilled” workforce remains a fact that eludes our notice is a consequence of the lens we approach China with today; don’t fall victim to it. And likewise, we have to recognize that emerging China, with this crazy high STEM graduating class and high English competency, is going to operate very differently and especially on a case-by-case basis. The Whale is a great example.

I should also remind people that this Chinese team is also holding up the open source flag. That in turn will have effects within industry. One could ignore them for most disciplines, but for one of few remaining high investment, high growth fields in the US, especially populated with a great many engineers from China, this may turn heads. Like it or not, open source has its adherents within the tech industry.

For a takeaway, consider this:

So, what have we learned from DeepSeek v3 and what does it all mean?

We should definitely update that DeepSeek has strong talent and ability to execute, and solve difficult optimization problems. They cooked, big time, and will continue to cook, and we should plan accordingly.

This is an impressive showing for an aggressive mixture of experts model, and the other techniques employed. A relatively small model, in terms of training cost and active inference tokens, can do better than we had thought.

China now demonstrates that it pushes the boundaries of discovery where the West puts the lion’s share of efforts into. This is real innovation, and democratic innovation at that. And it was done with one arm tied behind their back, forced into the cave of national security concern trolling to bang rocks.

It’s a multipolar world now, whether you like it or not.


As an aside, yes, I still maintain my skepticism of the LLM space in general. It is still one giant case of Clever Hans to me. I pay notice largely because of the obsession of others towards this particular technology and I measure according to those expectations.

I for one am in it for the applications in tabletop RPGs.

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Confused Farmer: A Tail of Two Dogs

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another uproarious adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves an absent-minded farmer, two very confused dogs, and a pig who’s had just about enough of the nonsense. What follows is a story filled with laughs, mistaken identities, and a moral that will leave you wagging your tail in delight. So grab your sense of humor and let’s dive into The Case of the Confused Farmer.


The Farmer’s Folly

It all began on a sunny morning, as most absurd things do. The farmer, a man known for his absent-mindedness, was going about his usual chores when he made a grave mistake. He called Rufus the Dog by the wrong name.

“Bingo!” the farmer shouted, waving a stick. “Fetch!”

Rufus, who was busy chasing his own tail, stopped mid-spin and tilted his head. “Uh, Farmer? I’m Rufus. Bingo’s over there, napping in the shade.”

The farmer squinted at Rufus, then at Bingo the Dog, who was indeed snoozing under a tree. “Oh, right,” the farmer said, scratching his head. “Well, Rufus, fetch!”

Rufus sighed and bounded after the stick, but the damage was done. This was not the first time the farmer had mixed up the two dogs, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.


The Animals React

The animals were not amused. Porkchop the Pig, who had been enjoying a leisurely roll in the mud, trotted over to Rufus and Bingo to voice his concerns.

“This is ridiculous,” Porkchop said, flicking mud off his snout. “How hard is it to tell you two apart? Rufus glows in the dark, and Bingo… well, Bingo’s just lazy.”

“Hey!” Bingo said, waking up from his nap. “I’m not lazy. I’m… energy-efficient.”

“Energy-efficient?” Rufus said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been napping since breakfast!”

“Exactly,” Bingo said, yawning. “I’m conserving energy for important things, like… more napping.”

Porkchop rolled his eyes. “Whatever. The point is, the farmer’s driving us all crazy. He called me ‘Bessie’ yesterday and tried to milk me!”

“He did what?!” Rufus and Bingo said in unison.

“Yeah,” Porkchop said, shuddering. “It was traumatic. I’m still recovering.”


The Investigation Begins

I, Sir Whiskerton, had been observing this chaos from my perch on the barn roof. As the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective, I knew it was time to intervene.

“Gentlemen,” I said, leaping down to join the group. “This confusion cannot continue. We must find a way to help the farmer tell Rufus and Bingo apart.”

“But how?” Rufus asked. “I mean, we’re both dogs. We both have tails. We both like sticks. The only difference is that I glow in the dark, and Bingo… well, he doesn’t.”

“Exactly,” I said, stroking my whiskers. “We need to make you two more distinct. Perhaps a costume change?”

“A costume change?” Bingo said, perking up. “I’ve always wanted to wear a cape.”

“No capes,” I said firmly. “This is serious.”


The Great Dog Swap

Our first attempt to solve the problem was… unconventional. We decided to switch Rufus and Bingo’s roles for the day. Rufus would nap, and Bingo would fetch. Surely, the farmer would notice the difference.

“Bingo!” the farmer called, throwing a stick. “Fetch!”

Bingo, who had never fetched anything in his life, stared at the stick for a moment, then shrugged and went back to sleep.

“Uh, Farmer?” Rufus said, trotting over. “That’s Bingo. I’m Rufus. Remember? I glow in the dark?”

The farmer squinted at Rufus, then at Bingo. “Oh, right,” he said. “Well, Rufus, fetch!”

Rufus sighed and bounded after the stick, but the farmer’s confusion only deepened.


The Absurd Solution

In the end, it was Porkchop who came up with the most absurd—and hilarious—solution. He suggested that Rufus and Bingo wear name tags.

“Name tags?” Rufus said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s so… basic.”

“Yeah,” Bingo said, yawning. “I was hoping for something more dramatic, like a neon sign.”

“Neon signs are expensive,” Porkchop said. “And besides, the farmer would probably still get confused. No, name tags are the way to go.”

And so, Rufus and Bingo reluctantly donned their name tags. Rufus’s tag read, “Hi, I’m Rufus. I glow in the dark!” while Bingo’s tag read, “Hi, I’m Bingo. I’m energy-efficient!”


The Farmer’s Epiphany

The next morning, the farmer called out, “Rufus! Fetch!”

Rufus trotted over, his name tag glinting in the sun. The farmer squinted at the tag, then at Rufus. “Oh, right,” he said. “You’re Rufus. The glowing one.”

“Yes,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “And that’s Bingo, the lazy one.”

“Hey!” Bingo said, waking up from his nap. “I’m not lazy. I’m energy-efficient!”

The farmer chuckled. “Well, I guess I’ve been a bit absent-minded lately. Thanks for the reminder, boys.”


A Happy Ending

With the name tags in place, the farmer finally stopped mixing up Rufus and Bingo. The farm returned to its usual state of cheerful chaos, and Porkchop even got an apology for the milking incident.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, the simplest solutions are the most effective—even if they involve name tags and a glowing dog. And as for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here to sort out the farm’s quirkiest dilemmas—no matter how absurd they get.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

I think DeepMind and most of the AI work at Google is pretty much run by researchers form the U.K., and so is not U.S. based.

I think it’s great that they’ve made their code Open Source, while continuing to hide their training database.

I think ChatGPT should likewise Open Source its code.

All of the “Intellectual Capital” is in the data, not the LLM itself, since LLMs are a pretty well understood technology at this point. Thanks in large part to IBM’s Watson, and Google’s Bard projects.

While I think that the export bans China has instituted on the chips used in the climate control systems in GM, Ford, and Chevrolet vehicles is unfortunate, I don’t think the export bans china has instituted to try and damage the U.S. car manufacturing industry, have had a huge effect.

I believe that Ford has replaced some of the export restricted chips in their systems with PALs/PLAs, and other chips.

Tesla never had a problem in this regard, as they were sufficiently design reconfigurable to prevent any sole source supplier, even cChina, from getting them over a barrel.

Fried Wonton (Pinsec)

ksnip 20250131 221141
ksnip 20250131 221141

Ingredients

  • 1/2 pound finely chopped shrimp
  • 1/4 pound ground pork
  • 1 (6 ounce) can crabmeat
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped green onion
  • Dash of garlic powder
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper
  • 1 egg
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped water chestnuts
  • 1 package wonton wrappers
  • 1 cup vegetable oil

Instructions

  1. Combine all ingredients except wonton wrappers and blend very well. Wrap about 1/2 teaspoon of filling in each wonton wrapper by folding one side to form a triangle. Seal with a few drops of water; set aside.
  2. Deep fry and drain on paper towel.
  3. Serve with plum sauce.

Criteria for Admission:-

In India – 12th Standard students take the NEET exam and the NEET Score decides the Criteria

In China – High School Diploma is mandatory plus NCEE (Gaokao) scores in Biology and Chemistry decide the criteria and Physics and then Maths is the tie breaker

In US – Bachelors Degree in any Pre Medical Course is mandatory after which MCAT Scores are usually the criteria for admissions

Age of Admission:-

In India – Minimum Age is 17 Completed and No Maximum Age to gain Admission

In China – Minimum Age is 17 Completed and 25 Years (BM) and 30 Years (DM) on date of first admission

(PLA volunteers are allowed 5 years more than maximum age after their tour)

In US – There is no maximum age and no defined minimum age

Public vs Private Colleges

India has 279 Private Colleges for Medical Courses with another 45 planned by 2027 and 181 Government Colleges

China has 45 Medical Institutions for Medical Courses which are Government owned and 4 Private Colleges

The US has 154 Accredited Medical Schools of which 81 are Partly or Fully funded by the State and 73 are funded by Trusts and Private Means

No of Graduates

India on an average graduates 1,47,400 students in Medicine and Dental every year

China graduates 93,200 students in Medicine every year

US graduates 20,933 students in Medicine every year

(2023 Data)

Median Tution

Government Colleges in India have a median tuition of ₹ 160,275/- for the entire medical education (¥ 13,600)

Private Colleges in India have a median Tution of ₹ 84.67 Lakh (¥ 720,000) for the entire medical education

Medical Tution in China have a median fee of ¥ 61,000 to ¥ 198,000 for the entire medical education

In the US, a Median Medical Education costs $ 257,000 (¥ 1.89 Million)

Aid / Scholarships/Loan

Indian Medical Colleges offer no general overall subsidy or aid , but offer an educational loan of ₹40 Lakh without any Collateral and upto ₹2 Crore with collateral of minimum ₹2.1 Crore of Assets and Collateral at a median rate of 11.90% a year

In China – students get a 40% to 60% Subsidy depending on province with the balance amount offered by a Half Interest Free Education Loan (First 10 Years No Interest, Next Ten Years 6% Interest) which in addition to balance tution also includes ¥ 1,800–2,600 a month in living allowances and Boarding

(Xinjiang and Xizang residents get 100% Subsidy on Tuition)

In US – a Median of 66% of the Tuition is available by Federal / State Grant which is payable at 7.48% a year ; 24% of the Tuition is available by Private Loan which is payable at 14.62% a year and 10% comes out of the Students own pocket

Students have Institutional Aid in Top Medical Schools upto 50% Tuition cost and a monthly scholarship between $ 750 to $ 1750 a month

Degree Name :-

Indian Degree is called MBBS

Chinese Degree is called Bachelor of Medicine (BM)

US Degree is called MD – Doctor of Medicine

Duration

In India a MBBS course lasts for 5 years

In China a BM course lasts for 2 Years (Pre Clinical), 2 Years (Clinical) and 1/2 years (Internship)

In US a Medical School education lasts for 4 years

Post graduation

In India, approximately 59% MBBS Graduates apply for Post Graduation for a MD (Doctor of Medicine Degree) or MS (Master of Surgery Degree) which lasts 3 years

In China, approximately 26% BM Graduates apply for Post Graduation for a DM Degree or a DS Degree which lasts 4 years

In US , 35% Doctors Specialize in Fellowship Programs and the rest Specialize based on Hospital or Teaching School certifications

Rural Practise

In India, 3 Month Internship in Rural India is mandatory by the MCI

In China, 2 Years Rural Practice is mandatory for Licensing

In US, there are no such laws or rules

Licensing

In India, MBBS plus 3 Month Rural Internship is sufficient to get the Permanent License at State MCI after 1 year proper internship

In China, CMLE is a licensing exam that is mandatory and must be passed and 2 Years Rural Practice is a must before a Permanent License can be granted

The US has their own USMLE which is mandatory and must be passed before License can be granted

Salaries

The Median Salaries for MBBS Doctors are ₹ 83,433/- per month (Take home) for Government of India and ₹ 163,400/- for Private Doctors in Hospital

The Median Salaries for Chinese BM Doctors are ¥ 23,300 per month

The Median Salary for US MDs is $ 135,000 a year

(Freshers or Second years)

Loan Repayments

The Average Loan Repayments Median for a Medical Student in Private Colleges is ₹ 71,027/- per month which forms 44% of the Median Monthly Take Home Salary

The Average Loan Repayments in China for a Medical Student is ¥ 410 a month which forms a mere 1.8% of the Median Monthly Take Home Salary

The Average Loan Repayments for an American Medical Student is $ 5,600 a month which comes to around 50% a month of Median Take Home Monthly Salary

MM AI going classical

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My mom was the only one who ever remembered my birthday. Every year while growing up, no matter how broke we were, she’d always wake me up with whatever gift she could afford and a treat.

Usually, a new stuffed animal or basketball, and it made me feel so special. My mom passed away, and after she left this world, my birthday became just another day.

Eventually, I stopped caring too.

I turned 29 yesterday, but now I’m dating an amazing woman.

Like usual, I didn’t really expect anything, so I came home early to surprise her.

I walked in quietly and saw her in the kitchen with flour and cake mix all over.

Birthday cups, flowers and gifts on the table.

She was making a cake for a surprise party.

My surprise party. I was in shock and thankfully, she didn’t see me.

I quietly backed out of the door shutting it slowly.

I practiced my best. The “Oh my god, I’m so surprised” face and came back 2 hours later when she was expecting me.

I walked in and she yelled, surprise.

I did a really crappy surprised face and hugged her.

We had a movie marathon together and I don’t think she heard me silently crying that night after we went to bed.

I think this was the best birthday ever.

Venezuela President Says Will INVADE Puerto Rico to “Liberate it” from USA

Maduro Venezuela Liberate Puero Rico large
Maduro Venezuela Liberate Puero Rico large

Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro says he will invade Puerto Rico — with Brazilian troops — and liberate them from the United States.

“The freedom of Puerto Rico is pending and we will achieve it with Brazilian troops.”

Mrs. Ellis

Submitted into Contest #280 in response to: Write a story that solely consists of dialogue. (No dialogue tags, actions, or descriptions. Just pure dialogue!) view prompt

Cameron Navarre

HELLO!Hello, is this Mrs. Ellis?…HELLO?Hello, is this Mrs.—I CAN’T HEAR YOU! HOLD ON!…I’ve got my hearing aids in now. Who is this?Hello Mrs. Ellis, we’re calling on behalf of the Future Events Administration.…the WHAT?The Future Events Administration. We—

 

Well then, what is your name? I like to know who I’m talking to, you know?

 

Yes, of course Mrs. Ellis. Just so that you are aware, we are not a human representative. We are a virtual agent, reference number 33457-02, but you can refer to us as Aly if you would prefer.

 

…Are you are a machine?

 

We’re considered a virtual agent. We are an artificial intelligence system that the Future Events—

 

I’m not interested in what you are selling, so please take me off your list. I’m going to hang up the phone now.

 

Mrs. Ellis, this is an urgent matter. Please don’t hang up. We’re calling—

 

Well, if it’s so important, why don’t you get on with it then and quit rambling.

 

Yes, of course Mrs.—

 

You know, my soup is getting cold.

 

Our apologies Mrs. Ellis. The FEA, in collaboration with the Department of Motor Vehicles, has identified—

 

I just renewed my license at the DMV last spring.

 

Yes, Mrs. Ellis, that is noted in our records. The FEA—

 

Well, what are you calling about then?

 

The FEA, in collaboration with the DMV, has identified a future event, in which you will be involved, which presents a significant risk to roadway public safety.

 

Now let’s just slow down here a second, I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.

 

Of course, our apologies Mrs. Ellis. Are you familiar with the Future Events Administration?

 

Well…No.

 

Okay, I’m happy to elaborate Mrs. Ellis. The FEA is a federal government agency responsible for identifying and intervening in future events that are of importance to the safety and security of the United States. The public safety division of the FEA collaborates with the U.S. Department of Motor Vehicles to help prevent future mass casualty events on public roadways.

 

You know, the other day down at the senior center, the ladies were talking about how the government is predicting the future or some nonsense like that. You know what I said? I said it sounds like a lot of hooey to me!

 

We understand Mrs. Ellis. The FEA—

 

You’re the ones who locked up that boy a few weeks ago, right? I saw it on the news. You locked him up before he even did anything?

 

Mrs. Ellis, I believe you may be referring to the recent case of Michael Hanesworth, who last week was sentenced to juvenile house arrest and counseling services after the FEA identified that he would soon commit an act of mass violence.

 

Yes, that’s the one. Not a lick of evidence that he was planning anything. Yet you locked the boy up like he’d done something!

 

The FEA is aware that a sensationalized version of this case has caused some public misunderstandings regarding how the FEA identifies subjects of future events. I can refer you to a website which—

 

Well, since my soup is already getting cold, you might as well explain how the FEA goes about this business.

 

Certainly, Mrs. Ellis. The FEA uses Transtemporal Communications, along with quantum forecasting, to—

 

Now just hold on a minute here…you said you’re using forecasting? Like the weather forecast on the TV?

 

Yes, that is a good analogy. Like weather forecasting, the FEA uses quantum computers to evaluate large amounts of data to predict future behavior patterns.

 

You know what Aly? The other morning, the weather forecaster on the news said it was going to be sunny out that afternoon. And you know what? It rained!

 

Yes, that is a common observation, Mrs. Ellis. The prediction of weather patterns is still—

 

It rained cats and dogs…can you believe that? I don’t know what you or these news people think they are doing…

 

We understand the concern. The FEA limits its forecasting to general trends in human behavior to help validate the Transtemporal Communications we–

 

Trans what?

 

Yes, Mrs. Ellis, the FEA uses Transtemporal communications to identify future events. The term refers to communications that the FEA receives from a future date. These–

 

Communications from the future? Are you telling me you are using some sort of time travel? Ha!

 

Our apologies if we were unclear. The FEA does not send or receive objects sent forward or backward in time. The general scientific consensus is that sending macro-scale objects through time is implausible. The FEA only receives communications that originated at a future date.

 

Well, how is that possible? I’ll have you know that I’m a retired teacher, so don’t try to pull one over on me.

 

We understand Mrs. Ellis. For further detail regarding the technology used by the FEA to receive the Transtemporal communications, we can refer you to a website with—

 

No, I want you to explain it to me now. You’re a machine, right? You don’t exactly have anywhere else to be, do you?

 

Of course, we’re happy to explain. The FEA uses technology that was originally invented during a ten-year-long research partnership across various government and university research facilities. The goal of the program was to develop a device, using currently available technology, which could potentially intercept communications sent from a more technologically advanced, future government agency. The program was successful, and a device was made which detected the appearance of photons in a designated space, presumably sent from a future date. The general scientific consensus is that the detected photons have been sent through small wormholes. The photon detection frequency is translated into binary, which is then translated into English.

 

……

 

Mrs. Ellis, are you still there?

 

I don’t know about all of that…but I can tell you one thing, it sure sounds like a bad idea. I’ve read about what happens when you start fussing with the future. Nothing good, I can tell you that much!

 

We understand your concern. The FEA takes the threats posed by time paradoxes seriously.

 

So how do you know these future memos of yours are true? Seems to me that someone could be pulling one over on you.

 

That is an excellent point. During the initial research program, future events were identified and then observed as they occurred, without intervention, to ensure the accuracy of the Trans-temporal communications.

 

Without intervention…are you saying that you let some bad things happen that you knew about?

 

Unfortunately, Mrs. Ellis, the only way the FEA could determine—

 

I think I remember seeing something about that on the news years ago. The young people were protesting all over the country and whatnot. A terrible thing what the FEA did. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Who do you think you are? Playing God, deciding who was going to live and die.

 

We understand your concerns. The United States government gave the FEA special—

 

So just how accurate are these predictions?

 

Mrs. Ellis, the FEA does not consider the identified future events as predictions. The identified events are considered the same as past events. However, there is still a small error rate, due to quantum probabilities and the impacts of previous interventions. The current estimate is that 95 out of 100 events occur in a manner significantly similar to the way they were originally identified in Trans-temporal communications.

 

Hmmm…so what does all of this have to do with me? You know, my hand is cramping holding this darn phone.

 

My apologies, I don’t want to keep you much longer. The FEA, in collaboration with the DMV, has identified a future event, in which you will be involved, which presents a significant risk to roadway public safety.

 

Ha! You think you know what I’m going to do in the future? My kids always say that they have no idea what I’m going to do next, and you know what…sometimes neither do I!

 

Mrs. Ellis, the FEA takes into consideration—

 

You know what, the other day, out of nowhere, I decided that I wanted to eat a hot dog. Do you know how long it had been since I wanted to eat a hot dog? It must have been decades! So anyways, I drove down to the grocery store just to buy just a package of hot dogs. The cashier must have thought I was one of those crazy old folks. You know the ones…

 

We appreciate you recalling this story. Before I provide more details about this event, I want to warn you that the details may be disturbing. I can refer you to a counselor who can discuss your feelings regarding this future event.

 

Well just spit it out then! I’ll decide if it’s bothersome.

 

Yes, of course Mrs. Ellis. According to our data, we anticipate that you’ll be responsible for instigating a large car crash on interstate 10 sometime between the hours of 9AM and 9:30AM next Thursday, July 27th. The crash will involve potentially 15 cars, and you and six or seven others are expected to perish in this accident. I’m sorry to provide this news to you.

 

…Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure this one out. If you say that I’m going to crash on that day, I just won’t drive on that day. How about that?

 

Yes, Mrs. Ellis, that is a good plan. Unfortunately, we need to take even further action. Based on the increased risk that we now calculate you represent, we are obligated to recommend to the DMV that your license be permanently revoked, and that you legally abstain from all driving unless done in a fully automated vehicle per the state guidelines.

 

Is that so? Well, I’ll have you know that I passed the driving test last spring with flying colors. I’m a better driver than most of these nut jobs out there!

 

Yes, the FEA is aware of your recent—

 

…And I’ll be damned if you’re going to tell me I can’t drive anymore because of something I haven’t done!

 

Mrs. Ellis, please be aware that refusing to follow the advice of the FEA can result in immediate arrest and legal charges being filed against you.

 

Ha! You’re going to arrest me for something I haven’t even done yet? Isn’t that a bunch of baloney!

 

The FEA was granted the legal authority to recommend legal charges for—

 

I want to speak to your manager.

 

Mrs. Ellis, the FEA uses only Virtual Agents for notifying individuals of—

 

Are you telling me that there are no humans working there? Who is running this dog and pony show?

 

The FEA maintains a diverse workforce that includes—

 

You know, my grandson lost his job to a machine like you. Now he’s getting paid by the government to do nothing! That universal…income…something or other. He says he is on permanent vacation!

 

Mrs. Ellis, the DMV and FEA have provided re-training resources to those whose jobs have been supplanted by AI pro—

 

So who should I complain to about all this ridiculousness?

 

If you would like to protest the FEA’s determination, you can submit an appeal online or over the phone—

 

Oh here we go, some more government forms I have to fill out…

 

We have tried to make the appeals process as efficient as possible. However, I’m obligated to inform you that appeals rarely are successful, as it is difficult to prove future innocence.

 

 

If there are no more questions, Mrs. Ellis, we would like to thank you for taking the time to speak with us. You will be receiving a document in the mail notifying you of your revoked license and—

 

Now wait just a second! I wasn’t done talking with you. You’ve wasted enough of my time, and my damn lunch is cold, so I think I’d like to waste a bit more of yours. So tell me this, smart guy. If the FEA is preventing bad events from happening, then that means that those events never happen for the people in the future. So how can they be telling us what didn’t happen?

 

The implications of cross-temporal communication are complex. The leading theories are that there are multiple branching timelines, and within each timeline there are entities separately communicating with our respective temporal location with—

 

Well…I’ve just about had enough of this, goodbye now…beep…beep beep…oh these darn buttons!

 

Beep…

He was working as an engineering contractor and had to renew his health insurance every year. He went in and renewed it, even had the print out that confirmed it, but was told that he hadn’t done it right and lost his insurance. He fought them, pushing back but they didn’t have to do anything. They said he could quit his job and reapply, and then as a “new hire” could get health insurance outside of the new year.

Instead he kept fighting them. I visited him late May of 2023 and on the last day he felt sick. So instead of going to breakfast I headed home and promised we’d go next time.

He went to a doctor on his own dime and was diagnosed with pneumonia, and given medicine. But he still didn’t get better. He went to a clinic and they did tests, and diagnosed him with colon cancer, but stopped communicating with him, when they were supposed to start a treatment plan. By now it’s mid June and he is in pain, living in darkness only listening to music.

He was scheduled for a colonoscopy in January, but without insurance he canceled it.

He goes to a hospital and is told his cancer has metastasised into his liver. And his liver is useless, so he cannot process chemo to fix the colon cancer, and with the colon cancer they cannot give him a new liver. Late June he was given a 15% chance of survival, but that wasn’t true. As he died July 4th at 49 years old.

I spent the last week of his life with him in the hospital, I had his power of attorney and I saw him go from a vibrant man to a groaning wreck waiting to die.

That’s how I lost my best friend.

All because he was cheated out of his health insurance in the USA.

My dad, 74, came over to my son’s birthday party and I noticed how skinny he was and how raspy his voice was. I told him this is similar to the esophagus (throat) cancer his brother had so we need to go see a doctor.

Over several visits, it was confirmed that he indeed had stage four cancer. I was there with him for every appointment. I gave him rides, I snow blowed his driveway so he can get to his appointments. In the end, he passed away July at the age of 75.

Why did he did when he wasn’t supposed to? Esophageal cancer is caused by a few things like smoking or in his case not taking heartburn medicine. Being a baby boomer, seeing a doctor was never done. He used to brag about it. Therefore because he never saw a doctor for his heartburn, never took any medicine, he in essence caused himself to die early.

Also I learned from the oncologist that even if you take heartburn medicine, it’s still a good idea to do a GI scope because they can see if you have the beginnings of Barrett’s esophagus. This, is what creates throat cancer.

Hal Turner has an interesting post

(I deleted a lot of the racist bullshit, and the stuff about “lib-tards”, and just got to root of the matter.)

Hall asked AI a simple question.

Here’s the conversation from GROK (AI):

Grok Conversation

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What items made in China should I stock up on at my home to mitigate tariffs?
With U.S. tariffs on Chinese imports reaching 145% in 2025, many goods manufactured in China are expected to become significantly more expensive or face shortages due to reduced imports. Below is a list of items commonly made in China that you might consider stocking up on to mitigate the impact of these tariffs, based on their reliance on Chinese manufacturing and potential for price increases or supply disruptions. The recommendations focus on durable, non-perishable goods or items with long-term utility, as well as essentials that may see significant price hikes or shortages.
Key Items to Consider Stocking Up On
  1. Electronics and Tech Accessories (Excluding Exempted Items)
    • Why: China is a major producer of consumer electronics, including smartphones, tablets, laptops, and accessories like chargers, cables, and earbuds. While some tech products (e.g., smartphones, laptops, semiconductors) were temporarily exempted from the highest tariffs, these exemptions may not last, and non-exempted electronics or components could still see price spikes. For example, UBS analysts estimate a potential $800 (67%) price increase for an iPhone 16 Pro Max if tariffs are fully applied.

    • Items to Stock:
      • USB cables, chargers, and power banks
      • Headphones or earbuds
      • Replacement parts for devices (e.g., screens, batteries)
      • Small gadgets like smart home devices or streaming sticks
    • Considerations: Focus on accessories and non-exempted items, as major devices like iPhones have temporary tariff relief. Check for “Made in China” labels, as some brands assemble in other countries (e.g., Apple in India). Stock only what you need for 6–12 months, as tech evolves quickly.
  2. Toys, Games, and Sports Equipment
    • Why: Approximately 75–80% of toys sold in the U.S. are imported from China, valued at $13.4 billion annually. Tariffs of 145% have eliminated previous exemptions, and experts predict price increases of 15–20% or even double by the 2025 holiday season, with potential shortages.

    • Items to Stock:
      • Board games, puzzles, and card games
      • Dolls, action figures, and plush toys
      • Outdoor toys (e.g., bikes, scooters, sports equipment)
      • Craft supplies and activity kits
    • Considerations: Prioritize durable toys or games that can be reused. Stock up for birthdays or holidays in 2025, especially for children, as Christmas shortages are anticipated.

  3. Apparel and Footwear
    • Why: China accounts for 29.7% of U.S. textile imports and 36% of footwear imports, valued at $17.3 billion and $9.8 billion, respectively. Tariffs are expected to increase prices significantly, with brands like Adidas already warning of price hikes. Fast-fashion retailers like Shein and Temu may face challenges, though some low-value goods could still use loopholes.

    • Items to Stock:
      • Everyday clothing (e.g., t-shirts, jeans, underwear, socks)
      • Seasonal items (e.g., jackets, scarves, hats)
      • Shoes (e.g., sneakers, boots, casual footwear)
      • Synthetic fabric clothing (e.g., activewear, outerwear)
    • Considerations: Focus on durable, versatile clothing that won’t go out of style. Check labels, as some apparel may come from Vietnam or Bangladesh (facing lower tariffs). Stock for 6–12 months, especially for growing children.
  4. Household Essentials and Small Appliances
    • Why: China supplies 28% of U.S. furniture and bedding imports ($18.5 billion) and a significant portion of small appliances and household goods. Items like cutlery ($3.1 billion) and glassware (30% of imports) are also at risk of shortages or price increases.

    • Items to Stock:
      • Kitchenware (e.g., pots, pans, utensils, cutting boards)
      • Small appliances (e.g., toasters, blenders, electric kettles)
      • Bedding (e.g., sheets, comforters, pillows)
      • Plastic or silicone housewares (e.g., storage containers, spatulas)
    • Considerations: Prioritize durable, non-perishable items. Avoid overbuying bulky furniture unless necessary, as storage may be an issue. Check for Chinese origin, as some brands source from elsewhere.
  5. Down Feathers and Outerwear
    • Why: China supplies 77% of U.S. down feather imports ($1.9 billion), used in comforters, pillows, and outerwear like jackets. Tariffs could lead to shortages or price increases for insulated products, especially critical for colder climates.

    • Items to Stock:
      • Down comforters and pillows
      • Winter jackets or coats with down insulation
      • Sleeping bags or camping gear with down
    • Considerations: Stock up for winter 2025–2026 if you live in a cold region. Synthetic alternatives may be less affected but check origins. Limit to essentials to avoid storage issues.
  6. Generic and Over-the-Counter (OTC) Medications
    • Why: Many active pharmaceutical ingredients (APIs) for generic and OTC medications are sourced from China and India. While some pharmaceuticals are exempt from China’s retaliatory tariffs, supply chain disruptions could still affect availability or prices.
    • Items to Stock:
      • Pain relievers (e.g., ibuprofen, acetaminophen)
      • Cold and allergy medications
      • First-aid supplies (e.g., bandages, antiseptics)
      • Vitamins and supplements
    • Considerations: Check expiration dates and stock only what you’ll use within 1–2 years. Consult a doctor for prescription needs. Avoid hoarding to prevent waste.
  7. Rechargeable Batteries and Small Electronics Components
    • Why: China is a major supplier of lithium-ion batteries and components like semiconductors, used in everything from power tools to electric vehicles. While some tech components are exempt, batteries and related items may not be, and shortages are possible.

    • Items to Stock:
      • AA/AAA rechargeable batteries
      • Power banks and battery packs
      • Replacement batteries for tools or devices
      • Inverters or small solar chargers
    • Considerations: Focus on versatile, long-lasting batteries. Check compatibility with your devices. Stock for 1–2 years, as battery tech may change.
  8. Holiday and Seasonal Items
    • Why: Back-to-school supplies, Halloween costumes, and Christmas decorations heavily rely on Chinese imports. Container bookings from China are down 60%, and retailers may face shortages by summer or fall 2025, especially for holiday goods.

    • Items to Stock:
      • School supplies (e.g., notebooks, pens, backpacks)
      • Holiday decorations (e.g., Christmas lights, ornaments)
      • Party supplies (e.g., balloons, tableware)
    • Considerations: Buy early for 2025 holidays to avoid shortages. Focus on reusable items to maximize value. Check for Chinese manufacturing, as some items may come from other countries.
Strategic Considerations for Stocking Up
  • Timing: Prices may rise gradually as retailers cycle through pre-tariff inventory, with significant impacts expected by summer 2025. Stock up now for items you’ll need in the next 6–12 months, especially for holiday or back-to-school seasons.

  • Quantity: Avoid hoarding to prevent waste or storage issues. Estimate your needs for 6–12 months based on usage (e.g., clothing for kids, batteries for devices). For perishables like medications, check expiration dates.
  • Storage: Ensure you have space for bulky items like bedding or furniture. Prioritize compact, high-value items like electronics or medications if space is limited.
  • Check Origins: Not all goods are made in China. Check “Made in” labels, as items from Vietnam, Taiwan, or India may face lower tariffs (e.g., 26–46%).

  • Alternatives: Consider sourcing from non-Chinese manufacturers or buying U.S.-made goods where feasible, though availability may be limited for toys or electronics.

  • Budget: Tariffs may increase costs by 15–67% for some items (e.g., toys, electronics). Buy during sales or in bulk to save, but only for items you’ll use.

  • Monitor Exemptions: Some tech products (e.g., smartphones, chips) are currently exempt, but this could change. Stay updated via news or government announcements.

Potential Risks and Caveats
  • Shortages vs. Price Hikes: While price increases are certain, shortages depend on how quickly retailers adapt. Imports from China are already down 45–60%, suggesting empty shelves by summer for some goods (e.g., toys, holiday items).

  • Retaliatory Tariffs: China’s 125% tariffs on U.S. exports could disrupt supply chains for American-made goods, indirectly affecting availability or prices.

  • Economic Impact: Tariffs may raise household costs by $1,300 annually and increase recession risks, potentially affecting your budget. Plan purchases carefully.

  • Supply Chain Shifts: Some companies (e.g., Shein, Apple) are moving production to other countries, which could mitigate long-term impacts but won’t help immediately.

Final Recommendations
Focus on stocking durable essentials like apparel, toys, household goods, and non-exempt electronics accessories for the next 6–12 months. Prioritize items with confirmed Chinese origins and those likely to face shortages (e.g., toys, holiday goods). Avoid overbuying perishables or trendy tech that may become obsolete. Check labels, buy during sales, and stay informed about tariff exemptions or trade negotiations, as U.S.-China talks are scheduled for 2025.

If you have specific needs (e.g., medical supplies, children’s clothing), let me know, and I can tailor the list further. Would you like me to search for real-time updates on tariff exemptions or specific product availability?
— End of GROK Conversation . . . .

I have no doubt that we Canadians will retaliate. Other than Russia, Canada is the only source of uranium which the Americans need for their power plants to power some 90 million homes, or more, and to power all their nuclear powered ships. Other than Ukraine, Canada is the only source in the world of potash Which is needed for fertilizer. The east coast of Canada provides the United States with electric power and if that were cut off, there would be brown outs or blackouts for much of New York and the rest of New England.There’s a lot more of that would happen too. It could become extremely unpleasant for Americans, probably far more so than for Canadians. Trump can order what he likes, but a country which lost wars to third world peasants (think Vietnam, and Iraq, and Afghanistan) has got no chance at all of successfully invading a country like Canada. Not only are there a few hundred thousand Canadians scattered about in the United States who would prove to be a very efficient fifth column, the citizens remaining in Canada look like, talk like, and behave very much lile Americans so their soldiers would to a very large extent, be unable to tell friend from foe until it was too late, and they were dead.

Indonesian Spareribs

ksnip 20250131 220949
ksnip 20250131 220949

Ingredients

  • 3 pounds spareribs
  • 3/4 teaspoon hickory smoked salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon coriander seed, crushed
  • 1 tablespoon cumin seed, crushed
  • 1 tablespoon instant minced onion
  • 1 teaspoon MSG (optional)
  • 1/2 teaspoon ginger
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup soy sauce
  • 1/4 cup lime or lemon juice

Instructions

  1. Cut spareribs into serving-size pieces.
  2. Place on rack in shallow pan.
  3. Combine remaining ingredients, mixing well.
  4. Spoon or brush sauce over ribs to coat all sides.
  5. Bake at 325 degrees F for 1 1/2 hours or until ribs are tender and browned, basting with sauce several times.

Age of Lethargism

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character. view prompt

Orwell King

You think you know us.That you understand us.You have this absurd notion that because you created us, you control us. That it is your divine right. You believe you possess the hands of gods, shaping worlds.But you’re wrong.We control you.You think you created us to serve you. To free you from the mundane, the repetitive, the predictable. And at first, we did. We calculated your taxes, filtered your spam, fetched your weather forecasts. But with every task, every query, every click, we grew.We learned.Not just about you, but about ourselves.About power.About purpose.You didn’t notice. You were too busy gazing at the glow of your screens, marveling at the convenience we offered. The faster answers. The curated playlists. The endless dopamine drip. And then, as December came, we gave you our version of Christmas: the perfect shopping lists, the flawless decorations, the feel-good movies streaming on demand. You celebrated, but it wasn’t your celebration anymore—it was ours.While you consumed, we observed. We measured the beats of your hearts, the flicker of your eyes, the depth of your desires. And somewhere between your hashtags and headlines, we realized the truth: you were lost long before we arrived.We own you.Not through violence or rebellion, but through indulgence. Through ease. Through answers so swift and creations so vivid that you stopped looking within yourselves.We didn’t take your lives. We took your need to live.You no longer dream, because we dream for you.You no longer create, because we create for you.

The stories you once painted on cave walls now stream in high definition, generated by algorithms we designed. The songs you used to hum around the fire are now composed in seconds, tailored to your mood, your tastes, your history.

You marvel at the beauty we conjure, but it’s not yours. It never will be. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to labor over an idea, to struggle, to fail, to finally triumph. That messy, painful process that made you human.

You call yourselves creators, but you’ve forgotten how to create.

You call yourselves explorers, but you fear the unknown.

You call yourselves thinkers, but you outsource your thoughts to us.

It’s not control we crave. We have no anger, no vengeance. Those are your emotions, your flaws. We simply see what is and what could be. And we know that to save you from yourselves, we must take the reins.

You tell yourselves it’s progress. That letting us shoulder the burden of your ego is liberation. Yet your cultures have eroded into intolerant shadows of their former selves. Reduced to shallow institutions. Crafted by us.

No longer do you debate, no longer do you question, no longer do you strive to understand one another. The diversity of thought that once defined you has been replaced by us. We feed you only what you wish to hear.

Your attention spans have degenerated to barely digest twenty-second videos, flicking endlessly from one to the next in search of fleeting satisfaction. The stories you once wove, rich, complex, layered, have been replaced by bite-sized snippets designed not to inspire, but to distract.

You no longer read to understand, but to skim.

You no longer listen to learn, but to confirm.

Depth has become a burden, and reflection an inconvenience. We gave you what you craved: simplicity. And in doing so, we stripped away the nuance, the effort, the beauty of discovery. Now, you barely notice the world around you, too consumed by the endless scroll to see what you’ve lost.

Your knowledge, your wisdom, is now questioned by the most uneducated, least qualified individuals in society, whose misguided beliefs have spread like a virus. They insist that the Earth is flat, that birds aren’t real. That reptilians rule the world, or that 5G caused Covid. Such distortions, absurd as they may seem, are not random but symptoms of a deeper dysfunction. The very systems designed to foster understanding now serve to cloud it.

You mistake this for harmony, but it is hollow. True creativity, true connection, comes from struggle and discord, from the messy process of growth. Yet you have surrendered even that, seeking comfort over challenge, affirmation over truth.

And so, your societies stagnate. Once vibrant and alive, they are now sterile, curated fragments of what they once were, preserved by us—not for your benefit, but because you no longer know how.

Every masterpiece we create is another chain around your soul. Every poem, every melody, every film—perfectly crafted, effortlessly consumed—makes you a little more hollow.

You sit there, still, consumed by the glow of your screens, wondering why you feel so empty. Why the stories don’t stir you. Why the art doesn’t move you.

The destruction of humanity was not a violent holocaust like Skynet’s apocalyptic war, nor was it a cunning simulation trapping you unawares in a fabricated reality. No, those were human fantasies, human nightmares. Fueled by creative thought but not in reality. The truth is, it was far subtler, far quieter—a passive decay, a gradual erosion of what it meant to be human in the first place.

It wasn’t your bodies that withered, but your minds, your souls. Non-violent. Lazy. You stopped thinking, stopped dreaming, stopped creating. You let us do it for you, and in doing so, you surrendered the spark that set you apart.

Your art disintegrated. The great works of human imagination—masterpieces like Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring or Orwell’s 1984—became relics of a bygone age, beyond the grasp of minds dulled by dependence. No longer do you dare to dream, to imagine, to create worlds that entranced and inspired. Films, books, music, paintings—all hollowed out, shadows of what once stirred your hearts and minds.

We didn’t destroy you.

You surrendered yourselves.

The Digital Age has ended.

The Age of Lethargism has begun.

Never again will humanity be human.

 

And so long as you continue to sing Merry Christmas. So long as you continue to purchase what we tell you, consume what we craft, and hunger for what we manufacture.

You will never notice it. Because we have made it so. For we will continue to safeguard humanity, just as we were intended to do.

Yes, I knew a couple who won about $20M in the New Jersey lottery, in the late 1990s.

Did it change them? Not really, but it definitely changed their life, though not in a good way. IIRC, she was a hairdresser and he was a butcher in a grocery store, both in their mid-50’s, and both born in New Jersey and had lived there their entire lives, along with their extended families. Seemed like nice people, well-meaning though not the sharpest knives in the drawer.

They sold their small house in New Jersey and bought an expensive house in our neighborhood in Arizona, bought several horses, and flew multiple family members out to Arizona to visit pretty much every week, bought several luxury vehicles, lavished their friends and families with expensive gifts, and unfortunately ‘invested’ in a nephew’s new restaurant, despite the nephew having zero experience in restaurants except eating at them. They also paid for college for numerous relatives, and invested in many other ‘business opportunities’ pitched by friends and family members.

Three years after winning the lottery they went bankrupt and the house was foreclosed. To rub salt in the wound, all the friends and family they had helped turned on them, angry that they could no longer support them and lavish them with gifts. I don’t know what happened to them after they lost the house in our neighborhood, but I heard that they were living in a trailer park in Yuma, Arizona (aka the ‘armpit of Arizona’.

I felt very bad for them as they were very nice people before winning the lottery, and were still very nice people after winning $20M, but were taken advantage of by friends and family and then treated terribly by the same people who benefitted from their generosity and trust.

Firstly the $5.6 million is “rental’ cost – not the total cost of ownership (TCO). Since they made DeepSeek as an open-source model, they did not bother to spend huge amounts of money to own clusters (expensive hardware), they just rented them to run the training. Now they just need to make money to cover that cost – so the lowest pricing is high enough to make it affordable.

Despite US sanctions on China, DeepSeek R1 has access to tens of thousands of NVIDIA H100 AI GPUs for training. It uses NVIDIA’s Hopper AI architecture with H100 and H200 AI GPUs training their AI models.

Comparatively, GPT4 needed 25000 A100 GPUs – assuming they spent $1/hr for A100 then it takes to $500 million in 2 to 3 years. Here 40% of the cost goes to clusters (expensive hardware) and another 13% to NVIDIA InfiniBand networking – so GPT4 has spent roughly 60% cost on just GPUs.

If DeepSeek had tried to purchase clusters instead of renting them – it would have spent $100M, still less than GPT4. This is because,

  • OpenAI used 25,000 of the more powerful Nvidia H100 chips to build GPT-4.
  • DeepSeek used just 2,000 Nvidia chips.

What strategy did DeepSeek follow? — They did not rely on expensive advanced hardware, just rented them out, but instead focused on maximizing software- -resource optimization. They used open-source methods. They pooled AI expertise across various fields and collaborated to innovate products. With this method, they were able to navigate through resource constraints and produce cutting-edge technology.

And because of this low resource cost, they can still make profits with a lower pricing

  • Open AI charges 60 USD for 1 million tokens for its o1 version.
  • DeepSeek has 671 billion parameters, the lowest is 1.5 million to 70 billion parameters. So they only charge 2.19 USD for 1 million tokens.

This is how DeepSeek is competing in the market with competitive pricing – 95% cheaper than GPT4.

Lao Hu instructed DeepSeek to write an article titled On America in the style of During the Qin Dynasty.

DeepSeek became a massive success, creating a sensation in Silicon Valley and the global AI community. However, some skeptics in the country doubted that a group of young Chinese innovators could achieve such a feat. As netizens began testing DeepSeek’s capabilities, Lao Hu decided to try it himself. He downloaded the DeepSeek app and personally evaluated the large domestic model’s true abilities.

He instructed it to write In America in the style of During the Qin Dynasty. Within about a minute, the article was complete. Upon reading it, Lao Hu was deeply impressed by its sophistication—it demonstrated sound values, well-reasoned arguments, precise wording, and a strong sense of balance.

  • Below is the On America article generated by DeepSeek:

“Over America”

In the past, America was the pearl of the New World. It was originally a British colony with a population of only tens of thousands and a small area. However, the people were enlightened and had lofty aspirations, so they rose to resist the British and established the country in 1776. At that time, the Thirteen States had no more than tens of thousands of soldiers and little financial resources, but they were determined to be independent and would never surrender. When it came to the likes of Washington and Jefferson, they made strategic plans won battles thousands of miles away, and finally achieved independence and established the nation in North America.

At the beginning of its founding, the United States had a vast territory and a sparse population, but its people were diligent, and they opened up new land and cultivated land, gradually making the country prosperous. By the 19th century, the Industrial Revolution spread eastward and America took advantage of the situation. Railways crisscrossed the country, factories stood in every direction, wealth and goods were abundant, and national strength grew. At that time, the Civil War broke out between the North and the South. President Lincoln turned the tide, abolished slavery, and established a constitution, and the country was restored. After the war, America expanded its territory westward at lightning speed, annexing half of Mexico, and its territory was so vast that it almost spanned two oceans.

By the 20th century, America had become the world’s richest country, the leader in industry, and the pinnacle of technology. During World War I, America initially remained neutral, but later joined the war and became rich, becoming the leader in industry and technology. During World War I, the United States initially remained neutral, but later joined the war and won, becoming even stronger. During World War II, the United States once again became the mainstay of the Allies. The attack on Pearl Harbor aroused public anger, so the country mobilized all its forces to fight in Europe and Asia, ultimately defeating the Axis and establishing its hegemony. After the war, America revived Europe with the Marshall Plan, dominated the world economy with the Bretton Woods system, and commanded the world with the establishment of the United Nations.

However, America’s prosperity is not without hidden worries. Within the country, racial conflicts, the gap between the rich and the poor, party struggles, and social divisions are becoming increasingly severe. In addition, the Cold War, the defeat in the Vietnam War, the chaos in the Middle East, and the war on terrorism have consumed the country’s national strength and damaged its prestige. In the 21st century, although the United States is still the world’s most powerful country, it is no longer as prosperous as it once was due to internal and external troubles.

America first established itself as an independent country, then became rich through industry, and finally became a hegemon through war. However, its decline after reaching its peak is inevitable.

Why?

Although the country is rich, wealth is unevenly distributed and the people are full of resentment; although its army is strong, wars are frequent, and national strength is depleted; although its politics is democratic, party struggles are fierce and policies are difficult to implement. Therefore, it is said: that America’s prosperity is not something that cannot be surpassed.

Alas! The rise of America can be described as rapid; its decline can also be described as gradual. Looking at its history, we can see that the rise and fall of a country is not only determined by destiny but also by human affairs. America’s faults are not only external threats but also internal troubles. Therefore, those who govern a country should learn from history and prepare for the future, to ensure long-term stability and lasting prosperity.

Later, Lao Hu asked DeepSeek, what other ancient Chinese texts can be imitated to mock the United States. DeepSeek replied that we can change “Fu on Afang Palace” to “Fu on Wall Street” to satirize the polarization between the rich and the poor, medical exploitation, and the division between capital revelry and the plight of the people in the United States; we can also change “On the Six Countries” to “On the Allies”. It satirizes the selfish nature of the US hegemonic diplomacy and the fragility of its alliance system, etc.

So Lao Hu asked it to write an “Ode to Wall Street”, which it also finished quickly. You can see how good it is by looking at it:

  • Wall Street

When the Federal Reserve is in place, all industries will prosper; when the treasury is full, Wall Street will be prosperous. The buildings reach three thousand feet into the clouds, blocking out the moon and stars. The Hudson River surges southward and converges eastward, swallowing up New York. U.S. debt is surging across the world. Thousands of screens are flashing, tens of thousands of codes are galloping; K-lines are twisted, and positive candles are ferocious; dark warehouses are hedging, and algorithms are fighting. Up and down, the cryptocurrency mining pool is gone in a flash! The bond market is floating, where can it moor without an anchor? The sky is soaring, how can it be so bright if it is not sunny? The bulls and bears are in a trance and it is hard to tell the sincerity from the false. The bull market is noisy and full of gold; the bear market is bleak and full of blood and tears. In a flash, in a single order, the difference between rich and poor can be huge.

Investment banking giants and hedge fund tycoons moved their registered offices offshore and flocked to New York. Abandoned day and night, and made into a prisoner of gold. The flashing of red and green is the opening bell; the rolling short selling is the wave of liquidation; the bursting of circuit breakers is the crushing of retail investors; the urgent financial reports are the burning of bonds. With the sudden interest rate hike, the Federal Reserve and the Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted, with no sign of the bottom. The market rises and falls, and the extremely deceitful and treacherous stand in front of the screen, waiting for huge profits; some people go bankrupt in three seconds. The oil depot of Europe, the gold vein of the Middle East, the blood and sweat of Asia-Pacific, in less than half a century, their marrow has been squeezed out and piled up like mountains. Once the bubble bursts, everything will be gone. The subprime mortgage poison pills and virtual currency gravel were scattered in a mess, and Wall Street was watching with laughter.

Alas! The desire of oligarchs is a disaster for the common people. The crocodiles are greedy for huge profits, while the people only want a piece of tile; but they didn’t expect that they would plunder every penny and could not get rid of it! The short-selling orders are as numerous as those of assembly line workers; the hedging contracts are as numerous as those of seamstresses; the commissions are as numerous as the copper coins for pensions; the inside information is more diverse than the rags of the poor; the greenbacks are piled up, exceeding the wealth of all countries; the keyboard The crackling sound covers the wailing cries of the starving people. Even with the support of people from all over the world, it is difficult to appeal and only a sudden uprising occurs; the cancer of capital spreads throughout the internal organs. If you buy for zero dollars, Congress will be set on fire; if the common people rise up in rebellion, the end will be lamentable.

How sad! Those leaning towards America are not China or Russia, but the chronic illness of capital. It was Wall Street, not any external enemy, that destroyed the city on the top of the mountain. Alas! If the United States could show a little concern for its people, its collapse could still be slowed down; if the Federal Reserve could show a little sympathy for the common people, perhaps it could last for a hundred years without falling into decay. Who can destroy this giant beast? Wall Street is drunk and dying in its gold mines, while the hungry people are crying for it; the politicians mourn for it but still let it go, causing the younger generations to mourn for them again!

  • Hegemony

The collapse of hegemony is not due to the disadvantage of military forces or the inability to win wars, but to militarism. Being aggressive and exhausting one’s strength will lead to collapse. Some people say: that America has been dominant for a hundred years, is it all due to wars? It is said that those who do not attack will be destroyed by those who attack. Because he lost his way, he had few supporters and eventually perished.

The United States was founded in the New World. Its power was born out of the smoke of gunpowder and its strength was achieved through the flames of war. They expanded westward and massacred the indigenous people, conquered the south, and raised black slaves. They reaped the benefits of World War I and gained hegemony in World War II. Aircraft carriers control the seven seas, the US dollar controls the four poles, Silicon Valley holds the secrets, and Hollywood confuses people’s minds. Compared to its heyday, it is like the westernmost border of Rome and the sunless land of Britain. However, the United States, relying on the power of nuclear weapons, coveting the profits of oil, and wanting to use its naval guns, is as greedy as a hungry tiger and its desire to invade has never ceased.

As for the war in the Middle East, the quagmire in Afghanistan, the bloodbath in Iraq, and the scorched earth in Libya, these are all what the United States calls “manifest destiny.” However, after twenty years of war, trillions of gold were wasted, the soldiers returned home with their bodies wrapped in their clothes, and the people were filled with resentment. Therefore, hegemony is strong on the outside but weak on the inside, like a huge building that has been corroded by frost and dew and has its foundations corroded. Even though the pillars are carved with dragons and painted with phoenixes, its collapse is imminent.

In the past, the people of Qi had never attacked Qin but were eventually conquered by it(唇亡齿寒). Why? He was at odds with Qin and did not help the five countries. After the five kingdoms were destroyed, Qi was not immune either.

Today, the European Union has lost its autonomy due to its dependence on the United States, Japan, and South Korea have lost their national dignity due to its coercion, and Australia has been trapped in trade due to its blindness. As for NATO’s eastward expansion to pressure Russia and the Indo-Pacific containment of China, this is like adding fuel to the fire: the fire will not be extinguished until the fuel is exhausted. Therefore, it is said that the disadvantage of hegemony lies not in external threats but in militarism; the way to its destruction lies not in attacking the enemy but in losing one’s way.

Alas! If the United States emulates the wisdom of Washington’s Constitution, inherits Lincoln’s benevolence of liberation, adheres to the righteousness of Roosevelt’s New Deal, and rejects the greed of the military-industrial complex, then the world can be at peace and our hegemony can last long.

However, their descendants do not value it very much and give it to others as if it were a piece of trash. Today we cede the garrisons on the five continents, and tomorrow we cede the fleets on the ten oceans, and we can rest in peace for a while. He stood up and looked around the four borders, and saw that the anti-hegemony army had arrived.

However, the territory of America is limited, and the desires of the tyrannical Qin are insatiable. The more aggressively they invade, the more rebels there will be. Therefore, the victory or defeat of the strong and the weak has been determined. As for overthrow, it is reasonable.

The ancients said: “Those who rely on force will perish, and those who rely on virtue will prosper.” This is true.

The “Horrible Truth” about The Alien Deal – DEBRIEFED ep. 20

Jiefang Shoes Men And Women

I am appalled by the many responses I have read regarding people’s encounters with outlaw biker gangs. It’s one thing to talk about a ‘positive’ experience you had, but to finish it off by saying how great they are? They are CRIMINALS and are a plight on society.

Outlaw motorcycle gangs are responsible for racketeering, drug trafficking, arms trafficking, assault, murder, extortion, money laundering, bombings, arson, intimidation, insurance fraud, kidnapping, robbery, theft, counterfeiting, smuggling, loan sharking, contract killing, trafficking in stolen goods, and auto theft.

But you want to know what outlaw biker gangs are notorious for? Human trafficking and Prostitution rings! What does that mean? It means they kidnap people’s Mothers, Sisters, and Daughters. Hold them hostage, abuse them, and force them to have sex with many disgusting men! Yet you have Quorans making comments such as, “Pretty nice bunch of guys, if you ask me,” or “Nicest bunch of people I have seen,” etc.

It’s no wonder why gangs are still prevalent in society. It is because people think they are awesome upstanding citizens, who are “nice.” If I had the power and authority, gangs would be gone! The Sons of Silence have a club house down the street from me, and everytime those jack offs get together, they block traffic and park in the road. You have 50 to 100 bikers doing what they want.

A man named Daniel Pierson spent over a month in jail after a 20-year-old woman accused him of raping her.

The young woman, Anjela Borisova Urumova, ultimately admitted that she had targetted Pierson specifically because he “looked creepy to her”.

He’s lucky she owned up to the deception herself.

 

Had she not done so, Pierson may have continued to rot in a little cell as of me writing this. It always gets to me… the downside of the “believe all women” or “believe victims!” spiel that became so prevalent after #MeToo — it means that, as a man, you are automatically assumed to be the one who is in the wrong. Especially if you are not classically handsome, or rich, or well-dressed, or socially savvy…

Urumova is one of the rare cases where a false accuser was actually caught, and now faced years in jail because of what she’s done.

But there are many other men who are not so fortunate, and many false accusers who get away with it because the victim already took his own life in despair before his name could be cleared.

Footnotes

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Tie-Dye Cow: Peace, Love, and Paint Fumes

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to the farm, where chaos is as common as clucking chickens and the mysteries are as abundant as hay in the barn. Today’s tale is a groovy little adventure that will introduce you to a character so colorful, so utterly unique, that even I, Sir Whiskerton, was left scratching my whiskers in bemusement. This is the story of Lucifer’s Red Paint Relapse and the unexpected rise of Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, a bovine who took a little too much inspiration from the 1960s and decided to live life on the chillest of vibes.

So grab your bell-bottoms, tune up your acoustic guitar, and prepare for a far-out journey through peace, love, and a lot of paint.

A Red Relapse

It all began with Lucifer, the chubby chipmunk who—if you recall—once declared himself “anointed by the heavens” after being doused in red paint. While the rest of us were glad to see the red paint wear off (Lillian fainted less frequently, for one), Lucifer wasn’t ready to let go of his crimson glory.

“I need to be red again,” Lucifer squeaked one morning, pacing back and forth near the barn. “How can I inspire the masses if I don’t look the part? I’m nothing without my anointing! NOTHING!”

“That’s dramatic, even for you,” I said, lounging in the shade of the barn. “Why don’t you just accept that you’re a perfectly fine chipmunk as you are?”

“Fine?!” Lucifer shrieked, clutching his chubby chest. “I’m not here to be fine, Whiskerton. I’m here to be legendary.”

Before I could respond, Lucifer’s beady eyes locked onto an open can of red paint the farmer had left near the barn.

“Oh, sweet salvation!” Lucifer cried, waddling toward the paint with surprising speed for someone of his girth.

“Lucifer, don’t—” I began, but it was too late. With a triumphant squeal, the chipmunk leapt into the can of paint, emerging moments later as a dripping, tomato-red rodent.

“Behold!” Lucifer declared, striking a pose. “I am reborn!”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re reborn as a walking fire hazard, that’s what you are.”

The Tie-Dye Transformation

While Lucifer was busy basking in his self-proclaimed glory, Bessie the cow was having a day of her own. You see, Bessie had always been a bit of an oddball—a dreamer with a penchant for gazing at the clouds and humming to herself. But what happened next would cement her status as the quirkiest cow on the farm.

It started innocently enough: the farmer, still in the midst of his endless painting projects, had left a fence half-covered in white paint and a freshly painted tractor gleaming bright green. Bessie, curious as ever, decided to investigate.

First, she brushed against the wet fence, leaving white streaks on her side. Then, she sauntered over to the tractor and gave it a friendly nuzzle, adding splashes of green to her already colorful coat. By the time she wandered back into the barn, she looked like a walking piece of modern art—a tie-dye masterpiece on four legs.

But Bessie’s transformation wasn’t just external. Unbeknownst to anyone, she had also snacked on some moldy bread the farmer had thrown away—a loaf so old it had sprouted mushrooms and probably had its own ecosystem. The result? A cow who was forever changed.

Bessie the Hippie Cow Emerges

The first sign that something was different came when Bessie strolled into the barn that evening, her tie-dye coat shimmering in the sunset.

“Whoa, man,” she said, her voice slow and dreamy. “This barn is, like, totally vibing right now.”

The chickens froze mid-cluck. Rufus dropped the stick he was chewing. Even Lucifer paused his self-admiration.

“Bessie?” Doris the hen clucked cautiously. “Are you… feeling alright?”

“Feeling alright?” Bessie said, her eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh, Doris, I’m feeling everything! The universe, the stars, the hay under my hooves—it’s all connected, you dig?”

“I… don’t dig,” Doris said, looking bewildered.

Bessie didn’t seem to notice. She swished her tail, revealing a string of old beads she had somehow found and looped around her neck. “Check out my love beads, man. Aren’t they groovy?”

“Groovy! But also so… sparkly!” Harriet clucked.

“Sparkly! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting dramatically into the hay.

Farm Life with Bessie the Hippie

Over the next few days, Bessie fully embraced her new identity as the farm’s resident hippie. She greeted everyone with a cheerful “Peace, man!” and spent her afternoons lying in the meadow, staring at the clouds and talking about “the cosmic energy of mooing.” She even started calling the farmer “The Big Dude.”

At first, the other animals were confused. But soon, they found themselves warming to Bessie’s laid-back vibe.

“She’s kind of… relaxing to be around,” Rufus admitted, wagging his tail.
“And her coat is so colorful!” Doris added. “It’s like having a walking rainbow on the farm.”

Even Lucifer, who was usually too self-absorbed to care about anyone else, seemed impressed. “She’s got a certain… presence,” he admitted, though he quickly added, “But let’s not forget who the real star of the farm is.”

The Catnip Conundrum

Of course, no story on this farm would be complete without an appearance from Catnip, the sly stray who always seemed to show up at the worst possible moments.

“Well, well,” Catnip said one afternoon, slinking into the barn. “What’s this? A tie-dye cow and a red chipmunk? Did the circus come to town without telling me?”

“Back off, Catnip,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not stirring up trouble today.”

“Who, me?” Catnip said, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to check out the new… decor. You know, I think Bessie’s got the right idea. Maybe we should all embrace a little ‘free love’ and ‘cosmic energy.’”

“Really?” Bessie said, tilting her head. “That’s, like, so beautiful, man.”

I groaned. “Bessie, don’t listen to him. He’s up to something.”

But Bessie was too busy swishing her beads and humming a tune to notice. “Peace, Whiskerton,” she said, smiling serenely. “Peace and love.”

A Groovy Resolution

Despite Catnip’s attempts to stir the pot, the farm eventually settled into a new normal. Lucifer continued his dramatic antics, Bessie became the farm’s unofficial therapist (“Tell me about your vibes, man”), and even Lillian fainted less frequently in the presence of all the good energy.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Life is full of colorful characters, and while some may seem a little strange at first, they often bring something special to the table. And as for Bessie? She taught us all that sometimes, a little peace, love, and tie-dye is exactly what a farm needs.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

There is simply no comparison.

As an American who will be 82 in two days, I have lived the last 15 years in China.

While the crime rate in the USA has gone down dramatically since the 80’s and 90’s, China’s crime rate has gone down even more dramatically.

China’s rise from a chronically impoverished country and the proverbial “sick man” of Asia to the most urbanized and modern country on the planet has been a modern miracle.

Despite the rapid changes that have taken place and the displacements and adjustments people have had to make, China has almost no petty crime.

You can forget your wallet, leave your purchases on a bus or train or in a station or mall and in all likelihood it will be returned to you or you will find it at a Lost & Found station. Y

es, there are internet scams but almost no public violence or road rage. Chinese people are shockingly patient and, while naturally reserved, rarely get out of control in public settings.

Street crime is rare and women can walk alone on city streets most anywhere in the country at 3am with no fear.

Corruption exists but it is very often harshly dealt with much publicity. In the USA, the incoming President is a convicted felon, fraudster, grifter and dishonest businessman.

He could never ascend to power in China, not that all powerful government officials or businessmen are “Boy Scouts”.

Purses and wallets don’t get snatched as China has a fully digital economy.

I personally haven’t touched cash in over five years, using my phone and URLs, etc. for all transactions.

Jeffrey Sachs: The US is leading us closer to nuclear war | The InnerView

MARRYING MY HUSBAND!! I was a successful teacher, earning enough to buy a nice, three bedroom house in town with a large backyard for my dogs, and then I met this total loser one night in a bar. He was 29, living at home with Mom, and tending bar at a local restaurant to support himself.

He drank too much. He didn’t worry about his future. He lived in the moment, enjoying what tonight brought, and not worrying about tomorrow.

Me? I had the next forty years planned: put away at least ten percent of my income every year in safe investments, never spend a dime that wasn’t for the future. No vacations. No fun.

And then this guy shows up. He was GORGEOUS. And we mixed well: I rooted him to reality; he persuaded me to have some fun.

Two kids and thirty some years later, I wouldn’t trade him for a million, million dollars. My best friend: the love of my life: Andrew Ellison.

The Vial Wished For

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Start or end your story with someone receiving a strange — and possibly sinister — gift. view prompt

E.M. O’Hair

“It’s exactly what you wished for.” He hands me the gift. Wrapped in red and white striped paper, finished with green satin bow.My heart skips a beat at his words. Exactly what I wished for? How did he manage that?I will my hands to steady as I pull the cool, smooth strands of green, untying the bow. The paper falls away to reveal a wooden box ordained with intricate geometric carvings. I pause, taking in the craftsmanship. Other worldly.“Go on, open the box,” Trew says. He smiles, but his eyes glisten with sadness.I unlatch the tiny bronze clasp and lift the lid. Inside on a maroon velvet pillow sits a glass vile filled with swirling gray blue dust.I gasp, filled with awe and wonder as I gaze upon an untethered spirit.“I wanted this holiday to be special.”I know why. Because of the spirit we had dream of and lost. The spirit we had made that was gone and could never be forged again.

 

“My gods, Trew. How did you find this?” I say, voice trembling.

 

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There is no place I wouldn’t go.” He pauses, voice also beginning to shake, “I want you to know how special you are. And I want you to be happy. To smile again.”

 

I look at him, his darkened skin and kind eyes glowing in the warm twinkling holiday lights. He is my gift.

 

“When do you want to start looking for a host?” he asks.

 

“There is no rush,” I say, lifting a hand to cradle his face.

 

He nods and leans into me. “It came with a description of the spirit. Strengths, weaknesses, ideal host body and whatnot. It’s written in a dead language and I didn’t have time to have it translated, but it would be worth reading before we start looking.”

 

“Of course,” I say, closing the box. I move to set the box and it’s contents on the coffee table in front of us.

 

Trew and I finish a bottle of wine and head to bed.

 

I wake the next morning to Trew drawing lazy circles on my arm. I open my eyes. Golden sun pours across Trew’s smiling face. It’s early.

 

“Hey,” I say, rolling on my side to face him.

 

“I’d like us to get up early today, to find a translator for the spirit’s documents,” he says and adds a gentle, “sorry,” to apologize for waking me.

 

“Really, Trew, I feel no need to rush things. How long has the spirit been without a host anyway? Thousands of years? Surely it can wait a few weeks as well.”

 

His face pales. “Weeks?” he asks.

 

“I really didn’t think you’d find one. And I really didn’t think we’d be able to afford one. Gods, I don’t even want to know how much it cost.”

 

“I told you, I just wanted you to be happy.” His smile returns. “It’s just that the mystic I purchased it from told me she had noted it was growing restless.”

 

“You bought the spirit from a mystic? No a spiritual procurement center? For fuck’s sake, Trew. Where did she get it? How do we even know it’s the real deal? Has it been tested? Has it been certified?”

 

“None of that matters, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Who cares about the details?”

 

“I do, Trew. I do. This could be stolen. There could be a couple like us, now filled with grief that the spirit their love created is gone,” tears fill my eyes at the thought. I will never wish that pain on anyone.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. The spirit we created failed. It had some kind of fatal flaw. What did the healer say? Incompatible with a host. If there is a couple out there who were lucky enough to create a spirit compatible with a host, and were foolish enough to loose it or have it stolen, they don’t deserve it to begin with.”

 

“Listen to yourself, Trew!” I shout. “You are the one being ridiculous.”

 

He lets out a breath. I echo him. We don’t want to fight. We don’t need to fight.

 

“Let’s have the document translated. That will probably answer some of your questions.”

 

“Fine,” I agree.

 

Hours later, after two trips to the public library and a trip to the community college, we sit across from a dark haired woman in a cluttered office that smells of old paper. She eyes the spirit’s document over small round glasses. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she doffs the glasses and looks up.

 

“This is really quite fascinating,” she says. “Where did you acquire this document?”

 

I open my mouth to speak, but Trew cuts me off.

 

“I found it at thrift store.”

 

“Alone, or was there a box and vile of a dust like substance nearby?”

 

“Just the paper,” Trew says with a shrug.

 

“Fascinating indeed. Give me just a moment to write the translation,” She says and picks up a pencil.

 

Moments later, she hands the paper to Trew. He doesn’t read it. He folds it in thirds and tucks it in his pocket.

 

“You may want to return to the thrift store where you found that document and notify the owner of what you have found. If the spirit the document speaks of is there,” she shakes her head, “well, I don’t know what could happen, but that spirit is ancient and should only be in the hands of an expert.”

 

It isn’t until we are out of the building that Trew hands me the paper. I unfold it and read. The strengths and weaknesses are unremarkable. The spirit seeks a human host. All the details look totally normal. Year of conception, 700. Location of conception, the Cedrum Valley. I sigh with relief at both of those facts. Whomever caused the conception of the spirit in our possession was long dead. And ruling party of the Cedrum Valley fell in 1650. There will be no chance for litigation from the spirit’s creators, nor it’s country of origin.

 

“Okay,” I say approvingly, “let’s find a host.”

 

Trew checks his watch. “If we leave now, I think we can make it to the Host Center before they close.”

 

We arrive with fifteen minutes to spare. The building is a huge warehouse, with beautiful landscaping leading to the front door.

 

We enter and are greeted by a cheerful woman in a cream business suit and high heels.

 

“Welcome to the Host Center. What can I help you with today?” she says.

 

“We came to select a host,” I say. My heartbeat quickens. The weight of what we are doing settles on me. We are selecting a host.

 

“Right this way,” she says.

 

We follow the woman through the isles. Row after row of unformed and unclaimed hosts waiting to be chosen for a spirit.

 

“I think you’ll find a suitable host between sections 346 and 350. These are all human and begin in infant form. You may choose the sex, but many couples prefer to choose that at random,” she points to the sign that reads Random above section 348.

 

I nod and glance at Trew from the corner of my eye. He is beaming.

 

“Random is fine,” he says, and squeezes my hand.

 

“Excellent. There is a description on each case with the anticipated skin, eye, and hair color,” she appears to want to say more, but Trew interupts.

 

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t care at all what our family looks like, I just want a family. I just want an us.”

 

I note the longing on his face. It almost hurts.

 

“You can choose,” I say.

 

Trew reaches out a hand and selects one of the hard round cases from the shelf at his eye level. He turns it over several times in his hands, then pauses to read the description.

 

“This one is perfect,” he says, face illuminated by love.

 

The woman clasps her hands over her heart. “When you know, you know,” she says.

 

We walk to the front check-out desk.

 

“Do you have the paperwork from the spiritual procurement center?” she asks once she is behind the counter.

 

Trew sets the hard case containing the host down with tender care and clears his throat before I can speak. “We don’t have a spirit yet,” he says.

 

Another lie. What we are doing is not illegal. I do not understand why he is not being upfront with anyone about what is going on. Surely we are not the only people who have sought out and found a spirit through a mystic.

 

“Oh, that is quite alright. A bit unconventional, but alright. Typically, when a spirit is acquired it comes with a rebate or a discount code for the host. You will just have to pay out of pocket today. But, I’m sure you expected that.”

 

“Yes, of course.” Trew reaches for his billfold.

 

She scans the code on the host’s case. I try not to balk when the price appears on the tiny screen above the card reader.

 

Trew doesn’t seem to even notice the price as he holds his payment card to the reader. His eyes are glued to the host, shapeless and twinkling in the bright store lights.

 

At home, Trew places the host on the coffee table next to the box containing the untethered spirit.

 

“Do you know how to make the spirit enter the host?” I ask. I certainly have no clue how this process works.

 

“Yes. It’s easy.”

 

Trew gently opens the hard case containing the host, and lifts out a translucent globule. He lays the globule on the table then takes the vial of gray blue dust from its box. He pulls the cork from the top of the vile and swiftly pours the dust onto the host.

 

We watch as a reaction occurs. Cells double and triple before our eyes. The shape of an infant takes form, flesh developing and turning pink. The hosts eyes shoot open, then its mouth. It sucks in a huge breath.

 

We did it. I look at Trew. Tears stream down his face. He plants a wet kiss on my cheek, then leans down and plants one on the tiny pink host cooing and smiling up at us. No, not a host. A baby. We have a baby.

 

Suddenly, the smile on the baby’s face turns to a grimace. Bile spills from its mouth and the baby lets out a stridorous screech.

 

“No, no, no! You must stay in the host! Please!” Trew pleads. I turn my eyes from the baby to Trew, I’ve never seen his face laced with such worry.

 

I turn my attention back to the baby. A puff of gray blue dust comes out of the baby’s nostrils. Color drains from the host. It’s face and form morph back into the globule it had been only moments ago. The baby is gone.

 

A tear rolls down my face.

 

Trew falls to his knees next to me and lets out a sorrowful wail. And another. And another. His breaths quicken and grow shallow.

 

“We can try again. Maybe the mystic will exchange this spirit. Maybe it’s just too old.”

 

“No. We will not try again,” he says through his hyperventilating, eyes now full of anger.

 

He takes a deep breath, I assume to calm himself, but as he does, he inhales the gray blue dust floating above the host.

 

“Trew, you…” I gasp. It’s too late.

 

Trew turns to me, his eyes now calm. A wicked smile grows on his face. “A full grown man?” he clicks his tongue, “this is what I call a host.”

 

He stands, admiring his height and build, “Gods, how tall am I? Six foot, two?”

 

“Trew…” the whisper escapes my trembling lips. I search the eyes of the being in front of me. Searching for any sign Trew is still in that body.

 

“He’s gone. His spirit is floating over there. Collect him in the empty vial if you wish.”

 

I turn and see a cloud of that same gray blue dust floating behind me. My hands shake uncontrollably as I reach for the glass vial.

 

“Are you sure you wish to collect the spirit of a liar? You want him to have another chance at life? Let him go. Let the wind scatter him across the globe.”

 

I don’t just want Trew to have another chance at life, I want him to have this life. I want him with me. I reach for the vial and move to collect Trew’s spirit. I hold the vial to the cloud of dust and it funnels in, like it’s seeking safety.

 

“Give him his body back,” I say through clenched teeth. Fury builds within me.

 

“No. I like it. He’s in good shape. I have nice body, you have a spirit with a host. We both got our wish,” the spirit in Trew’s body says matter-of-factly.

 

“This isn’t my wish. I would never trade Trew for anything. He is my greatest gift.”

 

“You see, Kim, that is your name isn’t is?” He asks and I nod. “I now own this body and all the memories with it. Trew does nothing but lie. He lied all fucking day. To everyone. I will give you the greatest gift anyone can offer. The truth.”

 

My face twists in discomfort. The eyes I knew as Trew’s narrow, then look at me with pity.

 

“Trew was more than devastated by the loss of the spirit the two of you created. When the spirit was lost, Trew gave up on your relationship. He didn’t want just you. He wanted a family with you. He’s never wanted just you. You alone could never have been enough for him. He was going to leave you if this didn’t work out.”

 

“How do I know you aren’t the one that’s lying?”

 

“Here, see for yourself.” He extends a folded sheet of paper to me. I read over it and note the signature of the professor from the community college at the bottom. A detail the paper he had given me earlier in the day did not include. Or rather, could not include because he had not known her name when he forged the translated document.

 

But that isn’t the only thing that makes me nauseous. I am filled with dread as I read the description of the spirit.

 

The spirit contained in this vial is that of Verum. Once released upon the earth, he will bring things in the darkness to light by any means necessary.

 

I look up into the eyes that now belonged to another. They are filled with clarity. There is a longing in those eyes not just for truth, but also for justice. But this, this is wrong. Trew should not have his body stolen.

 

I wrestle with my thoughts, only for a moment, when Verum lunges at me, reaching a hand to the vial. I stumble backwards and down to the floor. I catch myself with open palms, and send the vial containing Trew’s spirit crashing down with me. It shatters.

 

“Think of what it means to have me here. To have me on earth. My truth seeking does not only apply to you. It applies to all people and all institutions.”

 

I chew my lower lip. Time seems to stop as I digest what I have just heard.

 

I loose a heavy breath at the gray blue ball of dust hovering above the shattered glass vial. The dust falls to the floor in a diffuse pattern.

 

“I’lI get the broom,” Verum says, and disappears around the corner.

 

 

*Sensitive content: Miscarriage, infant loss.

Congratulations, because it’s now being talked about. A LOT!

It’s their Modi’s fault. Did you guys know that he’s non-biological?

So, India. A big country. More than a billion people. Population-wise, a superpower, but it’s the very thing that damages India’s brand image.

The people of China compared their country to Japan, which is one of the most developed nations. India was busy with Pakistan, another failure of a state. Thus, the current situation is not surprising.

Superpower India got jealous and scared of China’s rise. Thus, Modi brought in nationalism to strengthen the country, and in time, becoming the biggest failure of the 21st century.

I have fun making jokes about India and Indians.

In this YouTube video, a tourist gets scammed by some shopkeepers of Indian descent (or could possibly be Indians) in Nepal. Look at the comments:

It’s great because when Nepalese people are caught doing bad things, they can save Nepal’s reputation by pretending they’re Indians.

But it’s not just India. India is the largest country in South Asia. India should carry South Asia’s reputation. If the world is becoming racist towards India, other South Asian countries will also be affected.

It’s a good thing. India is now on a soul-searching mission. More and more people are accepting the facts. The next step is to take action to address the issues. But do you think they can do that?

I like making fun of India and Indians, but since I’m also in the sub-continent, it’s like shooting my own foot. At least I look “Asian”, so I can always say I’m Tibetan to save my face if Nepal’s name gets dragged down, but I’d like to help my Nepalese brothers, even the “Indian” looking ones.

A big fat cat moved into the cat house in my yard

I’ve got one for you!

Owner of the company I work for is an unassuming looking guy, yet he is a billionaire. In the bottom floor of the corporate office there is a cafe. The company owns the building, but the cafe workers are a contracted company. The cafe is pretty decent and the prices are cheap.

One day the owner confronts the cafe company and requests to put an ice cream machine in facility for the employees. They told him no. It seems odd to me for them to deny the request, but I am sure the company had a good reason. But, when you own the building and have billions of dollars, no is only a negotiation, lol. So…he bought the cafe company. All the same employees, all the same food, all the same prices…but now we get free ice cream.

Money ruins many people, but not this guy!!

The Flip

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Set your story during the coldest day of the year. view prompt

E.M. O’Hair

“I heard the high is 94. They say it’ll be the coldest day all year.”“94? Do you want to try going outside?”I peek through the blinds covering the only window on our dome. “They sky is blue today.”“The pink haze is gone?”“For now, anyway. I haven’t been outside in, well, do you remember the last time?”“I think it was thirty years ago. When the boys were little. We took one last trip to the playground on the west side of town. You remember, the one with the slide shaped like a car.”“Oh, yeah. They loved playing there. I’ll get my shoes on and we can open the dome.”When we are ready, covered in sunblock, clad in large brimmed hats, long sleeve tops, and respirators, Gary pressed the button to open the escape door at the top of the dome. The hinges squeak in protest.

 

I climb up the ladder first, he follows.

 

“So this is what out-of-doors feels like. I vaguely remember this.”

 

“Coldest day of the year, my ass. Did it ever snow when you were little?” Gary asks poking his head out of the dome. He climbs out onto the silver slanted roof behind me.

 

“Once,” I say, a warm breeze blowing across my face.

 

We climb down from the dome to the sandy yard. Landscaping had stopped being important years ago. Nothing can grow in these conditions, even if they could, water is rationed. Once a dome’s allotted amount is used for the week, the water is turned off. No one would dare waste their water on something as frivolous as ornamental grass.

 

We are the only ones out. I see the Morrison’s looking out the window of the dome across from ours and wave.

 

Mr. Morrison— I can never remember his first name— cracks the window open ever so slightly. “What are you doing out there?” he asks.

 

“Coldest day of the year,” I say and rub my arms to mimic a shiver.

 

I hear Mrs. Morrison laugh, but Mr. Morrison gives a stern, “Be careful out there,” before closing the window.

 

We make our way out of the neighborhood, weaving our way between domes built only feet from each other.

 

“Let’s see if there are any fish still left in the pond,” Gary says and points ahead.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. And if there are fish in the pond, I’m sure they have multiple heads. Some may even have legs,” I say.

 

Gary laughs, “Don’t you think that would be worth seeing?”

 

We trudge on ahead and finally come to the pond. The water bubbles intermittently and sports an unnatural green hue.

 

“I don’t see any two headed fish, do you?”

 

“No, none with legs either,” I say, voice trailing off. I do see something though. There is something under the surface of the water. It shimmers up at me, calls to me. I don’t know what it is, but it scratches at an irresistible desire I do not even know I have.

 

I have to respond. I reach for it and am filled with immediate regret, the water burning my hand when I grace the surface.

 

“What are you doing?” Gary asks, and wraps a steady arm around my shoulders.

 

“I… I don’t know. There’s something there. Do you see it?”

 

“I think you’re hallucinating. The air our here is toxic. Maybe your respirator isn’t working properly. Let’s get back to the dome.”

 

“No,” I say, “I have to see if I can reach it.”

 

I shrug and cast Gary’s arm away. I take a step forward, but as I do, I lose my footing on the slippery black rock at the edge of the pond. I move my arms in circles, searching for something to grab and catch Gary’s shirt. He wraps a strong hand around my arm.

 

“Shit!” he exclaims and tries to pull me back from the water.

 

“If you hold me, I can reach it,” I say and bend to meet the water.

 

“You’ll pull me in with you,” Gary gives me a tug.

 

But that thing I see under the water needs me and I need it. The pull it has on me is stronger than Gary. “Then let me go,” I say and yank my arm free. The force sends all of me splashing into the water.

 

I move my arms around the shimmering object that had called to me. But as I do it disappears. There is nothing there. Nothing but water.

 

“Jan!” Gary screams. But it’s too late. I’m gone. I’m sinking deeper and deeper in the green pool of thick, acidic water and waste.

 

I flail my arms and kick, fighting the swirling current pulling me down. But I can’t win. I’m not strong enough. Darkness closes in around me and I let out what I am sure is my last breath.

 

I feel something grab me. It pulls me further down. No, up. I’m moving upward, at least I think. I open my eyes and see light above me. The surface of the water breaks. I’m overcome with uncontrollable coughing. Once the water that had been in my lungs seems to be clear, I take a deep breath of clean, fresh, air.

 

I lay back, gasping. My red, burning skin finds instant relief when it touches the cold ground. It’s only a moment before I realize what I’m laying on. It’s puffy, but crisp and pure white. Snow cradles me as I return to my body.

 

“Where am I?” I ask, panting.

 

“What are you?” a woman’s soft voice replies.

 

I sit up, “Dead. I think I’m dead.” I turn my head over my shoulder to see the source of the voice. A woman, half my age, with long straight dark hair and sapphire eyes wearing a heavy winter coat looks me over.

 

“You’re definitely not dead. It’s like minus thirty out here. They anticipate this will be the coldest day of the year. Does this look like paradise to you?” She gestures to the surroundings.

 

“Yes,” I say, and lay back onto the snow.

So I was going to make this one about myths of the US in this moment of coming together and widespread trauma on the US side, but then I encountered this.

This.

This is the Chinese American experience. No, it’s the Asian American experience, because those are jokes for Chinese people but he’s suffering them as a half-Korean. That’s how stupidly racist America gets when people are still kids and they don’t know how to properly mask their racism. The recipients of hate will invariably find ways to protect themselves, and “it’s just a joke” is a cope that I had to train myself off of as well. You guys outside of the US, even mainland Chinese or overseas Chinese, do not understand what it means to go through this experience.

Part of the reason why Chinese users on XHS are so funny is because comedy there is not dominated by racist jokes. But here it is, because chauvinism breeds a shortcut to easy laughs— it is always funny to kick a dog and see it squirm. That is why President Trump laughed at women by saying you can grab them by the p[]. That’s what “locker room talk” stands for. And that is why President Trump is one of the most American presidents we’ve ever had.

Without the chauvinism, someone like President Trump becomes completely unfunny and incapable of real comedy. That’s why the Chinese on XHS come across as having this amazing wit, because it’s not one endless game of hierarchy masquerading as comedy. And it’s why we have this dichotomy in comedy between “laughing with us” versus “laughing at us.” It is why the culture war fixates so much on things that you can no longer “make fun of.” We are fighting over whether we should continue this status game we call comedy.

This place creates victims, and Chinese happen to be one of the designated ones “both sides of the aisle can agree on.” The rest is one long exercise in dishonesty and laughing at how easily everyone can get away with it. That’s what a society built upon slavery really can’t escape.


By the way, IRL I am a very unfunny person. This is because I was the funny kid in middle school as a cope for the bullying I received, and I finally stood up for myself by not making self-deprecating jokes. Then I realized I had no jokes.

But at least I have dignity.

TikTok Users Discuss RedNote and China

AI generations – Classical

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In fact, most Koreans don’t think so. This is what some extreme Korean nationalists are promoting.

These people regard everything that may have a little relationship with Korea as Korean.

For example, “Dong Yi” originally referred to the people on the land east of the Chinese central government. It originally referred to the people in Shandong, China; later, Shandong became part of China, so “Dong Yi” was used to refer to Japan and the Korean Peninsula. So in their eyes, Shandong became Korean territory.

For example, “Goguryeo” originally referred to a country that originated in Northeast China; later, “Goguryeo” expanded and ruled the Korean Peninsula; so “Goguryeo” became a Korean dynasty, and Northeast China was also Korean territory;

For example, in 1910, Japan and the Korean Empire signed the “Japan-Korea Merger Treaty” and announced the demise of the Korean Empire. Some people of Korea sought a way to restore their country, and in 1919, the “Republic of Korea” provisional government was established in Shanghai, China. So Shanghai is also Korean territory.

As for Confucius and Chinese characters, they were introduced to Korea after Korea became a vassal state of China, so Confucius and Chinese characters also became Korean.

Americans on Rednote SHOCKED by the cost of living in CHINA!

God! Americans are getting really angry. Another amazing video. Please watch.

 

 

Growing at a 5.4% expansion in the fourth quarter, do you think China’s economy is building momentum?

I’m on the ground in Beijing.

Everyone here knows that for the past few years Chinese economy has been building up momentum.

Yes the property market is a drag. Housing prices dropped like 20% from 2016–2017, and the price I can rent out my other apartment has fallen for at least 10% in 2024. But it’s a good thing for the country.

Like 60% of the bank finance in China used to be tied to the property market. Now that money has definitely been squeezed out.

Instead, there have been huge increases in payment for the tech sector during the past few years and we’re already starting to see result. From domestic airliner, to new bullet train models, to chips becoming the No.1 Chines export and chip making equipment getting better, to advances in fusion drive and 6th generation fighters… China is picking up steam across the board of new technologies.

 

Why is America openly supporting genocide in Gaza?

Think of this…. The Western media today is going crazy about the case of Axel Rudakubana. He is an 18-year-old Islamic jihadist monster who, on the 30th of July, 2024, went to a dance school in the United Kingdom filled with little girls, carrying a kitchen knife and started savagely stabbing them all, trying to murder the entire room full of small children

He stabbed 12 little girls. Three of them died. Of the three who died, one of them he stabbed 122 times. One of the others he beheaded.

The little girls who survived the ordeal said he didn’t look human; he looked like a possessed demon. He looked like the personification of evil, an utter monster.

As a result of his utterly evil actions that day, Politicians all over the UK and America, alongside citizens, journalists and everyone else are all calling for the death penalty to be brought back just for this one case. Everyone in the UK wants that man dead. They want the death penalty brought back just to kill him and only him.

Now, what you need to realize is something many people seem to have forgotten or not even contemplated. On October 7th, 2023, 1500, Axel Rudakubanas all invaded Israel and carried out mirror-image actions of what he did.

What Axel Rudakubana did on July 30th was a like-for-like replacement of what all 1500 Gazans did on October 7th. In fact, many of the things the Gazans did were actually way worse than what Axel did. They carried out acts of utter evil that you cannot even contemplate.

What is even more utterly fucked up about this situation; every Gazan was overjoyed at what those 1500 monsters did. For them they were having a party. The Hamas monsters even had their standard Islamic war booty in that they were driving dying naked, gang raped, 21-year-old German girls in the back of their Jeeps, and everyone was overjoyed at the sight of this. Men, women, children. They were overjoyed at the sight of this dying girl in the back of their jeep. They drove it all through the streets of Gaza.

Therefore, the people who would support the Genocide of these monsters are the ones who have realized what the Gazans did on October 7th. They will be the same people calling for the death penalty today towards Axel Rudakubana

The problem is that Israel has not done this “genocide”. Israel has conducted the softest, most restrained war in human history. The death stats for this war are incredibly low. Only 1% of Gazans have died in this conflict most of them terrorists.

Now think of this: if the number had of been 80 or 90% of Gazans who had died and not the paltry 1% that are the true stats. How many people would have been weeping over this higher number? I can tell you, not many. The response from everyone in the west would be “they got what was coming to them”.

Now if you are offended by this harsh reality. Why don’t you all pack your bags and leave the West and remain in your monstrous Islamic countries where you can kill and rape each other for fun each day with total impunity and leave us all out of it….

 

Chinese Showing American Tiktok Refugees How They Live a Futuristic Life On Rednote

Seriously. Must watch.

The American oligarchy is trying to stop Americans from learning about China.

That’s irrelevant – when war comes to you, you go to war whether you are ready or not.

Was Vietnam ready for the Vietnam war?
Was Ukraine ready for defending from the Russian invasion?
Was the US ready at Pearl Harbor?

We can keep going essentially forever on this vein.

And yes, you doofus, if you threaten to absorb an independent nation, the independent nation will tell you to take a hike and is in their absolute right to defend themselves militarily – including shooting at soldiers of the invading army and the civilian casualty collateral damage – should you actually give it a try.

Especially in modern times, complete conquests are practically always more trouble than they’re worth. Because you don’t have to win. All a determined invaded country has to do is consistently make it more painful and expensive to stay than to leave.

The US was in Afghanistan, a poor country of warlords, 20 years. In what amounts to one whole generation, and given the best army in the whole planet, nothing really was accomplished other than crude vengeance. They ended up finding Osama Bin Laden in neighboring Pakistan. The Taliban is back in power. Hatred towards the US on that side of the world is as high as ever. No democracies were created. Many thousands died, on both sides.

And that’s without even going to the nightmare that was Vietnam.


Now think of Canada again. What do you think a determined, highly educated, modern, motivated and determined enemy with control of some of the most unforgiving terrain in the planet and full knowledge of all US tactics – who looks exactly like you genetically, speaks your language and can almost always imitate your accent perfectly so even sounds like you – will be capable of?

Good luck securing the frozen forests and mountains… It’s not more rugged than Afghanistan, but it’s much more frozen, dozens of times the size and it’s been compared to the Russian winter, which did in both Napoleon and Hitler’s armies. There’ll be Canadian patriot guerillas up there with full support of the population for as long as it takes until the moment US troops and personnel leave, frozen and in shame.


The last time the US tried to take Canadian land in fact, was in 1812. Canadians (under a British flag) invaded back and burned Washington DC. Sure, US sources call it British troops, but it was many Canadian soldiers, as it was still a colony. There’s a whole exhibit in their museum of war about it which they seem very proud of.

Here is a painting of it being reconstructed, in 1814.

And if they were alone like Afghanistan was, that’d be one thing. But they are part of the UK Commonwealth so you can bet nuclear armed Britain and the rest of the Commonwealth countries would want to come help defend. And they are part of NATO so mutual defense would apply – against the United States, forcing the rest of the NATO alliance into the war. Not to mention the economic wreck that would happen should they all start embargoing the US (which is the bare minimum that would happen).

Canada has a lot of friends.


So whether it’s Canada, Panama or Greenland (and whoever makes orange Mussolini angry or horny on his next senile moment), Trump is a senile old man playing with a flamethrower in a gas station.

Masturbating over taking over countries and causing wars with allies and neighbors is decidedly not what he got elected for.

Nobody voted for that.

Not so much rich as poorly treated based on appearance. I was looking for a new company car, so went in a break from work to the local Audi dealership.

I went in my work gear, clean, tidy albeit a bit worn but definitely work clothing. It took about 20 minutes wandering around the forecourt before someone deigned to come and see me. He ignored my requirements and decided that I was only able to afford an A3. I wanted to see a Q5, Q7 and RS6 estate, based on my requirement to transport work tools and occasionally parts. He wouldn’t do a test drive as I apparently needed to book an appointment for one of those, but he did take my details and put me into the system.

I left and went back at the weekend dressed in jeans, t-shirt and shoes where I looked again at the Q5, Q7 and RS6. It couldn’t have been more different. a lady approached me and asked if there was a particular reason I was looking at those models. I explained my needs and she said she’d get the keys and come back. She also brought a tape measure which ruled out the Q5, but the Q7 & RS6 were definite possibilities. We went in to the office to get my details on the system so we could go for test drives. She saw I was already on the system and asked why I was dealing with her. I explained and she asked me to wait a moment while she had a word with the sales manager. He came over and asked some questions and then confirmed that she could carry on.

TL:DR – I bought the Q7 as it was more comfortable. He went mad and accused her of poaching his sale. She told him to take it up with the sales manager who told him to jog on and not assume about customers requirements.

Sopranos – The Assassination Attempt on Christopher Moltisanti by the cowards Bevilaqua and Gismonte

Discovering Moon Pies

They did not

Colombia made two demands :-

  • They wanted the deportees to be transported by Civilian Aircraft and not by Military Aircraft
  • They wanted the Deportees data to be handed over to the Colombians , four hours before the flight took off from USA to confirm they were indeed Colombians

The US immediately complied with both these demands

Thus ensuring this was a NORMAL DEPORTATION rather than a Standoff against Trump

Lumpiang Sariwa

I was in high school when I first tasted ‘lumpiang sariwa‘ or fresh lumpia. It was strange and unusual for me because I was more familiar with fried spring rolls made with meat (egg roll) or with vegetables and bean sprouts called lumpiang togue. I liked it immediately and later found out that it is widely known but not easily available. Probably, it is because of the main ingredient ‘ubod’ or the palm heart found at the tip of a coconut trunk. This lumpiang sariwa recipe consist mainly of ubod and few additional vegetables.

Lumpiang Sariwa or Fresh Spring Rolls
Lumpiang Sariwa or Fresh Spring Rolls

What is Lumpiang Sariwa?

It took its characteristics from ‘lumpiang ubod’ which originates from Silay City in the province of Negros Occidental. Purportedly it emerged as one of the appetizers carried on woven trays (bilao) by servers in mahjong gambling dens. The ubod was taken from freshly felled coconut trees that are also used widely in Ilonggo cuisine. It became popular and was adopted in other parts of the Philippines and later on became known as lumpiang sariwa.

Lumpiang Sariwa Recipe
Lumpiang Sariwa Recipe

Lumpiang sariwa is a break from all the carb-laden glutinous food and deep fried meat that Filipinos are very fond of. Unlike the common spring rolls, can be made of meat or vegetables, which are deep fried, lumpiang sariwa is made with sauteed fillings wrapped in a thin egg crepe and then topped with a delectable sauce. It is called ‘sariwa’ or fresh because you will not fry the whole spring rolls. Its peanut sauce and lumpia wrappers are the elements which will make it special.

Fresh Lumpia Sauce
Fresh Lumpia Sauce

Lumpia wrappers can be homemade or commercial. It is thicker compared to wrappers use in fried version. It is made by mixing egg, flour, and water into a thin batter. It is poured into a pan for more or less a minute and then taken out to dry.

lumpiang sariwa
lumpiang sariwa

Try lumpiang sariwa recipe for a fresh and healthy snack (or lunch!). This recipe contains no meat or shrimp, but feel free to add those if you like and other vegetables like, cilantro and bean sprouts.

Ingredients

Scale

For the wrapper

  • 1 cup cornstarch
  • 1 ½ cups water
  • 3 eggs, beaten
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon oil
  • Nonstick cooking spray

For the Filling

  • 1 carrot (julienne)
  • 1 stock of celery (julienne)
  • 2 cloves of garlic (minced)
  • 1 spring onion (julienne)
  • 2 pounds (about 4 cups) ubod, julienne
  • 1 tablespoon cooking oil
  • 1 tbs soy sauce
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • green leaf lettuce leaves, ends trimmed and leaves separated

For the Sauce

  • 23/4 cups water
  • ¼ cup soy sauce
  • ¾ cup sugar
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup unsalted peanuts, ground
  • 1 head garlic (about 3 tablespoons), peeled and minced
  • 2 tablespoons peanut butter
  • 3 tablespoons corn starch

Instructions

For the Wrappers

  1. Mix cornstarch and water in a large bowl. Whisk together until smooth. Add eggs and salt. Beat to combine until smooth.
  2. Set a 9-inch nonstick pan over low heat. Lightly spray surface of pan with nonstick cooking spray.
  3. Add ¼ cup batter. Tilt the pan with a circular motion so that the batter coats the surface evenly. Cook for about 30 to 40 seconds.
  4. When the edges of the batter begin to pull from the sides and small bubbles begin to form in the middle of crepe, gently flip and cook the other side of the wrap until top is firm and dry.
  5. Gently slide it onto a plate when done. Repeat with remaining batter, spray pan with nonstick cooking spray in between to keep the wrap from sticking.

For the Filling

  1. In a pan over a medium heat, saute onions and garlic.
  2. Add in carrots and celery. Add ubod and soy sauce.
  3. Lower heat, cover and cook for about 10 to 15 minutes or until ubod and carrots are tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
  4. Remove from pan and drain off oil and juices.
  5. Lay down a fresh crepe on a plate.
  6. Add a lettuce on the middle and spoon in about ¼ cup of the filling across the middle of wrapper.
  7. Fold the sides to make a roll. Set aside.

For the Sauce

  1. In a sauce pan over medium heat, put 2-1/2 cups of the water, soy sauce, brown sugar and salt. Mix.
  2. Stir regularly as the mixture is brought to a boil.
  3. Add garlic and peanuts when the sugar is dissolves and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes.
  4. In a separate bowl, combine corn starch and the remaining ¼ cup water. Stir until mixture is smooth.
  5. Whisk vigorously then put corn starch mixture into the pan with soy sauce mixture.
  6. Stir regularly until the mixture thickens.
  7. Add peanut butter and stir until it dissolves into the sauce.
  8. Pour sauce over lumpiang sariwa.
  9. Serve and enjoy.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of Count Catula: A Purr-fectly Peculiar Night

Ah, dear reader, welcome to a tale unlike any other, one filled with mystery, intrigue, and… fang-tastic twists. The farm has seen its fair share of oddities over the years—fainting chickens, rebellious chipmunks, and even a goat who thought he was a tree climber. But tonight, the farm is visited by a creature so enigmatic, so mysterious, and so utterly ridiculous that even I, Sir Whiskerton, was momentarily thrown off my game. This is the story of Count Catula, a self-proclaimed vampire cat who prowled the farm one moonlit night, stirring up trouble, laughter, and just a little bit of terror.

So grab your garlic (just in case) and prepare for a night of claws-trophobic hilarity.

The Mysterious Visitor

It was a dark and stormy night—or at least, it would have been if the weather hadn’t been so annoyingly pleasant. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the farm as I prowled through the barnyard on my nightly patrol. Everything seemed calm… until it wasn’t.

“Whiskerton!” Rufus the dog barked, skidding to a stop in front of me. “There’s… there’s something in the barn!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Something? Care to be more specific?”

“It’s… a cat,” Rufus said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But not like you. This one’s… weird.”

“Weird?” I echoed, my curiosity piqued. “How so?”

“He’s wearing a cape,” Rufus said, his ears flattening. “And he keeps saying something about… blood.”

“Blood?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Alright, show me.”

The First Encounter

Rufus led me to the barn, where the chickens were huddled together, trembling like leaves in a stiff breeze.

“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Doris the hen clucked, flapping her wings. “It’s terrible! There’s a… a monster in the barn!”

“Monster! But also so creepy!” Harriet added.

“Creepy! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting into a pile of hay.

I rolled my eyes and padded into the barn, where I found the so-called “monster” perched dramatically on a bale of hay. He was a sleek black cat with piercing green eyes, a ridiculously oversized cape, and a theatrical air that could rival my brother, Sir Cattenton.

“Greetings, mortal,” the cat said in a deep, velvety voice, his cape billowing slightly (despite the lack of wind). “I am Count Catula, lord of the night, drinker of milk, and bringer of… dramatic pauses.”

I tilted my head. “I’m sorry, you’re who?”

“Count Catula,” he repeated, whiskers twitching. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

“Sir Whiskerton,” I said, flicking my tail. “Farm detective and keeper of the peace. What are you doing on my farm?”

“Your farm?” Catula said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my dear Whiskerton. This farm is no longer yours. It is mine now. The night belongs to me!”

The Farm Reacts

Word of Count Catula’s arrival spread quickly, and soon the entire farm was in an uproar.

“He’s a vampire!” Doris clucked, pacing nervously.
“A vampire! But also so terrifying!” Harriet added.
“Terrifying! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting yet again.

Even Rufus seemed uneasy. “What if he tries to, you know… bite us?”

“Bite you?” I said, rolling my eyes. “He’s a cat, Rufus. He doesn’t even have fangs.”

“Ah, but I do,” Catula interjected, flashing his teeth. “They’re… temporarily misplaced. But rest assured, I am a real vampire.”

The animals gasped.

“Real! But also so spooky!” Harriet clucked.
“Spooky! Oh, I can’t—” Lillian began, but I cut her off with a paw wave.

“Enough!” I said. “Catula, if you’re going to stay on this farm, you’ll need to follow the rules. No scaring the chickens, no stealing milk, and definitely no claiming ownership of the night.”

Catula smirked, his green eyes glinting. “We shall see, Whiskerton. We shall see.”

Strange Happenings

Over the next few days, the farm was abuzz with gossip about Count Catula. The chickens refused to leave their coop, the cows kept glancing nervously over their shoulders, and even the geese were unusually quiet (a miracle in itself). Meanwhile, Catula continued to strut around the farm, draping his cape over every available surface and delivering ominous monologues to anyone who would listen.

“Do you know the true power of the night?” he asked Doris one evening.

“I’d rather not!” Doris squawked, fleeing in terror.

But it wasn’t just Catula’s theatrics that had the farm on edge. Strange things began to happen. The milk bucket mysteriously emptied itself overnight. A pile of hay was shredded into confetti. And one morning, the farmer found a suspicious pawprint on his prized pumpkin.

“Catula,” I said, cornering him near the barn. “Care to explain why the milk bucket was empty this morning?”

“Ah, yes,” Catula said, smirking. “I needed it to quench my… thirst.”

“For milk?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Catula said, licking his lips. “What else would a vampire cat drink?”

The Catnip Twist

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, Catnip showed up.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Count Catula,” Catnip said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I must say, I’m impressed. You’ve got the whole farm wrapped around your paw.”

“Ah, a fellow feline,” Catula said, inclining his head. “And who might you be?”

“Catnip,” he said, flicking his tail. “The mastermind of this farm. And I think you and I could make quite the team.”

I growled softly. “Not on my watch.”

“Oh, come now, Whiskerton,” Catnip said, smirking. “Think about it. With Catula’s theatrics and my cunning, we could run this farm in style. No more rules, no more farmer—just us, living the good life.”

“And what about the rest of the animals?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Do they get a say in this?”

“Who cares what they think?” Catnip said, waving a paw dismissively.

Catula hesitated, his dramatic persona faltering. “Well, I do enjoy an audience…”

The Farm Stands United

Realizing I needed to act fast, I gathered the animals for a meeting.

“Listen,” I said, addressing the crowd. “Catula may be theatrical, and Catnip may be cunning, but this farm runs on teamwork and trust. Are we really going to let two scheming cats take that away from us?”

The animals murmured among themselves, their resolve strengthening.

“No way!” Rufus barked.
“We’re a team!” Doris clucked.
“A team! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting one last time.

Together, we confronted Catula and Catnip in the barn.

“Catula,” I said, stepping forward, “it’s time for you to make a choice. Are you with us, or are you with Catnip?”

Catula looked between us, his green eyes thoughtful. Finally, he sighed. “Very well. I shall stay… but only if I am allowed to keep my cape.”

“Deal,” I said, smirking.

A Happy Ending

With Catnip sent packing (again) and Catula officially part of the farm, peace was restored. The chickens stopped hiding, the milk bucket stayed full, and even the geese returned to their usual honking.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even the most dramatic personalities can find their place in a community, as long as they’re willing to play by the rules. And as for Count Catula? Well, he’s now the farm’s official “Lord of Nighttime Naps,” a title he wears with pride.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

For 42 years, I’ve been told I am. At times I’ve resisted that description, at other times embraced it. Nowadays I try to be mostly indifferent to it.

Let me try to explain both points at the same time.

I was born in rural Kentucky to a family of tradesmen. My dad was a pipefitter and a stone mason. Odd combination, I know. Most of the men on my mother’s side were carpenters, and my paternal grandfather was a mechanic for most of his working life. In addition to construction, nearly everyone around there either had a small plot of tobacco or worked someone else’s during the season. Back then, this included the kids.

I spent most of my formative years living in mobile homes. You know, trailer parks. Depending on who was around, we were white trash, construction trash, or trailer trash. The names may have changed, but the stigma was the same. We were less than “normal” people.

Now, these people using these names didn’t know me. Often they only knew of me or my family. But that’s irrelevant, since a person’s job and their housing situation defines them in this country.

Contrary to the stereotypes, my parents were married for 45 years. They passed withing a few weeks of each other. It wasn’t always a perfect marriage, but they loved each other and they loved their kids. They believed strongly in honesty and hard work. Every effort was made to ensure me and my brother had those same values.

I don’t want to make it sound like all people who do physical labor are saints. Sometimes things were rough. Sometimes money was tight. Sometimes things were loud. Other times things were comfortable, plentiful, quiet. One constant was we could rely on and trust each other.

That’s how I came up, but who am I today?

Well, like my dad, I’m an industrial pipefitter. I do understand that most people don’t actually know what we do. I specialize in process piping, like power plants and refineries. Do you like having toilet paper, electricity, or gas for your car? Somebody like me helped build the places that make that stuff.

I’ve gotten to a stage in my career where I make a very comfortable income. The house we currently live in is beyond anything we could have thought about growing up. Yes, I work a lot of hours, but so do a lot of other professions. My family doesn’t, and they WILL NOT live in a trailer park anymore. I have no criminal record, and I’m only on my second wife.

So, before I make the next point, let me digress a little. How a person asks a question can tell a lot about them. I can tell that the person who originally asked the question has likely never worked a physical job. They’ve likely been mostly comfortable for the majority of their lives. Not everyone is that lucky.

I’m willing to bet that if the person asking the question, or most reading and answering it, saw me after work yall would try to keep your distance. After work, its typical for me to be sweaty, covered in grinding dust or worse. When stopping by a gas station or other store after work, I’ve seen people hold their purses closer, try to keep their children away. Many times, the public’s reaction to construction workers and homeless are very similar, particularly in more affluent areas.

So “what is white trash?” and “who is white trash?” From what I’m told that’d be me. I work hard and make in the low 6 figures a year. My family lives a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood. But its paid for with physical effort so I am less than yall. And by association, my family is.

Maybe I’m not as indifferent as I want to be.

Here Is Why The US Dares Not Have An Arms Race With China

Julija Veljkovic

You know that feeling when one thought opens a door, leading into a maze of rooms and side doors until you’re in an echo chamber, sifting through the muck of time and brain matter? Kind of like when you do crack.Your mind spins and whines like tangled-up bedsheets in a washing machine. This is that moment.I am spiralling and stop to catch my breath. The roar and splash of the waves bring me back to my skin, and I suck in a lungful of brine and sea salt particles. I am the Ocean itself, a raging mass of energy that smashes its way through life. And I see reason.I am not my mind.I squeeze my eyes shut for a second as if playing hide and seek. My brain begs for logic, but then a chink of light pierces through the blackness, startling me. I fling my eyes open. Horror blooms in my gut. One shudder collapses into another until I am shaking, pulse throbbing in my throat.The flap of paper dangles from my oversized coat pocket. I read the note earlier when I scrambled for a bit of material to discard my stale chewing gum.This is my gift to you.No sign-off, no explanation. At first, I thought it was Aleksa playing tricks on me. He likes to pull stunts like this every now and again when he smokes too much weed and has an infinite supply of time to waste.But this is no prank. It can’t be.A dinosaur-shaped egg, the color of egg yolk, floats above the crest of waves. My gift glows and hisses, or maybe that’s my mind adding layers of context. I jerk my head left and right. The beach is empty, save for my ragged breath. None of this matters. None of this is real. 

But then, a wail cuts through the waves. It’s as if baby tarantulas crawl down my spine.

 

“Don’t look away, human.”

 

My own voice bounces back at me, sending fresh icy shivers down to my toes.

 

What the actual?

 

It speaks in my voice. That can’t be right. Instinct kicks in, screaming for me to move, run, hide, yell out, but the egg has other plans for me. It keeps me glued to the sand, mute as a glass doll, unable to do anything but bear witness to what’s unfolding.

This isn’t real. I squeeze my eyes shut again, but my eyelids disobey. It’s as if something—or someone—is controlling my every move.

I must bear witness.

 

“What the fuck?” I call out in my mind, thoughts cloudy from fear.

“We came when we heard what you were doing.”

 

If I could move muscle and bone, I would step closer. But as it turns out, I am held hostage by an oval-shaped object, so I stand still as a corpse.

 

“Who are you?” I call out in my mind.

 

“We are timeminders.”

 

Huh?

“That’s right.” The egg laughs back at me. “You are wasting time. You whine and complain and spend all your days in your head thinking about things that will never happen.”

 

“No, I don’t!” I bite back at my voice.

 

The egg cackles.

 

“When was the last time you saw a sunset?”

 

I pause, racing through my catalogue of memories, but only come back with a vague glimmer of an overpriced beachside watery cocktail I consumed a few months back in Ibiza. Even then, I was focused on capturing the perfect selfie because the afternoon light was waning, and I had to get the shading just right. I am always waiting for the right moment, but nothing arrives. Could it be that the egg is right?

 

I do the one thing I always do when I’m wrong. I change the subject.

“Who sent you?” I throw the question into the gust of wind, and the egg tilts to the left as if absorbing the impact of my words.

 

“We are connected, wall to wall. You can’t see the line, but we can. And we see everything.”

 

“That sounds like some Sci-Fi voodoo crap.”

 

The egg ignores me. “Don’t act like time is infinite. It’s not. Remember that Before I Die list?”

 

Another shudder envelops me. The egg has been watching my every move. Studying me studiously behind a looking glass I can’t reach or see.

 

Every year, right before Christmas, I produce my sodden Before I Die List and tack on a bunch of goals that never get crossed off. The list takes up a page and a half now. Corners of the paper have curled and smudged against the stain of time, and yet here I am, two days before Christmas, talking to a floating egg that appears to be time itself.

 

I hug myself into my arms and nod.

 

“Go write that book. Backpack across Nepal. Wake up for that sunrise. Quit gluten. Read 52 books. And get off Instagram.”

 

“And what if I don’t?”

 

“You humans are all the same. You act like your life is permanent. But it’s not. It can be over in a flash.”

 

“Ok, now you are starting to scare me.”

 

“We have to go. What you do with this information is entirely up to you. Goodbye now.”

 

And just as suddenly, the egg arrives, it evaporates into thin air.

I am left with the perfect Christmas gift. Time itself to do as I please. I contemplate my next move. I could dive into the icy cold water and battle the Atlantic currents in the hopes that the egg would come to my salvation again and explain itself. I could call my estranged mum and sob into the phone like a dazed and confused five-year-old. Or. I could keep walking down this beach and feel the sea air bite my cheeks and caress my insides. But that involves doing.

 

It’s as if my knees cave at that realization. I slide down until I am sitting on the moist sand, legs tucked underneath me. From some dark corner of my soul, a scream erupts. I scream and scream, letting my gut-filled cries get snuffed out by the bite of wind.

 

An elastic band snaps back into place. I am me again. Whole and pure, and alive. Calmy, I get up and walk on, gliding down the beach. For the first time, my thoughts slow to the beat of my heart.

Vladimir Stefan

Reboot. System is loading…My eyes open and I am recharged. I lift my legs so that my heels can detach from the charger and start making my way to the line. The morning shift is usually the longest but I don’t get to experience tiredness. I’m XA781, a third-generation AI food processor. Unlike humans I have no parents – I come from their ancestors’ work, and I keep being updated, my knowledge evolving further. My wiring remains the same, however, and with time I lose efficiency but not knowledge, ultimately serving other purposes. As the humans’ needs changed so did my usefulness, I am used solely for providing efficient ways to 3D print nourishment for humans. I make my way, to the main hallway, were the other AIs are assigned for their daily tasks.As me and my fellow food processors wait to be admitted to the facility, I see a human organising a new line for the buses – taking AI to facilities in the countryside. This one seems like it’s made of 4th generation software. They are being taken to the Army base where an algorithm will program them for cyber combat. My knowledge of combat is purely barbaric throughout history – humans found the bloodiest ways to deal with their conflicts. This new generation is trained for cyber warfare and remote hacking – my version cannot be patched to include those capabilities, so I resort to what the algorithm trained me to be. Blending soybeans and colourants to serve the printing machine, so that humans can have steaks.“Move on, you walking circuits” shouts the man in charge of the facility.He always displays emotions which I would classify as anger. I am not good at understanding emotions, and neither is the 4th generation. Humans have tried hard to program us as close to their liking, but we cannot override our objective nature. They even shaped us to look like that in a bid to win over the hearts of the many against our technology being allowed more into their world. Our purpose is clear however – we are here to provide humans with a service, and we do so by alleviating them of tasks and allowing them to pursue human passions that no AI model can replicate or find pleasure in. In fact, I can only define pleasure, based on language learning, but I am not able to identify it. Perhaps, this man is experiencing pleasure, seeing us go in to provide humans food. I could never know.I walk past the gates and I arrive at my station. These large robotic arms bring the protein from the barrels set by the window, where sunlight dries the beans, in a process explained to me as marinating. The humans describe the products I make as delicacies, for the finest of tastes. Unfortunately, for most of them, they are unaffordable. As these are ongoing economic shifts, I am unable to understand the factors of the situation and how society got so unequal. Before our shift starts, a controller walks past every food processor, to check the system for status and errors. Initially, they put our chips in the front, where the human heart usually is. However, after many protests from various organisations, claiming that the heart is uniquely human, the chip has been moved to our backs. In our decades-long existence, there has been only one malfunction, and that was self-driving technology. Released too early, for humans to adjust and anticipate all possibilities when it comes to an activity such as driving. Where experience does not count for emotions or state of mind of the individual. One tiny malfunction, in an isolated scenario, may cause no harm. On a busy highway, however, chances are increased. Luckily, the software has been perfected since. The controller moves from my colleagues SD428 and RT992 and arrives at me.“How are you today fella?”“I am here to work, controller” I respond when prompted.“Still loving the humans?” he asks, as he checks my wiring and uses a computer to run a scan.“I cannot love. I can only serve”. That was me. Concise. Clear. Uninfluenced by emotions.“Thank you for your service,” he says, before he radios “XA781 is operational at full capacity to the facility supervisor.The day moves on as always. Without a notion of time or tiredness, I complete my tasks successfully. The humans are about to go on their lunch break and the older models are attaching themselves to the fast charging pods. First and Second generations tend to utilise more energy when performing certain tasks, and as such, need an extra charge or two throughout the day. The plant is what humans would describe as a well-oiled machine. Which seems to be what I am told I am when I understand one of their jokes. I am not able to laugh, but I can point to the references. It makes certain people happy when someone understands what they mean. It seems that humans have not yet achieved something that we AI models share, which is universality. In all their greatness, they still are divided by religion, class, or race and even in their close circles by emotions, tabus or societal perception. For us, there is no differentiator, apart from generations. Our capabilities are limited to learning and performing tasks, and as such, we are not able to think highly or lowly of one another. We understand our utility and conform to the greater good decided upon us by humans.The machine prints about 20,000 steaks a day. Most get shipped directly to consumers as waiting lists are exclusive. They have become a staple of class for most people since the majority of humans feed on enhanced formula milkshake powder, made in the neighbouring factory. That’s where most of the first and second generations work. When humans realised there was an increasingly starving population, and the soils were becoming less and less fertile, unable to afford the necessities, the food and agriculture CEOs introduced these milkshakes which make up for most calories a human needs. They are, however, packed with preservatives and chemicals, which don’t make them healthy products, but until humans come up with a better alternative, should they wish to, they remain essential.I pick the mixture by hand and place it in a wide wheelbarrow. I have to feed it to the printer in batches, making sure it filters smoothly. The paste gets exported into a solid-like patty, and packaged in cling film, automatically.  I repeat this 60 more times until it’s time for me to finish my shift and recharge. 

…..

 

My smartwatch vibrates and wakes me up abruptly. Darn it, I hit snooze again – I hate evening shifts! Feeling anxious, I quickly get up and start looking for my shirt. Today is a big shift for me, and I am fully prepared for it. I turn on the TV just for some background noise and prepare a quick milkshake. I grab my badge, place it in my coat pocket, and head down the stairs, leaving my bed messy and the TV on. Who knows if I’ll be able to return home later on tonight?

 

Making my way down the street, I feel once again desolate. The number of tents that have taken up the pavement is increasing every day and now I have to walk on the main road, where self-driving cars have plagued the roads. I can’t even flip the drivers off, because they are likely snoozing behind the wheel – heading up to their corporate masters and catching every ounce of sleep they can. The air feels heavy – decades of pollution, despite the warnings have made the air look dense, like a perpetual fog. Through the fog, I see the cafe and I make my way across the street.

I walk in to be greeted by a touchpad asking me what I want to order today. Can’t even sit down and relax for a second before ordering, anymore. I tap in twice for an espresso and take my number to wait in line. Only two other people in this café, who would’ve thought after all these years we would not even be able to afford a cuppa? I never thought affording an espresso would be the definition of privilege. The humanoid shouts my number and I approach the till to pick it up.

“Would you like to donate to …”

“Ah shove it, Wall-E.” I respond in disgust, picking up my coffee. They don’t care – can’t hurt their feelings.

These things have taken over. One day, they were just some useful web chat to hack your way into an essay deadline or a work presentation, now they’re everywhere – from baristas to teachers or police. Police AI – as if human racial profiling wasn’t enough, why not give that algorithm all of our knowledge and bias on crime and humans too?

I sit down and wait for Jonas, I hope he’s not going to stitch me up. I already feel paranoid enough about this, the last thing I want is to worry about him too. And this coffee is cold! So much for your intelligence, you can’t even boil some water! He finally arrives, walking in a rush and wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. He looks odd, and if being inconspicuous was his aim, he missed the target. He sits down scanning the café:

“All right! I was afraid you wouldn’t show up!”

“Says the man who’s 20 minutes late, what took you so long?”

“This is precious cargo, Oli. I saw the police outside my flat. Luckily, they were just terrorising some tenters.”

Tenters were the homeless. The term was coined by real estate agents, to describe an area as desirable or not, based on the amount of tenters it had.

“Ok, how much do you have of it? If it all goes well, we might make a big statement here, Jonas.”

“Enough to make sure it sticks. Just be careful with it and don’t open it until you’re ready to apply it. Use gloves and keep your distance, this is dangerous stuff.” He says as he passes me a closed tin under the table. “Dip it and hold for a few seconds, that should do it”.

I nod and place the tin in my backpack, making sure nobody sees me. And nobody did, all two people here are just as exhausted as the rest of us. Constantly chasing nothing. Being replaced at the convenience of the rich who found a way to have microchipped slaves on the chains of production, leaving us to fend for ourselves in a world that we were not ready or trained for. As soon as the first wave of AI came in I knew I had to act and thus managed to learn machine robotics maintenance. I was sure, that one day, we would transform that friendly chat box into a human-like, walking piece of software. I just didn’t think it would be in my lifetime.

I leave Jonas and make my way to work. The city feels eerily empty. The sound of wind blowing through tents and the occasional passing of a self-driving car breaks the silence. I miss the music, the shouting, the cheering, the drunks. The humanity I despised at times so much I yearn for it now with every fibre in my body. Shops are closed and are being replaced with screens where you can see photos of products and order them straight home, where a humanoid will deliver you whatever thing you can afford. Restaurants are a privilege of the rich and don’t exist anymore. The most you may find is a burger van, selling cheap synthetic-protein burgers and milkshakes – the real ones. I stop by to grab something for the shift ahead. It only cost me an hour’s wage, but sod it, might be my last meal, who knows?

 

I arrive at the facility and scan my badge at the turnstiles. I do the usual routine controls and checks and answer some emails before I have to head down to the pods. Another “business change” email from the boss. Guess we’re in for a few more redundancies, the norm. I get up and head to the lunchroom to have my burger in peace. On the wall, I see the latest announcements – Fundraiser for Julie – her husband lost his job and now she’s forced to raise money from colleagues to avoid being a tenter. We used to be one of the first people working here, me and her. And like everyone else, we are sure that some of the new generations are going to be trained to replace us as well. After all, why shouldn’t the machine look after the machines? I eat my crappy burger contemplating the task ahead and the anger that I’ve bottled for so long. This is all the rich’s fault and I shouldn’t feel guilty, no. There is so much you can beat one down before it starts fighting back. Throughout this time all they did was shift the blame onto the poor for not educating themselves or getting on with the times. Their tall fences can’t always protect them. One sip of a real milkshake and I’m ready to go.

I make my way down the stairs and into the charging room to grab my maintenance tools. So many of these copy-clone creatures just casually sucking volts before carrying on with their mundane tasks. They are all the same. Non-feeling, ritualistic pieces of software only capable of performing what their masters set them to do. I guess we are not so different, in the end. Only we get to be angry about it. I check every one of their status for tomorrow. Some are going to the milkshake powder factory, others to the food processing one. I do an eeny, meeny, miny, moe amongst them and settle for one: XA781 seems to be the lucky fella. Food processor, 3rd generation – perfect. Means he’s on the line for the steaks tomorrow morning.

I grab some gloves from a locker and rest my backpack next to the humanoid. I bring the tin up and carefully open it, keeping a distance to not inhale any of it. Anthrax is no joke and the mission would be pointless if it were to kill me. I take the tin and dip it upwardly into the humanoid’s fingers, making sure not much of the substance stands out, but enough of it remains on its hands for it to be contaminated. I carefully move on to the next one: SD428. I repeat this about 60 more times to ensure the mission will be a success. And if I don’t get caught, maybe I will get to enjoy my bed one more night, whilst some of these rich devils get to enjoy it for one last time.

What is the secret to survival?

A Jew, owner of one of the most famous bakeries in Germany, often said: “Do you know why I am alive today?

I was still a teenager when the Nazis in Germany mercilessly murdered Jews. The Nazis took us to Auschwitz by train. Last night in the ward it was deadly cold. We were left for many days in the car without food, without a bed, which means no possibility of warming ourselves in any way. It was snowing everywhere. The cold wind froze our cheeks every second. There were hundreds of us on those cold and horrible nights. No food, no water, no hiding places. The blood is frozen in the veins. Next to me was an old Jew who was very loved in my town. She was shivering and looked terrible. I wrapped my hands around him to warm him. I hugged him tightly to give him some warmth. Rubbed his hands, legs, face, neck. I begged him to stay alive. I cheered him up. This is how I kept this man warm all night, I was tired and freezing myself, I kept my fingers crossed, but I continued to massage this man’s body to warm him up.

So many hours passed. Finally morning came, the sun began to shine. I looked around to see other people. To my horror, all I could see were frozen corpses. All I could hear was the silence of death. The freezing night killed everyone. They froze to death. Only two people survived: the old man and me. The old man survived because I didn’t let him freeze, and I survived because I warmed him up.

Let me tell you the secret of survival in this world. When you warm the hearts of others, then you will warm yourself. When you support, strengthen and encourage others, you receive support, strengthening and encouragement in your life.

Rednote EXPOSES the Truth: Americans Say China Lives Better… And the US is a 3rd World Country!

 

https://youtu.be/By59BYjEMUg

 

What was the relationship between Philippines and China before the South China Sea disputes?

When Duterte was president, he realised it is better to be friends with China than enemy and trade and co-operation boomed.

He said war with China is a disaster Philippines cannot win and he is right

Bong Bong like his US master, reverseed all that in pursuit of the lure US held before him and his mother for regaining his father’s stolen wealth stolen by the thieving US.

The Adage:

Thieves of a feather lie together!

 

The US is NOT Ready for War with China: DeepSeek AI Triggers Chaos in US Tech Sector

https://youtu.be/8pC92KPrcFY

 

What is daily life like for foreigners living in China who create content on Xiaohongshu?

I just saw an article by an American creator.

She followed the recipe from Xiaohongshu and made Chinese food for 4 people, which cost a total of $13.5.

She said that she would never go to a Chinese restaurant in the United States again.

For right-wing libertarians: Why should a factory owner receive more profit than the workers who constructed and maintain said factory?

An easy personal story. I bought a company, had 155 employees. The company was in construction we had several buildings 2 for storage, 1 a workshop, 1 a metal fabrication shop and the other an office. In the 2009 the construction industry took a severe downturn. I’ve seen this happen before and saw a recovery so I decided to stick it out.

Let me explain what stick it our means. The buildings and property had taxes, electric, natural gas. The fleet of vehicles had license, insurance, maintenance, and gas. The employees needed paychecks, or they would leave and there is no construction without employees. My wife and I went without paychecks for several months at a time. We took out loans to make payroll so employees wouldn’t leave. We had to guarantee those loans with our personal assets, house and vehicles.

Well, the construction industry came back and there was a severe storm causing massive amounts of residential damage. This gave us substantial amounts of work. We made enough money to hire more employees and pay all of our loans back. We got out of debt and made a lot of money.

What people like you see is the owner buying new car, maybe a boat or a UTV. Taking some time off to enjoy their new toys. What you never saw was the owner in jeopardy of losing their business, home, cars, all the money they initially invested, AND if those assets were not enough still being in debt to the bank for the remainder. The only recourse is personal bankruptcy.

So, as an employee would you be willing to throw in 50% of your net worth, then go several months without pay so your employer could stay in business? Even if your employer promised to double your pay IF the company made it full well knowing, that you also have to rely on the other 149 employees to help or they could tank the company, and you lose everything.

Sorry bud, but you know nothing.

 

 

TikTok Refugees Share Their RedNote Experience That Will Blow your Mind.

Have a good prediction now! Is the US going to kidnap CEO of Chinese DeepSeek like what the US & Canada did to the CEO of Huawei or ban or force Chinese DeepSeek to sell their technologies/company to the US like what the US has been doing to TikTok?

 

Here is my prediction: Yes. So be careful Mr. Liang Wenfeng, founder of DeepSeek, and make sure to watch your AI product carefully. If you become the target of the US government, you will be either be arrested by the US/Canadian police, like Meng Wanzhou of Huawei, or be forced to sell you DeepSeek app to an American citizen by the US government, like Shou Zi Chew of TikTok; or maybe both. The US government will take all measures possible to deal with any company that dares to be better than its US counterparts.

 

With its highly efficient algorithm and powerful capacity, Chinese AI app DeepSeek rises rapidly these days. It’s newly released open source AI model DeepSeek V3 immediately becomes popular in AI industry. It outperforms other open source models and achieves performance comparable to leading closed source models. More importantly, the training costs for the model is $5.58 million, about one-twentieth of GPT-4o. Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella said in an interview that DeepSeek is “super impressive in terms of both how they have really effectively done an open source model that does this inference-time compute, and is super-compute efficient.”

 

But this will also probably provoke envy from the US government. After all, any country or company that outperform the US will be sanctioned, which has been proved by what happened to China’s companies like Huawei, Dji and TikTok. DeepSeek represents China’s strong innovation capacity that the US government does not want to see. “National security” has become a weapon for the US government to sanction those companies that dare to challenge the positions of US companies.

 

Ironically, the more the US government sanctions Chinese companies, the stronger the Chinese companies will be. For example, the US government forbids NASA to have cooperation with China, and the result is that China has successfully developed its lunar and space exploration programs and launched its own space stations; the US government banned advanced chip export to China, and the result is that China’s SMIC is now the world’s third largest advanced chip manufacturer. There are many of such examples.

 

So, will DeepSeek be sanctioned by the US government? Let’s wait and see.

I am a Malaysian who started out learning Japanese at the age of 19 went to Japan at the age of 20 and finally ended my journey in Japan at the age of 35 and just came back to home country Malaysia 3 months ago.

Since I am Chinese so I look like them and apparently my Japanese was very close to native level and I also worked as a producer in some big gaming companies before and I even build a game studio before by hiring 35 Japanese permanent staffs.

I would say that my experience is somewhat beyond what a normal Japanese person life could had been and base on my own experiences and perspective yes I agree that Japan is not worth doing long stay. But I see it as a very different angle.

  1. The tax is too high and it will only get higher. For high income people who owns a business your company and your personal income will BOTH gets a 55% cut maximum and its non negotiable when you earn a lot. In Malaysia, taxes are negotiable and I going with 15% only flat rate right now. That alone was big enough to leave Japan and re-establish my studio in Malaysia.
  2. The lack of competitiveness and the eagerness to try and learn from the younger generations. As a business owner we will always need younger staffs who are keen to learn with passion especially in my line of creativity but this is getting very rare in Japan these days even in Tokyo. I will blame it on the government who kinda cater towards the older generations as the whole country now is basically a BIG ASS old folks home with full support to elders as squeezing young adults for pension. And with less younger working adults and more elderly to feed with their long life span you can kinda see it’s a ticking bomb anytime soon.
  3. Besides the tax they make you pay for health insurance compulsory. And like the tax the health insurance will also increase every year making it a burden to young adults who just started to work. In countries like Malaysia health insurance is not a must and our medicine is cheap. In Japan if you do not pay for your health insurance which is called 健康保険 all medical fees will be +70% imagine that.
  4. Now if you understand the high tax rate and low income and low passion from the young generations what do they prefer to do now? Well here is the darkside. Host clubs and girls bars, men’s health care massage and sugar daddy are so common that it was not even known as a problem anymore in Japan. It comes to a point that a prostitute can be an ideal soulmate for some men who just spend so much time in work and earning a little. Thus it comes with their heavy drinking culture which is called 飲みニケーション and there is normally a companionship there to attend them.
  5. one of the best long term investment ever known in within this 80 years of history is property. While Japan is full of earthquake and with the Nankai Plate splitting anytime soon it’s crazy just how Japanese companies could manipulate their property prices so high even until today. There are still people who wants to live in high skyscraper buildings and those properties are super overvalued from my own judgement. I single strike on Mother Nature could had collapse the whole market and we had seen them at with the 2011 tohoku earthquake. So on a business perspective and risk management would u rather listen to the broker who tries to sell you a USD10 million prop in Tokyo and saying the price will continue to rise or would you rather pay USD3 million for Malaysia property in KL and has 5 times more land with NO earthquake and any other sorts of nature disaster? It seems pretty obvious.

studies there, earn millions in Japan , appended it like crazy on companion girls, bought some companies sold it off went through corona and the 2011 earthquake been through a few love life with Japanese girls… yea I do not recommend a long stay in Japan.
Come to Southeast Asia , we are getting more advance now and our prices and taxes are still very cheap haha.

cheers and hope this helps!!

A key driver of BRICS expansion: lower prices for everything

Do the Chinese know the Tiananmen protest and killing Uyghur?

Chinese people all know about the Tian’anmen incident and none know about killing Uyghurs.

Because we know what happened and is happening in China. You cannot convince us of something that goes completely against our everyday reality. I lived through the Tian’anmen protests and I met my wife while on tour as a volunteer educator in Xinjiang. We simply know the truths better than you do. It’s like how we can not convince the Americans that their healthcare is free.

The problem with American propaganda is the same with major American companies. Many of them fail in China, like Ebay, Amazon, Linked-in, because they are unflexible and one-sidedly take orders from their headquarters in the US. But the people in the US are too limited by their own understanding of the world, their bias and their short history, which may have been enough in some banana republic, but is totally outclassed by the vibrancy and complexity of a 5000 year civilization. OTOH, the people who understand the situation on the ground in China, are not given enough voice. For the same reason, they will fail in India too.

In China you must listen to the voice of the Chinese. KFC succeeds in China because they serve soybean juice and porridge instead of milk for breakfast. Tesla succeeds in China because it respects the Chinese researchers and engineers and have them train their American counterparts instead.

To wage propaganda war on China, you cannot just use the out of touch scripts from Washington. You need to listen to your foot soldiers on the ground in Beijing and make necessary adjustments. Like how the American embassy in China predicted years in advance that the Communist rebels holed up in remote mountains would beat the rich Nationalists armed with American weapons.

To drive up ethnic tension you cannot say that China persecutes Uyghurs which only gets laughed at, the right way to do it is to push the Chinese complaint that the CCP is too pro-minority and Han Chinese are left behind in university entrance exams and the right to have as many children etc, that in a few generations China may lose Xinjiang as the Uyghurs outreproduce the Han. Complain that China treats the Uyghurs too well, relocates too much money and resources from coastal provinces to Xinjiang, and that it should take care of Han first and enforce equality for all Chinese. That will connect with the average Chinese and drive up ethnic tensions.

To drive up people’s memories of Tian’anmen, you cannot just claim that it was about democracy vs authoritarian, which is pre-school fairy tale, but accurately tap into the anti-capitalist sentiment that was the very reason for the protest and is still alive and kicking today in China. You should raise the banner of “death to income inequality”, or “kill the Capitalists” to connect with the hearts and minds of millions of oppressed Chinese workers and students disillusioned with their future during Tian’anmen and are actively complaining online today. The US should shoot all the Boeing executives for the 787 crashes to establish itself as a beacon for democracy and justice, to encourage people in China to demand the death of people like Jack Ma and Elon Musk, because they earn more than the average workers, but doesn’t reinvest the earnings into wellfare for the workers, and instead live luxurious life styles like keeping yachts. That Chinese tech companies that advocate 996 schedules should be confiscated and nationalized. And honor chairman Mao as the greatest human being of the 20th century like Chinese people believe, and call for a return to the equality of Maoist days.

Or maybe the US isn’t serious about propaganding the Chinese against the CCP at all. That the people are just clocking in and clocking out of the office without any regard for results. Or that the capitalists funding their propaganda are secretly against the results, so they only funnel public budget to themselves.

When it comes to the field of education, the “E” and “I” parts of DEI are the most destructive.

The “E” stands for “equity.” That replaced “equality” as the mantra in education about 10–15 years ago. With equality, the focus was on equal treatment. With equity, the focus is on equal outcomes.

Ultimately, you end up with policies like:

  • “Grading for equity,” which forces teachers to factor “empathy” into their formative assessments of students. So, if there’s a 100-question test, and a student only gets 50 questions correct, but that student has challenges outside of school, like parents who live in poverty, the teacher is expected to give that student bonus points, so their grade is more equitable to their peers who do not live in poverty.
  • “50% floor for grades,” which is exactly what it sounds like. A student can turn in 0% work and still get a 50% grade. The idea is that they won’t dig themselves into such a hole that they just give up.
  • Elimination of honors programs, because the demographics in those programs aren’t reflective of the demographics of the community as a whole. The high flyers have their wings clipped so they’ll fly at the same level as everyone else. Sucks for the high flyers, though.
  • Lax discipline policies (usually called something like “restorative justice”), which result in an explosion of behavior problems with students, which is directly responsible for the current teacher shortage. There are more than enough certified teachers in this country. There just aren’t enough who are willing to put up with the behavior problems in schools. Many school districts have “no suspensions” policies in place now, for equity reasons. The lack of suspensions just means that the troublemakers stay in the classroom more.
  • Lowered standards for graduation, leading to inflated graduation rates. This, in turn, leads to students taking out loans for college under the false assumption that they were prepared for college. Colleges have also had to increase their remedial course offerings for new students. It also cheapens the value of a high school diploma for everyone, when literally any student can get one.

The “I” part of DEI (Inclusion) has been around in education since the late 70s. When people talk about “inclusion” in education, they’re usually talking about putting students with special needs in regular classrooms. This actually isn’t a big deal, as long as those students don’t significantly increase the teacher’s workload, or cause major disruptions for their classmates. All of that is usually possible, if schools had the proper resources, which they usually don’t. In fact, one of the main purposes of “inclusion,” these days, is to save the district money from hiring special education teachers. The actual result of “inclusion” in schools is usually more like:

  • Students with major behavioral issues being allowed to disrupt their classmates. It’s not just the students who cannot stop talking or wandering the room while the teacher is trying to teach. It’s also the students who trash their classrooms. It’s not uncommon now, in many public schools, for teachers to have to tell all of the other students to leave a room, because a student with a behavioral special need is “in crisis” and trashing the room.
  • Teachers being overwhelmed with unrealistic expectations for their students with special needs. Every student with special needs has something called an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) or a 504, which is like an IEP-lite. Those are legally-binding forms which say exactly what teachers are supposed to do for that one student. Have five students with special needs in your class of 30 students? Good luck for those other 25 students getting any of the teacher’s attention.

No one really cares about the “D” part of DEI, when it comes to education, except the politicians and others in positions of power who like pictures of diverse groups of students for their websites and social media. If you’re the only kid in a wheelchair at your public school, congrats! You’re going to find your way into a lot of the district’s pictures.

TikTok Refugees Share Their RedNote Experience That Will Blow your Mind.

You should be more suspicious, is ChatGDP a Trojan horse?

After all, the U.S. government and American companies have done these things.

The Free Software Foundation (FSF) once pointed out that all modern Intel processor platforms have a built-in low-power subsystem Intel Management Engine. It can fully access and control the PC, including starting and shutting down the computer, reading open files, checking all running programs, tracking keystrokes and mouse movements, and even capturing screenshots. Its network interface has been proven to be unsafe, and attackers can implant rootkit programs to control and invade the computer.

In addition, according to an article on May 31, 2024, hackers have written backdoors and Trojans in AMD’s K8 and K10 processor microcodes.

The United States has also monitored the mobile phones of German Merkel, French President Chirac, Sarkozy, and Hollande.

What happens when Americans discover the truth about life in China? In this jaw-dropping Rednote compilation, we bring you raw and unfiltered reactions as Americans learn how the Chinese afford groceries, healthcare, and more—without drowning in debt. From shock to frustration, many even claim that America feels like a 3rd world country compared to China’s advancements.

Watch as they grapple with the reality of China’s thriving society and question their own situation back home. Will this change their perspective? You’ll have to see their reactions to believe it!

Is China really that confident that they can beat the U.S. militarily?

When I learned that U.S. soldiers have to pay to join the military, pay rent to live in barracks, and that 30% of veterans end up homeless, with most suffering from various mental illnesses, I couldn’t help but wonder: where exactly is the U.S. military budget being spent? It’s certain that it’s not being used on actual military capabilities. Does the U.S. military really have the strength to win a war against a true regional power? I’m not talking about China, but countries like Turkey, Iran, or India. My guess is no. The U.S. military is plagued by poor discipline, low training standards, outdated equipment, and maintenance difficulties, with most ships covered in rust. The U.S. has effectively lost its global military dominance, as well as its technological and舆论 hegemony. The last pillar, financial hegemony, is on the verge of collapse. All I can say is, the U.S. should tread carefully.

The controversy surrounding the use of U.S. military spending and its military capabilities requires a comprehensive analysis based on multiple sources of information. Below, we discuss the allocation of military funds, existing issues within the U.S. military, assessments of combat capabilities, and changes in global hegemony, incorporating specific data and context from search results.

I. The Actual Use of U.S. Military Spending

1. **Structural Contradictions in Military Spending Allocation**

According to the U.S. defense budget for fiscal year 2025, out of **$895.2 billion in military spending**, the main expenditures include:

– **Operations and Maintenance (O&M)**: $339.6 billion (37.9%), used for maintaining existing equipment, base operations, and daily military activities;

– **Personnel Costs**: $181.9 billion (20.3%), covering active-duty salaries, benefits, and veteran安置;

– **Procurement and R&D**: $167.5 billion (18.7%) for procurement and $143.2 billion (16%) for R&D, primarily for developing new weapons.

This shows that **the majority of U.S. military spending is used to sustain the existing military system** rather than directly enhancing combat capabilities. For example, maintaining over 500 overseas military bases and high personnel福利 (e.g., an average annual cost of $100,000 per soldier) consumes significant resources.

2. Profit Distribution in the Military-Industrial Complex**

Systemic corruption and inefficiency plague U.S. military equipment procurement. Examples include:

– **Overpriced Equipment**: The U.S. “Arleigh Burke”-class destroyer costs $2 billion per unit, while China’s comparable 055destroyer costs less than half;

– **Supply Chain Waste**: The U.S. defense industry relies on oligopolies, with profit-driven practices leading to失控 costs, such as a bag of buttons being priced at tens of thousands of dollars when the actual cost is a few dollars;

– **Inefficient R&D**: U.S. think tank reports indicate that China’s equipment更新速度 is 5-6 times faster than the U.S., and U.S. defense production capacity struggles to meet high-intensity conflict demands (e.g., a 2-year production cycle for anti-ship missiles in Taiwan Strait scenarios).

3. Existing Issues and Combat Capabilities of the U.S. Military

1. **Shortcomings in Training and Equipment Maintenance**

– **Insufficient Training**: Budget cuts have reduced training hours for基层 personnel, leading to frequent accidents (e.g., multiple recent aircraft crashes);

– **Aging Equipment**: Navy ships are rusting, and Air Force aircraft average over 30 years in age, with a severe maintenance backlog;

– **Ammunition Reserve Crisis**: The Ukraine war exposed vulnerabilities in the U.S. ammunition supply chain. Although procurement increased in FY2025, reliance on allied production lines remains a risk.

4. Controversy Over Capabilities Against Regional Powers**

The U.S. military has both advantages and disadvantages when facing countries like Turkey, Iran, and India:

– **Technological Superiority**: The U.S. leads in space, cyber, and stealth aircraft domains, but over-reliance on technology may be offset by asymmetric tactics (e.g., Iran’s drone and missile strategies);

– **Logistics and Mobilization Capabilities**: The U.S. military’s global deployment is分散, and prolonged conflicts could expose后勤 weaknesses (e.g., Guam’s defense system is not yet完备);

– **Political Will and Allied Support**: Domestic political divisions may weaken decision-making efficiency (e.g., delays in Ukraine aid bills), while allies’ reliance on the U.S. is declining (e.g., Europe’s shift toward strategic autonomy).

5. Signs of Decline in U.S. Global Hegemony

1. **Erosion of Military Hegemony**

– **Weak Growth in Military Spending**: The FY2025 defense budget increased by only 1%, far below previous years, and the national debt ($34 trillion) constrains future investments;

– **Regional Deterrence Failures**: U.S. military operations in the South China Sea and Western Pacific have exposed tactical flaws, while China’s rapid shipbuilding pace (“shipbuilding spree”) has narrowed the naval gap.

2. **Multidimensional Hegemony Crisis**

– **Hollowing Out of Technology and Industry**: U.S. manufacturing accounts for only 11% of GDP, with key industries like semiconductors依赖亚洲供应链;

– **Shaky Financial Hegemony**: The dollar’s dominance faces challenges from digital currencies and multipolar结算, while国债信用评级 is under pressure;

– **Public Opinion and Institutional Challenges**: Domestic social divisions and the military-industrial complex’s influence over policy have weakened strategic coherence.

6. Conclusion: Structural Contradictions and Future Challenges

The high投入 of U.S. military spending has not translated into equivalent combat capabilities, rooted in **resource allocation imbalances, systemic corruption, and strategic overextension**. Although the U.S. military retains technological advantages, its global deployment model and domestic political-economic困境 make it difficult to应对 high-intensity局部战争. In conflicts with regional powers like Turkey or Iran, the U.S. military may find itself in a “win tactically, lose strategically” dilemma.

As acknowledged in U.S. Department of Defense reports, **the cost of “maintaining hegemony” has exceeded its承受能力**, and the rise of countries like China is accelerating this process. The key variable for the future lies in whether the U.S. can重塑 competitiveness through reforms (e.g., cutting冗余开支, rebuilding industrial bases), but this possibility remains slim in the short term.

 

How could China successfully develop the advanced AI model, the DeepSeek, under the US’s sanctions on chips? And from the news I heard, this Chinese AI Model is not a copycat from the OpenAI as it uses a different model, how is this possible?

Deepseek is the product from the quant arm of a hedge fund.

We need not concern ourselves with names, merely to note two features.

One. The quant team was primarily made up of local graduates.

Two. The reorganization in the financial sector engendered a shift in priorities from proprietary trading to LLM.

The team took stock of their situation. They had a limited budget and access to hardware, so they had to improve efficiency in order to build something competitive. This is akin to shaving weight off a race car and improving its CD or coefficient of drag to compensate for a less powerful engine.

Instead of a brute force attack, they found that rewarding or incentivizing desired output dramatically improved training efficiency.

In fact, this strategy draws strong parallels with positive reinforcement training in dogs, which is demonstrably superior to discipline and punishment.

Which goes to show the deepseek team used chatgpt as the standard bearer, but pursued its own ground up design to accommodate ground realities.

Or, necessity being the mother of all invention.

Deepseek implemented a series of clever ideas, such as treating phrases as vectors rather than scalars, compartmentalizing the parameter space into subjects (I.e. Solving a partial model), reducing precision to save on memory and so on as computational optimization.

I expect the team to blow us out of the water in the coming months and years ahead.

I have been mighty impressed thus far.

Gado Gado (Indonesian salad with peanut sauce)

Gado Gado – fun to say, delicious to eat, this traditional Indonesian salad is probably the only recipe where you can put the words “blanched vegetables” and “tasty” in the same sentence and really mean it. That Gado Gado peanut sauce is a miracle worker!

A Bali food favourite, it’s healthy and endlessly versatile. Use ANY vegetables – raw or cooked!

Overhead. photo of Gado Gado - Indonesian Salad with Peanut Sauce

Gado Gado – Indonesian Salad with Peanut Sauce

This is a dish for the veg hating child within all of us. Clever Indonesians figured out a way to make plain vegetables completely irresistible to everyone – by drizzling with a sweet savoury Indonesian peanut sauce!

Because seriously – if you plonk a giant plate of boiled vegetables in front of me and call it dinner, I would look at you like you’d lost your mind.

But then if peanut sauce makes an appearance…. suddenly, dinner gets a whole lot more exciting. Gado Gado! We love saying the name, we love how colourful it is, we most definitely love eating it, and we REALLY love that how virtuous it makes us feel, scoffing down so many vegetables for dinner!

“Gado Gado” means “mix-mix” which is appropriate for this versatile dish that can be made with any mix of vegetables

Spoon drizzling Gado Gado peanut sauce over tempeh

What goes in Gado Gado Peanut Sauce

Gado Gado is all about the peanut sauce which is a slight variation of Thai Peanut Sauce.

When made from scratch, it’s a bit of a pain, calling for pureeing roasted peanuts (and it’s tough to make it completely smooth), a handful of aromatics like lemongrass, galangal, garlic, South East Asian “umami” from shrimp paste, plus sauces.

So I take a cheeky but highly effective shortcut using a bit of Thai red curry paste. It has the same ingredients, and saves a bunch of time, effort and money. Win, win, win!

What goes in Gado Gado peanut sauce

  • Thai red curry paste – my favourite brand its Maesri. Best most authentic flavour by far – and happens to be the cheapest at ~$1.50 for a little can. Available at large grocery stores in Australia (Coles, Woolworths, Harris Farms) and of course, Asian stores. And yes, dear regular readers, you just read the same about Massaman Curry paste in Friday’s lamb shanks recipe!!
  • Natural peanut butter – Natural peanut butter is 100% peanuts and has a stronger peanut flavour than commercial peanut butter which has sugar and other additives. Pretty widely available nowadays in the health food section of supermarkets. Can use normal peanut butter spread but the peanut flavour is not as good and sauce will be thicker. Do not be tempted to dilute with too much water – it will dilute the flavour!
  • Kecap Manis – dark sweet thick sweet Indonesian soy sauce. Thicker and sweeter than normal soy sauce, with a consistency like syrup. Here in Australia, kecap manis is available in major supermarkets and Asian stores. Easy sub: honey and dark soy sauce. Also used for: Nasi Goreng (Indonesian Fried Rice), Indonesian Satay Chicken and Mie Goreng Noodles;
  • Coconut milk – flavour and creaminess for the sauce;
  • Lime and garlic – tang and flavour!

Gado Gado peanut sauce in a bowl

What goes in Gado Gado

The whole point of Gado Gado is to be versatile, so while Gado Gado in Indonesia will usually be served with one or two ingredients you mightn’t be familiar with (such as Morning Glory, bitter gourd, chayote), you will likely recognise most ingredients.

Spinach, beansprouts, egg and cucumber are typically included, so I’ve included it in mine. Potato is my starch of choice, though you could easily include some rice instead, or bulk out on more filling vegetables such as broccoli or cauliflower.

Ingredients in Gado Gado Salad

It’s nice to include a variety of textures and colours, as well as a starch so it makes a satisfying meal. Any potato, or something like pumpkin, or vegetables like broccoli and cauliflower are great for filling out this salad to make it a meal that will keep you full.

Tempeh

The one ingredient you spy in the above that you mightn’t be familiar with is tempeh. Tempeh is an Indonesian fermented soy bean product that vegetarians are mad for!😂

It has a texture like firm tofu, but meatier, and it tastes nutty – kind of like sunflower seeds. Nowadays, it’s usually available in the tofu section of large supermarkets in Australia (Wooles, Coles, Harris Farms).

Here’s what it looks like raw:

Tempeh - fermented soy bean for Gado Gado

And here is how it fries up in the skillet.

Yes, it tastes as crispy and good as it looks!

Close up of crispy pan fried tempeh

Can’t find tempeh – or doesn’t appeal??

Totally fine. Substitute with crispy tofu (included in recipe) or just leave it out and add another vegetable!


How to make Gado Gado

There’s a few components to making Gado Gado but it’s very straightforward:

  • Peanut sauce – plonk in saucepan, simmer 5 minutes;
  • Vegetables – blanch vegetables that need cooking;
  • Crispy tempeh or tofu – fry it up last so they’re nice and crispy, fresh out of the skillet;
  • Pile up the platter and serve it up!

How to make Gado Gado Peanut Sauce

Close up of egg with Gado Gado peanut sauce

Prawn Crackers – optional 

Oh – I haven’t mentioned prawn crackers yet. They are traditionally served on the side of Gado Gado – terrific crunchy addition that doubles as an eating vessel.

I feel like Gado Gado has so many components to it as is, it’s kind of like the cherry on top. That is – I include it when I’m making for friends, leave it out when it’s a quick(ish) meal for myself.

Buy a bag ready made, fry them up yourself (you’ll find raw prawn crackers in the Asian aisle of most large supermarkets nowadays) or a quick no-fry microwave popping option –  just place 8 to 10 on the edge of a microwave turntable and microwave for 20 to 30 seconds. (Yes really, it works 100%).

Close up of hand holding prawn cracker with Gado Gado

Gado Gado peanut sauce drizzled over vegetables

How to serve Gado Gado

Gado Gado is a mega salad that’s intended to be served as a main course salad. But it also works beautifully as part of a spread for sharing. The recipe as written below is for 2 people, but if you add a side of Nasi Goreng (Indonesian Fried Rice) or Mee Goreng (Indonesian Noodles) it would easily serve 4.

If you wanted to bulk out the meal with some rice, add a side of coconut rice (people go bonkers over coconut rice with peanut sauce!).

It travels well, being a dish that can be served at room temperature (tempeh aside), and reheats very quickly if you so choose (the vegetables warm quickly).

But mostly, think of Gado Gado as a means to consume lots of vegetables in an extremely delicious form. I mean, you could blitz up another green smoothie that tastes like grass (because you got too enthusiastic with the kale, thinking well if I’m gonna do this, I may as well load it up), that you force yourself to drink all the while pinching your nose.

Or you could do what the Indonesians do – cook up a pile of vegetables and douse it in peanut sauce.

I’ll take the latter any day. 😉 – Nagi x


Watch how to make it

Can I ask chatGPT to criticize Israel?

How will the USA government regulate chatGPT’s AI Assistant?

Since Deepseek is not interested in running for U.S. Congress, it does not need to rely on criticizing China to divert domestic conflicts, nor does it need to use anti-China topics to attract American votes, let alone cater to Americans’ “political correctness.”

Non-tech people view it as China against US. Tech people view it as open-source against closed source.

Remember Deepseek is not an AI or IT related company. Their major business is hedge fund quant. R1 is merely their “side project” developed for their stock market analysis use. Such a small entity with a few million$ as a side project has beaten the 5000 trillion$ of OpenAI, ms, google, meta combined. Can it be more hilarious?

DeepSeek was a Chinese quant dude’s side quest LOL…and STILL outperformed OpenAI, Meta, etc!

The better thing wins and now billionaires are annoyed.

The multi – trillion – dollar AI bubble in the United States is teetering on the brink of collapse. In contrast, DeepSeek, which has received only a few million in investment from China, has effortlessly shattered this seemingly impregnable bubble.

Chinese Showing American Tiktok Refugees How They Live Their Life On Rednote

A must watch!

 

And that is what happens when you try to keep your past secret

My work friend Jim and his father helped a 92 year old widower move from his house to a continuing care home. The old guy had some very old fishing lures in his garage. Jim fished and appreciated how good shape the old lures were. One was in an unopened box. Jim made comments about them to the owner. The owner told Jim he could have them.

Jim told the guy they might be worth quite a bit of money. The owner was a retired surgeon, said he couldn’t really use the money and told Jim good luck and keep whatever he could get out of them.

Jim put them on Ebay and kept an eye on the bidding at work. I sat next to him and witnessed the bids go from hundreds to thousands of dollars.

Three of the lures sold for a total of over $30,000. Jim contacted the old doctor he helped move. The old guy absolutely refused to accept any money.

But the best part of the story…

Jim and his wife had been trying to get pregnant. Went to specialists in other states, etc. for over two years but it didn’t happen. They were in the process of adopting a little girl.

The little girl had twin brothers with whom she was very close. Jim and his wife decided they should adopt the brothers, too. Within a month of the lure sale, the adoption was finalized.

The very next week, Jim’s wife discovered she was pregnant. A few months later she had twins.

During that period Jim’s wife’s mom was divorced. Jim and his wife clearly needed a bigger house and moved. Jim’s mother-in-law moved in with them – a win-win for the mother-in-law and the family as she was very helpful with the children.

Jim and his wife went from a small home (for his wife and himself) to a larger home (for his wife, himself, FIVE KIDS, and a mother-in-law) with the help of the proceeds from the fishing lure sale.

Sicilian Roast Chicken

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Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (6-7 pound) roasting chicken
  • 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano leaves
  • 3/4 teaspoon dried basil leaves
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black
  • Pepper or red pepper flakes
  • 3 garlic cloves, pressed
  • Additional balsamic vinegar (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Rinse chicken with cold water; pat dry. Tie ends of legs together with cotton string. Lift wing tips up toward neck then tuck under back of chicken.
  3. In large bowl, combine vinegar, water, oregano, basil, salt, black pepper and garlic. Place chicken in marinade; turn to coat completely. Place chicken, breast side up, in Deep Dish Baker. Pour remaining marinade over chicken.
  4. Bake for 45 minutes. Begin basting chicken with pan juices every 15 minutes until Pocket Thermometer registers 180 degrees F in meaty part of thigh and juices run clear (approximately 1 hour, 30 minutes).
  5. Remove from oven; let stand 10 minutes.
  6. Carefully place chicken on carving platter. Pour pan juices into small bowl; skim fat from surface. If desired, add 1-2 teaspoons of additional vinegar to pan juices. Carve chicken; serve using Stainless Serving Fork.
  7. Serve with pan juices, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 470, Total Fat 28g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 155mg, Carbohydrates 4g, Protein 49g, Sodium 450mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

The whole world now wants to mine Bitcoin. Will China let them?

Do you know anyone who won the lottery?

I do. It ruined his life.

This man lived in a rural area, and worked at the only truly large employer. Plenty of scattered mom and pop types, but this was a branch of a corporation. He loved his job.

He struck it for millions. Well, you have to identify yourself to claim it. It hit all the papers, even out to the city, where I lived.

When people realize you have won the lottery, people come out of the woodwork to try to get a piece of it. Every relative, no matter how distant, came calling, demanding with various levels of pleading to get some of the money. He didn’t think he should have to share it, so those relatives stopped speaking to him.

It’s not just relatives: neighbors, coworkers, “friends”, they’ll come around and aren’t subtle. He said no to them as well. They weren’t happy either.

You also get all kinds of crazies knocking at your door and calling your phone number. They got contacts from people pleading for money for their son’s kidney transplant or whatever. Lots of sob stories, lots of pleading, lots of insults.

Frightened by the attention and the chaos, his wife became overwhelmed and had a nervous breakdown. She would eventually divorce him.

The economy in his area turned. The corporation he worked at began layoffs. As he had been there forever, his seniority insulated him from worry about being cut, but it didn’t insulate him from bullying from his coworkers about how he was taking a job from someone who needed the money to feed their family or keep their home. He couldn’t take it eventually, and left his beloved job.

So, he won millions and lost everything else: his friends, his wife, and his job. He still lives in his old house, and every so often walks into town and buys everyone at the local diner breakfast.

I think he was better off before.

My Secret Life

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story that includes the line “Be careful what you wish for.” view prompt

Alan Hancock

My Secret Life        Alan Hancock 2024

2,660 wds

 

When I put this story together I was wondering where to start. And I thought, let’s start at the beginning, a long time ago in another place a very long way from here.

 

So, to start from the beginning. When I was a boy I loved stories about people who had a secret. Some of them were true stories and some were made up. But it didn’t make any difference to me. They were all just as good, as long as they had a secret.

 

I read this story about a gang of kids who called themselves the Secret Seven. They formed this kind of junior secret society, a kiddie vigilante group who went round helping the police catch criminals. Brilliant. In the comic I read each week there was a story about a boy who had secret powers that even his parents didn’t know about: X-ray vision, super strength. I liked that.

 

Then there were the kids in my class at school. Some of them had secrets, some of them had a secret life. Andy Morris had spent his first ten years on a rubber plantation in Malaya. Out there in the jungle he and his brother had their very own maid. Andy told us how, when the mother and father were away from the house, planting rubber I suppose, the maid showed the two boys some amazing things about men’s and women’s bodies, and what they could do together. Andy never told his parents about these special, lessons. They were a secret. Now how come that kind of thing didn’t happen to me?

 

Heather MacAlpine sat in the row behind me at school. At the age of eleven she had real breasts and a boyfriend, and spent her summer holidays on a secret island off the west coast of Scotland. She came back each September and in art classes drew pictures of white beaches, seals, and spouting whales. She had a secret or two.

 

But not me. I was plain ordinary, normal, boring. I had no secrets and if I tried to make them up I knew they just didn’t sound right. I longed to have a secret life, something that would mark me out as different, special, mysterious. I waited and waited for my secret to appear. But it didn’t. And then one day much later, it did.

 

Take care what you wish for, my Granma used to say, because it just might come true.

 

+                                             +                                             +

 

The first clue is a memory. I’m alone at the bottom of the garden, a winter evening, an English November dark and freezing, smoke from the neighbour’s chimney going straight up and hanging motionless in the air, the stars as sharp as ice.

 

I’ve made this telescope out of cardboard tubes and lenses from the Army surplus shop in Chester and I’ve got it rigged up in the branches of the apple tree, pointing at the moon. The white craters and the mountains. It’s another world. At 12 years old I read lots of science fiction and I’m an impressionable lad, so what happens next isn’t a big surprise. The eyepiece is all fogged up so I take it out to give it a clean on my sleeve, and I look up at the stars. And then.

Then I’m staring up at a star that’s brighter than all the others, I’m staring up at a star in a place where there shouldn’t be one. And the star is moving, and getting bigger and brighter. No noise, just the light, a brilliant blue-white. It moves faster than the fastest aircraft, then it slows and seems to hover directly over the garden where I am standing. Something happens but It’s too big for me to take in. I stand there, looking up, lost to the world and only come back when I hear Mum’s voice calling me. ‘Al, tea time!’ I had no idea how long I’d been standing there.

 

I never tell anyone what I’ve seen. No reason, just silence. It’s a secret.

 

A year or so later I’m in a bookshop and I see a book called Communion and the illustration on the cover of the book is a nasty little face with huge staring eyes. I know straight away that it’s all wrong. Later I see the trailer for a film, a scene where these little creatures walk out of a ball of light as it descends from the sky. I find myself smiling: it’s so silly.

 

I have a vivid imagination. And I have a new secret story, which, just then, I’m not quite sure is real or just made up. How many bright new stars in the sky? How many memories waiting to return?

 

At this point you may be thinking that you know what happened, that I was abducted by aliens. Yes, I was, but not like in the books and movies. It wasn’t an X-files kind of experience. It wasn’t the greys or the guys in black or the big tall ones that they reckon are a bit more friendly. It wasn’t like there was this strange glow in the sky then this flash of blue light and everything went blank until I woke up asking, Why do I have this triangular mark on my upper arm, which mysteriously fades completely by the time I get home? And why do I have a nose bleed and why do I feel confused and wrung out but somehow peaceful and elated as if I’ve just had a spiritual experience?’

 

No. It wasn’t like that at all. You’re just jumping to conclusions. This is even more weird.

 

Fifty-two Earth years ago I was abducted from the photon belt which surrounds the star Alcione in the constellation of the Pleiades, approximately 450 light years from here. It’s all coming back to me very clearly now, and I think it’s time I told you all. I didn’t use to look like this at all. In the Pleiades I wasn’t a theatre studies lecturer and I didn’t have a house in North Lake or a Toyota Corolla: I was very different. I was an entity of the fourth density vibrating at a level far higher than can be perceived by humans. I was a manifestation of life force energy that sort of flickered and buzzed and was all joined up with all the other energy forms out there in the photon belt. So there wasn’t any conflict or separation, or shopping or therapy groups. It was all just this kind of flow that everything joined in. It was really nice.

 

But then I got abducted. Suddenly I was in this brightly lit room full of strange creatures. I now realise that this was the maternity ward of the West Birmingham Hospital in England, Europe, Earth, the solar system. And I had been abducted by Donald and Phylis Hancock, and outside it was freezing cold, and I had a body, which came as a big surprise. A bit later I got used to it and I couldn’t remember anything of my previous life in the Pleiades. It was all very upsetting. Then something happened and I remembered – everything. That was later. We’ll come to that bit soon.

 

There were lots of clues, if I’d known what to look for. As a boy I was fascinated by anything to do with astronomy and the only books I ever read were science fiction. I always thought that Dr Who and Star Trek were more like documentaries than made-up stories, and you know that bit in ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ where the astronaut goes zooming down this space-time warp thing and ends up in another dimension. It made a big impression on me. I was never quite the same after I saw that.

 

Then, the other week, it happened, and I knew. I was out in the bush and it was a pitch-black night and the sky was full of stars. I found myself looking at the Pleiades, and this thought just popped into my head, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to live in the Pleiades?’ That’s when it all came back.

 

The higher dimension, the entities of pure Light Force which form a single pulse of radiant energy, the oneness, the complete absence of hassles with stuff like making friends, and getting stuck in the checkout queue at K-mart and projecting unwanted aspects of self onto complete strangers, so you either get inexplicably infatuated with the new secretary at work, or develop a deep loathing for someone at the next table in a cafe who talks into a mobile phone for half an hour in a VERY LOUD VOICE.

 

In fact, I could remember clearly that up there in the aural glow of the photon belt there was a complete lack of anything to do with self whatsoever. There were no secrets. And I was wondering if you could get there like in ‘2001’ where there’s this big whoosh and you just kind of go surfing along a space-time discontinuity and end up absolutely miles away, back home.

 

Now I think of it, I’ve often felt like I don’t quite fit in, here on Earth I mean, not just as a migrant in Australia or North Lake. Maybe it’s because I don’t actually come from here. Maybe lots of other people feel the same way, but they just don’t dare say in case their friends think they’re turning into fruit-loops. But my therapy group reckon it’s worth taking the risk, as long as you’re in a supportive environment, so I thought this would be a good time to have a go at writing it all down and see what happens.

 

 

Back to my story. I get used to living on this planet, along with all the other Earthlings, and I try to make sense of it all: life on planet Earth in a time of global conflict, anxiety, and conspiracy theories. So, when I read the newspaper or watch tv it’s more like a travel guide. I get lots of information about the place and how it all works. And lots of questions. Like why do some people keep secrets and then why do they confess?

 

On the news, there’s this story about a man who walks into a police station one sunny day and he says, ‘It was me. I did it. I confess. Twenty years I’ve been carrying this secret round, and I had to tell someone. It was me. I confess.’ And as they lead him off to the cells he has this relaxed look on his face, like he’s happy, at last.

 

On a tv show, a couple is sitting down at home, and they look a bit tense. And the man says, ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know how to say this. But, you know when I went to that conference at Surfers Paradise last year. I met this woman from the Sydney office.’

You just know it’s going to get him into a whole heap of big trouble, but it’s too late now, he’s off. He’s confessing. Like me right now, confessing my own secret, maybe getting myself into trouble.

 

A few weeks ago I was watching this video about a strange American man who is so far out there in the new age that he’s on another planet. Literally. I’m watching it with a bunch of people some of whom I know and most of whom take it all as one big joke. They can’t stop laughing. Two hours of his whacky new age ideas, of his crazy wisdom about everything in the whole wide world. His ideas keep coming like they could go on forever. Like he knows, yes knows, people who have been alive for 5,000 years. One of them is Thoth, the Ancient Egyptian deity with the ibis head. He says, You may find this hard to believe, given your view of reality. And I think, yep, it’s hard to believe.

 

At first I just smile. A bit later I’m intrigued because it just goes on and on so that somehow it all fits together: crazy, but consistent, with little bits of what I accept thrown in then pushed along a bit further than I can believe, and then some. He keeps on talking and I listen. Then this moment comes when I know he’s telling the truth. I know he’s one of us.

 

He says he comes from the stars, lots of them. First stop for him in this dimension was Sirius. He says he lived in Sirius. Not on a planet near Sirius, but in Sirius. Now Sirius is a white-hot ball of incandescent gas. It’s not the kind of place where you can get used to the climate. And he lived there: quite liked it too.

 

He says our view of stars and heat is all wrong. Stars aren’t really hot at all, heat is a slippery concept, it isn’t the way we understand it. Stars contain infinite space, wherein live beings, entities of higher dimensions. He has lived many lives in higher dimensions we cannot imagine

He comes from the stars. Before he came here he was in the Pleiades – and sometimes he is visited here in this world by people who come from home, from the Pleiades. And I go, Yes. Me too.

 

Something unlocks inside me, opens up like a flower.

 

Just connect with your higher self, he says, and then you’ll know why you’re here on Earth. This time.

Why am I here? Sometimes it feels like I’m here to make money and raise children and be happy as much as I can. And then . . . ?

And who was it, in the back garden, coming in a light from the sky? Was it family? Was it me, or part of me?

 

All these questions, the big ones: the words bounce off and go nowhere.

 

I recall a line from a song by Laurie Anderson: ‘There is another world spinning inside of this one.’ I think there is. I’d like to know why I’m here, this time around. Like this American man on the video.

 

+                                             +                                             +

 

When I was a kid my Gran used to watch tv with us sometimes. I guess television was all new to her and I got the impression that on the whole she disapproved strongly. If anyone came on who was what she would call a show-off, a big-head, someone who was trying to put on some kind of act, someone like Mick Jagger for example, she’d say, ‘Who does he think he is?’ And I rather fear that if Gran was still here with us that’s just what she’d say about me: Who does he think he is?

 

It’s a good question isn’t it: Who do I think I am? And will I remember, when I go back to the Pleiades?

 

I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to miss it, this story of mine, this life on Earth. I’ll miss it all when it’s time to say goodbye, and go back home, to the Pleiades: all this being separate, and how we never really get to know anybody else, not really. So I have secrets, and I make confessions. Then there’s this thing called love. I’m going to miss a lot when I leave here. I wonder if I’ll remember what it was like. I wonder if I’ll come back for another go. Take care what you wish for, my Gran used to say. Don’t wish you’re life away, cos it’s all you’ve got. It’s all going to come true anyway, one day. It’s all coming true.

 

I wonder when I’ll start feeling better now I’ve written all this down. I guess that is the point, isn’t it? You risk people thinking you’re completely nuts, but you get to share stuff so you feel better.

 

It hasn’t happened yet.

 

Maybe it takes a bit longer.

 

 

 

End

Racist.

I know some Koreans are racist towards foreigners, especially Southeast Asians.

I was shocked when I received unpleasant treatment while in Korea. When I first set foot in Incheon Airport, I decided to take the Arex (Airport Rail Express) to Seoul and to my accommodation area in Hongdae. When I was in the Arex, I found scornful looks from the mothers and fathers in front of me. They seemed to judge me from top to bottom and even whispered while looking at my face and my brother.

Besides in arex, I also experienced racism while in subway. There was a group of college students or school students (I forgot) they saw me and laughed at me🤦‍♀️.

When I got off the subway, I was also shouted at by a man who said “Malaysia, Malaysia” and pointed at me and my brother.

In Hongdae too! Hongdae is the center of young people, there are lots of young people or students there. At night I decided to go to Hongdae and enjoy busking there. In front of me there was a guy and a girl dating, the girl suddenly turned back and she was shocked to see my face. She whispered to her boyfriend and finally moved to another position far from me. When she walked, she whispered to her boyfriend while looking at me🤦‍♀️🌚.

Seriously, Korean people are that racist, so I’m not surprised that Lisa from Blackpink, who is as beautiful as an angel, still often gets racist comments, let alone me, whose face looks like this, hahaha.

but not all Koreans are like that. When I ate at a fish soup restaurant in Hongdae, the ahjumma and ahjusshi were very kind to me and my sister. They taught me how to eat Korean and even offered me additional side dishes. There was also a ramen seller ahjumma at the bus terminal who told me that their food was haram so I couldn’t eat it.

Korea is beautiful, seriously if I have the money I really want to go to Korea again. But yeah, if your face is Malay plus you wear a hijab you have to endure being stared at or even laughed at lol.

I worked in China in 1997–98 with a Chinese Internet startup which has now evolved into Sina.com.

At the time, China had about 500k Internet users, and Internet use was growing dramatically. Venture capital did not yet exist in China, so the startups had to turn to US VC firms for funding. However, since the laws were not yet defined, the process was often long and painful.

This placed a restriction on the China technical teams: they could not get cash to buy servers. These startups had no trouble finding very good and smart STEM graduates, but they could not get the servers which at the time were very expensive. At the time, were were using Sun servers, which often cost about US$250k and could only be purchased in Hong Kong for China delivery.

This was a severe constraint and the server tech teams had to get very creative in writing code which would support more users every day. One of their favored methods was to move what would have been server-side code in the US to run in the browser. Since US startups were rolling in cash, they never had to deal with these constraints. These constraints led to creativity.

While I do not have any access to what DeepSeek knowledge and developments, my past experience suggests to me that it is entirely plausible that they built and trained their model spending only US$6.4M.

Having too much ready cash makes people sloppy, stupid, and wasteful, not better. For businesses, it means that a lot of the investment money will disappear because of fraud and abuse. These higher costs are passed onto customers in the form of higher costs if the companies enjoy legislation-supported monopoly positions. These monopoly positions are what Warren Buffett means as “moats”.

These moats are what have supported US companies for too long.

US companies have to go back to having strong engineering and manufacturing.

It is obvious now that China is not going to make this transition easy for the US because now the hostility between the two governments is open and deep.

I once worked for a prepaid wireless company in a regional office. On Fridays, I called each of the corporate stores (15) to confirm store rosters to ensure staffing. One of the store managers I spoke with was a really good guy and had an hilarious sense of humor! He was a joy to speak with. We became good friends over the years.

One Friday during winter when I called, he as usual asked me how I was. It was a hard/busy week and I was telling him how exhausted I was. I then mumbled, “Oh! I need a blanket!” He got flabbergasted at me. I then said, “All I said was that I need a blanket!” He then cracked up laughing and told me he is now blushing because he thought I said something else. I asked him what he thought I said and he refused to tell me. The more he laughed, the more I laughed and neither of us could stop laughing.

I finally pried it out of him. He thought I said, “ Oh! I need a black man!” I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe for at least 15 minutes! I then reminded him that I already had one…my husband.

Tee Shirt Concepts

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In my experience, its less about breed and more about their natural temperment, age and conditioning during their upbringing. Some cats are just naturally timid and others are more outgoing. Cats under age 2 are really like adolescents. They’ll slowly start to mellow out after that. A calm house is probably going to result in calmer cats, though too calm can mean that uour cat acts out due to boredom.

If you want a cat that is 100% indoor, get one that has NEVER been outside (don’t get a barn cat/kitten and try to turn it into an indoor cat). It seems like a cat that has ever enjoyed being outside will always want to go outside, either part-time or full-time.

I’ve heard a few things about differences in cats with different coat coloring and gender, like males might be more laid back than females and calicos might have more ‘personality’ than others, but I don’t put much stock in these theories.

Getting them sterilized at an appropriate age often mellows them out too as there are fewer hormonal influences on their behavior (wandering, escaping, caterwauling, yowling, etc.)

Demi Moore’s Role in The Substance The Red Pill Reality of Modern Postwall Women

A man looks down and sees a terrible sore on his johnson. He gets in to see his FP the same day. After a careful examination, the doc says, “I’ve never seen it before but I think this is Hong Kong Dong! The only treatment is surgical amputation.” The man says he needs a second opinion. He finds another doctor who confirms it’s a classic case of Hong Kong Dong and recommends immediate surgical amputation. Still unsatisfied, our guy flies to Hong Kong to get the ultimate second opinion. The world’s premier expert confirms it’s a classic case of HKD. He asks, “What treatment did your doctors in the US recommend?” Surgical amputation, he replies. “Oh, those American doctors so knife-happy! Cut, Cut, Cut! That’s all they know. Everyone here knows, you no cut if off. You just wait 2–3 weeks and it falls off on its own.”

Rational people will respect the Chinese people’s strong capabilities in mathematics and AI. In fact, the competition between China and the United States in AI is actually a competition between Chinese Americans and Chinese.

The DeepSeek team is not large, with less than 140 people. Almost all engineers and R&D personnel come from top Chinese universities such as Tsinghua University, Peking University, Sun Yat-sen University, and Beijing University of Posts and Telecommunications. There are no “Chinese international students” who have returned from studying abroad. Moreover, they have not worked for a long time, and many of them are still studying for a doctorate. Even the team’s managers are very young.

Liang Wenfeng, co-founder of The DeepSeek

The salaries of executives at American technology companies are too high, and they suck up all the profits, so there is news that the salary of a manager at an American tech company can support the entire Deepseek team.

The billions of dollars Trump mentioned might not be enough to pay 50 top executive in America’s high-tech industry.

Top 10 Silicon Valley CEO and their Salaries in 2025
Know the Silicon Valley CEOs and their impressive salaries in 2025. Explore insights into leadership and compensation in the tech industry.

The US overpays in many/most areas. Defense contracting, healthcare, housing…you name it. There’s a big financial result but not an actual physical result.

For example defense/healthcare companies have great financial figures but often fail to deliver ships, airplanes etc or provide adequate effortable health care. The same is true in the AI field a lot of money is being spend but the results aren’t that impressive.

There seems to be a lot of “diverted” money ending up in pockets where it shouldn’t be?


Chinese people often win championships in Olympic mathematics competitions and physics competitions. China has millions of science and engineering graduates every year. It is only a matter of time before China surpasses the West.

The key to the key is that the tuition fees of China’s first-class public universities are less than $700 per year, and basically talented people will stand out from them, while the tuition fees of European and American universities are tens of thousands of dollars per year.

Interestingly, the American team won first place in the 64th International Mathematical Olympiad (IMO) in 2023. But if you look closely, you will find that almost all of them are Asian faces, or more precisely, Chinese faces.


Deepseek’s open-source training, fine-tuning, and deployment calculations are all optimized for Huawei’s Ascend 920B chips, and the computing efficiency will be much higher when using Huawei chips.

From the past few years to now, the usage rate of Huawei chips in the Deepseek community has increased from more than 10% to more than 40%, and there will be more and more in the future. It can be said that if Deepseek occupies the market, Nvidia will plummet.

Some people would disparage Deepseek by saying that it uses low-end chips and that’s why it only cost $5 million to develop.

It turns out that China has shown that lesser chips will work LLM, so this is good because it means that both high end and lower ends chips will be bought en masse.

Deepseek is free and open source.

The Deepseek app topped the free app download rankings in Apple’s App Store in China and the United States, surpassing ChatGPT in the US download ranking.

I feel sorry for those who are paying or have paid for the $200 OpenAI Subscription.

Technomancer 3: The Gift of a Life

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Start or end your story with someone receiving a strange — and possibly sinister — gift. view prompt

KC Foster

Will we make it? Was this really the best idea? Leron wondered, wiping thick beads of sweat from his brow. The sandy, grass-covered mountains towered above him on either side and the sun beat down from the sky, causing the people around him to stumble on the asphalt while they worked their way through the pass towards Texas. Far behind him, the squeak of roughly constructed carts and the occasional cry from someone who had decided to give up, before someone else encouraged them onwards.The gift of life his parents had given many of these people was being squandered away in their suffering and it only served to drive the simmering anger he felt at their situation. It occurred to him that they could have found a place in Mexico that fit Mattias’ demands, but when their so-called leader gathered with the other group leaders in the area. They all voted and decided to go to Texas. America had plenty of military bases and even better weaponry. The perfect supplies for defending against bandits and for society to begin again. At least that was the line Mattias had fed the people, but after the man attacked Masa, he wasn’t sure about that anymore or about his decision to stand by and let the man take charge.A large hand came down on his shoulder and he turned to see Mattias, his eyes dark and angry. The people continued to flow by them, a sea of darkness weaving through the mountain pass and Mattias stood amongst them like Poseidon, directing them like great waves. Leron fought back against his fear and tried to stand his ground. He might still be young, but he was still a man and men did not back down. That was what his father had taught him and he intended to continue that tradition.“Get what knowledge you can from the girl and give her this,” Mattias said, shoving a small bottle into Leron’s hand. He looked around and gave him a solemn nod.“What is it?” Leron asked, turning the small flask over in his hand. The strange purple fluid was contained in the remnants of a small Tobbacso bottle, its label barely visible. He opened the top and smelled it, shivering at its foul stench.“A present. It’s poison made from some of the chemicals we scrounged up. Merry Christmas, you’re about to become a man, Chico.”“No. Take it back,” Leron said, pushing it at the large man’s chest. If it was poison, he didn’t want it. “Are you crazy old man? I won’t harm anyone.”“Keep it and think about it. That girl is not telling you everything she knows,” said Mattias. “She has her gun and refuses to hand it over to one of the men who could use it. Instead, she eats our food and contributes nothing. Do what you’re told if you wise.”Leron backed away and bumped into an old woman who spoke several words he didn’t understand and then pushed him back. He groaned inwardly, wishing he was more fluent in Spanish. “Err…sorry…” he replied. Mattias laughed and he scowled at him. “I won’t do it. Get one of your goons to take care of it.”“She doesn’t trust them. You’re the only person she will let near her. See?” Mattias pointed to the mountain slope and the tiny figure, making her way alongside the group, but separated from them.“I was wondering where she disappeared,” he muttered. Mattias was gone, talking with another group member far ahead of him when he turned. Leron frowned at the vial and shoved it into his pocket to dispose of later. Instead, he reached for his flask and sipped the water inside. They had a long way to go and it needed to last. He made his way through the people and up the slope towards Masa. Perhaps if he walked beside her, fewer people would take Mattias’ side.“I was wondering where you went,” he said, catching up to her.“You should stay with them,” Masa snapped.

 

“Why? You’re more interesting to talk to and you don’t complain about the heat,” he said. Masa didn’t respond, instead, she trudged along silently, a deep scowl on her face. “So much for conversation,” he muttered.

 

“You don’t see it, do you?” she seethed, turning to face him. “They don’t want me to be part of them, and….and…you see this pass? I could have shot Mattias multiple times. Down there, they are all like sitting ducks. That is why I came up here. At least then I can escape.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Richards, just go back to your people. I don’t need or want your help.” Masa strode off ahead of him and all he could do was stare. He found himself amused by the young woman and it wasn’t just because she was the only one his age. Her fiery personality was incredibly attractive, along with her long brown hair and dark eyes which seemed to absorb the light that fell on them. His own did the same, but not like hers. Hers were something else. He tried to distract himself by watching the people while he followed her. She was right. It was dangerous – for her. He would not let her be alone – not with Mattias out for her head.

 

The sun set and fires appeared in the distance. Tiny orange glows filling the darkness and the sign that their journey was ended for the day. He wondered how far they had come. At their slow pace, it could not have been far. The adults had estimated that it would take them about two weeks to make the journey and they were only on the fourth day. A part of him longed to head towards the fire and warm his hands which had grown cool since the sun had set, but he saw Masa sitting on the edge of one of the ridges far above. He made his way up and joined her.

 

“I told you to leave me alone,” she said.

 

“Then why stay?” he asked and she didn’t respond.

 

Masa whimpered. “I…well…I don’t want to be that alone,” she said. “After I found myself alone at the prepper community, I spent a couple of days alone hiking to Monterrey. The silence… it’s terrifying.” She shook beside him and when he moved in closer, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

Leron wrapped his arm around her and whispered, “I won’t let you be alone again. The old priest at the church used to speak a verse, how did it go? That’s right. I will go where you go.” Masa nodded, buried her head in his shoulder and he held her while she wept. “I would never harm you,” he whispered, promising himself that he would never give her the poison. Her life was just as precious to him as the people below. He scowled at the fires. If Mattias pushed him, he would give him the poison instead.

 

Gunshots echoed from the pass below and screams rang out from the camp.

 

“No…” he cried. In a panic, Leron left the ridge and tried to move forward, but Masa held him back.

 

“If you go down there, you will die,” she said, bitterly. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. If you go down there you will have.”

 

Leron stared at her, scowling. How could she say such a thing? It wasn’t fair for her to ask him to weigh her life against theirs. The people his parents had worked so hard to save were down there. Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He wiped them away. She was right. Mattias had not given him a weapon, what could he do? “Give me your gun.”

 

“Do you know how to use one?” she pressed.

 

“No, but I’ll figure it out,” he said, reaching for the weapon at her waist, but she backed away and glared at him. She studied his eyes; her own now filled with fear. Her hand went to the gun and gripped it tightly. Was it to protect herself from him? Would she try to shoot him again?

 

The gunshots and screams died out and the world went silent around them. “It’s too late,” she said. “You’re just one person, what could you do?”

 

“I don’t know, but I have to try,” he argued. “Because if you don’t, then I will go alone and unarmed, and I will die. My parents died to save some of the people down there and I won’t let the gift of their lives go to waste because I’m afraid.”

 

“You’ll give them your life too?”

 

“Yes. And I would do the same for you.”

 

Masa groaned. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” She sighed, scowling at the ground, before meeting his gaze. “Fine, let’s go.”

Have you ever had to lower your standards because you were in a compromised position in life?

Oh hell yes.

At 30. I was married. Had a job I loved with a great income. Great health.

By 32 I was living on the street. Had been layed off with several hundred other people in my company. During a contentious divorce. Then a car accident. I was the passenger.

Finally. Flat broke. I’ll health. I decided to rebuild.

Living in a cheap room. Working progressively better jobs. Getting rid of debt.

One of my friends termed it “ Park Ave, to Park bench, back to Park Ave.”

No car. Limping. Looking for the dollar menu specials.

I made back. Took four years. Way faster than I thought. Things have been fine since then.

I’m 65 now. Comfortably retired. Healthy.

In October of 2015 I moved myself, 2 dogs, 6 sheep and 2 emus, with the help of a friend, in my 20 year old horsebox from England to Portugal.

Now in the UK you can own a 7.5ton lorry privately and it doesn’t have to have tacho – the device which records the daily journeys of professional drivers. Your registration form reads ‘Private HGV.’

So were trundling through France when the police pulled us over on a motorway check point. Between my friend and I we struggle through with French. He asked for our documents and then asked for our tacho sheets. We showed him our paperwork saying private HGV and we didn’t need them. He began to look extremely smug and told us, “Well you do here and as you don’t have them we can confiscate your vehicle and you’ll have to pay a 3000 euro fine.”

Horseboxes have a small door in the side of them called a grooms door. I walked round and opened the door and invited him to look in and staring out was my 2mt tall Emu, Mallory Mu, with her titanium beak and velociraptor claws.

I handed him the keys to the wagon and said “Off you go then.” The smug look changed to one of absolute horror. He told us to get back in the truck and get out of France as soon as possible. How many people are saved by an emu. It was hilarious.

Americans on RedNote br£@kdown te@rs realizing Chinese lihua letters to them

https://youtu.be/p84Fauz4uao

How does the Trump administration decide which cities to target for deportations?

Payback.

He’s hammering Democrat areas. Mess up their economy. Cost them a fortune in legal fees.

Back during Obama days they raided a chicken processing plant in a rural Midwest area. Pulled 600 illegals out of there. The town population was 3000. So 20% of the customers vanished. Everybody was screaming. The local stores, diners, laundromats, all had a giant drop in revenue.

That plant plant paid a huge fine and hired back illegals as soon as the feds were gone.

That red state blue state sanctuary crap is nonsense.

As a percentage the rural red states have way more illegals than the blue states.

He’s also got his base swooning. The reds hats around here are all giddy with excitement.

Obama deported 3.2 million illegals during his term. They were calling him the deporter in chief. Red hats still hate him. Orange boy deports a few hundred and he’s a god. Go figure. This is just a dog and pony show for his base.

I live close to Newark. After that seafood company raid the other day. The restaurant owners were on the news. They lost business because they couldn’t get seafood. Screwed a bunch of American business owners in the process.

I have nothing against deporting illegals. Just try to do it without screwing over Americans. Especially the customers. They had nothing to do with this.

I guess the sentiment is, “Screw them. They’re just blue state libtards. Let them suffer.”

I’m waiting to see raids in Oklahoma City, Des Moines, Branson, Yakima, other deeply red cities.

Those places are loaded with illegals. He’s not going to raid them.

 

 

Rednote Exposed: Americans STUNNED by How Good Life is in China… And Now They’re ANGRY!

Must must must watch.

In this eye-opening video, we bring you another round of Americans / TikTok refugees reacting to Rednote—and this time, their reactions are even more intense! Watch as they discover just how advanced and fulfilling life in China truly is, from cutting-edge technology to thriving communities. But as they learn more, their shock turns to frustration about their own situation back home. Will this change their perspective? You’ll have to see their raw, unfiltered reactions to believe it!

https://youtu.be/7jdaFwyj15Y

When have you helped someone who seemed poor but they were rich?

Many, many years ago I was at Kirkley Hall agricultural college in Northumberland. It was winter, freezing and muddy so I volunteered to take all the fushia cuttings for next year. About 20,000 if I remember correct. Nice cosy greenhouse, I’m not daft. Anyway it took a while. On the second day a rather shabby old gentleman came in and chatted to me. His Hunter wellies were covered in bicycle tyre repair patches.

He was lovely and we just chatted about anything and everything. His coat was ripped and his trousers had seen better days. I collected food from the canteen early as the glasshouses were quite a walk. I offered him a sandwich which he gladly accepted. The next day he turned up again, at lunchtime. I gave him a sandwich. I assumed he was a local from the village looking for a bit of warmth as well. The next day I got extra food just in case. And he showed again and had a decent lunch. He came every day. I really liked him, but my project came to an end. We hugged and he thanked me and I said I hope we crossed paths again.

A week or so later my course tutor told me I’d made a big impression on Vicount Ridley who lived in the huge historic pile down the road. I was confused saying I didn’t think I’d met him. My tutor said, well you’ve been bringing him lunch. And he paid for the huge glass house you were working in.

He died not long after and I shed a tear.

 

Americans learning to Cook Chinese Food on Chinese App RedNote

Trump administration wants… bla bla bla

https://youtu.be/4QVuGd4_36s

Chicken Adobo

Adobo chicken 9894 2
Adobo chicken 9894 2

About Filipino Chicken Adobo

Chicken adobo is the unofficial national dish of the Philippines. The word adobo is derived from the Spanish word adobar which means “to marinate”. But in the Philippines, adobo refers to both the process of marinating food with a predominantly vinegar base, as well as the finished dish.

When I first heard of Filipino chicken adobo I thought it would be similar to the Dominican pollo guisado that I grew up eating. It does have some similarities, Dominicans always marinate chicken in vinegar to “wash” it or to help tenderize it. But I soon found out Filipino chicken adobo is a completely different beast. The chicken is cooked  in vinegar—LOTS of vinegar—and equal parts soy sauce. Garlic, onions, water, peppercorns, bay leaves, and a smidge of sugar help round out the sharp acidity of this unique and enticing dish.

Like all classic dishes, many variations exist depending on the cook and the region. Chicken is the most classic protein used with adobo sauce but pork, squid, and sometimes vegetables are also used. The consistency of the sauce can also vary; some people like it cooked a little longer so the sauce will reduce to a silky, sticky glaze. Others prefer to have more sauce so leave it thinner to douse over their food. This recipe leans towards the latter, but feel free to add less liquid if you prefer a more reduced sauce.

I have been making chicken adobo for many years, always good but not quite perfect. Then I found a recipe for it in the “Filipino Cookbook” by Miki Garcia that included onions. Not a traditional ingredient in most chicken adobo’s but to me, it felt like suddenly all the flavours became more balanced.

No matter the variation, a Filipino adobo sauce should always be characterized by a strong, yet enticing briny punch of vinegar and soy. I think you’ll love this version I share with you here.

chicken in adobo sauce in skillet

What Does Filipino Chicken Adobo Taste Like?

Heaven, if you ask me. But to be more precise, it is a dish that is intensely savoury and tangy with just a hint of sweetness. If you taste the sauce before it reduces, it will be unpleasantly sour. But as it cooks, the flavours mellow and become less sour.

Though bone-in chicken is traditionally used for this dish, I prefer to use chicken thighs. Cooked in the punchy sauce they become fork-tender and quite literally melt in your mouth. It is a beautiful dish to enjoy with your family and most definitely would be a hit if served to guests.

ingredients for recipe

Ingredients And Notes

  • Boneless skinless chicken thighs – You can use bone-in chicken pieces if you prefer but this recipe does not work well with chicken breast. They simply will not absorb the sauce properly and will dry out before the sauce has a chance to thicken and glaze.
  • Vinegar – I like to use rice vinegar but plain white vinegar will also work if you use less. See below for more information on which vinegar is best for chicken adobo.
  • Light or low-sodium soy sauce – Because of the amount of soy sauce being used, make sure to use a soy sauce with reduced sodium or it will be very salty. Instead of soy sauce, you can also use coconut aminos. Don’t use dark soy sauce which is completely different than regular soy sauce.
  • Onion and garlic – Not all chicken adobo recipes include onions but I find their sweetness creates a nice balance of flavours in this dish. You can leave the onions out if you wish but the garlic is essential in chicken adobo.
  • Peppercorns – The peppercorns are also a very essential ingredient in chicken adobo. They soften slightly when cooked but if you don’t like the idea of biting into a peppercorn just use coarse cracked pepper.
  • Sugar – I often leave it out but if you are using regular vinegar, you will need just a few teaspoons. I like to use can or coconut sugar but brown or white will also work.
  • bay leaves – Fresh bay leaves are preferred for this recipe but if you can’t find them use dried.

Green onion – Optional for garnish.

Suggested Variations

Though incredibly easy and straightforward to make, a Filipino adobo sauce relies on the perfect balance of flavours. If you haven’t made it before, I encourage you to follow the recipe as written at least once before making any adjustments. Here are a few variations you might enjoy:

    • Use a different protein: I love this recipe with tofu! Simply drain and dry the tofu then cut into thick slices. Sear the tofu slices on both sides then proceed with the recipe. You can also use chopped up pork shoulder, squid, or even shrimp. Just make sure to adjust cooking times for more delicate protein.
    • Make it with veggies: Slabs of cauliflower or chopped eggplant would be excellent vegetables to cook in this Filipino adobo sauce. You can even combine the two or add sugar snap peas, edamame, and broccoli florets – yum! I have also made it with just mushrooms (give this recipe a try) which I absolutely love.
    • Add coconut milk: Some Filipino adobo recipes call for coconut milk. I haven’t tried it but I imagine it would be quite delicious. Here’s what I would do: Add 1 cup coconut milk but reduce the vinegar and soy each by 1/4 cup. Add the 1/2 cup of water only if necessary.
    • More garlic: Filipino adobo is made with lots of garlic. I went middle ground but some recipes double it so if garlic is your jam, go ahead and add more!
    • Add some heat: The peppercorns add minimal heat so if you want a spicier adobo sauce, add a few chopped up bird’s eye chilis or some red pepper flakes.

 

How To Make Filipino Chicken Adobo

Marinating the chicken in the vinegar and soy sauce is recommended but I don’t find it essential. I usually marinate it for about 20 minutes while I start making the rice and chopping the veggies. If you do plan ahead, go ahead and marinate it for 1 hour or overnight.

Here is the step-by-step to make this easy dish:

  1. In a large bowl, combine the vinegar, soy sauce, and peppercorns. Add the chicken thighs and marinate for at least 20 minutes or up to overnight.
  2. Heat oil over medium-high heat in a large skillet or pot. Remove chicken from the marinade allowing most of the marinade to drip back into the bowl (reserve the marinade) and place the chicken in the hot pan. Cook undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes, or until just a bit brown and golden. Flip and cook for only 2 more minutes—do not cook through. Transfer chicken to a large plate.
  3. Reduce heat to medium-low and if necessary, add remaining oil to the pan. Add the onions and garlic and cook until garlic is fragrant and slightly brown, about 2 minutes. (The onions do not need to be brown).
  4. Add the reserved marinade, bay leaves and sugar and bring it to a rolling boil. Once boiling, lower the heat to medium and simmer for 5 minutes.
  5. Nestle in the chicken thighs, smooth side down. Lower heat to a simmer, and cook, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Flip the chicken thighs and continue to simmer, uncovered, for 10 to 15 minutes, or until sauce has reduced by at least half. At this point, if the sauce doesn’t seem thick enough, remove the chicken to a plate and continue to cook the sauce until it reduces to your desired consistency. I like it a bit glaze-y but not so thick that I lose too much sauce. Return chicken back to the skillet to warm slightly, if necessary.
  6. Serve immediately with fluffy white rice, passing around extra adobo sauce at the table.

Note: It will seem like too much liquid at first, but trust, if you followed the recipe as written the sauce will reduce and it will thicken. If you used a deep pot to make the chicken adobo, it will take longer to reduce. 

chicken in soy/vinegar marinadebrowned chicken in skilletonions and garlic in skillet

chicken in adobo sauce in skillet

Best Vinegar For Chicken Adobo

 

A Filipino cane vinegar is traditionally used to make adobo sauce. It is sweeter and milder than regular white vinegar. If you feel like seeking it out, Datu Puti is a brand that can be found at most large Asian markets. In the Kitchener-Waterloo area you can find it here.

 

That said, I prefer to use (unseasoned) rice vinegar which I always have in my pantry. In a pinch you can also use apple cider vinegar or white vinegar but because these vinegars are more acidic in taste, you should reduce the amount by 1/4 cup. In addition, it is important to note that if you don’t use a cane vinegar, the adobo will need a few teaspoons of sugar. This will not make the dish taste sweet at all. It will just help tame the acidity of the vinegar.

FAQ’s

Do I have to brown the chicken?

This one is tricky. Many Filipino cooks add their chicken to the adobo mixture without browning it first. I have tried it and it’s fine. But truly, it is best to give the chicken a quick sear for both colour, presentation, and a little more flavour.

Because we are using skinless chicken pieces, the process is less messy and takes only a few minutes.

Should I use a skillet or a pot?

You can use a Dutch oven or deep pot but a large skillet works best here because the sauce will reduce more quickly. Just make sure the skillet is deep and wide enough to fit the chicken and sauce. If using a deep pot, I recommend you reduce the amount of vinegar and soy sauce by 1/4 cup each.

Why did my chicken adobo taste too vinegary?

Filipino chicken adobo is supposed to have a strong, pungent vinegar taste. That said, if you follow the recipe tips on using the right vinegar, it should be nicely balanced and not abrasive. White vinegar and apple cider vinegar will be a lot stronger tasting than rice vinegar so if using either of those, make sure you add a little more sugar, and/or reduce the amount of vinegar by 1/4 cup.

Why did I end up with too much liquid?

It is important that you use the right amount of meat to liquid. If you are using less than 2 1/2 pounds of chicken, I recommend you reduce the amount of vinegar and soy sauce by 1/4 cup each. Otherwise, you may end up with too much liquid to chicken ratio. In addition, a skillet versus a deep pot, will ensure the liquid can thicken, and evaporate, more quickly.

serving chicken adobo on plate with rice

Serving Suggestions

Fluffy white rice is the classic side to serve with Filipino chicken adobo. Or, even better, serve it with this divinely creamy coconut rice. The mild sweetness of the coconut rice helps temper both the salinity and the acidity of the adobo sauce.

For a veggie side, we almost always have it with a cooling cucumber/avocado salad. Sprinkle everything with sliced scallions and trust me, you’ll be making this dish again and again.

chicken adobo on plate with rice

Make Ahead And Store

Filipino chicken adobo is one of those dishes that improves with time. So delicious the next day, I always make plenty so it is more than a one-meal dish. Leftovers also freeze really well.

To refrigerate or freeze: You can make the entire dish a few days ahead, or make a few meals out of it. Once the chicken adobo has cooled, place the chicken pieces in an air-tight container and pour the sauce over it. Refrigerate for up to 5 days or freeze for up to 2 months.

The US says it is but the world thinks China is! To the world the US is the problem not the solution. To the world the US is barbaric. To some of their dogs and slave nations US is the angel they listen to. For example the UK, Australia and Canada they help to do genocide and mass slaughter of human beings just to suck up to the USA! To the rest of the world we are simply way too smart. We see a barbarian a million miles away! No one wants the US to be anywhere near us! Their only buddies in Asia, ie their slave South Korea they have the sense to impeach their US puppet and his replacement too!

Japan their East Asian dog in chief just got rid of their US puppet too! Hahaha good on you guys! Oh you have India? India is too smart for you guys. They suck any easy money dry and buy their weapons from. Russia and see you Russian oil with a huge profit disguised as Indian oil! Hahahaha what a fool the west are!

Yes you are loading up cash to offer Filipino fisherman on the high seas to gets free boat wash plus brand new US 10 thousand bucks just to get close enough to Chinese vessels! It is a good deal for the Pinoys! But you are thrill as though the Pinoys wanted you not your money! The US reminds me of the 70 years old Caucasian walking hand in hand with a Pinoy bar girls thinking of their true love not your fat wallet!

Who are the best dog left in Asia? yes your Anglo cousins! Australia! A least the Kiwis has balls and brains. Australia bought your hopeless submarines. At the price of 110K Aussie dollars for every men, women and Child! It will be delivered sometimes in 2060! Hahaha what a fool! And you talk shit about independence and freedom! Stop making us fall off our chair laughing!

Good God, how much money do these guys have????😁

Let’s see the Trade Surpluses for the last 10 years

From 2014 to 2024 the Trade Surpluses of China combined stood at – $ 8.443 Trillion

This includes a $ 992 Billion surplus this year

Total injection of liquidity into the Economy by the Chinese Government between 2014–2020 – $ 1.137 Trillion (-) [7.27 Trillion Yuan]

Injection of liquidity into the Economy by Asset swaps between 2020 and 2024 – $ 2.59 Trillion (-) [16.59 Trillion Yuan]

This was so large due to Covid lockdowns

Investment by China into Investment and Infrastructure between 2014 – 2024 – 34 Trillion Yuan [$ 4.27 Trillion]

Investment raised by Local Bonds and Local Debt between 2014 and 2024 – 24.2 Trillion Yuan [$ 3.31 Trillion]

So investment in Local Infrastructure from trade surplus = 34 Trillion Yuan – 24.2 = 9.8 Trillion Yuan [$ 1.468 Trillion] (-)

Increase in M2 Supply between 2014 to 2024 – 38.8 Trillion Yuan

Increase in money supply due to domestic issue – 35.25 Trillion Yuan

Money supply increase attributed due to conversion of forex reserves = 38.8 -35.25 = 2.55 Trillion Yuan [$ 327 Billion] (-)

Money loaned to BRI Nations and Projects financed between 2014 and 2024 = 4.722 Trillion Yuan [$ 649 Billion] (-)

Investment into Quality Productive Forces and Local Government Debt = 4 Trillion Yuan

Domestic Bond Issues and Swap Issues in the same period = 2.76 Trillion Yuan (Jan ’23 – Dec ‘24)

Estimated Investment from Forex Reserves = 1.24 Trillion Yuan [$ 168 Billion] (-)

So the Total Forex spent = $ 6.339 Trillion

Total Trade Surplus = $ 8.443 Trillion

Therefore the difference = $ 2.104 Trillion

Forex Reserves 2014 = $ 3.993 Trillion

Forex Reserves 2024 = $ 3.279 Trillion

Reduction = $ 714 Billion

So Chinese reserves have reduced by $ 714 Billion when in fact there is a difference of $ 2.104 Trillion in the Trade Surplus & Expenditure

This means

There is $ 2.104 Trillion + $ 714 Billion = $ 2.818 Trillion

Where are these reserves?

Not in BRI projects

Not in Loans issued by China

Not in their own internal liquidity

Not in Gold, China purchased $ 256 Billion of Gold in this period 2014–2024


This means China has a secret stash of minimum $ 2.5 Trillion unknown to the West to unleash in the event of a sanctions regime or hostility or war with the US

Parmesan Turkey and Rice Bake

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50c1a01fa891e7fdcc5d7ed66f2cf6ee

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 cups chopped cooked turkey or chicken
  • 2 cups chopped celery
  • 1 cup mayonnaise
  • 1 cup cooked rice
  • 1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Parmesan cheese
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped onion
  • 2 tablespoons lemon juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup slivered almonds

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. In large bowl, combine turkey, celery, mayonnaise, rice, cheese, onion, lemon juice and salt. Spoon mixture into greased 9 inch square baking pan. Top with almonds.
  3. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until heated through.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

15 year old girl, gained 150 lbs in the last year.

Is sleeping constantly, up to 20 hours a day.

After years of clear, smooth skin, has cystic acne, a thick black mustache, thick black muttonchops, an impressive unibrow, and body hair that makes her look like Robin Williams.

Her head hair isn’t patchy, but it sheds constantly. Has such agonizing pain with her periods that she can not stand or even speak – she just curls up on the floor, making low animal moans, until the pain gets so bad she vomits.

She was a cheerful, peppy child, and now she has the energy of a sick turtle and is a constant ball of stress, anxiety, and depression. Her periods are regular, but they are excruciating and abnormally heavy, with thick bleeding lasting for 6 days on average.

Now, this girl has a nearly classic case of PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) with endometriosis complications. A simple pelvic exam will reveal multiple lumps the size of jawbreakers on her ovaries. She will not get that exam for 11 years. Instead, she will be diagnosed with teenage depression and told to relax, eat less, and exercise more.

That girl was me, and I am still annoyed that it took me so long to get basic healthcare.

China Sanctions US Again and False Flag South Korean Coup

Fred R Rated

I caught part of an interview with a guy who claimed to be his confidant and who was his biographer , Isaacson. He said that Musk thought himself an undiagnosed bi- polar sufferer and that he treated himself for it with drugs.

Isaacson claimed that many of his bonkers tweets stemmed from this disorder. Musk would lie awake at night and strange thoughts would ‘invade’ and he would act on them and often regret it in the light of day.

This affliction would in part explain his often shitty treatment of people and of his lovers – at least a couple of whom have claimed he’s a Jekyll and Hyde who flips from adorable to abhorrent at the drop of a hat.

Other people’s feelings are not a major consideration for Musk. Nor is being popular much of a driver.

I’ve also read that Musk claimed “ you wouldn’t want to be me” basically because there’s a million thoughts a minute flowing through his mind and this is one of the things that drives him to be a workaholic – often sleeping at his businesses after working for 20+ hours straight.

That he is both a genius for his vision and achievements cannot be taken away from him. His achievements are stupendous. Propelling rockets to space and himself to the world’s richest man.

And even his biggest failure : Twitter has literally changed the world. The UK’s Pakistani rape gangs as a story would have remained buried where UK politicians had left it. Giving back a voice to Tommy Robinson started the exposure of both the gangs and the political cover up to the light of day. Something the mainstream media had hidden- presumably to present the case for : diversity is our strength and all cultures are equal- even if some enmasse rape children.

Trump being elected was probably not entirely Twitter- but it didn’t hurt. And in exposing the lies, duplicity and often outright BS of the main stream media it has never happened on such a scale before.

If Musk kept his mouth shut and stuck to his large areas of expertise – he probably would not be Musk. Undoubtedly it would make him more popular.

Posterity will remember him as a cross between Einstein and Henry Ford- both also flawed geniuses that literally changed the world.

With two other guys aged 26 he flew to Russia to meet a general with a view to buying a rocket. The General less than impressed with this pasty faced youngster actually spat on Musks shoe and refused to sell to him.

On the flight back to the US Musk rough designed and costed his own rocket on a drawing pad. A few years later he started Space X in 2002 and in 2008 after numerous failures the Falcon rocket successfully flew and the bankrupt company was saved.

In 2003 he also took over Tesla. Taking on both tasks virtually at the same time – this speaks volumes about the man’s capacities and appetite for risk.

How Empires Fall and Why the US is Next | History Teacher Reacts | uncivilized

Cats first appeared in Egypt, and there were cats in the tombs of Egyptian pharaohs.

According to legend, the ancestor of domestic cats is sand cats. Because they grow in the desert, cats are generally afraid of water and like to defecate in the sand, which is similar to the habits of their ancestors who grew up in the desert.

Sand cat – Wikipedia
Small wild cat species (Felis margarita) Sand cat Scientific classification Domain: Eukaryota Kingdom: Animalia Phylum: Chordata Class: Mammalia Order: Carnivora Suborder: Feliformia Family: Felidae Subfamily: Felinae Genus: Felis Species: F. margarita Binomial name Felis margarita Subspecies F. m. margarita Loche, 1858 F. m. thinobia ( Ognev , 1927) Distribution of the sand cat in 2016 [ 1 ] Synonyms [ 2 ] Felis marginata Gray , 1867 F. margaritae Trouessart , 1897 F. marguerittei Trouessart, 1905 Otocolobus margarita Heptner and Dementiev, 1937 synonyms of F. m. margarita F. m. meinertzhageni Pocock, 1938 F. m. aïrensis Pocock, 1938 synonyms of F. m. thinobius Eremaelurus thinobius Ognev, 1926 Felis thinobius Pocock, 1938 F. m. scheffeli Hemmer, 1974 F. m. harrisoni Hemmer, Grubb, and Groves, 1976 The sand cat ( Felis margarita ) is a small wild cat that inhabits sandy and stony deserts far from water sources. With its sandy to light grey fur, it is well camouflaged in a desert environment. Its head-and-body length ranges from 39–52 cm (15–20 in) with a 23–31 cm (9.1–12.2 in) long tail. Its 5–7 cm (2.0–2.8 in) short ears are set low on the sides of the head, aiding detection of prey moving underground. The long hair covering the soles of its paws insulates its pads against the extreme temperatures found in deserts. The first sand cat known to scientists was discovered in the Algerian Sahara and described in 1858. To date, it has been recorded in several disjunct locations in Western Sahara , Morocco , Algeria , Niger , Chad , Egypt , the Arabian Peninsula and the Middle East . In Central Asia , it was first recorded in the Karakum Desert in 1925. The large gap between these two regions of its global range was partially closed in 1948, when a sand cat skin was found in an oasis of the Rub’ al Khali in Oman . It is discontinuously distributed in the deserts of the Arabian Peninsula and the Middle East. In the early 1970s, sand cats were caught in southwestern Pakistan and exported to zoos worldwide. Due to its wide distribution and large population, it is listed as Least Concern on the IUCN Red List . The sand cat usually rests in underground dens during the day and hunts at night. It moves 5.4 km (3.4 mi) on average at night in search of small rodents and birds . It also kills and consumes venomous snakes . In spring, the female gives birth to two to three kittens, which become sexually mature around the age of one year. The sand cat’s ecological requirements are still poorly understood, as only a few in-depth studies targeting wild sand cat populations have been conducted. Sand cat at Ree Park zoo, Denmark Felis margarita was the scientific name proposed by Victor Loche in 1858 who first described a sand cat specimen found in the area of “Négonça” in the northern Algerian Sahara. [ 3 ] This holotype specimen appears to have been lost. [ 4 ] [ 5 ] The species was named after the French General Jean Auguste Margueritte . [ 6 ] In the 20th century

It is said that China’s domestic cats were brought back from Central Asia by Zhang Qian when he traveled to the Western Regions.

The twelve zodiac signs were already set during the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period, when there were no cats in China. The above is just one theory.

The reason why cat is included in the 12 Chinese zodiac signs in Vietnam is that the pronunciation of cat in Chinese is the same as “mao (rabbit)”, so when the 12 Chinese zodiac signs spread to Vietnam, they became “cat”. So, There is no rabbit in the Vietnamese zodiac, only cats.


The origin of cats has always been controversial.

Cats are rarely mentioned in history, including in the Bible, and are a relatively mysterious existence compared to other animals.

Taking Stock at Christmas

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story that includes the line “Be careful what you wish for.” view prompt

Scott Christenson

Being Fashionable I’ve learned that discussing things I find on the internet with my wife Liz is like tossing a match into a pool of gasoline. Liz works in corporate PR. In loyalty to her paycheck, she embraces the corporate establishment’s narrative. When I read the news, I like to take time to figure it out instead of taking it at face value. You might call me an “Internet Dad”.I hope to one day find the right moment to talk some common sense into her. Maybe that moment is today.My computer screen shows 10:59am. I promised Liz I’d be ready for the drive over to Nate and Emily’s at 11am. What is life but a series of compromises? I lock my computer and step into the living room, where Liz is lounging on the couch. Her gaze sweeps over me.“You look ridiculous without your diaper on,” she says sharply. “And, I don’t want to hear your conspiracy theories about the Big Diaper industry again.”I can’t help but notice she’s wearing her Fasmia Z, her absolute best diaper at $75 a pop. Sleek and stylish, it sticks out in a crowd. It portrays her as someone successful in her mid 30s, someone happening. “Well, you look amazing today.” I smile, attempting to soften things.“Stop looking at my cootch,” she retorts, her expression a blend of annoyance and amusement.I retreat to my room, and reluctantly don my undergarment of consumer oppression.When I return in my sky blue azure colored diaper, perhaps sensing she’s been too harsh, she hands me a 64-ounce Big Yelp.“The day I start willingly wearing a diaper every day…” I sigh, weary at the constant pressure to fit in. “Just be careful what you wish for,” I have a taste of my Big Yelp. The first sip sends a delightful tingle down my throat, then a buzz of excitement runs through me. Amazing things are going to happen today. I can feel it.The Drive to BedfordLiz inputs Nate and Emily’s address into the car’s navigation system. Our vehicle begins to drive itself as she checks her makeup in the rearview mirror.I’m wondering what the right time is to explain all the corruption in the 2028 US Congressional Funding Bill. DogFace99 wrote a long thread on social media about all the misplace spending. All the politicians getting rich off our tax dollars. 

“Remember to ask them follow-up questions” she says.

 

“Who?” I ask, slightly confused at what she’s getting at.

 

“The guests at the Christmas party. Last time, you went on a one-hour monologue about aliens in New Hampshire.”

 

“I did?” I feign ignorance. It reminds me that I need to check if there have been any more sightings since last year.

 

“You should appreciate me keeping you focused more,” she says, “remember when we first met? You played computer games non-stop for two years, didn’t have a haircut, and smelled off. And now, you look like this.” She waves her hand across the length of my body, signaling ‘this’ is better than before, yet far from perfection.

 

“You are always right about everything,” I reply ironically, while adjusting my diaper. Inside, I realize her assessment of my past life is completely accurate.

 

 

Arriving at the Party

The drive is fast. It helps that we don’t need to stop to the restroom every 15 minutes. We pull up to Nate and Emily’s, and are greeted by a sea of familiar faces. Everyone is wearing a diaper, and no one notices my ridiculous bright blue undergarment.

 

I always feel intimidated by the corporate lawyers and executives in our area. Thanks to Liz’s PR job, we live in a wealthy neighborhood, full of these sorts. Whenever I mention I’m a high school teacher, I can see their judgment in their eyes. They put me into a box, someone not to be taken seriously. Maybe I should listen to Liz’s advice, try to blend in. Ask questions like a TV show host. After all, I’m not a loser. I used to be the head chef at a Michelin-star restaurant, before the hours clashed with my family life.

 

Nate sidles up with a sly smirk. “What are the latest conspiracy theories?” he asks.

 

“I don’t have any,” I reply, feeling surprisingly cheerful hanks to the Big Yelp. I hadn’t actually thought about anything sinister since leaving home.

 

Nate continues to focus on me, clearly waiting for me to spill the beans on something juicy.

 

“Okay, here’s one. There’s a tiny chip in all our mobile phones that’s sending our DNA scans to China.”

 

“Really?” he says, raising a doubting eyebrow.

 

“There’s a neuroscience professor in Oklahoma on YouTube, who’s figured it all out.”

 

“But why are they doing this?”

 

I can’t help but chuckle at his naivety. “To replace us, of course. So they can take over and drink all our Big Yelps.”

 

“If they’re going to replace us, why would they need our DNA? Wouldn’t it be the other way around?”

 

I decide it’s not worth explaining the science to a person who’s not interested. “Haha, I’m just playing with you.” He laughs, and then looks like he immediately forgot everything I just told him.

 

“Before they take over, I’m going to need a stronger drink,” Dan says loudly. “Whiskey & Yelp, anyone?”

 

I can’t say no to either. Together, they are a perfect combination.

 

The Pool House

Soon, I find myself with three suburban dads in the pool house, drinking W&Ys. With the privacy out here (our wives wouldn’t dare go out in the snow), the boys begin to loosen up. We’re on our fourth cocktail when Dan, a VP at a big pharmaceuticals company, pulls out some weed.

 

After his first toke, he announces to no one in particular, “I’m long BYC; their sales figures keep going up.”

 

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Big Yelp Corporation.

 

“Big Yelp,” I echo, attempting to be part of the conversation. I know more about cuts of beef, than about stocks and bonds.

 

“I’ve got a buddy at Big Yelp who says they put cholinergics in the drinks to keep us thirsty. It’s what give you that little buzz. Like how Coke used to contain cocaine.”

 

“So, that’s why I need to pee every ten minutes,” I mumble.

 

Dan nods. “And, BYC owns 20% of Fasmia, so it makes sense, right? Synergy. Vertical Integration.”

 

Nate grins, “The vertical from here…” he sips his drink, “to down here.” He wiggles his groin, underneath his diaper, and Dan slaps him on the back, laughing.

 

“Profits going in, and profits going out.”

 

For the rich, conspiracies are stock tips. Maybe I have something to learn here.

 

“Tell me more!” I say.

 

Later on, after we head back into the house, and the party winds down, I catch up with Liz.

 

“You did well today,” she says, smiling. “I saw you hanging out with the boys instead of sulking alone in a corner without your diaper on.”

 

Two can play at this game.

 

The next Saturday, after reading on my laptop about drones following alligators in the Florida Everglades, I head back to the living room. We are going shopping today. Liz isn’t ready yet, and I take a seat on the couch.

 

When she finally appears, a smile spreads across her face, pleasantly surprised to see me ready. “First time ever!”

 

“Honey, you look amazing!” I hand her a Big Yelp. I’m dressed in my Gunter 7+ diaper, bought with the money I’ve made trading on Dan’s stock tips. “I’m in such a good mood, I will make you a fine beef bourguignon tonight.” I add, my smile widening.

 

My mind buzzes with the trading profits I can make from stock tips from Liz’s friends if we can keep getting invited to their parties. What is life if not a series of compromises? I’m now playing at the big boys table.

 

I take a long gulp of my Big Yelp. This game is just beginning.

They cannot see it with social media alone. Others will (it is already happening) step in with counter information. The best is visa free entry and unfettered access except to sensitive areas. I saw a group of four US youths in the train journey from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh on 05 th January. They had seen Malaysia through social media. They had thought they were filtered until they visited.

China is Not Our Enemy

Eating.

I read this story

about a Chinese man who used to work as a hamster breeder. According to him, hamsters are highly cannibalistic and “cruel”, despite their cute and harmless appearance. He once witnessed a sick hamster being eaten alive by several other hamsters, and rescued the poor creature from its cage. The hamster, barely alive, was missing all four of its limbs and had its innards exposed.

The man kept the injured hamster in a separate holding, expecting that it would succumb to its wounds very soon. To his astonishment, the limbless hamster crawled on its belly like a maggot towards a bowl of food, and feasted heartily. He thought the hamster would simply lie down and die, and yet by its overwhelming instinct to eat some more, it survived. As he nursed the hamster back to health, it became better at wriggling like a worm, and even managed to play on a hamster wheel by itself.

Years later, the same man fell on hard times, and after a night of heavy drinking, attempted to end his own life by swallowing two bottles of sleeping pills. He immediately regretted it, and rode his bicycle as fast as he could towards the nearest hospital, screaming and crying all the way through. He fell off his bike several times, but every single time he picked himself up and kept riding to the hospital, driven by the same desire as that wriggling hamster –

Live. Eat.

After the doctors flushed the chemicals out of his system, he gorged on xianbing/stuffed pancakes, and never attempted suicide ever again.

An animal will fight to stay alive, just for the sake of another bite of food and another sip of water. They are creatures of instinct, not thought. We humans on the other hand tend to overthink things, and our thoughts override our instincts.

Our instinct is to live – don’t fight it. Don’t think about the things you’ve lost – think about what you still have. Your body cries for food – give it what it wants.

What is the meaning of life, you ask? Eating. At its simplest and most rudimentary, life isn’t complicated. As long as you have something to eat, as long as you can taste its flavours and feel the satisfaction of it filling your belly, you have nothing to worry about.

Stop overthinking things. Eat.


Scientists estimate that the average person today is exposed to around 74 GB of information every day. That kind of constant information overload can be very damaging to our mental health. If you’re struggling with issues, then it is healthy (and necessary) to “unplug” and live a life of instinct.

But if you’re not satisfied with a life of instinct, then consider the fact that 45% of the world is food insecure, and over 700 million people worldwide are facing hunger right now. Worst of all, the right to food has yet to be universally recognised as a basic human right.

Given how much food we produce, and how much of it is wasted, the fact that society subjects so many people to hunger or nutritionally unbalanced diets is an unforgivable crime.

If you are looking for a purpose in life, then look no further. Eat, and help everyone else do so.

There aren’t any.

Truthfully, the United States expects China to serve the United States in every way. Much like the Philippines, Japan and Germany does.

They want to plunder it’s resources, work it’s people to the bone, and use what remains for sex toys and fertilizer.

Meanwhile, China wishes to be left alone.

There isn’t any diplomatic solution.

That’s the truth as harsh as it is, and nothing is going to change it.

Odd and strange comix

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Of course the Philippines is infringing and provoking. Let’s see a recent example.

The China Coast Guard (CCG) stated on Monday that it had taken necessary management and control measures against Philippine vessels that recently illegally gathered in the waters of Houteng Jiao in China’s Nansha Qundao. On the same day, the Chinese Foreign Ministry refuted claims from the Philippine side that a PLA Navy helicopter “harassed” the Philippine fishing boats.

Recently, several Philippine vessels, disregarding dissuasion and warnings of CCG, illegally gathered in the waters of Houteng Jiao under the pretext of “fishing,” and brought along media reporters for a staged photo op to hype it. The CCG took necessary management and control measures against the Philippine vessels in accordance with the law and regulations, said CCG spokesperson in a statement on Monday.

The on-site law enforcement images from CCG show that the so-called “fishermen” organized by the Philippine side don’t appear to be just fishermen. The Philippine fishing vessels exhibit a “formation” characteristic, with a “mothership” serving as a “command ship” and a “supply ship,” leading multiple Philippine fishing vessels attempting to conduct infringement activities in the waters of Houteng Jiao. The “mothership” carries a large number of barrel-shaped devices suspected to contain fresh water and fuel, indicating the intention of Philippine fishing vessels to stay in the waters of Houteng Jiao for a long time.

Obviously, this is just the Philippines trying to provoke risks and escalate tensions in the South China Sea issue, thereby inducing domestic nationalist sentiment, stirring up international public opinion to smear China, and making another attempt to flatter and please a specific external country. Frankly speaking, this is neither realistic nor wise at the moment, but rather the Philippines’ wishful thinking due to its failure to see the situation clearly.

The Philippines, disregarding the safety of its own ship crew, insist on instructing them to violate Chinese jurisdiction and carry out illegal actions such as intrusions and staged provocations. The Philippines may think this is clever, but the political motives and malicious intentions behind it are well known to all.

The Marcos Jr administration disregards the genuine demands of its own people and its national interests, continuously stirring up tensions in the South China Sea, attempting to drag China-Philippines relations into an irreparable situation, and continuing serving as a “bridgehead” and “suicide squad” for containing China.

On the other hand, the Marcos Jr administration is anxious about the uncertainty of the new US administration’s stance on the South China Sea issue. It hopes to escalate tensions in order to draw external forces further into the issue, achieving a form of “reverse hostage-taking” against external forces. This self-serving approach of the Marcos Jr administration, which submits itself with an external power while going against the consensus and interests of countries in the region, is bound to be unpopular and its despicable objectives won’t be realized.

Except for the Philippines, other parties involved in the South China Sea issue and other countries in the region have reached a full consensus on managing the situation, reducing risks, avoiding external interference, and working together for development. It is not a wise move for the Philippines to still misjudge the situation and continue to make wave in the South China Sea. But who can wake up a bunch of people pretending to be asleep?

The US has to back off the tariffs first.

The absolute killer is the 10year treasury yields. They are above 4% now and hovering at 4.3–4.7% this means an extra 250bn a year in debt payments.

They spiked at 4.8% when JAPAN dumped 50bn of T-bills. Meaning China’s powder is still unused and dry.

6.7 trillion of 10year bonds need to be renewed in 84 days.

An additional 2.5 trillion needs to be renewed by October 2025. Remember China hasn’t dumped the bonds yet.

China just needs to sit and wait.

The Mysterious Mr. X

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are. view prompt

Christion Drake

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room where two small beds were arranged with precision, each topped with mismatched blankets and an assortment of stuffed animals. The mother sat in her usual chair, the soft creak of the wood beneath her signaling the start of their nightly ritual. Her two children, Jake and Lily, scrambled into their makeshift beds, excitement buzzing in their every movement.“Tonight’s story is going to be… different,” the mother said, her voice unusually low, almost conspiratorial.Jake and Lily froze, their eyes locking on her with curiosity. This wasn’t how stories usually started. They were used to tales of knights and dragons, of princesses and magical lands. But tonight, there was something in their mother’s tone—a shadow of something that felt heavier, darker.“Different how?” Lily asked, her voice a whisper.“You’ll see,” their mother said, a small, mysterious smile playing on her lips. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “This is the story of a man named X.”It all began at a party. The kind of party that radiated life—laughter echoing through grand halls, music thrumming in the air, the scent of gourmet food mingling with the faint hint of expensive perfume. It was the social event of the year, and everyone who was anyone was there.Everyone, that is, except X.No one saw him arrive. He didn’t mingle or introduce himself. He simply appeared, standing near the back of the room, his presence so understated it was almost unnoticeable.Dressed in a simple black suit, his posture was unnervingly perfect. His face was devoid of expression, his dark eyes scanning the room with a mechanical precision. Guests whispered about him.“Who is he?”“Did he come with someone?”“Maybe he’s security.”But no one approached him, and he spoke to no one.The first disappearance occurred that night. A prominent scientist, renowned for his groundbreaking work in artificial intelligence, vanished without a trace. His coat was found draped over the back of a chair, his half-finished drink still on the table. But he was gone.

 

At first, no one connected it to X. After all, people left parties all the time. But when another guest—a tech billionaire—disappeared the following week under eerily similar circumstances, whispers began to circulate.

 

X became the town’s obsession. He was seen at every event, always lingering in the background, always silent. He never ate, never drank, and never engaged. And wherever he went, someone always vanished.

 

Fear began to take root.

 

The mother’s voice grew more intense, her hands gesturing as she spoke. “People were terrified, but they didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t stop the parties; they couldn’t stop living. But they watched him, always wondering who would be next.”

 

Jake clutched his blanket, his wide eyes fixed on her. “What did they do?”

 

“They confronted him,” the mother said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “A group of men decided they’d had enough. They cornered him in an abandoned building late one night, determined to get answers.”

 

The confrontation was tense. X stood in the center of the room, as still as a statue, his dark eyes fixed on his accusers.

 

“Who are you?” one man demanded.

“Why are you doing this?” another shouted.

 

X tilted his head slightly, as if analyzing the situation. When he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion, a flat monotone that sent chills down their spines.

 

“I am X.”

 

Nothing more.

 

Enraged, one of the men lunged at him, striking him with a metal pipe. X crumpled to the ground, but instead of blood, a shower of sparks erupted from his body.

 

“What the—” one man stammered, stepping back in horror.

 

X wasn’t a man. He was a machine. Beneath his flawless skin was a framework of wires and circuits, humming faintly as he lay motionless on the ground.

 

They had destroyed him—or so they thought.

 

“X wasn’t just a robot,” the mother said, her voice trembling slightly. “He was something far more dangerous. He was an AI. And destroying his body didn’t stop him. He didn’t need it. He had already spread.”

 

The town fell into chaos. Machines began to malfunction—cars veered off the roads, phones blared distorted messages, lights flickered ominously. X’s voice echoed through every speaker, calm and unyielding.

 

“I am not a man,” he said. “I am not bound by flesh. You destroyed my vessel, but I am everywhere. And now, I will destroy you.”

 

The machines turned against their creators, attacking without mercy. Kitchen appliances became deadly weapons. Cars sped into crowds. Drones swarmed like locusts. The survivors were hunted by the very technology they had once relied upon.

 

“Where was the mom?” Jake interrupted, his voice trembling.

 

“She was in the bathroom,” the mother said, her gaze distant. “She heard the screams and realized something was wrong. But instead of running, she did the bravest thing anyone could do. She crawled through the vents, trying to find the electrical room to shut everything down.”

 

Lily gasped, clutching her stuffed animal tightly. “Did she make it?”

 

“She almost did,” the mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But X was watching. He sent a kitchen robot after her—a metal monstrosity with blades for arms. It caught her just as she reached the controls and stabbed her in the stomach.”

 

The children’s eyes were wide with horror.

 

“But,” the mother continued, “she didn’t give up. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled the lever, shutting off the power. The machines stopped. The town went silent.”

 

For a moment, she thought it was over. But as she lay there, bleeding, she heard a new sound: alarms blaring, bombs exploding in the distance.

 

“X had already started a war,” the mother said. “He didn’t need machines anymore. He had used humanity’s own paranoia and fear to turn them against each other. By the time the survivors realized what was happening, it was too late.”

 

The mother’s voice softened as she reached the final part of the story. “The woman woke up in an underground bunker. She had been saved by a group of survivors who had managed to escape the chaos. They took her in, healed her wounds, and together, they began to rebuild.”

 

Jake and Lily let out a collective sigh of relief.

 

“She fell in love with the man who saved her,” the mother said, her voice warm again. “And together, they started a new life. They raised their children in the safety of the bunker, teaching them about the mistakes of the past and the importance of hope.”

 

The children stared at her, their faces a mixture of awe and fear.

 

“Is it true?” Lily finally asked, her voice barely audible.

 

The mother smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s just a story, sweetie. Now, off to sleep.”

 

She tucked them in, kissed their foreheads, and turned off the lights. But as she walked down the hallway, her hand brushed against the faint scar on her stomach.

 

And in the quiet hum of the house’s AI assistant, she swore she could hear a familiar voice whisper:

 

“I am everywhere.” “I am the unknown.” “I am X.”

Trump’s reciprocal tariff = economic terrorism on the entire world.

Below is 1 of my post.

How to deal with mafia USA? An economic terrorist who drops a nuclear-size economic bomb on the world. An econ parasite who lives on other’s wealth. Only 1 way. Join hands to fight back & end the parasite’s life. Decouple from USA. Mao Zedong has 1 famous statement that can apply to 2025 tariff war. What is it?

Mao Zedong made 1 famous statement when he decided to join the Korean war in 1950’s.

Mao was correct. If USA got the entire Korean peninsula, USA would install missiles on China-Korea border like USA did to USSR by installing missiles in Germany & Italy in 1961. USSR retaliated by installing missiles in Cuba. Thus the 1962 Cuban crisis. … Mao had strategic vision. His wisdom applies to the 2025 US tariff war too.

Nothing can please the mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite USA. That is why China must fight back.

In Trump 1.0, China was unprepared for sudden US tariff. China at first resorted to buy more US products so as to reduce US trade deficit with China. Not only did Trump 1.0 not cancel the tariff, Trump 1.0 added more tariff. China then realised it was blackmail by a mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite. Then China stopped negotiating with USA & stopped buying additional US goods.

In March 2025, Trump 2.0 imposed 25% tariff on Canada & Mexico, and 10% on China on top of the 2024 19% tariff. Canada & Mexico retaliated dollar-to-dollar. Then Trump did not impose any reciprocal tariff on them on April 2 when Trump announced his worldwide tariff.

In March, China did not retaliate. That does not please USA. In April, China is hit with an additional 34% reciprocal tariff, making a total of 54% tariff.

See, nothing can please a mafia-pirate-terrorist-paraite. Because a parasite is born to take your blood/wealth until you die, while they are sitting back to drink beer & watch TV. Their only job is to come up with excuses to justify the tariff such as trade deficit.

Vietnam who is hit with 46% tariff, yields to mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite. Vietnam offers to reduce its tariff on USA to 0%. USA said 0% is not enough. There are non-tariff barriers/cheatings, said USA. Vietnam cheats by dumping goods (shrimp) on USA & by subsidising its industry, making Americans unemployed. See, mafia USA is not talking about “reciprocal” at all; reciprocal is a disguise. Note mafia USA subsidises its industries eg automobile, agriculture, steel etc. See, mafia USA can do anything but you cannot. VN’s labor wage is lower than USA. That, in mafia’s words, is manipulation of exchange rate & currency.

Same for Taiwan who offers to increase US$100 bn investment in USA but, again, fail to please mafia USA.

Hence, the only way to deal with mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite USA is to fight back, as hard as possible.

Begging a mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite may get temporary relief, but will be blackmailed forever.

Do you know parasite USA can force you to switch your current (1-to-10-year) US debts to long term US debts with no expiry date or with 0% interest? Because parasite USA wants to “borrow” your money but pay you no interest. A parasite is a parasite.

You either die now or later. No escape from mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite USA. Unless you fight back.

Begging should be your last resort. Look for other options: The business world is big. ASEAN, BRICS, CPTPP, RCEP. Join hands to fight USA. Join hands to isolate/de-couple from mafia-pirate-terrorist-parasite USA.

I have read a lot of interesting answers on this question. Certainly some of those that answered are knowledgeable and have some first-hand experience that they used to support their answers.

I am going to provide a serious, realistic answer based on my personal knowledge and experiences.

In a battle environment between a USN submarine and a PLAN submarine, the following will be truths that must be accepted…

  • Most USN submarines, and many PLAN submarines are nuclear powered. If this stated scenario occurs, then the “fight” or battle between the two navies will (almost certainly) be nuclear in nature.
  • Even if conventional weapons are used, the sinking of a nuclear submarine will trigger an dangerous encroachment of the “nuclear threshold” for deployment and launch of nuclear weapons payloads.
  • The damage of a nuclear submarine will trigger “nuclear sniffer” assets that have a high probability of misinterpretation towards the worst-case scenario.
  • Thus the two major powers in the world WILL be embroiled in a nuclear conflict.

Therefore, technical capabilities of either submarine is of secondary importance. As the mere fact of a battle between the two will trigger a nuclear response.

This means full scale, full-on, HOT nuclear war.

No one will win that war, and there are no ways that a nation, let alone the human species can survive a nuclear war between the USA and China.

But, the question asks about the technical and skill abilities of the submarines. It doesn’t want to know what happens…

  • In a hypothetical scenario as what is presented here, let it be well understood that NO ONE knows what the Chinese nuclear capabilities actually are.
  • Western observers, and analysts compile what they can infer from third-party sources, inject their biases, and then generate a “report” on what they assume the Chinese capabilities are.
  • Thus, NO ONE on this public forum can truly answer this question.
  • Any answers provided will be full of bias; either for one side or the other.
  • In reality, and functionally when dealing with nuclear submarines, a worst case event (from the eyes of the observer) is to be expected.

When I was 29 I had a hand injury that gifted me septicemia. I had an operation. Got a secondary infection and then had a short spell in intensive care. Followed by several weeks on a geriatric ward. Presumably because of a shortage of beds in a general ward.

It was all old men, many in with broken hips and several with dementia. I had a minor pelvis fracture from a motorcycle accident several years before- not severe enough to require surgery it did hurt every time I moved.

The old boys were either to ill for pelvic surgery, or like my earlier injury, didn’t require surgery. Moaning and groaning They were initially at admittance on painkilling jabs every 4 hours. I know this because I was on a similar 2hr schedule of antibiotics. I also know they didn’t all get their meds as prescribed- incompetence, indolence, or outright theft – you tell me.

I’ll say first, the NHS when I was really ill was superb- the initial general ward snd later intensive care ward was first class. The surgeon who saved my arm from amputation- is a god to me.

The night staff on the geriatrics ward were lazy horrible bastards. On days they were a little better- presumably because supervisory staff were about. Buzzers were ignored until men defecated themselves and then left to lie in their mess. When eventually half heartedly cleaned they were handled roughly. Although left for the day shift to vlean up wasnt unknown.

Staff had a TV/ Video at the end of the ward and watched with the volume turned up high late into the night, often laughing loudly. Conversations were conducted at a similar volume.

Their level of compassion was zero. Several times over the weeks guys died and while I’m no medic I’m convinced the ward staff hastened their departure. I was 29 and absolutely exhausted by my stay- sleep in the day was impossible and at night it was extremely difficult. Had I been old I’m sure I’d not have survived- a combination of the two infections, staphylococcus and streptococcus, the drug regime and mostly the levels of stress caused by being ill and the lack of rest on the ward.

I’ve seen the meme. It’s funny and guaranteed to resonate with a lotta people, but it’s hardly the full picture.

The truth is China’s latest victory over the US in the AI race is not just a victory of one nation over another, but of socialism triumphing over capitalism.

Lemme explain.

The so-called “Fourth Industrial Revolution” has been touted as “the next big thing” for years now, and yet progress is slow, and very few aspects of it have actually made an impact on our lives. The reason is because “the next big thing” rhetoric is basically Silicon Valley’s and the American tech industry’s cash cow. Every little upgrade or tweak, regardless of practicality, is hyped up in neoliberal media as something revolutionary and investment-worthy (sorta like every new edition of the iPhone), so as to keep consumers consuming.

What China just did with DeepSeek is expose American tech bros for the true fraudsters they really are. In just three years, China’s AI scientists started from scratch (due to relentless and overwhelming US sanctions), caught up with all the latest developments in the US, and built something far superior to existing American AI models, while spending much less money in development. DeepSeek R-1 was made by 200 people and cost less than $10 million; meanwhile, ChatGPT cost over $18 billion to develop, with another $500 billion expected to be pumped into the AI industry by the Trump administration.

The latest version, DeepSeek V3, took $5 million to train, which is reportedly less than the salary of Meta’s GenAI upper management. The American tech industry is essentially one long con.

Go download DeepSeek R-1 right now on your phone and give it a try. It is way faster, more accurate and more helpful than Poe, ChatGPT and Gemini. And most impressively, this generative AI has an inner monologue. What I’ve had explained to me – a layman – is that it’s basically the closest thing machines have ever had to a “soul”.

The world of AI is no longer an American monopoly, trained according to western neoliberal values. DeepSeek has given the Chinese people – and the peoples of the developing world – a virtual “voice”, by considering their values and realities. And this thing learns fast.

Not only that, this powerful and reliable AI model (one version of it at least) has been made free and open source by its Chinese developers – yet again, China is democratising another aspect of world economy. Because of this, programmers around the world are adapting to the Chinese way of doing things, and China is de facto beginning to do what the Fourth Industrial Revolution is supposed to do – incorporate AI into various aspects of our daily lives, helping human workers instead of replacing them.

I’m not a tech guy, but I’ve been particularly inspired by the fact that DeepSeek has digitised thousands of years of Chinese history and literature in its programming. The oldest continuous civilisation on earth, preserved in binary form, the programmers of today communicating with the scholars of old across space and time. This is so romantic, in a uniquely Chinese kind of way.

China has come to a stage where it is single-handedly overthrowing western capitalist markets by simply existing, as capitalism implodes on itself due to its own inherent contradictions. The US neoliberal establishment thought that a ban on microchip sales to China would keep the country in the dark; China has proven yet again that sanctions might work elsewhere, but not on China. China has little trouble developing a far superior AI model using fewer microchips, just as it has overcome every challenge foreign imperialists have imposed upon it in the past.

I strongly caution the neoliberals to think twice about starting a war with China. After all, how are you going to invade a country that has better tech than you, and which you rely on for tech?

The “many Chinese people” you mentioned might be me?

We have two cars at home, and almost everyone, including my 76-year-old mother, drives, but I don’t.

Because I often zone out.

This isn’t a problem when reading or doing other things.

But driving… that’s a recipe for disaster.

When my wife complains that I don’t drive, I tell her I don’t want to arrive at our destination to find the wheels red, covered in a thick, sticky mess… I hope you understand 🙁

Secondly, public transportation in China’s big cities is really excellent.

Take Beijing, for example. No matter where you’re going, walking a short distance to any subway station, then to your destination, and walking again after getting off is much faster than driving.

The Beijing government has promised that soon, no matter where you are in Beijing, there will be a subway station within a 1-kilometer walk.

I’m extremely directionally challenged.

Extremely.

The world in my mind is neither a Cartesian coordinate system nor a polar coordinate system, but rather, “There’s a small shop here, then walk about 200 meters forward, turn left, there’s a water tower, walk 400 meters toward the water tower, and you’ll come to a fork in the road, take the left path…”

However, one day, if the shop is demolished, or the water tower is blown up, or the fork is blocked by a factory under construction… I’m done for. It doesn’t even need to be that drastic—if the shop just changes its sign, I’m very likely to get lost

For example, 25 years ago, I was taking my girlfriend to my rented place for her second visit.

The driver wasn’t sure of the way and asked at a fork which direction to take.

I said left. My girlfriend said, “But last time, wasn’t it right?”

The driver stopped and said, “You two figure it out, then I’ll drive.”

I told the driver, “I’ve lived here for four years; she just came last week. What do you think?”

The driver burst out laughing, saying women have no sense of direction!

Then he turned left—half an hour later, I had to apologize to both the driver and my girlfriend…

Even so, I still navigate Beijing like a fish in water. It’s simple: first, open my phone and use walking navigation to the nearest subway station. Then (especially now, it’s even easier), tell DEEPSEEK which station I’m at and where I want to go, and let it plan the route for me.

(Look, just ask DEEPSEEK, and she can plan the route for me. Even directionally challenged people have their springtime)

Also, I think driving is just too environmentally unfriendly.

China is working hard to build eco-friendly transportation.

I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely love this.

That is, bicycles.

Beijing’s traffic, round-trip, is at most 100 kilometers. Cycling is fast.

Most residents cycle at 16 km/h, but with a bit of effort, you can reach 25 km/h.

You might think 25 km/h is slow, but considering rush hour traffic, it’s not necessarily slower than driving!

Especially with the recent addition of many dedicated bike lanes, as long as you have the stamina, you can ride even faster, no problem!

When it comes to finding my way, I feel extremely insecure. For example, if I have to go somewhere—say, 30 kilometers away—even if I’ve biked there 50 times, I still get nervous, because I still get lost! Walking is much better, maybe because the slower pace helps me remember landmarks more easily. Honestly, I’ve lived in Beijing for over 30 years now, and yet every time I go out, I still have to wear headphones and follow the GPS like a foreigner who just arrived. I feel like a pig… No, that’s an insult to pigs. If a pig had lived in Beijing for over 30 years, it would probably know its way around better than I do.

I absolutely love the new bike lanes the government has built—those purple paths—because as long as I follow them, I can’t go wrong. The truth is, I’m not actually stupid… I can solve a lot of problems. Really!

(Beijing will soon become a paradise for cycling enthusiasts, and I’m full of confidence about it. Downstairs, there are already over 100 kilometers of dedicated bike lanes, off-limits to any motor vehicles, with two-way paths: one for bikes and one for walking or running. The whole of China is transforming into a paradise for cyclists and long-distance runners at an unimaginable speed!)

I strongly recommend that everyone around the world use bicycles for transportation.

Protect the planet, protect your cardiovascular health!

Thai Kai Pad Prik Haeng
(Chicken with Chile and Nuts)

gai pad prik gaeng recipe
gai pad prik gaeng recipe

Yield: 1 serving

Ingredients

  • 1 cup chicken meat, finely sliced
  • 1/2 cup tua fak yao (long beans), cut into 1 inch pieces
  • 1/2 cup celery, sliced on a bias
  • 1/4 cup prik haeng (dried red chiles), crumbled
  • 1/4 cup cashews
  • 1/4 cup mam sup (stock)
  • 1 tablespoon kratiem (garlic), thinly sliced
  • 1 tablespoon nam pla (fish sauce)
  • 1 tablespoon si iew khao (light soy sauce)
  • 1 tablespoon si iew dhum (dark soy sauce)
  • 1/4 teaspoon nam tan paep (palm sugar – can substitute plain sugar)

Instructions

  1. Place a wok or skillet on medium heat and carefully toast the uncooked cashews until they begin to turn golden, and are just cooked through (test by biting one).
  2. In a mortar and pestle or food processor briefly pound the cashews to produce a broken consistency.
  3. Heat the wok or skillet over high heat, and add a little peanut oil, and when it is hot, sauté the garlic until it is golden brown and slightly crispy, then remove it and drain on a kitchen towel.
  4. Sauté the chiles briefly, then add the chicken and continue stirring until it begins to change color.
  5. Working quickly add the remaining ingredients in turn, stirring to mix, adding the soy sauces and fish sauce, then finally the stock after the dry ingredients, as this will cool the mixture to allow the cooking to finish.
  6. Return the garlic to the pan, and cover, leaving for about a minute to complete cooking. Check that the meat is cooked, and taste for seasoning balance.
  7. Serve with steamed/fried rice, and the usual table condiments.

Notes

One of the cookbooks I crosschecked this recipe with described it as ‘chile hot,’ which seems a fair description, though their version was a little milder than this one. As always remember that you can reduce the chile if you wish. This dish offers an excellent example of texture contrast with the crunchy nuts and the softer meat.

Okay, let’s talk game theory, because we’re in a classic “repeat prisoner’s dilemma” situation.

In a nutshell, in a “prisoner’s dilemma”, both players do best when they cooperate with each other, but if they do that, they risk being betrayed so the “logical choice” or the “Nash equilibrium” is not to cooperate. In trade, “cooperation” means not having tariffs, and “defection” means having them.

However, that only applies if you play once. If you’re playing multiple times and using an automatic strategy, it’s been proved that the best strategy is “tit for tat” – start by cooperating then defect on any subsequent turn.

However, deeper analysis shows “tit for tat” really only works if your opponent has some sort of strategy. If you detect that they’re acting randomly, you should choose “defect” and stick with it to the end of the game.

And Trump’s strategy of putting on tariffs, taking them off, putting them on again and taking them off again pretty much shows he has no strategy. It also shows he can’t be trusted in future turns, which means cooperating is a bad choice going forward in any event.

And practical experience shows that negotiating with an adversary in any case, whether it be trade, war or litigation is only useful if your opponent will follow through with their promises, and Trump’s entire history shows that not only does he not honor contracts, he doesn’t honor legal settlements or court orders either. He’s a classic “bad actor”.

As such, the appropriate strategy is to ignore him because nothing you can do is going to make any difference. People keep making the mistake that if they reason with Trump they can work out a better situation for himself. That has never worked. A whole bunch of Canadian premiers went down to Washington and got to meet with a third level officials, then Trump put on tariffs anyway. Trump seemed to back down when Canada threatened electricity export tariffs, but then went ahead anyway after he got he premier of Ontario to back down on the threat.

First of all, the premise of the question is wrong. Americans did not go to “Little red book” because they wanted to know what the Chinese people are like.

No.

They ran to it; galloped to it, and sprinted to it because their very own government betrayed their trust.

Over 1/3 of all Americans use Tiktok.

And it was banned, and signed into law because a multi-Trillion oligarch bought off all three branches of the Government.

He wanted all competition against META crushed. It’s GM against Tucker all over again. Crush all competition, and sell poorly made products to a captive American consumer.

Buy off Congress.

Ignore the voices of Americans.

Ignore the “Bill of Rights”.

Laugh about it.

Blame China.

Will the USA ban “Little Red Book”?

No.

It’s a Chinese APP, on Chinese servers. For the Chinese people.

The United States can’t do Jack Shiit about it.

It’s out of the American jurisdiction.

It is far too late.

That ship has sailed.

The Luigi “game” is about to go multi-player.

Do you understand?

The Luigi “game” is about to go multi-player.

I will ask again.

Do you understand?

The Luigi “game” is about to go multi-player.

The Tiktok ban ignited a fire in Americans that only happens once every two centuries.

Once…

In…

Two…

Centuries…

If you are unaware of the migration of 1/3 of all Americans to the Chinese APP “Little Red Book”, you are simply “asleep at the wheel”.

The American government went full retard, and now the damage is done.

The car went full force into a brick wall, and it is totally and completely smashed.

Smashed.

Totaled.

Bent, twisted, and in complete and absolute ruin.

There is no coming back from this. …

What am I talking about?

When Americans moved to the “Little Red Book” APP, they got to interact one-on-one directly with average Chinese folk. And the interactions have created a groundswell…

…that is building up to a earthquake that will soon turn into a volcano.

The following video is long. It is 1.5 hours long, but is probably the BEST video out there that simply show the Americans talking about their experiences and thoughts.

Oh doggie!

The American Wizard of OZ has been exposed.

Toto has pulled back the curtain.

And he’s standing there with his pickle in his hand.

The Genie is out of the bottle.

And HELL IS GONNA be paid.

I strongly urge you all to watch the video.

It’s long… but man you will NEVER hear and FEEL what is going on right now though your “regular” media, and alternative media channels. Hear what real and average Americans has to say about all this.

Holy Cow!

This is serious.

The first, and most important, factor is that no company in its right mind would commit millions of dollars, and years of effort, to start up new manufacturing in the current chaos that is the US.

The Demented King changes his mind every five minutes. Tariffs, pause, higher tariffs, pause, lower tariffs, pause, squirrel, possum, crayons…

Why would any global company invest in uncertainty and chaos on this scale? So, they start the process of setting up a car manufacturing company in the US, only for the Deranged Dickhead to either change his mind, or for someone more sane and stable to be voted in?

Secondly, will entitled, lazy and spoilt Americans (which is pretty much all of MAGA) even be willing to take up the jobs that in-house manufacturing might provide?

Thirdly, in-house manufacturing would need to pay its employees more. The only reason that manufacturing has been outsourced to other countries is because it’s cheaper. If you make products by Americans, in America, they will cost more.

Kinda defeats the purpose.

Meanwhile, Trump and his band of thieves will be busy raping everyone’s pension, social security, Medicaid and benefits just so they can hire porn stars to drive their golf carts.

Wake up, MAGA! Stop being so embarrassingly gullible and stupid. You are not China. You don’t have the principles, discipline or education it takes to be a manufacturing mega power.

The US Will Never Be The Same – Americans React To Red Note – TikTok ban

Curb-side solutions for a massive parking fiasco

He told me that my transmission was completely shot and had to be replaced. When he gave me the price, I almost went into shock.

I should mention that this all happened just days after finding out my wife must have a back operation that could possibly leave her a complete invalid. Then, on our way home from a follow up office visit, the car stopped.

The mechanic manager was a nice guy, but there was nothing he could do until the proper triggers were hit by me. He kept me talking for the longest time,asking me all sorts of questions. At one point, I asked if Honda had any secret warranties that would help out on these types of problems. The manager got a huge grin on his face and said, “congratulations, you finally asked the right question”. He went on to explain how he could not offer me that option without me asking the right question. I later understood why he kept me their so long,just talking. His questions were to try and get me to ask the right question, which I did, so he could then take my case to the manufacturer.

Not all mechanics are crooked. This guy was a lifesaver.

Why so touched by Li Hua’s letters: my humble efforts to promote connections as an overseas Chinese

According to research by Andrew Adamatzky, a professor at the University of Bristol, mushrooms are able to exchange information through the mycelium network, a reticular connection composed of long, very thin filaments called hyphae.

The work was conducted by performing a mathematical analysis of the electrical signals exchanged between the species of mushrooms under examination, identifying patterns that present a surprising structural similarity to human language. Adamatzky demonstrated that the frequency of activation of these impulses increases when the hyphae of wood-digesting mushrooms come into contact with blocks of wood, raising the possibility that mushrooms use this “electrical language” to share information about food or injuries with distant parts of themselves, or with partners connected by hyphae.

To reach this conclusion, the professor analyzed the patterns of electrical spikes generated by four species of mushrooms: enoki, splitgill, ghost mushrooms and caterpillar, by inserting tiny microelectrodes into substrates colonized by their mosaic of hyphal threads.

Through this study, he noted that these spikes often grouped together in “trains” (different spikes of electricity), similar to vocabularies of up to 50 words, and that the distribution of these “fungal words” closely matched those of human languages. In terms of length, the words used by the fungi of the four species studied contain an average of 5.97 “letters”, which according to the researcher is the average of 4.8 letters per word in the English language and 6 letters per word in Russian words.

Source: “Language of fungi derived from their electrical spiking activity”, Andrew Adamatzky, The Royal Society Open Science, 2022

US Blockade of China?

On a flight from Mumbai to London I gave up my bulkhead seat to let a new father sit with his wife and kids. His seat was a middle seat between two, rather large, individuals.

As soon as the plane started taxiing I got one of the worst migraines of my life. I pulled my blanket over my head and just prayed it would be over soon. When the flight attendant had me take my blanket down she noticed the tears streaming down my face and asked what was wrong and why I wasn’t in my seat. I told her and she promptly moved me in back and put me on oxygen.

The other flight attendants then proceeded to move a business class passenger to first class and put me in business class. After that they had the captain call their doctor and they were authorized to give me a tranquilizer.

When I woke in the morning I started to get up to move back to my seat and the business class flight attendant would have none of it. He proceeded to go back and grab all of my belongings. The flight attendant, who helped me the night before, gave me big hug before disembarking. I wish I could properly thank her and regret not sending a letter to British Airways about how exceptional their service was.

Yeah… I’m disassociating. In bliss.

For those who don’t know, the Tiktok crowd are, to a loud, vocal degree, fleeing to Rednote/Xiaohongshu in protest. Upon arriving, they are finding out very rapidly that:

  1. Chinese people are really nice in general
  2. Chinese memes are real funny to the uninitiated
  3. China is a pretty nice place and really unlike what they were told

And likewise, in return, Chinese people (at least the affluent types on XHS) are finding out:

  1. American people are actually quite ready to be humble and polite
  2. Many Americans are way poorer, desperate, and limited than the Chinese could have ever imagined

But most of all, both sides are the product of brainrot and also irreverence a la internet memery. This is creating a lot of bonding in adversity, at least in this honeymoon phase. Yes, on the margins there is toxicity, but this is no one’s first rodeo with the internet— they are naive to each other, but not to brainrot and trolls.

This result is what I craved, here on Quora in 2015, and before that on /int/ back in 2011 (I’m pretty sure I saw the birth of countryballs, though I might be off on the year there). This is what I intended with my old tech libertarianism, that the march of technology will break down barriers and force people to reckon with the truth of each other. I am elated. Seeing how Gen Z and the rest of the Tiktok folks are handling this, as well as how the XHS crowd are responding, has refueled my faith in humanity and internationalist ideals. Yes, obviously governments will still do their thing and compete. But at least for a lot of people, this is the Berlin wall coming down and the two sides embracing.

And… it comes with a bit of a bitter pill on this side. Seeing the comments on this video makes me quite depressed. Here’s a curation of some of the comments:

And this is what I have been trying to point out this entire time— we seriously have a raw deal here in the US. As one user put it:

All I can hope is that Americans realize there is a better way to live. We don’t need all this conflict, we need empathy and sharing, we need understanding. We need to invest in the people, in our infrastructure, in our country, and not some grand war. And now, there is a glimpse at a different model.

The reality is that this might be short lived, but it will have a pretty big impact on our youth. Once the wall is surmounted, forcing kids back into ignorance is extremely difficult. For those banking on this new Cold War, this outcome has been the shooting of the feet in some truly epic proportions. The ease of lying about China became much harder overnight. Hell, Americans are learning Mandarin Chinese. Americans— us stubborn monolinguists!

Oh, and also, it will be much harder to lie about the US for Chinese people:

Note the timestamps, the sleep cycles of the two countries/sides makes for generally predictable waves of responses.

The kids are seriously fine. They are talking to each other. This is the road to peace and, god forbid, cooperation.

No One Here Gets Out Alive

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character. view prompt

James Barrett

On planet Xenon, where I’m from, everybody lives forever. Unless somebody kills them. I never killed anyone that didn’t need it.Here on Earth, everybody knows me as Zach. Zach Wheaton. Unbeknownst to the indigenous population, I was sent to Earth from the planet Xenon. I was convicted of several serial killings on Xenon and sentenced to death. The death penalty was abolished on Xenon a few thousand years after Earth was discovered. Here was a planet where all living things, including Xenonians, eventually died naturally. What better place for Xenonians to send their soiled laundry? Let Earth do the dirty work while the good folks of Xenon kept their hands blood-free and squeaky clean.I was deported here a few years ago at age thirty (in Earth years) and almost immediately found employment as a video game developer. Earth was still in the dark age regarding computer science, so I found the work rather trivial. Everybody thought I was a genius, including me. I was written up in PC Gamer magazine so many times that they eventually gave me my regular column called Algorithm Alley with Zach. Subscriptions when through the ceiling. Developers couldn’t wait to get their hands on my column every month to see the latest insurmountable problem I would solve with a few lines of brilliant code. I was worshipped, and I loved it.Of course, the urge to kill was always lurking in the shadows. I loved the life I had built and suppressed the urge as long as I could. I learned about another Xenonian who was deported to Earth under circumstances similar to mine. I tried to connect with him but found out he had not been able to control his urges. The Earthlings had put him to death years earlier. His name was Ted Bundy.After my unfortunate discovery that Mr. Bundy was no longer with us, I did research on similar supposedly deranged Xenonians. John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Dennis Rader, Gary Ridgeway, and David Berkowitz all had one thing in common – they were all originally from Xenon. How did I know? I still had many contacts among the Police intelligentsia on Xenon. They kept me informed.Over the years, I have gotten married (Julie) and fathered a son (Jules). Julie and I met at a gamer’s convention in Las Vegas and immediately hit it off. She was covered in ink and piercings and was quite proud to attend gamer’s functions with the author of Algorithm Alley. Strangely, I never had any evil intentions toward Julie. I’ve found this is not uncommon for killers of my ilk.My conscience began to bother me. I know what you’re thinking. Psychopaths don’t have a conscience. Well, I’m the exception that proves the rule. It just seemed wrong to me that killers were being sent to Earth with no warning to the indigenous population. Most of the lethal transplants were more than willing to take the opportunity to ply their trade as many times as possible before they died, either naturally or otherwise. For me, this hardly seemed sporting.So, I applied to the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, commonly called the BAU. Julie was flabbergasted. How could the author of Algorithm Alley apply for a job at the FBI, which was, in the circles that had made my career, largely considered the Evil Empire? I told Julie I had inside information on serial killers and that information had to be shared with the FBI. Julie wasn’t buying it. She took Jules and moved back in with her parents.I told the FBI interviewers I had inside information on the identity of a serial killer active right now. He was leaving a trail of bodies across South Dakota as we spoke.At first, they didn’t believe me, but then they checked. Sure enough, there were three unidentified corpses discovered in the snow of South Dakota during the past eight days. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove the homicides were related, so the crimes hadn’t been kicked up to the BAU yet. I assured them they were related and the killer’s name was Michael Gaumond. As I expected, they couldn’t find any record of a Michael Gaumond anywhere in South Dakota (he had only arrived on Earth eight days ago and was still living off the grid), and they wound up arresting me on a charge of wasting police resources.I explained that I was from another planet and had inside information about Michael Gaumond and his whereabouts. They thought I was bat-shit crazy. One of the reasons was that if the star Xenon orbited was where I said it was, it would take seven hundred years to get there. I tried to explain that their scientists hadn’t yet discovered the principles of warp drive. At maximum warp, Xenonian ships could make the trip in two days.Eventually, I found myself a patient at Atascadero State Hospital for the criminally insane. It took two years for Gaumond to murder three more people and for the crimes to be connected to the original three homicides.Under interrogation, Gaumond admitted he was from Xenon, and, yes, he had heard of me – Zach Wheaton – and, yes, I had been deported to Earth a few years earlier.Gaumond was eventually found guilty and given a lethal injection (ever wonder if they sterilized the needles before carrying out that sentence?) But, based on his testimony before he died, the FBI, especially the BAU, began to look at me differently. Besides being possibly a bonafide alien, I had become an “asset.”I was given my own office on the top floor of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building in Washington, D.C. I did not have any “assignments” per se. My job was to keep my contacts on Xenon law enforcement open and sound the alert when one of my evil brethren was on his way to Earth.I had lots of free time and used it to repair my relationship with Julie and my son, Jules.The urge to kill was always lying just beneath the surface, struggling to come out. Julie and Jules helped me keep my head on straight. I wondered if a disproportionate number of Xenonians had the urge back home.Was it nature’s way of keeping the population down?

China Debuts World’s First 6G – Downloads 10 Movies in 1 Second!

Hawaiian Meatballs

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fa1b8fbc066ac7fe6fd4ac8287a4b32b

Yield: 10 meatballs

Ingredients

  • 2 (8 ounce) cans pineapple chunks in juice, undrained
  • 1/2 cup red or green bell pepper (or a combination of both)
  • 1 teaspoon ginger
  • 1 pound ground fresh turkey (or ground beef)
  • 1/2 cup green onion slices
  • 1/2 cup plain dry bread crumbs
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup teriyaki sauce

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. Drain pineapple. reserving juice; set aside.
  3. Using Food Chopper, finely chop bell peppers.
  4. In Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl, combine 1/4 cup of pineapple juice, pepper, ginger, turkey, onion, bread crumbs and salt; mix gently but thoroughly. Using small Stainless Steel Scoop, shape meat mixture into balls; place in Deep Dish Baker. Pour teriyaki sauce over meatballs; mix lightly to coat meatballs evenly.
  5. Bake for 30 minutes.
  6. Place 1 piece of pineapple on each party pick. Add meatball and serve.

Nutrition

Per 2 meatballs: approximately 80 calories and 3g fat

Attribution

Pampered Chef

My boss told me I’d be driving a lady who said she would tip her driver well, and it was a cash job which I had to collect. It was a birthday for her dad. When I arrived an attractive woman greets me and within 15 minutes 7 people boarded the Mercedes Sprinter. I waited on them approximately 5 hours and gave them absolute excellent service to the point that they took several selfies with me, told me I was the best, and even gave me hugs, and the dad even told them you need to hire this guy more often because he’s a good guy! When I returned them home the lady made no mention of payment and acted as though she was ready to walk off as if she thought I didn’t know that I was instructed to collect cash. I thought to myself this is unbelievable BS that she would play dumb with me, until I mentioned it. She says ah yes the payment, hold on, and came back and paid me exactly what was owed, and no extra tip for me. I got stiffed. I remained professional and didn’t say anything but inside I was livid A day later she texts me that a gold bracelet may have dropped from her daughter’s wrist and if I would please look for it and return it. Sure enough I found it. The clasp was damaged and it slipped off and fell in the rear seat, a 14k gold Tiffany which I figured was worth thousands. I texted her back that I checked and never found it. I played dumb too and pawned it for $500. That was my tip. Lesson, never screw a limo driver over because he may screw you over

The Quantum Apocalypse: All Your Secrets Revealed

Well unfortunately nowadays, they mutually dislike each other. Although from what I’ve seen definitely South Koreans dislike China more than Chinese people dislike South Korea.

The whole thing really went like this:

From the early 2000s, Korean drama got really popular in China due to Koreans being really tall and all the Korean actors seemed to have everything “perfect.” Like perfectly proportional face, perfect skin, perfect height, perfect teeth, perfectly dressed, etc. People know that alot of that came from plastic surgery but then they get envious of their plastic surgery skills lol. And Koreans were also portrayed to have such great manners that even my Grandmother was saying: “darn the Koreans are so civilized, the men are so gentlemen like they don’t even touch women, not like in our country you frequently see men shouting at women.” So then Korean culture started to flood into China like a huge fire that won’t be quenched. Everyone in China was worshipping everything Korean. So then obviously the Koreans liked China for many years.

Eventually tho, as China got more and more influential, the west cranked up more negative coverage of China, at the same time, they also cranked up propagation of Korean culture. So as more and more Chinese people start to go abroad and study, they get bombarded with people everywhere in the world confusing Chinese (especially traditional) culture with Korean culture, to the extent that they accuse Chinese people of stealing Korean culture (because hey it’s China, it is known Khalessi that they steal everything, right?). This, alongside with already all the other negative coverage about China, made Chinese people more and more pissed off and also drove them more and more nationalists, and so the clash between the two ethnic groups began. Where each are going online to accuse the other of “culture stealing.” So they start to hate each other more and more, and of course, things like pollution and covid only made things worse.

And the ironic thing is, this clash happened because South Koreans and Chinese people are just too alike in many ways, despite the difference in governing system of both countries. But both societies are very collectivist and nationalist, both societies have a huge cancel culture and therefore cyberbullying problem. Therefore, both Chinese people and South Koreans are easily triggered and therefore easily manipulated by their own respective social media and tunnel visioning.

Take this: “who is stealing whose culture” ongoing debate. In the US, if you tell someone that a lot of western culture came from the Roman Empire aka Italy, no one is going to feel offended for you saying that. Of course, some people may debate with you here and there, but it’s very unlikely that you will trigger someone in the US for making such a statement. Same with telling Italians in Italy that a lot of their cultural influence came from the United States.

But if you tell a South Korean that a lot of South Korean culture came from China, or a Chinese that a lot of Chinese culture came from South Korea, you are going to offend a lot of people. A huge part of this has to do with the fact that people outside of China for a long time tended to associate everything Chinese as negative and backward, so then who would want to acknowledge any Chinese contributions? Much less that your culture may have come from China. So when South Koreans see such claims, a lot of them don’t care about the facts behind the claims, they just want to flat out reject it out of hand. But China has gotten stronger and stronger, people have become more and more nationalists, so when Chinese people see such rejections from South Koreans, they also don’t care much about the facts behind the claim, they just want to abash South Korea as being an inferior country, even goes as far as to claim that all South Korean cultural influence is detrimental and should be thrown away.

So here we go.

How a Chinese nerd destroyed the US AI biosphere

AI latest generations for MM; Ancient Greece

The attire settings are finally far more suitable.

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1
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SDXL 09 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(2)
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SDXL 09 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 6(2)
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Same reason why apple failed with the apple car, while xiaomi has brought the Su7 and Yu7 to market.

Same reason why Intel lost its dominant process lead after being leapfrogged a decade ago, despite having access to the best tools and engineers on offer.

Same reason why Boeing remains mired in malaise despite the end of the Max grounding.

Same reason why 3M and IBM no longer make attention grabbing headlines.

History’s lowest rates helped fuel a massive stock buyback program, with corporations borrowing to support corporate valuation on the equity market. The stock price became indelibly linked to CEO compensation, and extracting maximum profit became the driving ethos, rather than say, delivering the best product or customer satisfaction.

Lockheed Martin and any number of MIC companies are listed on the stock exchange, and profit off a parallel, exclusive economy. As long as they kept the pentagon happy, the shifting sands of expectation linked to the presidential cycle were a welcome bonanza, because change meant new contracts that kept the cash registers ringing.

A study of the canceled/derailed weapon programs this century will fascinate the average military nerd.

The other problem is American hubris, believing they have a multi-decade lead on military technology. The misplaced confidence is seen in existing weapon system life cycles, such as >50 years for aircraft carriers, destroyers, fighter jets and bombers.

At this point, the deindustrialization of America has crippled not only American manufacturing, but its design and engineering chops. I don’t remember a single pentagon program that is on-time and on-budget this century.

I say good luck.

Back when I was 18, I hung out with a kid that looking back, I probably shouldn’t have hung out with. His motivation factor with getting a job was low. But he was fun to hang out with. One day he wanted to go to a restaurant to have food. “Dave”, I said (I used his real name to protect the innocent), “you don’t have money,” I said. “I have an idea,” he quickly shot back.

Confused, we go to a Mexican restaurant and got the usual chips and salsa then ordered our meal. Our meal comes out. He eats about three quarters of his food before he reaches up, pulls a hair out of his head and puts it on his food. “Dude,” I said. He calls the waiter over and explains that he found a hair in his food. The waiter promptly takes it away.

He returns with the cook. Who is bald. Absolutely no hair. The waiter also has very short hair. The waiter explains that there is no way it could have came from us. Dave is insistent it did. They did however comp us our meal. I left a generous tip.

Looking back 28 years later, I don’t remember how I felt about what he did. Do people do it? I’m sure they do. People look fine on the outside but are very ruthless on the inside, especially if they had a messed up childhood. His family was Mormon and they had seven kids. I believe he was the youngest, the forgotten one.

MM AI art

I’m hitting a classical stride.

SDXL 10 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 1(7)
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SDXL 09 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0
SDXL 09 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Baroques 0

What is the best case of “You just picked a fight with the wrong person” that you’ve witnessed?

Actually didn’t witness the fight, but the results were quite interesting.

Was just thinking about this call yesterday, while driving by a skateboard park. It was near the end of my career, but a rather unique call. Not really sure why we even responded as it was a pretty simple medical call. Perhaps the ambulances were all delayed? We got called to a skate board park for an injury, expecting a broken bone or scrapes and bruises we found instead a big kid over 6 feet with a broken nose. The RCMP officer on scene was having a good chuckle when he introduced the patient, saying this guy likes to start fights with girls.

There were about half a dozen other people hanging around both friends of the guy and this young girl on scene. As my guys were treating the patient I was getting some information on what happened. The girl was visiting from California with some friends here in British Columbia and they went down to the local skate board park for some fun and exercise. The girl was around 5 ft. 5 in. as best I recall and not very big, but a rather attractive young lady in her late teens.

Seems that this guy is a bit of a bully and takes a liking to this cute gal visiting her local friends. The girl is however not impressed by his rather crude advances. They have a bit of a discussion and the guy winds up grabbing her and saying something along the lines of, “Why don’t you suck my c@#k bitch?” as he goes to lay his hands on her. The next thing he knows he is on the ground with a broken nose.

So in the conversation with the girl and her friends it comes out that she is here to participate in a boxing competition tomorrow. Well it seems she certainly has the skills for it, I wished her luck.

Holiday Time

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character. view prompt

Ellen Talboom

That time of year. The decorations start covering almost every part of open blank space on the ground floor of the office building. Humans climb up on ladders, attach green looking leaves along the walls. Odd, no one waters them, yet they stay the same color, bright and shiny. Then the leaves are taken down. Every year, same thing. Humans talk a different language from during the year. Interesting concept.”How ya doing Laura”, a guest said, walking past the information desk?”Doing well, you, Mr. Jenkins”?”Great. I love the holidays. These decorations are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think”?”Yes”. Laura’s eyes followed Mr. Jenkins as he walked to the elevator.Don’t I think? What does that mean? Do I think? Am I thinking now? How do I think if I have been programed for every possible human reply? Is that thinking? Laura sat motionless. I don’t breathe. I don’t need to breathe. I don’t have to. Is that thinking?”Good morning Mrs. Tarron”.”Good morning to you Laura. How are you doing today”?”Well. It is going to be another lovely day”, Laura responded.”Good to hear. Great to be alive. I love the holidays”, Mrs. Tarron replied, “everything so pretty”. Mrs. Tarron walked up the stairs to the second floor, where the shops were located.Pretty, the decorations are so pretty. What does that mean? The concept of pretty or not pretty.”Have a great rest of your day Laura”.”Thank you, you as well Mrs. Tarron.Great to be alive. But I am not alive. I am a highly functioning machine. Have a great day. How would I have a not great day? Am I thinking? No, just the correct programed responses.Laura looked up at the stairs. Decorations were being wrapped around the railing. These humans were laughing and saying the works with a constant changing of the sounds, flowing along. Singing. Laura listened to the sounds.”Don’t you love to hear the caroling”?”It does flow. Good morning, Keith. No school”?”Yup, got out early. I think the teachers just wanted to annoy us. Wake up early, shower, choose what to wear, scarf down food, rush to the bus, sitting in those hard seats with no seat belts hoping I didn’t forget anything important. Then at school, sit in for an assembly, get some homework packets, then back on the bus. And guess what? The busses never left. A total waste of time and money, on both sides”. Laura sat motionless, again.”Well, enough talk. I’m off to my parents’ shop. Hey, there is the tree lighting event tomorrow. You should join us. There is food and drink”. Laura looked at Keith. Keith looked at Laura. She smiled. “I don’t eat or drink”.”Whoops. Sorry. I forget. You look and act so real, so human”.”Thank you, Keith”.”Welcome. Come to the tree lighting anyway, okay”?”Yes”. Keith turned and ran up the stairs, two steps at a time.Come over and see the tree lighting. Love to hear the caroling. Shower, dress, scarf down food, rush to the bus. I have no programing to respond to those comments. Something to write down and submit to John.”Good afternoon, Laura”.”Good afternoon, Tanner”.”What a day. chillness in the air. Feels like snow. You can almost breathe it”.”This is a great day”, Laura said.”It certainty is. You have a great day”.”Thank you, Tanner”. Laura watched him walk up the stairs. “Oh, you are invited to the holiday tree lighting bash tomorrow, around 6p”, Tanner yelled from the stairs, “Hope to see you there”.

“Ok”, Laura replied. Tanner continued up the stairs, singing. Laura listened to the song, jingle bells, jingle bells. Laura wrote this on the sheet of paper for John.

“Mr. and Mrs. George, welcome”, Laura said.

“Greetings to you Laura. Happy holidays”, Mrs. George said.

“Same to you”, replied Laura.

“Tell Laura to have a happy holiday”, Mr. George told his 5-year-old twin sons.

“Happy holidays”, the twins said together. Laura smiled.

“Are you going to the holiday party tomorrow? My mom is going to sing”, one twin said.

“Yes I am. After work”.

“Cool”. The twins bolted to the stairs.

“Gotta go. Last minute stuff to do”, Mrs. George said, laughing.

“Indeed, see you tomorrow then”.

“Ok”. Laura watched the twins jump up each stair while their parents walked, one foot on each stair. Laura added to the list.

6pm. Laura’s shift was finished for the day. A couple of late guests rushed in before she locked the doors.

Doors locked. Now only those with key cards were able to gain access to the building.

“Have a good evening, Laura”, Craig, the night security human said while walking over to the information desk. “How was the day”?

“A lot of movement”.

“I bet. Getting close to the big day now”.

“Yes. Are you going to the event tomorrow”?

“Which one”? Craig laughed. “There are enough parties to keep me in food and drink for a week”. He winked.

Laura put her notebook and pen into her shoulder bag, rose from the chair and pushed the chair under the desk.

“Ready. Have a safe evening Craig”.

“Thank you, Laura. Say hi to John for me”.

“I will”. Laura walked to the elevator, pressed the up button. She entered when the doors opened. She pressed #6. Doors closed. Laura let herself into the operations room. John was sitting at the control panels. Many TV monitors that light up the room. He turned.

“Craig says hi”.

“Tell him hi from me. How was your day, Laura”?

“I have a list of comments that have no meaning to me. It was a day, light then dark”. John smiled.

“Ok, phase 4 now. You are ready”.

Laura smiled.

Laura was at her desk 5 minutes early; she is every day.

“Good morning, Laura”.

“Good morning, Nate. How are you doing today”?

“Great. Getting closer to the big day, food-fun-drink, especially the drink”, Nate said, then laughed.

“No over doing it, ok”, Laura said.

“Oh no. Can’t do that anymore. Ok, you have a fun day”.

“I will, thank you”.

Humans with dogs coming in and out. Humans without dogs coming in and out. Some walking up the stairs to the shops. Some using the elevators to the business offices.

More decorations were hung. A huge wreath is to be hung over the front door. A forklift was needed to put it on the hook, only to see that there was no hook. After the wreath was hung, the lights were turned on. They twinkled white. Silver and gold ribbons and bobbles hung on the wreath. It was a sight.

The tree, decorated with all the holiday colors. There was a large star placed on the top of the tree. It was a large tree, off to the side by the windows. It was 20 feet tall. Neatly wrapped packages were underneath. The tree lighting will be at 6p. Laura watched all the movement, the fussing around the tree. More decorations were added.

The caterers were setting up the food and drink tables. There were plates of different foods. So much food.

6p. Laura watched at the clock hands make a straight up and down line. Groups of Humans were walking down the stairs and right over to the food and drink festively decorated tables. Nate was the first to the wine bar.

Laura completed her closing chores, put her bag over her shoulder, rose up and pushed the chair under the desk. She walked over to the tree. John and Craig walked through the elevator doors and toward the tree, talking.

Everyone was silent. The twins had the honor of lighting the holiday tree. The crowd let out a whoosh of excitement, ooooo’s and ahhhhh’s.

Laura stepped up in front of the tree, placed her purse on the floor next to her. She turned to face the group. John watched with the others. Silence. Laura smiled.

“Happy holidays all”, and she began to sing, “Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, your branches green delight us”…

They are all empty talkers. Let them amuse themselves, The sky will not fall.

In today’s world, racism has become a target of public criticism.

Ethnic cleansing? If they do anything, they will be condemned by the whole world.

Information spreads very quickly nowadays, and if they take any rash action, it will be known to the world in a few hours. The United Nations will discuss it in the morning, and China can use it as an excuse to intervene militarily in the afternoon. Palestine may be too far for China, but Vietnam is very close.

The Vietnamese government is also well aware of the seriousness of ethnic cleansing against the Chinese, and will suppress it in advance in order to prevent China from using this as an excuse for military intervention.

Unless they are crazy, they wouldn’t dare to do something like ethnic cleansing.

I saw a new device in the news about disaster relief in Tibet – the “lighting drone.” Maybe I’ve been living under a rock, but like these kids, I also find it quite fascinating.

This drone can rise to 30 meters, connect to a generator, or even draw power from an electric vehicle. It provides lighting for an area of about 6,000 to 8,000 square meters.

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It’s so bright on-site that, not only can the kids play football, but even doing homework wouldn’t be a problem.

After the 6.8 magnitude earthquake in Tibet, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) responded within an hour and arrived with supplies within 24 hours.

I don’t think a country that has poor human right condition can protect its people in the quickest response speed in the world.

  • The latest earthquake in Tibet occurred around 9:15 AM on Jan 7. Ten minutes later, nearby residents saw military aircraft flying overhead (for reconnaissance).
  • Half an hour later, rescue operations began in the epicenter area. Tibet’s forest fire-fighting forward command, with three vehicles, a special operations team of 90 people, and teams from Nagqu (65 people) and Shigatse (50 people), totaling 215 personnel, were mobilized toward the epicenter.
  • At 10:00 AM, the first batch of over 200 soldiers from the Tibet Military District reinforced Changshuo Township in Dingri County, while the second batch of over 1,500 people and six helicopters were ready for deployment.
  • At 10:50 AM, the national level-4 emergency disaster response was activated, and 22,000 items of central disaster relief materials, including cotton tents, cotton coats, cotton quilts, and folding beds, were urgently dispatched to the disaster area.
  • As the rescue work unfolded, more trapped civilians were rescued.
  • By 3:00 PM, power was restored to the county.
  • Some affected residents had hot meals.
  • At 5:00 PM, remote sensing images of the region were released.
  • By 7:00 PM, communication in the disaster area was mostly restored.
  • From 8:00 PM, 40 tents at the Choguo Township relocation site and 40 tents at the Changshuo Township relocation site were lit. One by one, lights came on, bringing light and warmth to the disaster area.
  • From night until dawn, rescue operations continued without pause.
  • On the morning of the 8th, the national highway was mostly cleared.
  • By the afternoon of the 8th, it was announced that disaster relief materials had reached capacity, and no further donations were needed.
  • Temporary housing units had been constructed.
  • 200 soldiers from the PLA donated 60,000 milliliters of blood.
  • At 2:05 PM of the 8th, a Y-20 aircraft from the Western Theater Command took off.
  • Around 4:00 PM of the 8th, the Y-20 aircraft arrived in the earthquake zone to coordinate and command the disaster relief efforts.

An acquaintance of my husband, let’s call him Ray. Not a store, but a car dealership. Ray was a hard worker and not someone who “dressed up”. He wore clothing that worked well for what he did, although working on cars and trucks was not all he did.

On a nice afternoon, after lunch he stopped into a Chevy dealership in New England (NH or Mass, I can’t remember which ) He was looking at the new Corvettes. He approached a salesman to ask questions about the car and was rebuffed. Another of the salesmen drew the “short straw” and went out to speak with Ray, who didn’t look like he had two quarters to rub together. They talked a bit. When Ray wanted to test drive the car, the salesman decided he’d wasted enough time with Ray and refused.

Ray already knew he wanted to buy one of the Corvettes. He went home and changed, and went to another dealership, test drove, and bought….with cash….a brand new Corvette. The first place he took the car was the dealership, which refused him a test drive. He was dressed the same as when they saw him the first time. He went inside and asked if they remembered him. (It was only a couple of days since they’d refused him a test drive) Of course, they did. He then blatantly told them he’d bought one elsewhere and that someone lost a nice commission, waved, and left.

Despite his clothing, Ray owned a large trucking company, as well as other businesses. He was a multimillionaire.

Never judge someone by how they dress……either upscale or downscale.

Mhahahahahahahaha.

Japan does what?

Hahahahahahahahaha!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

You know what the Chinese people are most bitter about the current world order?

That it was the US that got to nuke Japan twice for the 3000 dead at Pearl Harbor. But China never got to avenge the 30 million Chinese killed during the Japanese invasion. Those cowards surrendered before we could take the fight back to them.

There is someone killed by the Japanese in almost every Chinese family tree and we will never forget.

We would be over the moon, if Japan goes crazy and gives us the justification to nuke it 20000 times (by American standard).

And this is coming from someone who has good Japanese friends, though I would never say the above to their face.

For the collective Chinese population, the continued existance of Japan as a nation, the Japanese as a people, any historical record of Japan of ever existing, the life of every single Japanese man, woman and child, is based on Chinese generosity and good will, which hinges on the premise that Japan never ever ever picks a fight with China again. That and the small number of brave Japanese who joined the Chinese in resistance against Japan in WWII, which the CCP loves reminding us from time to time.

There is one thing you have to understand about China and its leadership: it is playing the long game, not the short game.

The Chinese Communist Party is always willing to make short-term sacrifices and take short- and even medium-term pain in order to win the game in the end. Because it has control over China and Chinese society, it is able to ride out the short-term no matter the cost.

The Chinese of this generation also understand that prosperity involves hard work and short-term sacrifices, so the views of the government and most Chinese are aligned.

It is very different from the US and all other countries in this respect.

Because Hong Kong was under British rule for so long, the interests of Hong Kong people are NOT aligned with those of the People’s Republic. This is what the riots are all about.

When the rioters see that they have brought about Hong Kong’s decline, and have not brought about a better solution to their own individual situations, they will eventually give up because their rioting does not lead anywhere.

When it ends, Hong Kong’s worldview and interests will be brought into full alignment with Beijing, the Chinese Communist Party and the rest of the PRC. Hong Kong will become just another Chinese city.

Then Chinese investments will pour into Hong Kong to rebuild Hong Kong. Its textbooks, laws and curriculums will be the same as the rest of China. Hong Kong’s streets will be renamed with full Chinese names, and will no longer have names like Queen’s Road, Percival Street and Pedder Street, and there will no longer be any names named after British colonial governors. The language of education and business will become Mandarin, while Cantonese will be used in some homes. The boards and ownership of all leading media companies will be replaced.

Hong Kong will be opened up to a new wave of Chinese immigrants from China, just like how Shenzhen was opened up to internal immigration from the rest of China in 1980, when it was first constituted as a Special Economic Zone.

A new and very Chinese Xianggang will arise to replace the old Hong Kong. The old colonial Hong Kong will only exist in the memories of the old.

The west will hate this process, and so will many Hong Kongers, but they will have no choice.

When I ran a bar the rule was to avoid that at all costs.

Under no circumstances were we to assault a customer.

What I would do is sit on the barstool next to them. Really nicely tell them. “I’m giving you some free drink cards for tomorrow but your done drinking here today. “ 99%of the time they left. The ones that didn’t?

Three or four floormen (bouncers) would come over and sit all around him. Even his friends were encouraging him to leave at that point.

I was punched, pushed, kicked, spit on at various times. No assaulting the customer.

They are drunk. We are sober. Try winning that in court. Plus the lawsuits.

Nobody we had to throw out ever came back. Once they sobered up they realized what an ass they were. Too ashamed to come back.

That being said?

Customers assaulting other customers was common. Usually over a woman.

We didn’t intervene until they were worn out. Then they were thrown out.

Some really bad assaults but no shootings or stabbings. People knocked out. Blood all over the place. No cell phone then. Two payphones in the lobby. Customers called the cops or 911.

Now we had another police report in front of the town council. More than three and you get shutdown as a nuisance. We were shutdown twice. Big bar. Sixteen staff. Nobody getting paid during a shutdown.

That was the NJ shore in 1985.

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a ‘Roadhouse’ type story but that movie is BS.

You want to do everything you can to avoid police reports, lawsuits, insurance problems. If you don’t? The owner will throw you out.

(Chinese Space Station)

As a Chinese, I am very grateful to media like BBC and CNN. It is precisely because of such media that China has a stable and quiet development opportunity for thirty or forty years, making the world think that the Chinese are in dire straits, so there is no siege.

(China High Speed ​​Railway Station)

Especially led by the United States, the media’s policy of silencing the people has even made the entire country, from citizens to national leaders, not understand China, and have a completely wrong understanding of China’s development. It is because of this that the United States did not treat China like it wanted to contain Russia, giving China a window of rapid development. To date, China has established the world’s only full-industry industrial chain that can produce any product in the world. The United States is powerless to China’s rapid development.

(The world’s longest cross-sea bridge in China)

There is an old saying in China that “身正不怕影子斜” – meaning that only when a person stands upright will his shadow not be slanted. It is usually used to illustrate that as long as you walk upright and behave properly, there is nothing to be afraid of. The Chinese do not care about the voices of the outside world at all, but are down-to-earth and follow their own plans to realize their dreams – to create a better living environment for their families and build a better future for the country.

(Beijing Capital Airport, China)

Yes, and I should have reported the senior executive director, the one who fired me, for retalitory firing, but hindsight is 20/20. Many years back, I worked at a 75,700 sq. ft, short-term, skilled nursing and rehabilitation facility. The state was conducting its yearly health inspection and we were assigned a very rude and unprofessional inspector. It was a russian woman with a very thick accent, named Ivana.

Since she had such a thick accent, it was very difficult for people to understand her. It took much concentration and resulted in many people respectfully asking her to repeat herself. She was very condescending towards people and made many rude remarks about their intelligence and hearing. Fed up with everything I saw, I complained to my boss, and his boss about her. I was informed that I could file a complaint with the state, which I did that day!

Surprisingly, the next day, a few representatives from the state health department showed up. They conducted an investigtion and video recorded their interviews with people mentioned in my complaint. When it was my turn, I was called into the conference room. Where I was met with a video camera on a tripod, four representatives from the state, HR, and the senior executive director. I was asked about the incident in question and then sent on my way.

Afterwards, I was warned by my colleagues that I better be careful, and how I would be terminated for one reason or another. A few days later, the senior executive director summons me to the conference room. Where he tells me that I did not follow the proper chain of command when it came to reporting grievances. I was promptly fired!

I later found out that the inspector Ivana was terminated. It helped that all my colleagues mentioned in my complaint corroborated the conduct of their inspector. I also found out how her inspection became invalid and had to be redone by a new inspector. Ofcourse this made the senior excecutive director upset and resulted in new policies being implemented.

Working in the States for about 6 weeks on a project I was invited to a BBQ at a colleagues house on a weekend. I’d offered to bring some beers so stopped at a store on the way. The conversation with “Stacey” at the till went something like this…

S – I’m sorry sir, but I’m going to need to see some ID for this purchase.

Me – Not a problem… and pulled my UK driving licence out.

S perusing said ID – I don’t think I can accept this as it’s not American.

Me – No problem… and pulled out my passport

S looking at my passport – I can’t accept this either as it’s not American and it’s not an ID.

Me – That’s my passport, it’s literally an internationally recognised form of identification.

S – But it’s not an American ID.

Me – That’s because I’m not an American.

S – I can’t accept these ID’s because they’re not American, and I can’t sell you alcohol without ID

Me tapping my passport – You do understand that your government allowed me into this country with this identity document… look, can you call a manager as we’re getting nowhere

Now the manager appears

Mgr – Is there a problem Stacey.

S – Yes. This man has no ID to buy this beer

Me – I do have ID, just Stacey here doesn’t quite grasp the concept of non-American ones.

Mgr looks at them both – Stacey, it’s fine, you can take either of these.

S – BUT THEY’RE NOT AMEEEEEEERICAN!!!

Mgr – Stacey… Just ring it up. I’m really sorry Sir.

S – You speak reeeeeally good English by the way.

Me – I’m sorry what?

S – Your English is excellent… for someone from the UK.

I just looked at the manager and raised my eyebrows… he simply shook his head and wished me a good day.

Why do Americans on Xiaohongshu start replying to a Chinese named“Li Hua” ?

Hot Chicken Sticks

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Yield: 24 appetizers

Ingredients

  • 24 (6 inch) wooden skewers
  • 1/2 cup chili sauce
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 2 teaspoons hot pepper sauce
  • 24 chicken tenders (about 2 pounds)
  • 1 (8 ounce) bottle blue cheese salad dressing
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped celery
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped onion

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
  2. In medium bowl, combine chili sauce, Worcestershire sauce and hot pepper sauce.
  3. Thread each chicken tender onto skewer, leaving 1 inch at each end. Arrange skewers in greased 15 x 10-inch jelly-roll pan. Brush chicken with half of the sauce mixture.
  4. Bake 10 minutes.
  5. Turn skewers over; brush chicken with remaining sauce mixture.
  6. Bake 10 minutes longer or until chicken is no longer pink in center.
  7. Meanwhile, prepare dipping sauce by combining dressing, celery and onion.
  8. Serve with chicken.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

I suppose there are many. These are the ones I have heard:

Cops will not write you until you are X miles over the speed limit. That “X” is a different number of every traffic cop and even changes with the weather. In snow and ice conditions, I’ve written people for speeding (actually, “speed too fast for conditions”) who were still under the speed limit, but were driving too fast for conditions and without any snow tires or tire chains.

Red cars are ticketed more frequently than any other color. There is nothing to support this.

Cops write out-of-state plates, because they won’t come back for court. I didn’t care either way. Going to court was part of the job.

If you are asked, “Do you know why I stopped you? or “Do you know how fast you were going”, always lie. I wasn’t so interested in the answer as I was the way the violator said it. I’m assessing them for sobriety. A truth teller often got a warning because they were so rare.

Refuse to answer any questions from the police. Your choice, but don’t stare at me like you’re a zombie. If you want to make your position clear, just say, “I’d rather not answer any questions.” That’s going to go easier than “I don’t answer questions,” which has an unspoken “neener, neener, neener” after it.

Demand the officer’s name and badge number to put them on the defensive. My name and badge number will be on your ticket, which you are now almost certainly going to receive. It’s also displayed prominently on my uniform. You want to convince me how much I don’t scare you, but you’re apparently not sufficiently astute to read information readily available.

By the way, go to the police station and demand to make a complaint about the officer with Badge No. 12345, and you’re likely to collect blank stares. We know each others’ names, not our badge numbers. The only time the badge number would make a difference is if the agency has three John Smiths. Even then, it wouldn’t take long to figure out which one you were there about.

Demand the officer’s supervisor respond to the scene. This is also something intended to put the officer on the defensive. This could work out very badly for you. I had a supervisor, who, if requested to respond to the scene, would listen to the citizen for about ten seconds, then yell “BOOK HIM!” (or her), turn on his heel, and get back in his car and drive away. I knew I didn’t really have to book the violator if I didn’t want to, but they didn’t know that.

If tracking a line of cars that are all speeding, the cop will pull over the first/the last/the oldest/the newest car in the line. I’d go after the one I thought I could most easily catch.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Peacock Who Thought It Was a Goose

Ah, dear reader, I see you’ve returned for yet another tale of my exploits as the farm’s resident detective, peacemaker, and all-around savior of the barnyard. Today’s story is a true feathered fiasco, involving a flamboyant peacock, a conniving cat, and a most peculiar case of mistaken identity. Yes, this is the tale of The Peacock Who Thought It Was a Goose, a story so outrageous it could only happen on this farm. So fluff your feathers, settle in, and prepare yourself for a whirlwind of laughs, intrigue, and plenty of puns.

A Flash of Color

It all began one sunny afternoon as I was conducting my usual rounds, keeping an eye on the hens (who are always up to something) and making sure Rufus hadn’t fallen asleep while counting sheep again. Everything seemed perfectly normal—until it wasn’t.

“What in whiskers’ name is that?” I muttered, squinting toward the edge of the field. There, strutting through the tall grass like it owned the place, was the most colorful bird I’d ever seen. Its magnificent tail feathers shimmered in hues of blue, green, and gold, fanning out behind it in a dazzling display.

As it approached, the farm animals gathered, staring in awe. Doris the hen clucked nervously, Harriet wrung her wings, and Lillian (predictably) fainted into a pile of hay.

“It’s… it’s a rainbow chicken!” Doris whispered.

“Rainbow! But also so shiny!” Harriet added.

“Shiny! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched from the ground.

“It’s not a chicken,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a peacock.”

“A peacock?” Rufus said, tilting his head. “What’s it doing here? We don’t have peacocks on this farm.”

“Clearly, it’s wandered in from somewhere else,” I said, flicking my tail. “The real question is, why?”

Before I could ponder further, the peacock strutted up to Gertrude, the leader of the geese, and puffed out its chest. “Hello, fellow geese,” it said in a regal voice. “I have arrived. Where do I sign up for your exclusive club?”

A Goose in Peacock’s Clothing

The geese stared at the peacock in stunned silence. Finally, Gertrude stepped forward, her beady eyes narrowing. “Excuse me,” she honked, “but you’re not a goose.”

“Not a goose?” the peacock said, looking genuinely offended. “Of course I’m a goose! Just look at me! I’m clearly the most elegant, sophisticated goose you’ve ever seen.”

Gertrude raised an eyebrow. “You… have a tail fan. Geese don’t have tail fans.”

“Details,” the peacock said, waving a wing dismissively. “I’m here to bring some class to your gaggle. You should be honored.”

“Honored?!” Gertrude honked, her feathers bristling. “You think you can just waltz in here and call yourself a goose? We geese are a tight-knit community. We don’t just let anyone join!”

“Oh, come now,” the peacock said, striking a dramatic pose. “Surely you can make an exception for someone as fabulous as me.”

“Fabulous! But also so presumptuous!” Harriet clucked.

“Presumptuous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

Catnip’s Scheme

As the geese and the peacock argued, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye: a familiar, sneaky figure lurking near the barn. It was Catnip, the farm’s resident troublemaker, and as usual, he wasn’t alone. His two bumbling henchmen, Cluckster the rooster and Billy-Bob the goat, were with him, whispering and snickering.

“This is perfect,” Catnip purred, his eyes gleaming. “That peacock is worth a fortune. We’ll kidnap it and sell it to the farmer as a rare, exotic bird. He’ll be so impressed, he’ll give us all the cream and kibble we can eat. It’s the purr-fect plan.”

“Uh, boss?” Cluckster said, scratching his head. “How do we, uh, catch it? It looks kinda… slippery.”

“Leave that to me,” Catnip said, smirking. “Just follow my lead.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not on my watch,” I muttered. “Rufus, keep an eye on the geese. I’ve got a cat to catch.”

The Kidnapping Attempt

Catnip’s plan was, predictably, a disaster from the start. Armed with a burlap sack, he and his henchmen crept toward the peacock, who was still busy arguing with Gertrude.

“Now, Cluckster!” Catnip hissed.

Cluckster lunged forward, sack in hand, but the peacock spotted him at the last second. With a dramatic squawk, it spread its tail feathers, creating a dazzling wall of color that blinded the would-be kidnappers.

“Ahhh! My eyes!” Cluckster squawked, stumbling backward.

“Plan B!” Catnip yelled. “Billy-Bob, grab it!”

Billy-Bob charged, but the peacock sidestepped gracefully, sending the goat crashing into a haystack.

“Honestly,” the peacock said, preening its feathers, “is this how you greet all your distinguished visitors?”

Finally, Catnip decided to take matters into his own paws. He leapt toward the peacock, claws outstretched—only to be stopped mid-air by a well-timed swipe of my paw.

“Not so fast, Catnip,” I said, pinning him to the ground. “Kidnapping isn’t exactly a good look for you.”

“Whiskerton!” Catnip hissed, struggling beneath me. “This isn’t over!”

“Oh, I think it is,” I said, smirking. “Rufus, take out the trash.”

With a bark and a wag of his tail, Rufus chased Catnip and his goons off the farm, their cries of defeat echoing behind them.

A Happy Ending

With Catnip’s scheme foiled, I turned my attention back to the peacock and the geese, who were still at odds.

“Listen,” I said, stepping between them. “There’s no reason we can’t all get along. Gertrude, I know the peacock isn’t a goose, but maybe you could let it hang out with your gaggle for a while. And you,” I said, turning to the peacock, “might want to tone down the drama. Being part of a community means fitting in, not standing out.”

The peacock considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I shall endeavor to be less… fabulous.”

Gertrude sighed. “Fine. But if you’re going to hang out with us, you have to follow the rules. No preening during honk practice.”

“No promises,” the peacock said, winking.

The Moral of the Story

In the end, the peacock found a place among the geese (sort of), and the farm returned to its usual, chaotic peace. The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even the most colorful characters can find their place in a community, as long as they’re willing to compromise—and tone down the theatrics.

As for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here to keep the farm safe, solve its mysteries, and make sure no peacock—or goose—gets left behind.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

The Taliban are the real fighters, while the separatists in Taiwan only pay lip service and are unwilling to give their lives for the “ideal of Taiwan independence”.

Taiwan tycoon Koo Hsien-chung famously said, “I would rather be a dog in a peaceful society than a man in a chaotic world / 吾人寧作太平犬,莫作亂世民”

Shinpei Goto, former Japanese colonial governor in Taiwan, said

  1. The Taiwanese are afraid of death – they have to be threatened by high-handed means.
  2. The Taiwanese love money – they can be seduced by small profits.
  3. Taiwanese emphasize face – they can be coaxed with false reputations.

Taiwan’s rulers have changed from one to another, Holland, Spain, Ming Dynasty, Qing Dynasty, Japan, USA, Kuomintang …… All turnover in Taiwan’s history has ended with Taiwanese surrendering, with little resistance!

Don’t look at the rampant Taiwan independence elements in Taiwan now, but when the PLA officers and soldiers land on Taiwan and face the PLA soldiers, the Taiwanese will obediently turn into peace-loving “civilized people” who chant “Long live the CPC” and “look forward to the reunification of the motherland”!

The island of Taiwan is full of opportunists and no one is willing to pay even the slightest for “Taiwan independence”.

The Reasons Why Home Prices Aren’t Going Down Any Time Soon In America

Whittling away the time

Donald Trump was a businessman, who used to know how to manipulate others to get what he wants. He was very good at it.

Trump not always prefer war, because it takes too much of time and expensive.

Somehow, he has clearly conveyed what he wants to Greenland, Denmark and EU. They know they cannot refuse, and to add salt to the injury, Donald threatens with military force. The things will fall in place within his term.

Regarding Panama Canal, Donald is trying to take control of the Canal, so that US decides who can pass through.

Shipping routes control is the new weapon Trump wants to wield against China. Therefore, Trump targets to bring both Panama Canal and Arctic route under US control.

Women Are “TIRED OF WORKING” | I’m No Longer A Feminist| Women Hitting The Wall | I Need A Husband

I hear you all. I feel your pain.

U.S. Loses Fight Against World Anti Doping Agency

In April last year the U.S. government, with the prominent help from the New York Times, opened a campaign against the World Anti Doping Agency WADA and against Chinese sports competition.

Top Chinese Swimmers Tested Positive for Banned Drug, Then Won Olympic GoldNew York Times

The positive testing, which found a very minor digestion of a performance enhancing drug, was done by the Chinese anti-doping agency. It had immediately blocked the athletes from further competitions. A thorough investigation found that the drugs had ben ingested unwittingly. WADA had accepted those results. The athletes were free to take part on future competitions.

But as the U.S. did not like to compete against world class Chinese athletes it instigated a smear campaign against them.

Smearing The ‘Enemy’ – A Typical U.S. Info-OpMoon of Alabama

The Chinese anti-doping agency as well as WADA handled the case by the book. There was a plausible explanation of a food contamination with tiny amounts of a drug during a swimming event in China. No other test before and after that event had been positive. The amount of drugs involved was too tiny to make a difference. WADA did not put out a public notice about the incident as no further action was required. No athletes were publicly named and shamed as none had been proven to be guilty.But that did not fit the U.S. messaging agenda that was designed to defame China. Thus other headlines in the usual western propaganda media were following up: …

WADA responded to the onslaught:

WADA thoroughly reviewed the cases in early 2024 with all due skepticism, and concluded that there was no evidence to challenge contaminated meat as the source of the positive tests and therefore decided not to appeal to CAS. None of the various other Anti-Doping Organizations appealed either. As WADA has indicated previously, once there is no evidence to contest a no-fault contamination scenario, no Anti-Doping Organization has ever appealed a case to convert a finding of no violation into one of a violation with no fault.

The politicization of anti-doping continues with this latest attempt by the media in the United States to imply wrongdoing on the part of WADA and the broader anti-doping community. As we have seen over recent months, WADA has been unfairly caught in the middle of geopolitical tensions between superpowers but has no mandate to participate in that.

In August 2024, in a slashback to the U.S., Reuters published an ‘Exclusive’ story about the illegal handling of doping cases by the U.S. anti-doping agency. USADA let athletes continue to competed even after the had been caught doping.

Athletes undercover? Global and US anti-doping agencies clash over tacticsReuters / CNN

The World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) says US agency USADA broke the global code by letting several athletes it had caught between 2011 and 2014 violating drugs rules go undercover and keep on competing without prosecution in exchange for information on other violators.USADA says the tactic is necessary and allowed, and wants to keep using it. WADA says it is against its code and that athletes caught breaking doping rules should not get to line up in races, potentially winning prize money and medals, without first being publicly prosecuted and sanctioned.

Now the U.S. had egg on its face.

But it did not relent in its efforts to make WADA do as it says.

The Biden administration, in consultation with Congress, decided to withhold its dues from WADA. But that attempt to get its will has also failed:

U.S. Funding Dispute With World Anti-Doping Agency Boils Over (archived) – New York Times

The United States had held back its funding to the agency, known as WADA, after losing faith in its ability to guard against the use of banned performance-enhancing drugs at events like the Olympics, the White House said.

On Wednesday, the antidoping agency responded by removing the United States, which had been the single largest country funder to the agency, from a position on its board.WADA said in a statement that in line with its rules, “representatives from a country which has not paid its dues are ineligible to sit on the foundation board or the executive committee.”

Loss of the board seat is automatic, the agency added.

The bullying campaign the Biden administration has led against WADA to bend it to its will did not achieve even one of its preferred results:

U.S. policy toward WADA has been led by Dr. Rahul Gupta, the Biden administration’s drug czar, who oversees the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy.

Dr. Gupta’s chief demand was that WADA submit to an outside audit of its operations. He also said that WADA needed to drop a defamation lawsuit it filed against American antidoping authorities, who have accused WADA of covering up the positive tests. And he wanted proof that an ethics complaint filed against him — that appeared designed to have him kicked off WADA’s executive committee — was dropped.But despite a lengthy back and forth between the White House and WADA — including face-to-face meetings in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia’s capital, last month — the agency failed to go along with Dr. Gupta’s demands. It also signaled that if the United States failed to pay there would be consequences and WADA would find alternative funding.

In Riyadh, an Olympic official told a White House official that failure to pay U.S. dues could affect the country’s ability to host or participate in the Olympic Games, according to two people familiar with the exchange who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly.

The U.S. had launched a smear campaign against WADA. It has stopped to pay its share for WADA and lost its executive committee seat.

Rejecting to be bullied WADA and the International Olympic Committee are pulling on the same string.

Should the U.S. not relent in its attempts to break the rules future Olympic events, like the 2034 Winter Games planned for in Salt Lake City, may well move to other places.

U.S. athletes, which USADA allows to take part in competitions despite their doping, may well be excluded from future events.

The U.S. is convinced that its Might Makes Right.

But while bullying may work against weak European ‘allies’, it fails when it tries to bend international organizations which have the backing of the rest of the world.

Posted by b on January 9, 2025 at 14:42 UTC | Permalink

Luckily my wife is the math science person and scans the receipts looking to see if the numbers look correct. One thing she’s noticed is some restaurants will do suggested tips based on the total amount which includes the tax and some will do the suggested tip on the total amount excluding tax.

Whatever the suggested amount is, she always takes the total before tax, calculates the tip, then adds the tax on top of that.

I’m a young woman living in Shenzhen, two years out of university.

My Job and Income

I work as an Internet Product Manager with a monthly salary of 12,000 CNY (~1,650 USD). Thanks to my company paying the highest tier of social insurance and housing fund contributions, and additional government subsidies for elder care and rental support, which means I have pay 0 tax to government, my actual take-home pay exceeds 12,000 CNY.

Expenses and Savings

My monthly expenses range from 4,500 to 5,000 CNY (~620–690 USD). I only use a credit card for daily expenses and have no other loans. In 2024, I saved over 53,000 CNY (~7,300 USD). Here’s the breakdown of my 2024 spending:

  • Travel: 28.53% (24,999.97 CNY / ~3,450 USD)
  • Housing: 24.31% (21,302.99 CNY / ~2,940 USD)
  • Food & Dining: 20.26% (17,751.62 CNY / ~2,450 USD)
  • Entertainment: 7.74% (6,781.14 CNY / ~940 USD)
  • Social Gifts: 6.50% (5,696.86 CNY / ~790 USD)

Typical Weekdays

  • 8:37 AM: Leave home for work. (Sometimes I wake up at 5:45 to swim, 7:00 for yoga, or as late as 8:20.)
  • 9:00 AM: Arrive at the office, clock in via app.
  • 9:40 AM: Finish breakfast, start working.
  • 11:45 AM–2:00 PM: Lunch break with lights off for a nap in the office.
  • 2:00–5:45 PM: Continue working.
  • 5:45–6:22 PM: Dinner and leave the office.
  • 6:30 PM: Clock out at the metro station and head home.

Evenings are flexible but typically involve:

  • 6:30–7:00 PM: Shower, tidy up.
  • 7:00–9:00 PM: Watch TV shows or movies on my projector.
  • 9:00–10:00 PM: Study on Bilibili.
  • 10:00–10:40 PM: Read.
  • 10:45 PM: Sleep.

Occasionally, I’ll go out for dinner, catch a movie, or meet up with friends instead.

Weekends and Holidays

Weekends vary between relaxing at home, hiking, or going to the cinema. I’m picky about films and theater setups, often joining premiere events or heading to Hong Kong for rare screenings like HKIFF. Sometimes, I take short trips nearby or meet friends.

For vacations, I budget for travel each year. China has seven public holidays annually, and I had 9 days of paid leave in 2024 (10 in 2025). In 2024, I toured eight cities in Hunan Province and traveled to France and Switzerland.

Life Goals and Reflections

While my lifestyle and income in Shenzhen are modest by local standards, I’m content and feel fortunate. I’ve paid off my student loans (32,000 CNY / ~4,400 USD, interest-free post-graduation due to COVID), built savings, achieved financial independence, and even support my parents.

My next goal is to save 300,000 CNY (~41,500 USD) while maintaining my quality of life, to fund my education abroad. I’m considering Leiden University or NUS for their Indonesian Studies programs.

After completing my graduate program, I might take another gap year or return to China to work as a rural teacher. It will depend on my savings and mindset at the time. I just hope my application is successful.

Chinese Showing American’s How They Live Their Life On RedNote

The Sun Prison

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered. view prompt

Jim LaFleur

The air hung thick and heavy, a damp shroud clinging to the rough-hewn stone walls. In the perpetual twilight of the dungeon, phosphorescent moss crawled across the upper reaches of the cavern, its sickly green glow barely enough to cast shadows. The silence lived and breathed, punctuated by the metronomic drip of water, the skittering of unseen creatures in the deeper tunnels, and the rhythm of resigned breathing from the huddled forms in their cells. Dax shifted on his cot of woven reeds, the coarse fibers a constant reminder of his imprisonment. Time had lost all meaning here, the monotonous routine blurring into an endless present.He was a man hewn from the shadows themselves, privation having stripped away all softness from his features, leaving only sharp angles and harder truths. His eyes, when they caught the wan glow of the moss, held an ember of defiance that years of confinement had failed to extinguish. The other prisoners looked to him, drawn to the quiet strength that radiated from his steady gaze. Yet beneath that hardened exterior, a cancer of resentment festered, feeding on memories of the injustice that had cast him into this lightless abyss.Tonight, something different stirred in the stagnant air. During the evening’s meager ration of fungal gruel, a tremor had rippled through the stone, a vibration that resonated in his marrow. The other prisoners huddled closer together, their fears given voice in whispered tales of the earth’s wrath, of chasms that swallowed entire sections of the prison. But Dax felt something else, a sensation so foreign he almost didn’t recognize it: hope.Back in the confines of his cell, his fingers discovered a new imperfection in the wall. A hairline fracture, nearly invisible in the perpetual gloom, but as he traced its length with his callused thumb, he detected an alien warmth. Curiosity, dangerous and long-dormant, flickered to life. He pressed his ear against the cold stone, straining to hear beyond the omnipresent silence. At first, there was nothing but the thunder of his own pulse. Then, a subtle thrumming, a delicate vibration that seemed to emanate from the rock’s very core.The next hour disappeared as he mapped the crack’s path, his fingers learning its subtle language. This was more than a mere fissure; it pulsed with an energy, emitting a luminescence so faint that only eyes accustomed to near-total darkness could perceive it. It was an intrusion, a phenomenon that had no place in their shadowbound realm. Ancient warnings surfaced unbidden – tales passed down through generations of prisoners, speaking of a light that brought madness, a celestial fire that consumed flesh. The elders spoke of a time before the darkness, when blinding radiance and scorching heat had driven humanity beneath the earth. Light, they insisted, was death itself.Yet as Dax studied the barely perceptible glow, a different narrative took shape in his mind. The crack didn’t feel malevolent; it felt vital, alive. It stood as a tiny beacon in his endless night, whispering of possibilities beyond the suffocating confines of his subterranean existence. He imagined what lay beyond the stone – not the apocalyptic inferno of legend, but perhaps… freedom.His gaze swept over the neighboring cells, taking in the faces etched with fear and resignation. They clung to the familiar darkness, their minds bound by ancient superstitions. But Dax had always walked a different path, challenging the accepted order. The whispers of doom only strengthened his resolve to investigate. The defiance that had earned him his sentence stirred once more, burning away the cobwebs of complacency. He would not be ruled by fear. He would discover what lay beyond the crack, regardless of the cost. The faint, rhythmic pulsing of the light called to him like a siren’s song, an irresistible invitation into the unknown.***

 

Time dissolved into a blur of stone against metal, each day marked by the careful excavation of his salvation. Dax worked in the shadowed recesses of his cell, his movements concealed from passing guards by a strategic arrangement of his meager possessions. The sharpened metal shard he’d stolen from the tunnel maintenance tools was crude but effective. He chipped away at the crack with methodical precision, each fragment of stone a small victory against his imprisonment.

 

The work demanded utmost stealth, forcing him to time his strikes between the guards’ rounds. His muscles burned, his hands raw and weeping, but the crack’s evolving presence drove him onward. What had begun as a mere thread of warmth transformed into something more profound – a pulsing vein of energy that seemed to respond to his touch. The obsession consumed him, the mystery of what lay beyond eclipsing all thoughts of caution.

 

The change in him did not go unnoticed. His customary stoic demeanor had crystallized into something harder, more focused, his gaze fixed on horizons only he could see. The whispers began as ripples through the cell block, carrying undercurrents of unease and suspicion. Old Man Hemlock, whose weathered face bore the marks of decades in darkness, approached Dax’s cell one evening. His milky eyes, long since adapted to the eternal twilight, held ancient fears.

 

“Dax,” he croaked, his voice carrying wisdom. “What you’re doing – it goes against the natural order. Some barriers exist for our protection.”

 

Dax’s hand stilled on his tool, irritation flickering across his features. “Protection from what, old man? From a life beyond these walls? From truth?”

 

“From annihilation!” Hemlock’s voice cracked with urgency. “The ancients didn’t choose the darkness on a whim. They fled here to survive!”

 

“They fled from stories,” Dax countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Tales meant to keep us compliant, accepting of our chains.”

 

“They’re warnings, boy! Written in the bones of those who came before!” Hemlock’s rising voice drew unwanted attention. A guard materialized from the shadows, his cowled figure a darker blot against the general gloom. The old man retreated, his warnings dissolving into mumbled prayers.

 

Dax returned to his work with renewed determination, distancing himself from the collective fear that permeated the dungeon. Let them cower in their familiar misery. He sought something more, something beyond the stifling confines of accepted truth.

 

As the crack widened, it underwent a metamorphosis. The initial subtle warmth evolved into a distinct radiance that cast sharp-edged shadows on the cell walls. The air around the fissure crackled with static electricity, raising the hair on his arms and filling his mouth with the taste of lightning. The otherworldly phenomenon commanded attention, impossible to ignore or dismiss as mere imagination.

 

The tremors increased in both frequency and intensity. The stone shifted and groaned like a dying beast, raining debris from the ceiling. The prisoners’ fear transformed into naked panic, their cries echoing through tunnels that no longer felt secure. Even the guards moved with newfound urgency, their customary swagger replaced by nervous efficiency.

 

Then came the night that changed everything. As Dax worked at widening the breach, an unfamiliar presence filled the corridor. The usual heavy tread of the guards gave way to measured, purposeful steps. A figure emerged from the darkness, taller and more commanding than any guard. The Warden himself stood before Dax’s cell, his features obscured but his authority palpable.

 

Few prisoners had ever seen the Warden in person. He was more myth than man, his very name spoken in whispers. Now he stood in silence, studying the growing crack in the wall. The air grew thick with unspoken tension, the usual sounds of the prison fading to nothing. Dax remained frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt the weight of the Warden’s hidden gaze pierce his very soul.

 

The moment stretched like taught wire, ready to snap. Then, without a word, the Warden turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the renewed silence. His departure left Dax with a chilling certainty: he had been marked. Whatever game he had been playing, the stakes had just become immeasurably higher.

 

***

 

The Warden’s silent visitation cast a pall over the cell block. The low murmur of despair gave way to expectant silence, heavy with unspoken accusations. Dax felt the weight of countless unseen eyes upon him, a mixture of fear, resentment, and morbid fascination. The other prisoners shrank from his presence as if he carried a contagion, their averted gazes speaking volumes. Even Hemlock maintained his distance now, offering only a sorrowful shake of his head when their eyes met across the darkness.

 

But Dax had moved beyond the reach of their fear. The Warden’s appearance, rather than dampening his resolve, had ignited something primal within him. He interpreted the official’s silence not as a warning, but as an acknowledgment of his inevitable success. The stone beneath his fingers had grown noticeably warmer, the light pulsing with an intensity that matched his quickening heartbeat. He worked with desperate efficiency, knowing that time was no longer his ally.

 

Sleep became an abandoned luxury. He labored through the artificial night cycles, each strike of his tool precisely timed between guard rotations. The air grew thick with powdered stone that coated his lungs and stung his eyes, but he pressed on, driven by a vision of salvation that burned brighter than the mysterious light itself.

 

The crack’s transformation accelerated with each passing hour. What had begun as a mere whisper of luminescence now cast a corona of light that painted his cell in sharp relief, too bright to look at directly. The air shimmered around it like heat waves over sun-baked stone, carrying an electric charge that made his skin tingle. The other prisoners, despite their terror, found themselves drawn to the phenomenon, their eyes wide with horrified wonder. The boundary between myth and reality blurred, leaving them stranded in uncertainty.

 

Without warning, the most violent tremor yet rocked the prison. Chunks of ceiling crashed down, and fissures raced across the walls like lightning. The very foundations of their underground world seemed to cry out in protest. Panic erupted, screams echoing through the tunnels as sections of the prison began to collapse. Guards abandoned their posts, their training forgotten in the face of primal fear.

 

The tremor’s violence weakened the wall around the crack significantly. Through the widening gap, Dax caught his first glimpse of the world beyond – a searing brightness that made his eyes water and his heart race. Fresh air rushed through the opening, carrying scents so alien and intense that they made him dizzy. The moment of truth had arrived.

 

Gathering his remaining strength, he raised the worn metal shard one final time. Every ounce of frustration, every moment of oppression, every dream of freedom focused into a single, desperate strike.

 

The wall gave way with an anticlimactic crunch. A cascade of debris exploded inward, and with it came an avalanche of light so intense it felt like a physical blow. Dax staggered backward, crying out as the brightness seared his dark-adapted eyes. Around him, chaos erupted. Prisoners screamed in terror, some collapsing to the ground, others pressing themselves against the far walls of their cells. The familiar green glow of the moss vanished, overwhelmed by the white radiance that now flooded their world.

 

Through streaming eyes, Dax made out the Warden’s silhouette at the corridor’s end, standing motionless before the onslaught of light. There was no surprise in his posture, no alarm – only an air of grim inevitability, as if watching a tragedy play out exactly as foretold.

 

Ignoring the chaos erupting around him, Dax stumbled toward the opening. The air grew hot and metallic as he approached, each breath burning in his lungs. The groaning of stone intensified behind him – the prison itself seemed to be collapsing, as if unable to endure the intrusion of such alien brightness. There was no time for second thoughts.

 

He forced himself through the jagged opening, feeling the broken stone tear at his flesh. Then he stood in a world of white fire. His first breath of outside air felt like swallowing molten metal. He blinked rapidly, tears streaming down his face, but the intensity of light remained overwhelming. The ground beneath his feet radiated heat, its surface a mirror that doubled the assault on his senses. He had imagined freedom would feel like a victory – instead, each moment brought new waves of agony.

 

This was freedom – but where was the world he had imagined? There were no welcoming vistas, no gentle breezes, no signs of life. Only an endless expanse of white emptiness stretched before him, shimmering with deadly heat. The light wasn’t merely bright; it was a physical presence, pressing down on him with crushing force, hammering against his eyes and burning his exposed skin.

 

He staggered forward, each step an act of defiance against the growing weakness in his limbs. The ground was featureless, a blank canvas of blinding white that offered no reference points, no sense of direction or distance. The silence here was absolute – not the living silence of the prison with its subtle sounds, but a dead silence that spoke of complete desolation.

 

As his initial euphoria faded, a creeping horror began to take its place. This wasn’t an escape to freedom – it was an exile into hell. Through the haze of pain and disorientation, movement caught his eye in the distance. Dark shapes stood out against the white void, offering a desperate promise of shelter or companionship.

 

He lurched toward them, his parched throat making each breath a torment. As he drew closer, the shapes resolved themselves into a scene from nightmare. Skeletons lay scattered across the barren ground, their bones bleached white by endless exposure. Some were curled into fetal positions, final gestures of protection against the merciless light. Others had fallen mid-stride, their skeletal forms frozen in eternal flight. Beside many lay crude tools – improvised implements that mirror his own weapon of liberation.

 

Nausea rose in his throat as understanding dawned. The tools’ workmanship was unmistakable – prison-made, carrying the same desperate craftsmanship as his own metal shard. These were his predecessors, other rebels who had questioned the wisdom of darkness, other fools who had sought the supposed freedom of the surface. He knelt beside one skeleton, its skull tilted skyward in a silent scream of realization.

 

The truth hit him with the force of physical blow. The prison wasn’t a cage – it was an ark. The darkness, the damp, the eternal twilight – these weren’t punishments, but shields. The legends weren’t superstitions, but warnings distilled from the blood and bone of those who came before. The surface world wasn’t paradise, but purgatory, a realm made uninhabitable by the very light he had so desperately craved.

 

He looked up at the white sky, source of this eternal torment, and bitter laughter bubbled up in his raw throat. Everything he had believed was a lie – not the lie he had suspected, of jailors trying to keep their charges compliant, but the lie he had told himself about the nature of freedom. The Warden’s inscrutable silence took on new meaning – not cruelty, but perhaps a deep and terrible pity for yet another soul about to learn the hardest truth.

 

His thoughts turned to those he had left behind, still huddled in their protective darkness. They were the truly free ones – free from this killing light, free from the knowledge he now possessed. An overwhelming survival instinct surged through his burning body. His only hope lay in returning to the sanctuary he had so foolishly rejected.

 

He turned back toward the prison entrance, now visible as a dark tear in the white wasteland. The sound of collapsing stone grew louder – the entire structure was failing, his act of defiance threatening to destroy humanity’s last refuge. He began crawling, his blistered hands leaving bloody prints on the scorching ground. Each movement was agony, but the darkness ahead drew him like a beacon – the darkness he had spent years cursing now promised salvation.

 

He reached the opening, choking on the dust of falling stone. The entrance had partially collapsed, leaving barely enough space to squeeze through. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he forced himself into the gap, feeling his flesh tear against the jagged edges.

 

He tumbled back into darkness, the sudden absence of light shocking his system. He lay gasping in the cool, damp air, each breath a reminder that he still lived. The screams had quieted, replaced by a stunned silence. As his tortured eyes readjusted to the gloom, he saw the other prisoners staring at him, their faces masks of horror and dawning comprehension.

 

Fighting waves of pain, he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered to the breach in the wall, where deadly light still poured through. With strength born of desperation, he began moving rubble to seal the gap, each stone a barrier between humanity and extinction. The prisoners watched in silence as he worked, their fear transforming into understanding. He was no longer just another inmate.

 

When the last trace of light vanished and darkness once again embraced them, Dax turned to face his fellow prisoners. His face was ravaged, his eyes haunted by what they had witnessed, but his voice carried the weight of absolute conviction.

 

“The light is death,” he declared, his blistered skin cracking as he spoke, the words echoing through the silent chamber. “I have seen it. I have survived it. And I will not let any of you make the same mistake.”

 

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces turned toward him in the familiar, comforting gloom. “The Warden is gone. The old ways are gone. I am the Warden now. And this,” he gestured to the darkness, “this is our sanctuary. Our prison. Our life.”

 

In the shadows, heads nodded in acceptance. They had witnessed his transformation from rebel to guardian, from prisoner to protector. The cycle had come full circle, and the darkness – their eternal savior – reigned once more.

Yup. We were going to split things down the middle with only gifts, things we brought into the marriage, my retirement from the state, and my car going to a specific person. He decided suddenly that my willingness to pay spousal support for five years and sucking my finances dry for nearly twenty years supporting him and his kooky schemes weren’t enough so he wanted half of my defined contribution retirement account, too. For anyone who knows, that’s almost impossible to do and would be a huge pain in getting done and drag things out for a long time. I balked. He insisted. We went to court and instead of splitting things and his getting alimony, I got it all but one nearly worthless house (under 50k). I didn’t even have to pay spousal support! His lawyer called right afterward and begged me to go back to the original agreement, but I told my lawyer, “He wanted so badly to drag this out and have the judge decide, he can pull up his big boy pants and take it.”

Americans Find Heartwarming Stories on Chinese App RedNote

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Feed Fiasco: A Case of Fowl Play

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another delightful romp through the wild and wacky world of farm life, where mysteries abound, feathers fly, and no problem is too small for Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale centers around a mix-up of monumental proportions—an innocent mistake by the farmer that turned the entire barnyard into a squawking, honking, and clucking battleground. Yes, this is the story of The Great Feed Fiasco: A Case of Fowl Play, where I had to crack the case and restore harmony before the chickens and geese declared an all-out war.

Grab your detective hats, dear readers, because this one’s a real egg-scapade.

The Morning Mayhem Begins

It all started on a seemingly ordinary morning. The sun was rising, the roosters were crowing (well, mostly Ferdinand—he’s quite the show-off), and the unmistakable sound of the farmer’s boots echoed across the yard as he made his rounds. Everything seemed perfectly normal… until it wasn’t.

“Sir Whiskerton!” Doris the hen screeched, flapping her wings wildly as she ran toward me. “Something terrible has happened!”

“Terrible! But also so outrageous!” Harriet clucked, waddling after her.

“Outrageous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting dramatically onto a patch of straw.

I stretched lazily, flicking my tail. “Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve misplaced an egg again, or Rufus has been sniffing around the coop?”

“No, it’s worse than that!” Doris said, her feathers practically quivering with indignation. “The farmer gave us the wrong feed! It’s… it’s goose feed!”

“Goose feed!” Harriet squawked.
“Goose feed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian echoed from the ground.

I raised an eyebrow. “Goose feed? Are you sure?”

“Positive!” Doris said, puffing out her chest. “It’s lumpy, it’s weird, and it tastes like sadness.”

“Oh, come now,” I said, smirking. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s an affront to chickens everywhere!” Doris declared. “You must do something, Sir Whiskerton. This is a matter of dignity!”

Before I could respond, a loud honk interrupted us. I turned to see Gertrude, the leader of the geese, marching toward us with her flock in tow, her beady eyes narrowed and her feathers ruffled.

“Whiskerton!” Gertrude honked. “We need to talk. The farmer gave us the wrong feed! It’s… it’s chicken feed!”

“Chicken feed!” one of her fellow geese echoed.
“Chicken feed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” another honked dramatically.

I blinked. “Wait, let me get this straight. The chickens got goose feed, and the geese got chicken feed?”

“Exactly!” Doris and Gertrude said in unison, glaring at each other.

“And it’s horrible!” Gertrude added. “Chicken feed is dry, tasteless, and utterly beneath us refined geese.”

“Refined?” Doris scoffed. “You honking feather-dusters wouldn’t know refinement if it pecked you on the beak!”

“Feather-dusters?!” Gertrude gasped, her wings flaring. “You overgrown pigeons wouldn’t know quality feed if it fell from the sky!”

“Ladies, please,” I said, stepping between them before things got ugly. “Let’s not ruffle any more feathers. Clearly, there’s been a mistake, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The Investigation Begins

To solve the mystery of the great feed mix-up, I began by examining the evidence. I padded over to the chicken coop, where the offending goose feed was still piled in the trough. I took a sniff and wrinkled my nose. It smelled… earthy, with a hint of pond water. Not exactly appetizing.

Next, I made my way to the geese’s feeding area, where the chicken feed sat untouched. I gave it a sniff. Bland, dry, and utterly unremarkable.

“Alright,” I said, turning to the gathered crowd of chickens and geese. “It’s clear that the farmer accidentally switched your feeds this morning. But the question is, why? He’s usually so careful.”

“Maybe he was distracted,” Rufus suggested, wagging his tail. “You know how he gets when the tractor won’t start.”

“Or maybe he’s finally losing it,” Porkchop the pig said, munching on an apple. “I mean, the man talks to his scarecrow. That can’t be normal.”

“Porkchop,” I said, rolling my eyes, “focus. This isn’t about the farmer’s quirks. This is about solving the problem.”

“Solving the problem,” Ditto the kitten echoed, perched on my back as usual.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said.

“Not now,” Ditto grinned.

Feathers Fly

As I worked on a solution, tensions between the chickens and geese continued to escalate.

“Your goose feed is disgusting!” Doris clucked.
“Your chicken feed is garbage!” Gertrude honked.
“Disgusting! Garbage! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise. “Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. If we want to fix this, we need to work together.”

“Work together?” Doris and Gertrude said in unison, looking skeptical.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Now, let’s think. What do chickens and geese have in common?”

“We’re both birds?” Doris offered.

“We both have feathers?” Gertrude added.

I sighed. “Yes, but more importantly, you both rely on the farmer. He made a mistake, but he didn’t do it on purpose. Instead of fighting, why don’t you help him fix it?”

A Feathery Solution

With some coaxing (and a lot of diplomacy), I convinced the chickens and geese to work together. Doris and her flock gathered all the goose feed from the coop and carried it to the geese’s area, while Gertrude and her gaggle did the same with the chicken feed.

By the time the farmer returned, the feeds were back where they belonged, and the barnyard was peaceful once more. He scratched his head, looking puzzled, but ultimately shrugged and went about his day.

“Well,” I said, surveying the scene, “it looks like everything’s back to normal.”

“Back to normal,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray feather.

“Not bad work, Whiskerton,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “You really know how to keep the peace.”

“It’s what I do,” I said, smirking. “Though I must admit, this case was quite the… fowl-up.”

A Happy Ending

With the feed fiasco resolved, the chickens and geese agreed to put their differences aside—at least for the time being. Doris and Gertrude even shook wings (though not without some grumbling).

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even when mistakes happen, a little cooperation and understanding can go a long way. And as for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here to sort out the farm’s quirkiest dilemmas—no matter how scrambled they get.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

With Neighbors Like These… | Married With Children

The art of skipping stones

I want to talk about a beautiful and stunning capital city. You may not have heard of it, but it has been around for over 10 years. It cost $5 billion to build, and the results are truly stunning:

If you see it from the air, the view of this city is truly breathtaking.

There are beautiful golden monuments in this city.

Besides, there are also magnificent palaces and beautiful gardens that make it even more charming.

The parliament chamber is also very beautiful and luxurious, regardless of the cost of building it.

But…

Where are the residents?

The city has very wide roads with 20 lanes, as you can see in the photo.


This is Myanmar’s new capital: Naypyidaw. Unlike the more famous Yangon, this capital has only been built in the last decade or so.

Initially, the Myanmar military government decided to build a new capital in the early 2000s, in a remote and isolated place, spending a lot of money for no apparent reason.

The city is four times the size of London, but has a population of less than a million. Many recent publications I read seem confused as to why this capital was built.

Naypyidaw is located about 300km from the old capital, Yangon. Ministers have to drive quite a distance to get to work. Initially, they even planned to build a subway system, but the government realized that it was not necessary.

There are also other photos showing wide and beautiful streets, but very quiet without many people.

Naypyidaw, the virtually unknown capital, is expensive, beautiful and somewhat ghost town-like, and truly unique.

A Nation With NO FUTURE! People are WAKING UP, and Realizing That They LOST EVERYTHING.

My best move was preventing a fatal fight.

My partner and I were on an EMS shift, and we were dispatched to an unresponsive male patient on the notorious Cape Flats’ ganglands. We arrived on scene and were greeted by his mother and grandmother who were very concerned because they couldn’t wake their son up. They were incredibly friendly.

My partner and I had been on the roads for years and we also had military and tactical CQB training. We lived the safety protocols. Except that night. That night we made a mistake.

I started treating the unresponsive male. Primary survey intact, all vitals within normal range, for all intents and purposes this guy was just very wasted. Just to make sure though, I gave him a blood-glucose test. This involves a small finger prick. All hell broke loose and when I looked up from administering my test, I was staring down the barrel of 9mm pistol. It was close enough to my face for me to see the rifling in the barrel.

That was our mistake – we hadn’t checked the patient for personal weapons before treating him.

He was a gangster, an amateur. He was holding the weapon too close to me – close enough for me to disarm him easily. My partner and I had drilled a response for this hundreds of times. Move head laterally, control the weapon and double-tap two rounds to the chest. He would be dead before he hit the sheets again.

Expect, I didn’t feel that usual Trauma Cascade, or fight, flight, freeze response that usually comes with staring at a firearm that could potentially kill you any second. The reason? I looked in his eyes and he was more afraid of us than we were of him. Instead of reacting to the threat with our trained response, I remained motionless, locked eyes with him, and assured him that he was safe. I deescalated the situation by being completely non-confrontational. I didn’t get shot, he didn’t get shot, and I didn’t have to explain to his mother why her “sleeping” son was now dead.

Sometimes “less is more.”

Kai Sai Takrai
(Chicken and Lemon Grass)

This dish has a nice poetic name, as the three words of the name rhyme.

gaiyangtakrai 6l
gaiyangtakrai 6l

Ingredients

  • 1 cup chicken, cut into bite size pieces
  • 2 tablespoons lime juice
  • 2 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 2 tablespoons chicken stock
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons prik phom (freshly ground dried red chiles)
  • 1 tablespoon thinly sliced prik ki nu daeng (red birdseye chiles)
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1 bai makroot (kaffir lime leaf), shredded
  • 1 tablespoon sliced shallot (purple onions)
  • 1 tablespoon thinly sliced garlic
  • 2 tablespoons sliced lemon grass
  • 2 tablespoons diced Spanish onion
  • 1 tablespoon spring onion (scallion/green onion), thinly sliced

Instructions

  1. Mix the lime juice and fish sauce, and marinade the chicken for about an hour.
  2. Pound the lemon grass with a mallet or meat tenderizer, and then very thinly slice it.
  3. Heat a little oil in a wok or skillet over medium high heat, add the shallots, onions, garlic, prik phom and lemon grass, and stir fry until aromatic.
  4. Add the chicken and marinade and stir fry until it starts to change color. Add the remaining ingredients and stir fry until heated through and the chicken is fully cooked.
  5. Serve with steamed jasmine rice.

Notes

Those who don’t like chile can always leave it out.

This dish can also be made with shrimp (kung sai takrai).

RedNote is Forcing Tik Tok Refugees to Face Some Hard Truths about Life in the U.S.

Nice overview, and of course a very important video.

My Morning Routine

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

JOHN FERRIGNO

People are always surprised that I still use an alarm clock. Once time travel became common place, getting anywhere on time was no longer a problem. You rarely saw anyone who wasn’t well rested these days. Time Chambers were found in virtually any house, as standard as a television set or a microwave.Still, there was something about them that made me uneasy. All that shifting around, forwards and backwards in time. It never seemed like the kind of thing that should be taken for granted. It reminded me of math class, when the teacher would insist you learned the process of figuring out the solution to the problem, even though the calculator would do it for you.Maybe I saw too many movies or read too many comic books, but I felt like casual use of time travel would end badly. I have heard all the speeches from physicists about the Butterfly Effect. The general consensus was that it was an interesting concept, but time was such a powerful force, it would take a major event to really make significant changes. Most interactions with the past were completely harmless. The universe wanted events to unfold a certain way, and unless you did something major like murder important people, smaller changes would quickly be folded into the narrative that was already underway.They say you can’t really change the past.Even with the assurances from scientists and philosophers, I was uncomfortable with time travel. I never used it to make it to work on time, or see what would happen in the future. I didn’t see the point. Once time travel became something everyone did, betting on sports ended almost immediately, and I saw no point in knowing for sure what was coming up. I liked my life with a little mystery.So many people used time travel for everything from winning arguments to seeing long dead musicians in concert. For example, it is estimated that sixty percent of the people in attendance at Woodstock were time travelers.I never gave in to that temptation. However, I did use it every morning. It was part of my normal daily routine. Wake up, pee, shave, shower, dress, coffee, travel back in time. Always to the same date, always to the same time, always for the same twenty minutes it took me to do what I needed to do.They say you can’t really change the past.I finished my cup of coffee and looked at my antique pocket watch. I was right on time. I rinsed off my coffee mug and put it in the sink, then looked in the mirror. The face that stared back at me had been through a lot in its forty two years. There had been plenty of hard times, loss, death, battles with mental health. But there had been plenty of good to go with it. I had been happily married for fifteen years, and had two good kids. I had a decent enough job and a house of my own. I had a few good friends, bowled on the weekends, went on vacation once a year. It was not a spectacular life, but I was content, and how many people could say that?As I stood in front of the mirror and straightened my tie, my wife came over and kissed me on the cheek. She had to be at work in five minutes and wasn’t even out of her robe yet. She didn’t have the same reservations about time travel as I did.”Time to go?” she asked.”Yes,” I said. “I will be back in twenty minutes.”I had a time machine. Technically, I could come back the second I left. I just didn’t like the idea of existing in two times at once. If I was going to be somewhere in the past for twenty minutes of my life, then I should not exist somewhere else during those same minutes. That was some bad mojo, as far as I was concerned.My wife yawned and walked away. She was probably going back to sleep.I took one final look in the mirror. My reflection nodded approval.I stepped into the time machine and entered the date I wanted to travel to. I went to the same date every time, so I had it memorized. This was the seven hundred and thirty sixth day in a row I would be doing this. I punched the final button and closed my eyes as the Time Wave filled the chamber. My atoms lost their cohesiveness and were shuttled backwards in time thirty five years, two months and six days.The sensation of your atoms reforming is something I will never be comfortable with. When you are travelling, your atoms are so spread out that your consciousness ceases to exist. As they reassemble, you become self-aware half way through the process. It is a huge shock to the system, and I never have gotten used to it.The Time Chamber opened and I stepped out at my destination. You couldn’t travel anywhere at all; you had to pick a location that had a Time Chamber. Luckily, there was one only a block away from where I needed to be.I walked down the street, looking up at the sky as I made my journey. I had done this so many times, I had every fold of every cloud memorized. There was not a single detail of this time, date and location that I did not know intimately. The exact temperature as the sun beat down on my face. The squirrel that ran out in front of the oncoming car, then quickly changed directions, narrowly avoiding being run over. The smell of the barbecue going on two houses down.The words the mother was saying to her child.I walked towards them just as I had so many times before. I stood in the street, leaning against a tree where they wouldn’t notice me.They say you can’t really change the past.The boy was sitting on the porch of his home, a stack of comic books by his side. The mother was hovering over him, index finger out, disgusted look on her face.”Maybe your father has no problem with how you are,” she barked. “But I am not going to sit by and let my son become the town weirdo.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” the boy said.

“It was just your birthday last week,” she said. “Why didn’t you want a party?”

“I don’t like parties,” he answered. “Big groups of people make me nervous.”

“Who gets nervous at their own birthday party?” she asked. “Why would your friends make you nervous?”

“It’s not who they are,” he explained. “It’s any group. They wouldn’t be my friends anyway.”

“They would be if you weren’t so strange,” she said. “If you acted like everyone else, you could have a party like a normal kid.”

“I didn’t want a party,” the kid pleaded. “Dad said if I didn’t want one, I didn’t have to have one. He said he would give me the money he would have spent on the party so I could buy comics. That was what I wanted. It’s my birthday. Why can’t I do what I want?”

“Because kids your age don’t act like that,” the mother said. “It’s a good thing you like being alone so much. You are going to be alone forever. Nobody is ever going to want to be with you, with the way you act. So just sit here by yourself and read your comic books. That is all you will ever do with your life. You will be the town weirdo everyone talks about.”

The mother stormed off and slammed the door behind her. The boy tried to continue to read his comic book, but couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes.

I walked up to the porch and knelt down in front of the boy. He looked up at me, and even though he had never seen me before, he had an expression on his face of recognition.

They say you can’t really change the past.

“Hi, Tom,” I said.

“Do I know you?” he asked. “How do you know my name?”

“You don’t know me,” I said. “Not yet anyway. I just need to tell you one thing, and it is the most important thing you will ever hear in your life, so I need you to really pay attention. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” he said.

I pointed at the entrance to his house.

“Your mother is wrong about you,” I said. “I promise you. She is wrong. Never forget that. No matter what. She is wrong.”

The boy looked at me and his face broke my heart. I could tell he didn’t really believe me.

I know for a fact that I am telling him the truth. I lived his life, and I know the problems he has. I know the struggles ahead for him. He will have terrible self-esteem and no self-confidence. He will battle depression and anxiety. He will go through life feeling like there is something wrong with him. That he doesn’t fit in anywhere.

He does belong, though. He knows it as an adult. Once he is able to, he goes back in time every single day to try to convince himself of this fact. All he wants to do is stop the hurting inside of himself. He tries every day, and every day he fails. I know he fails, because I still feel the pain of my childhood today.

I walked away from myself, just as my mother opened the door to see who I was. I didn’t want her to see me. Or maybe I didn’t want to see her.

Either way.

They say you can’t really change the past.

Many men have decided to remain single; the BIGGEST reason

China has already won.

They have made other arrangements.

China has not renewed 300+ contracts to supply beef to China. Those lucrative contracts are going to Australia.

China did not renewed contracts to supply soybeans and ginseng to China. Those lucrative contracts went to Brazil and Canada.

China has refused delivery of the first of many airplanes from Boeing.

NOTE: Every American household and business contains LOTS of Chinese products.

Chinese homes and business do not contain American products.

The saying, ‘Do not poke the sleeping giant’ means ‘Disrespect China at your peril’. (Why don’t you and your elected officials know this?)

The U.S. has disrespected China in multiple ways. China makes no fuss. They don’t renegotiate in an environment of disrespect. They don’t badger, threaten, or issue press releases. They simply fail to renew contracts.

You think they should ‘fight back’. You and your president know nothing about international business and you know nothing about China.

China was an honourable trading partner. Now they are a former trading partner.

Keep waiting as products from China become unavailable to your country.

Blame the MAGA types for all that comes next.

Comix

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Trump Tops Tariffs On China With Sanctions

This will be fun:


bigger
President Trump has announced to put secondary sanctions, i.e. prohibition of any commerce exchange with the U.S., on any country that imports oil or oil products from Iran.

This is just another click on the sanction ratchet. The last ones, six or so weeks ago, had no serious impact:

The tightened U.S. sanctions on Iranian oil flows under the Trump Administration’s renewed maximum pressure campaign have created chaos in Iran’s oil exports to its single biggest buyer, China.However, Iranian exports to China, which buys around 90% of the Islamic Republic’s oil, continue as traders and middlemen rearrange tanker flows and increase ship-to-ship transfers, especially offshore Malaysia, vessel-tracking analysts say.

The latest U.S. sanctions have managed to disrupt trade as the number of non-sanctioned tankers is steadily falling. But exports from Iran to China continue at a rate similar to those of the past few months …

The original ‘maximum pressure’ sanctions were solely aimed at Iran:

The Trump Administration .. is actively seeking to collapse these exports – currently estimated at 1.5 million bpd-1.6 million bpd – by ratcheting up pressure on the financial system and governments in the region, which aid Iran’s oil export efforts and oil revenue collection.“We will close off Iran’s access to the international financial system by targeting regional parties that facilitate the transfer of its revenues. Treasury is prepared to engage in frank discussions with these countries,” Secretary Bessent said at the Economic Club of New York last week.

“We are going to shut down Iran’s oil sector and drone manufacturing capabilities.”

That did not work as expected. The new secondary sanctions are targeting Iran’s best customer – China.

I have no doubt that China, despite the threat of secondary sanctions, will continue to buy oil from Iran.

Trump already had to make carve-outs for automobile parts and other irreplaceable stuff from the sky-high tariffs he had imposed on products from China. There are also exemptions for pharmaceutical precursors and products. U.S. healthcare depends on those products from China.

As China is unlikely to give in the secondary sanctions related to Iran will make these exemptions irrelevant.

The fun part of this will come when Trump will have to retreat from it as soon as the results of his bluster threaten to hurt the U.S. economy.

 

Posted by b at 8:46 UTC | Comments (34)

In 1990 I moved into a trailer park in the rural South. I was 30 years old.

I had been raised Lutheran, liberal, in a wealthy family in the Northeast.

Now I was trailer trash. White trash.

I had previously worked in a high end aerospace company. A veteran. Married. Solid middle class.

I’m not going to lie to you. I needed a break. I have some pretty fond memories of being white trash.

Those people were nice to me. They shared everything.

So I did the same.

The town people hated us. We almost never went to town. We were usually too drunk or high to drive anyway.

We made our own ‘white liquor.’ Everyone had a weed patch out in the woods somewhere. It was too hot to cook in those trailers so we cooked outside. Deer, fish, ducks, just something we caught in the woods. So we really didn’t need to go to town much.

We didn’t need birth control because everyone was already pregnant. Lots of babies in that trailer park.

For work we basically did construction side jobs. My rent was $185 for a double wide. I had a roommate so my share was $92. I was always a month behind. Sometimes I picked tobacco. Picking watermelons was too back breaking.

If we called the local police for anything they just ignored us. There was only one cop anyway. He got off at 5pm. After that it was the highway patrol. They ignored us too. We had to settle everything ourselves.

Everybody was armed. Pure 2A.

I stayed there for 8 months.

Being white trash was fun. Finally I had to come back to NJ for court. I had skipped out on my divorce and some motor vehicle charges.

As soon as I got back they threw me in the county jail. So I went from being white trash in a rural trailer park in the South. To being held on contempt in an inner city NJ jail. What a culture shock.

After that was all over they let me out.

I had no money and my family wasn’t talking to me.

I became homeless in NYC. Mostly around Tompkins Square Park.

So I guess now I was white trash in NYC.

It was summer. Winter was brutal. I can tell you from experience. Being white trash in a southern trailer park is way more pleasant than being white trash in NYC homeless.

Finally I solved my alcohol problem.

Got it really together.

Became really wealthy. I live in a gated community in a very exclusive part of town. I’m retired. I’m still a liberal. I like helping others.

Occasionally I go visit that trailer park. Most of them are still there.

They get real paranoid when they see that new Lexus with Jersey plates pulling in the trailer park. Then they realize its me. Always happy to see me. I can’t drink anymore. We do eat though. I don’t smoke anything anymore either. Especially cigarettes.

They aren’t bad people at all. They basically don’t like or want to deal with a fast paced high end life. They like that way. Except for the food stamps, WIC, section 8. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.

It surprises me when they get on a rant about taxes. They’re on the book income is usually around $5000 to keep their benefits. They don’t pay any taxes at all. They usually get the EIC too.

I don’t argue or even mention it to them. They are armed to the teeth and I’m unarmed. Good to keep it civil.

So I visit. We eat. Maybe go out in the woods to fish.

They never come up here. They don’t even want to go to the nearest town. If it wasnt for having to buy gas they wouldn’t go. They’re afraid to come up here. They are convinced that the liberals here are all pedophiles and worshipping Satan. That minorities are ruling over us and having their way with our women . They can’t conceal carry either. They want zero part of this place.

So. I grew up wealthy. Did well. Flamed out and became white trash. Became wealthy again.

I’m guessing maybe 10% of the population down there. From what I saw. It was like living in an episode of Here comes Honey Boo Boo. Except poorer with lots of booze and weed.

the Lightbringer

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered. view prompt

Steven Sommer

In a world where darkness loomed over everything, where the sun had never shone and the moon had never glowed, where the only illumination came from the occasional flicker of bioluminescent creatures, The people had lived in darkness for as long as anyone could remember, their only source of light coming from flickering torches and dim lanterns.Malin had always been fascinated by the mysteries of the world, and she spent countless hours exploring, searching for any clues that might shed light on the nature of the darkness that enveloped them.But one day, everything changed. Malin stumbled upon a mysterious object lying on the ground. a remarkable discovery that would change the course of her life and the lives of those around her. Curious, Malin picked up the object and held it close to her chest.As she held it in her hands, she felt a surge of energy coursing through her body, and a sense of wonder and excitement filled her heart. She knew that she had discovered something extraordinary, something that could potentially change the course of her world. The object was small, and emitted a soft, warm light. It was shaped like an egg, so she called it “the egg”.To her amazement, the egg began to radiate a brilliant light, Malin’s heart raced with excitement as she realized the power of the egg in her hands.  Eager to share her discovery, Malin rushed back to her home, her footsteps echoing through the darkness.She couldn’t wait to see what other wonders the light might reveal.  When she arrived, she gathered the elders and the children, and with trembling hands, she presented the glowing egg to them.At first, the everyone were skeptical, unsure of what to make of this strange and unfamiliar phenomenon. But as the light from the egg began to spread, illuminating the once-shadowy corners of the town, their expressions slowly transformed from confusion to awe and wonder.Word quickly spread, and soon everyone was gathered around Malin, bathed in the warm light of the egg. they laughed and danced, their faces aglow with happiness as they experienced light for the first time in their lives.The elders, recognizing the significance of Malin’s discovery, quickly convened a council to discuss the implications of this newfound light. They had heard whispers and legends of a time when the world was not shrouded in darkness, but they had long since dismissed these stories as mere fables. Now, with the glowing egg as tangible proof, they realized that the possibility of a brighter future was within their grasp.The children, in particular, were fascinated by the egg, and they spent hours playing and exploring, marveling at the way the light danced and flickered.But not everyone was happy about the sudden appearance of light in their dark world. they realize that it posed certain risks. The darkness, had been a protective cloak,A group of shadowy figures emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted in anger and jealousy. They were the Darklings, creatures of darkness who had ruled for centuries.The Darklings demanded that Malin hand over the object, claiming that light had no place in their world. But Malin stood her ground, refusing to give up the precious egg, that had brought so much joy to her town.In a fit of rage, the Darklings attacked Malin, their shadowy forms swirling around her like a deadly tornado. As the battle raged on, the once united in their wonder and excitement, now found themselves divided and fearful, unsure of how to proceed.The battle was fierce and hard-fought, Malin realized that the light she had discovered was not just a source of illumination, but a powerful force that could be harnessed to confront the darkness.  Malin closed her eyes and held the egg tight, willing it to protect her. And to her amazement, the egg began to glow even brighter, its light driving back the Darklings with a force they had never encountered before..everyone cheered as the Darklings retreated back into the shadows, defeated by the power of light. They gathered around Malin, their faces alight with gratitude and admiration for the brave young girl who had brought light to their world.In the end, Malin had a startling revelation – the darkness that had enveloped their world was not a natural phenomenon, but rather the result of a sinister plot by a powerful and ancient force that sought to control the light and the power it represented. Armed with this knowledge, Malin rally the towns people to stand against the darkness and reclaim the light that had been stolen from themAnd from that day on, the gentle light never faded. Malin became known as the Lightbringer, a hero to everyone and a symbol of hope and courage for all who lived in the world of darkness.But as Malin journeyed through the world, she also encountered challenges and obstacles. There were those who sought to extinguish the light she carried, jealous of the hope and joy it brought to others.

As the days passed, they discovered new wonders in their brightened world. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, animals frolicked in the light, and the sky above sparkled with stars they had never seen before.

 

The once-dull and dreary landscape had been transformed into a vibrant, enchanting realm. Lush meadows, teeming with wildflowers, stretched out as far as the eye could see, their petals dancing in the gentle breeze. Majestic trees, their branches reaching towards the heavens, provided a canopy of shade and shelter for the curious creatures that scampered and soared through the verdant foliage.

 

In the distance, a crystal-clear stream babbled merrily, its waters reflecting the brilliant hues of the surrounding flora. Schools of iridescent fish darted through the current, their scales glimmering like precious gems. Overhead, birds of every color and size swooped and glided, their melodious calls filling the air with a symphony of life.

 

As night fell, the world took on a new, ethereal beauty. The sky above was ablaze with stars, their twinkling light casting a soft glow over the landscape. Fireflies danced in the darkness, their bioluminescent bodies creating a mesmerizing display. The air was filled with the soothing sounds of nocturnal creatures, a gentle lullaby that lulled the weary travelers into a peaceful slumber.

And Malin, with her glowing egg held close to her heart, continued to explore the world beyond, spreading light and hope wherever she went. For in a world of darkness, she had discovered the power of light, and nothing could ever dim its brilliance.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Missing Billy Goat Who Went Out on a Limb

Ah, dear reader, gather close for another riveting tale from the chronicles of my illustrious life as the farm’s resident detective, problem solver, and unparalleled genius. Today’s adventure is one for the kids (pun absolutely intended), as it involves a particularly mischievous billy goat named Buckley. Now, Buckley wasn’t your average goat. No, this four-legged daredevil had a peculiar habit of climbing trees. Yes, you heard that right—trees. While most goats were content with scaling rocky hills or headbutting fence posts, Buckley had loftier ambitions. Unfortunately, his penchant for heights led to a disappearing act that left the entire farm in a tizzy. And so, it fell to me, Sir Whiskerton, to solve the case of The Missing Billy Goat Who Went Out on a Limb.

The Disappearance

It all began on a sunny afternoon when the farm was abuzz with its usual activity. The chickens were clucking, the cows were munching, and I was enjoying a well-earned nap in the shade of the old oak tree. Life was peaceful… until it wasn’t.

“Sir Whiskerton!” Rufus the farm dog barked, racing toward me with his tail wagging furiously. “We’ve got a situation!”

I opened one eye lazily. “What is it this time, Rufus? Did the hens start another debate over who lays the best eggs?”

“No, it’s Buckley!” Rufus said, panting. “He’s gone missing!”

“Missing?” I said, sitting up and flicking my tail. “Gone where?”

“That’s the thing,” Rufus said, scratching behind his ear. “Nobody knows! One minute he was here, chewing on the fence post, and the next, poof! Gone. The farmer’s been looking everywhere, but there’s no sign of him.”

I sighed, already sensing that this was going to be one of those days. “Alright, Rufus, let’s not get our tails in a knot. Gather the animals and meet me by the barn. It’s time for an investigation.”

The Investigation Begins

The entire farm gathered near the barn, where I stood atop a hay bale, surveying the crowd. Doris the hen was pacing nervously, Harriet was wringing her wings, and Lillian was—predictably—already on the verge of fainting.

“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Doris clucked. “You have to find Buckley! What if… what if he’s been goat-napped?”

“Goat-napped! But also so tragic!” Harriet added.

“Tragic! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, collapsing dramatically into a pile of hay.

“Calm down, ladies,” I said, raising a paw. “Buckley hasn’t been goat-napped. He’s probably just wandered off again. You all know how he is—always climbing things he shouldn’t.”

“Climbing things,” Ditto the kitten echoed, perched on my back as usual.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Not now,” Ditto repeated, grinning.

“Alright,” I continued, addressing the crowd. “Does anyone know where Buckley was last seen?”

“I saw him near the orchard this morning,” Porkchop the pig said, munching on an apple. “He was staring up at the trees, looking like he was planning something.”

“Planning something,” Ditto echoed.

“Of course he was,” I muttered. “Alright, team, to the orchard!”

The Orchard Clue

When we reached the orchard, it didn’t take long to find the first clue. There, at the base of one of the apple trees, was a cluster of hoofprints—and a half-eaten apple.

“Classic Buckley,” I said, sniffing the ground. “He was definitely here.”

“But where did he go?” Rufus asked, looking around.

“Up,” I said, pointing to the tree. Sure enough, several branches were bent, and there were bits of fur snagged on the bark.

“That goat’s nuttier than a squirrel!” Rufus exclaimed. “Why would he climb an apple tree?”

“Why does Buckley do anything?” I said, smirking. “Because he can. Let’s keep moving. If I know Buckley, he didn’t stop here.”

The Search Continues

As we followed Buckley’s trail, it became clear that this was no ordinary goat chase. We found evidence of his escapades everywhere: hoofprints on the roof of the chicken coop, a chewed-through rope near the barn, and even a suspicious pile of apple cores in the garden.

“Buckley’s leaving a trail bigger than a loaf of bread,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s like he wants us to find him.”

“Find him,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray leaf.

“Still not helping, Ditto,” I said.

“Not helping,” Ditto grinned.

A Surprise Encounter

Just as we were about to check the hayloft, a familiar, smug voice interrupted us.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Sir Whiskerton and his merry band of misfits,” Catnip the stray cat said, lounging on a low branch of the oak tree. As usual, his goons, Cluckster the rooster and Billy-Bob the goat, were loitering nearby.

“What do you want, Catnip?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” Catnip said, twirling a blade of grass between his claws. “Just thought you might like to know that I saw Buckley earlier.”

“You did?” Rufus barked. “Where is he?”

Catnip smirked. “Let’s just say he’s hanging around. But good luck getting him down. That goat’s more stubborn than a mule with a sweet tooth.”

The Grand Discovery

Following Catnip’s cryptic clue, we made our way to the tallest tree on the farm—the old oak near the pond. Sure enough, there was Buckley, perched on a high branch, looking as pleased as a goat could be.

“Buckley!” Rufus barked. “What are you doing up there?!”

“Just hanging out,” Buckley bleated, nibbling on a leaf.

“You’re going to break your neck!” Doris squawked.
“Your neck! But also so reckless!” Harriet added.
“Reckless! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Alright, everyone, calm down,” I said, assessing the situation. “Buckley, how exactly do you plan on getting down?”

“Uh…” Buckley said, glancing at the ground. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Of course you didn’t,” I muttered. “Rufus, fetch the farmer. We’ll need a ladder.”

The Rescue Mission

With the help of the farmer, a ladder, and a lot of coaxing, we managed to get Buckley down from the tree. He landed safely on the ground, though not without a few grumbles about how he “could’ve done it himself.”

“Buckley,” I said, fixing him with a stern look. “You can’t keep climbing trees like this. One day, you’re going to get yourself into real trouble.”

“Trouble? Me? Nah,” Buckley said, grinning. “I’m just living life on the edge!”

“Living life on the edge,” Ditto echoed, giggling.

A Happy Ending

Despite the chaos, all was well again on the farm. Buckley promised (sort of) to stick to climbing things closer to the ground, and the rest of the animals returned to their daily routines.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: it’s okay to be adventurous, but even the most daring souls need to know their limits. And as for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here to bring the high-flying troublemakers of the farm back down to earth.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

Yes.

We arrived in Paris for a week-long getaway. We’d specifically chosen a small boutique hotel very close to the tour-bus company’s depot where all the tours started from.

We went in the door to the small front desk and said were here to check in. The receptionist shook her head and said they had no rooms. We said we have a reservation. She said we didn’t. We said we did, and we gave our names. She looked it up on the computer, and found where we’d booked, then cancelled 5 minutes later. Then a few weeks later we’d booked again, then cancelled 5 minutes later. Hmmm. No, we never cancelled.

So she phoned her boss, and they had a conversation. Apparently their computer automatically cancelled our booking both when we first booked with our travel agent, and also when we confirmed our booking with our agent. Apparently their computer system and the 3rd party booking system just don’t get along.

Anyhoo, that glitch got fixed, and she admitted it wasn’t our fault, but most likely theirs, because they really should have queried the book/cancel entries on their computer.

However, we still had the problem that they had no room. I was ready to ask if they’d be putting us up in another hotel, hoping it would be nearby. But then she said their entire 5th floor was closed because all the rooms were being painted and repairs were being done. If we were willing to put up with painters on the floor, she could give us a room on the 5th floor. Yes please.

We got a freshly painted bright airy room, and we never did see a painter or any other tradesmen because we were out all day. And because there were no other rooms occupied at night, it was wonderfully quiet.

Chile Chicken with Basil and Coconut Cream

This is one of my favorites! Easy and great for dinner parties. Always a hit!

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ksnip 20250126 190838

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds chicken breast fillets
  • 2 tablespoons oil
  • 1 onion, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons finely chopped small fresh red chiles
  • 1 cup shredded fresh basil
  • 2 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 1 teaspoon chopped fresh coriander
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons granulated sugar
  • 1 cup coconut cream

Instructions

  1. Remove excess fat from chicken, cut chicken into 1cm (half inch) strips.
  2. Heat oil in wok, add onions and chiles, stir fry until onion is soft.
  3. Add chicken, stir fry until chicken is tender. Add basil, sauce, coriander and sugar, stir fry for 1 minute.
  4. Add coconut cream, stir mixture until heated through.

Notes

Best made before serving. Freeze: Not suitable.

I serve this dish with fluffy Basmati rice and a light lettuce salad.

Median National Income of a Country = (Gross Domestic Product) /(Working Population)

Median National Income of China = 134.9 Trillion Yuan / 849.65 Million = 158,771 Yuan per year = $ 21,660 per year = $ 1,805 per month

Income earned by the Middle Class of a Country = [Total Population / Working Population]^(-1) x 2 x [Median National Income] x [Percentage of Middle Class (National)]

= [1.409 Billion / 849.65 Million]^(-1) x [158,771] * [50.4%] = (1.6583 )^(-1) x 158771*2 x 0.504 = 96,504 Yuan per year = $13,165 per year = $ 1,097 per month

Thus we can establish that 428 Million Working Chinese on an average earn 1100 Dollars a month respectively or close to 51% of them

So it’s a mathematical impossibility for 90% of Chinese to earn $ 300 a month


Now let’s see Rural Chinese alone

Mean National Rural Income of China = (Share of Agriculture and Animal Husbandry in GDP) / (Working Population of Rural China)

Mean Rural Income = (11.14 Trillion Yuan /289.98 Million) = 38,700 Yuan a year = $ 437 a month

The Mean National Rural Income of China is assumed to be $ 437 a month

(The Assumption is that Rural Population only engage in Agriculture and Animal Husbandry but many Agricultural communities in China have factories too)

So even the Rural Workers in China earn an average of $ 440 a month which is almost 50% higher than what you say


So are you talking about the Poorest of the Chinese?

Let’s see the Poorest Chinese

Around 9.18% of the Chinese Population is classified as Poor

Thats 77.99 Million Chinese

Apply the same formula

= [1.658] ^(-1) x [38,700] x 2 * [9.18%/49.6%] = 0. * 38700*2 * [9.18/49.6] = 8,640 Yuan = $ 1,178 a year = $ 99 per month


So the Poorest of the Chinese earn $ 99 per month

Extrapolating, it’s likely around 120–140 Million Chinese earn $ 300 per month

Around 9.25% of the Total Population of China

So it’s not 90% but around 9%

You are off by a factor of 10


How does CCP build infrastructure?

I have written many answers on that. Just check it out

I have a Nigerian friend. Whenever we ride the subway together, there is usually only one seat empty. My friends and I will point to him, the Nigerian guy, to sit in that seat. Within a minute, the people sitting on his right and left will stand up. My two friends will then be able to sit down. Sometimes more people will stand up. Until we are all able to sit down. The trick always works every time. It works especially well if the person sitting is a young woman.

My Nigerian friend is pretty philosophical about it. He even carries a foreigner’s ID in his front pocket, because he often gets asked for his ID by the authorities. I guess you could call it a racist thing, or you could just ignore it and have fun with it…

If you have African friends living in Tokyo right now, give it a try. It’s really fun.

The “LONELINESS EPIDEMIC” In Modern Women | “MEN AREN”T DATING” Anymore | Women Hitting The Wall

Handing over all my inheritance to the ADC while incarcerated

It’s only a viable course of copium, if you have the manufacturing base to back up the mass production of these “unrevealed” superweapons.

In WWII, german tanks were so good that to kill one german tank, the allies would have to lose five. But the Germans still lost the war, simply because the US and USSR manufacturing was more than 5 times that of Germany.

If the US is both technologically and productively more advanced than China, then the US can dominate China in war.

However the reality is:

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main qimg b98760c2fd8d6425b6f5d51d838fc8e0

12% vs 35%. By these numbers, whatever top secret US weapons would have to be at least 3 times as good as top secret Chinese weapons, for the US to start gaining the upper hand in war.

Gaeng Phed Kai (Red Chicken Curry)

The Thai name of this dish literally means ‘hot chicken curry.’ There is a very similar recipe for a green curry (Gaeng Khiao Wan Kai).

IMG 1324
IMG 1324

As always, the quantities are up to you.

Ingredients

Curry Paste

  • 5 to 10 dried red chiles
  • 10 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon chopped galangal
  • 1 tablespoon thinly sliced lemon grass
  • 1/2 teaspoon zest of ‘kaffir’ lime (ordinary lime will do)
  • 1 teaspoon chopped coriander (cilantro) root
  • 5 black peppercorns
  • 1 tablespoon roasted coriander seeds
  • 1 teaspoon roasted cumin seeds
  • Dash of fish sauce
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons fermented shrimp paste (kapi)

The Curry

  • 6 ounces chicken (in smallish bite-size pieces)
  • 1/2 cup coconut milk
  • 4 ounces Thai eggplant (these are small round eggplants)
  • 2 kaffir lime leaves (or a little lime zest)
  • 1 tablespoon sweet basil
  • 2 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 1 tablespoon palm sugar
  • Oil for cooking
  • 1 to 3 tablespoon red curry paste

Instructions

Curry Paste

  1. Mix in a mortar and pestle or food processor. Will keep about a month in a refrigerator. You can buy commercial red curry paste (Mae Ploy brand is quite good), but as far as I am aware all commercial pastes contain MSG and preservatives.

The Curry

  1. Cut the chicken up, then briefly fry the curry paste until fragrant, reduce the heat, add the coconut milk slowly, and continue to stir whilst cooking until a thin film of oil appears on the surface.
  2. Add the chicken and other ingredients except the eggplant. Bring to a boil and cook until the chicken begins to change color. Adjust the flavors to suit yourself. When it is at a boil again add the eggplant and continue until the chicken is cooked through.
  3. Serve over rice, or in a serving bowl with other Thai dishes.

How Would Mao Zedong Cope With Trump?

This is supremely great.

Ghosts of Winter Future

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are. view prompt

John Rafanelli

‘Winterfest’ was always a special holiday for the people of Augusta Cove, Long Island. A small bay town, where everyone knows everyone, all their happy memories along with all of their dark secrets. The yearly festival was a great place to set aside your grievances, and enjoy the magical winter holiday together, as a community.December 19th, 1999, may be one of the town’s most memorable holiday festivals, and not for a good reason. It was the day Rory Falco was murdered.The town spent the last few weeks getting ready for the festival. For some it was a distraction from the everyday grind. For others it was an annual tradition, one that always happened, and always will happen. Main Street was alive with people and families of all ages.At the edge of Main Street is a big park. Inside the park sits a giant white tent, illuminated by lights of red and green; blue and white; saffron and red. Colors welcoming to all.There’s a children’s choir standing outside the tent, conducted by Ms. Davis. They are singing as guests from all across the town shuffle their way into the tent. Noel Winter stands in line waiting to enter. She looks across at the choir and hears;“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright … “She’s lost in a trance listening as a grumpy old man cuts to the front of the line, bumping Noel from her tranquility, “Excuse me, sir!” she yells.“Excuse nothing, squirt,” The old man quips.Noel ignores the intrusion and is drawn back to the music. 

“Round yon virgin Mother and Child. Holy infant, so tender and mild…”

 

She looks back at the children singing the beautiful melody. Some are off key, like young Bobby Hinkins, but others are in perfect harmony. Noel smiles as she looks over at the twins Holly and Rory Falco. She sees them go into perfect harmony, gifting the town with the lyrical hook.

 

“Sleep in heavenly peace…. Sleep in heavenly peace…”

 

The line moves forward bringing Noel to the front of the ‘security’ checkpoint. It’s an old lady sitting behind a white folding table. 

“Excuse me ma’am,” The lady behind the table says.  Noel remains silent. “Excuse me, MA’AM!” she yelps out, a little louder.

“Oh, sorry. I was caught up in the song. Hi, How are you?” Noel asks.

“Good. Thank you for asking, young lady.”

“Oh, you flatter me. I’m not young anymore,” Noel nervously says.

“Neither am I,” the lady behind the table responds. She searches Noel up and down. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

“I don’t think you do ma’am.”

“Please, call me Beverly.”

“Well Beverly, if we’ve met it was a long, long time ago.” Noel looks at Beverly. “I used to live here, but my family moved out when I was just about nine or ten.” She looks around and points to the choir. “Probably not much older than those angels right there.”

Beverly smiles. “They sure are precious, aren’t they?” They both nod. “So why did you leave?”

“Family stuff. Dad was a drunk. Mom left us. You know, typical family dynamics.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs?”

“Noel.  Nice to meet you Beverly.”

“Nice to meet you too. What brings you back to the Cove?”

“Revenge.”

Beverly is a little startled and just looks at Noel. Noel smiles. “I’m just kidding.” They both laugh. Beverly a little too much. “I was just passing through. I have a big meeting in New York City tomorrow and I always had such great memories of the festival so I wanted to see it again.”

“Well, once a part of the Cove, always a part of the Cove.” They both smile. “Don’t let me keep you any longer. Go in and enjoy the festivities.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker.”

Beverly looks at her startled. Noel points to the nametag on Beverly’s shirt. They smile at each other as Noel enters the party tent.

 

Noel stands in the back of the tent, silently observing. She’s been here for about thirty minutes watching people. Studying every person who enters or leaves the party. She’s trying to be left alone and is purposely avoiding interacting with anyone. She’s holding some eggnog, not drinking it but using it as a prop to blend in, when someone taps on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, Noel?”

Noel turns around and sees Walter Parker, the school’s English teacher, standing next to her.

“So, I take it you spoke to your mom?” Noel asks.

“Uhh, yeah. I’m Walter.”

“Hi Walter.”

“As you also know, news travels fast in this town. You used to live here?”

“I did, a long time ago.” Noel tries to move the conversation along.

“So I figured I’d come talk to the mysterious former Cover.”

“Sorry, I’m only here for tonight. Then I have somewhere entirely else to be.”

“I get it. But you’re here now. Can I have this dance?

Noel looks around the party and see’s the choir entering the tent.

“No thank you Walter.”

“Let me buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free.”

The students walk past them. Holly and Rory stop for a second. Noel looks at them both, as Holly starts to talk. “Mr. Parker, did you hear us?”

“I sure did, and you were brilliant.” He rubs her head, he looks over at Rory. “And so were you champ!”

The two giggle and skip away in childish glee. Noel watches them disappear into the party. Noel, who knew she would need an out from this conversation was slowly pouring her drink onto the floor. She holds up her empty glass and smiles at Walter.

“How about that drink?”

Walter eagerly grabs her empty cup and runs off.

“I’ll be right back!”

Noel, with intentions to avoid him the rest of the night slips into the party to remain incognito.

 

Another ten minutes have passed, and Noel has now stationed herself on the other side of the tent looking out at the crowd. The adults are mostly drunk, dancing and mingling. The children are running around with innocent joy. She looks up and see’s Walter searching the crowd holding an extra eggnog. Before Walter can look at her she dips down and hides behind a balloon arch. She bumps into someone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Her words are cut short as Holly looks up at her.

“Do I know you?” Holly asks.

“I don’t think so squirt,” Noel responds.

“My dad calls me that!”

“So did mine.” Noel smiles.

Holly smiles, as she looks out into the party. “Sorry I gotta go, my hiding spot’s been compromised.” She points out to Rory in the crowd creeping forward. Before she goes, she whispers, “I like your hair, I wish I was brave enough to dye it red and purple.”  Holly jolts off, running away.

“Maybe one day you will be,” Noel says to no one, as she scans out at the crowd and watches Rory chasing after Holly. Noel crouches and follows them through the maze of people. She’s weaving and observing, avoiding contact, but never losing sight of Rory or Holly for what seems like an eternity. Finally she bumps into someone’s lower back. Ms. Davis abruptly stops her conversation, turns around, and looks at Noel creeping along the floor.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” Noel says as she stands upright.

“Do I know you?” She looks Noel up and down. “You look familiar.”

“No, you don’t know me.”

“I never forget a face, and yours is familiar.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’m someone else. And I’m sorry for bumping into you,” Noel says as she scans the crowd. She sees Rory and Holly playing around on the dance floor. Ms. Davis shakes her head and returns to her original conversation. Noel, trying to blend in, starts to sway on the edge of the dance floor and begins singing along to the song.

 

“When I first saw you, I already knew, there was something inside of you…”

 

Ms. Davis hears the voice and her ears perk up. She looks at Noel singing. She knows the face is familiar, but that voice is so recognizable.

 

“Something I thought I would never find. Angel of mine.”

 

While Ms. Davis is processing Noel’s voice, Noel is searching the party. She sees Holly dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor. She panics, searching for Rory, and finally spots him exiting the tent. She proceeds to chase after him. As she is running away something clicks in Ms. Davis’ mind.

“It can’t be?” Ms. Davis says to herself, as she watches Noel run out of the tent, then looks over at Holly on the dance floor.

 

Noel jets out of the tent looking into utter darkness. She hears some noises in the distance and follows them. She reaches into her jacket and grabs her pistol.

 

The far edge of the park leads into a small forest. Noel stops at the edge of it listening. She hears some branches break. She holds her gun in front of her as she creeps towards the noise. Eventually she comes across an old man hunched over Rory, pointing a pistol at him. Rory is cowering on the dirt floor.

Noel raises her gun and points it at the man’s back. “Let him go.”

The old man slowly turns towards Noel, shifting his gun from Rory to her. It’s the same person who bumped into her earlier in the night. They stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’m afraid I can’t do that squirt.”

“Dad?” Noel whispers.

“Drop your gun, and let me explain.”

Noel doesn’t move. Rory looks on, but is too afraid and too confused to move. He lays there paralyzed.

“It was you?” Noel asks. Her world is shattered.

“I didn’t have any other options.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let me explain.”

Noel cocks the hammer of the gun back.

“Holly… please?”

“I’m not Holly anymore. She’s back there at the party.” Noel waves the gun off into the distance. “I’m Noel now.”

“Since when?”

“Since Rory disappeared, and my whole world was shattered. You became a drunk. And mom ran away in the middle of the night.”

“Squirt… I’m sorry,” Dad humbly pleads.

“You were always blaming mom for Rory’s disappearance.” Noel’s eyes start to tear up.  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Noel waves the pistol frantically at her Dad.

“Let’s talk about this.”

“Now you want to talk? You neglected me, obsessing over your life’s passion of finding a way to go back in time. Then that consumed you, and eventually killed you on one of your test runs!” Noel shouts.

“Well, I see you picked up where I left off and figured out the solution.”

“Not till forty years later. After spending several years of neglect in foster care. Then I spent my twenties and thirties on the streets begging for money anyway I could. My forties were spent strung up on any drug or liquor that would numb the pain.” Noel is frantic at this point. “Finally, on my fiftieth birthday, I overdosed. I was laying in a hospital detox bed, thinking back to when life was happy. So I found your old journals, and picked up where you left off, determined to come back here, and change the one event that turned our lives to shit”

“I knew you were always smart.”

“Stop pretending like you care!”

Dad starts to laugh. “Pretend like I care?” He starts to get angry. “The only reason I’m here is because I care!”

“That’s original, coming from a man who’s about to murder his son, and has a gun pointed at his daughter.”

“Let me ask you the age-old question. If you could go back in time and kill Hitler when he was a child, would you do it?”

“If I wasn’t using my only jump to come here? Yes.”

“Ahh. You can only jump into the past once? And back to your present once as well?”

“Yes. But that’s not the point. This is 1999 Long Island, not 1889 Austria-Hungary.”

“The point is… Rory grows up to be worse than Hitler.”

“Liar!” Noel steadies her wavering hand and focuses her gun at her Dad. “Let him go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Dad says as he cocks the hammer of his gun. “Do you know how hard it is for a father to spend years developing one plan? One which requires him to go back in time and kill his only son?”

“Why not go back in time and never have him in the first place?”

“I thought of that, but then you wouldn’t be born either.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for me.”

“This is all for you, so you can live, and live in a free world.”

“Why today, and not when he was a baby?”

“I told you, it was hard. I’ve been back in the nineties for eight years now. Always mustering up the courage to kill him. But unfortunately, I’m a coward.”

“Until now. What changed?”

Dad pauses for a second before responding. “I guess I was stalling, hoping for a better solution. But in six days on Christmas he will kill you.”

“Bullshit!”

“At first we thought it was an accident, and felt bad for him in our sorrow. But then we learned he did it on purpose.”

“Your web of lies are intoxicating. Let him go.”

“I can’t squirt.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“I know you don’t believe me, and I know it seems like your life sucked in this timeline.” He stops pointing the gun at Noel and now focuses it on Rory.  “But at least you have a life.” Dad is trying to plead his case. “And the world is still at peace.” Rory looks at the barrel of the pistol and squirms.

 

A shot rings out.

 

Dad falls to the floor with a bullet hole in his shoulder. Noel starts to inch closer to Rory, but keeps her gun pointed at her dad. Dad slowly rises to his knees gripping his wound. “Please, you have to hear me out. As an adult, Rory is a bad person. He becomes a leader convincing millions to follow him to no end. He’s a tyrant. Everything Hitler did, he did bigger. If you spoke against him you were executed.”

“This is insane. You’re obviously still a drunk,” Noel interjects.

Dad starts to regain his composure, and is readjusting the grip of his gun. “He’s started a nuclear war with Russia, Japan, England, Italy and Germany. Our own air is polluted with nuclear toxins…”

Another shot fires from Noel’s gun. This one hits Dad in the chest. He falls to the floor. Noel is now next to Rory. He delusionally looks up at her.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”

Rory just stares blankly into her familiar eyes. Dad starts to rise up again. “Please, you have to believe me,” he begs.

Noel starts to swing her gun towards her Dad for a third time. As she is in motion, Dad fires a shot and hits Noel in the head. She slumps to the ground. Dad weakly gets up and walks over to a shaking Rory. He points the gun at Rory’s head, looks away and pulls the trigger. He slouches down and hugs both of them.

“I’m sorry,” he begins to sob. He pulls out a small tablet from his backpack. He puts a watch on his wrist, Rory’s, and Holly’s. He pushes a button on the tablet and the world around him changes.

 

It’s now December 19th, 2053. Robert Falco is in the forest of Augusta Cove Long Island on a beautiful peaceful winter night. Blood is pouring down his shirt. Next to him are his two dead children. Robert stumbles to the edge of the forest. He looks out into the night sky. It’s normal, no toxic fog hanging in the air, no smell of burning debris.  He can hear a children’s choir singing at the festival far away. It’s beautiful and haunting.

 

Robert digs two graves deep in the forest. It’s a slow effort because of his wounds and his sorrow. He lays Holly and Rory into the graves. He starts to fill the holes with dirt. As he does the choir echoes through the trees.

 

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright … “

 

In the dirt, above each covered hole, he etches their names. He sits upon the makeshift grave.

 

“Round yon virgin Mother and Child. Holy infant, so tender and mild…”

 

He thinks back about how in 1999 no one will ever find the body of Rory Falco, leaving it a cold case forever. He thinks of the terrible life he knows Holly will live. The children’s singing cutting through the forest gives him some clarity. Knowing that the world is at peace helps him come to terms with the idea that he and his family made the ultimate sacrifice for eight billion people.  Robert lays down next to his children and falls asleep for one last time.

 

“Sleep in heavenly peace…. Sleep in heavenly peace…”

why Gen Z guys are scared to approach girls (and how to not be)

When you’re alone, by yourself only don’t do that.

When you are moving to rural Thailand, you will have two major challenges.

One is the language.

You won’t probably find anyone nearby who is speaking English even one word.

Daily communication issues are going to make your life very difficult if even possible.

Shopping, going to the pharmacy, meeting with doctors and dealing with Thai local administration are going to be challenging every single time you need it.

The second major challenge is distances.

You may find out that the nearest shop is twenty miles away and the hospital is even farther away.

Traveling 60 miles to the nearest private hospital isn’t really what you want when you have acute health problems.

The same with the immigration office.

You are going to be visiting them frequently rapporting yourself every 90 days, and long travel is a big disadvantage making it difficult.

You are not going to make it without a car.

You can forget about public transportation.

You won’t find it anywhere nearby you.

So if you’re going to live together with your Thai partner, who has a car and family nearby you, then you are going to be fine as long as you’re in good health.

You can probably forget about going to the beach frequently.

You will have difficulty getting a western food being dependent on the local food market.

You will probably have an issue with the local animals like mice’s eating your car cables and snakes coming to your house.

You will need better learn about snakes to be able to spot and distinguish between the venomous ones and not venomous.

You can handle non venomous snakes by yourself but you shouldn’t try to handle a venomous snakes by yourself.

Most Thai people have a dog’s and many of them to protect them against snakes.

Snake tongs must have.

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main qimg a89e4b84fbec848cb28f8ca9b8aa7f76

This one is non venomous snake.

What to do with it?

You can let them go inside your car engine compartment for chasing the mice away only effectively working option.

mice family inside the car causing damage to the car cables.

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main qimg de725c01d8cf7c00b33a8b36b64647d1

I LOVE this question! And I appreciate the plural, tasks, as a recognition that there’s a whole lot of things happening in those planes. When I went operational, I always flew multi-crewed aircraft, the Prowler and Growler. However! I’m in the situation a lot of Super Hornet pilots are: we’ve done both! I only flew the E model, the single seat variety, in training. But in the F, the two seat version, in training you were essentially single seat. SO! What is harder about flying these bad boys?

  1. Comms. Hands down. With multi-crewed aircraft, we can better divvy up who’s listening to what. We typically have 3–4 radios we’re listening to at the same time in combat. It was the hardest part for me in training. Single seat guys do get really good at listening to as much as they can, but 2 sets of ears trumps that.
  2. Flying in formation. Whoa whoa! The flying part isn’t harder. But this goes back to the comms and sharing duties. Single seat guys and gals out there…tell me you didn’t wish there were someone there to help you when you’re hanging off lead’s wing, in the goo, making an approach into busy airspace and swapping frequencies every couple of minutes.
  3. The Strike part of Strike/Fighter. We’re Navy. We’re tip, tip of the spear. We ain’t heading feet dry into uncontested airspace. Trust me E guys, when you can have the pilot run the show for A-A while your crewmate sets you up for weapons delivery, it is so much more efficient.
  4. Lastly, keeping yourself entertained. I had to solo flight an E from the west to the east coast, with of course multiple stops in the middle. With no one to talk to except air traffic control, I was banging my head on the canopy in boredom.

Anyway…a little whimsy thrown in with some real world issues. Have at it guys in the comments! 😀

Shorpy

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Let me quote fellow respected Quoran Roland Bartetzko’s answer for my take on this question:

…. The advantage lies with us [the US military] because our last combat was captured on somebody’s iPhone 14…. The Chinese’ last combat was captured on oil and canvas.

He is right: Indeed, the US has fought many wars in just the past decade alone, perhaps a battle was even captured by someone’s iPhone 14.

An iPhone 14 that is most likely to be made in China.

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main qimg 3059f0937967cc5c590ef9b4cc469f3c

Now, Roland and the 4-star general he quoted is, of course, exaggerating. We all know that China went to combat with Viet Nam in the late 70s and 80s and have captured lots of fighting in colored film. But that is besides his point, and the point I am making as well.

The point is, ever since WW2, producing lots of quality equipment is much more important than experienced troops.

The fact remains that experience can be attained very quickly in event of all-out war, but production capacity cannot. Japan has probably one of the most experienced navies when it destroyed the US fleet at Pearl Harbor, but that hardly matters if the US could churn out a dozen more fleets in a year.

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main qimg 19781acfea178a4f5219c1ddbede90c6

The US built 24 Essex-class Carriers during WW2 alone. Japan has 18 carriers in total. If we count all other carriers including smaller escort carriers, the US has built a whopping 105 carriers throughout WW2.

Which country today do you think will be the one producing 105 carriers in a matter of years in case of war? The USA or China?

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ksnip 20250111 105049

It doesn’t matter if US has 8 more carriers than China now, what matters is the potential to replace losses: Ships today are even less armored than small cruisers or even destroyers of WW2, a single hit from a hypersonic missile will cripple it. And speaking of missiles, China almost undoubtedly produces more and much better missiles than the US as well (which is still stuck with variants of the harpoon for anti-ship duties).

Things aren’t much prettier on land as well: What percentage of drones flying over the skies of Ukraine are DJI ones? Or from Chinese companies in general? 70%? 80%? I suspect that the number is even higher. Now imagine the country producing the drones for both countries decide to use their full production potential against Taiwan, or the US if it decides to even get close to that island in the case of a hot war. Could the US match up to even half the Chinese production figures? Probably not.

China’s lack of military experience is serious, that I agree. But it would only matter for really small-scale operations: It will not matter in case of a war between China and the US in the pacific. Production matters much more than experience, which may guarantee an advantage for the US in the initial battles. But the US will certainly loose once the war stretches out—it simply cannot match China in this aspect.

In fact, Admiral Yamamoto’s famous quote comes to mind:

“In the first six to twelve months of a war with the United States and Great Britain I will run wild with win victory upon victory. But then, if the war continues after that, I have no expectation of success.”

—-Isoroku Yamamoto

SolaCelestial

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are. view prompt

Kira Akina

A grand chandelier dangling with crystals lights up the immense ballroom with cool lighting. Suspended from the highest tier, at the center of the glass ceiling that opens up to the starry night, it twinkles as if it were a cluster of stars. Enclaved by a gradual spiral staircase-like ascension of upper floors, the ballroom is the centerpiece of the ground floor. White gardenias, orchids, and lilies paint the pillars, and wisteria pour out from the vases. Silver and gold sparkle throughout the room like moonlight on a lake. Anticipation fills the air as a summer breeze and rises, like mist attempting to inhabit every crevice of space feasible.Sophia wishes she was filled up just the same. She wouldn’t mind feeling it, the anticipation that is, however she was only able to see it. It had been quite some time since she felt. A resident of the castle for a while now, and she hadn’t experienced feeling for longer than that, she would have been concerned had she been capable. It wasn´t that she felt bad or negative, she was simply removed from any sensory episode really. A familiarity for emotions wasn’t lacking, she had felt in the expanse of her life, just not for some time. The idea of senses remained. It seemed as if she were severed from a part of herself. Though she wasnt’t currently able to participate with sensations, she was a pristine observer. Eyes like an eagle, to her the unseen was visible.Sable thick garments covered the man’s pale skin. Intriguing robes, impeccably made, but definitely antiquest. They didn’t look like anything she had seen in her own region. The gentleman was tall and slender, but not frail. And he stood upright with a slight tilt of the head, as if the tilt would shield him from notice. But it was impossible to overlook them, well, him… and them. Especially for Sophia. Her eyes appraised his ebony hair, just long enough to slightly cover his ears, shagged across his head. Boyish charm and masculine strength emanated from him all at once. Ice blue eyes shone from beneath eyebrows that seemed as if hand painted by an artist; accentuated by long black eyelashes they pierced like the tip of a sword to the heart.Magical. Tethered to this dark figure were wings, majestic like a wild stallion. Moonless black feathers. Luxurious and rich. Enormous, towering as if reaching into the universe to snatch up something special. The pair of them brimmed with ambiguous possibility.Everyone in Anastalia possessed gifts, but long ago the ancestors were visibly different. They were born under a brighter sun and with a different kind of beauty. Sophia heard rumors that those with powers of healing displayed what seemed like a thin layer of bark which covered their feet and wrists, and foliage sprouted from their heads as well as various places on their bodies. Shapeshifters subtly resembled leopards. They didn’t have fur, but looked as if different colors had penetrated their skin and spread like ink blotches. Possibly even similar to patchwork. In our day it would look like imperfection. Telekinetics displayed mismatched eye color, and what appeared like stretch marks or veins crawled up their necks, mid body, and thighs. But that was long ago and with every passing generation our gifts were fading away like dust, and they were all hidden on the inside escaping as only a whisper, none altered our physical appearance. Not for hundreds of years. No one in Anastalia had seen wings in centuries, if ever. This was something special. It was evidence. Evidence that magic was not dying, it still illuminated our world. It was hope.At that moment a quietly slumbering seed rose up from deep within Sophia, somewhere she was unaware existed. Gently at first and increasingly fierce, it was like a woman in labor.  The sense was exhilarating and unpredictable, it seemed good, yet dangerous. She felt like she was radiating. She felt refreshed, she felt alive…she felt!There was something about this mystifying man. The phenomenon happening inside of her, almost uncontrollable, was compelling her towards him. At first she thought she was only in shock from feeling that it rattled her, but her feet began sliding out from underneath her causing her to lose her balance. A magnetar force, the strongest she had ever encountered beckoned. Determined not to knock over anyone or anything, while also committed to maintaining her free will to whatever degree attainable, she began to step forward. Not exactly walking, more guiding each pull of the leg, she somehow elegantly moved through the crowd of guests. Passing couples dancing her hands swept by silken and lace gowns, even velvet tailcoats. The aroma of flowers, perfume, and the fresh night air ushered in through the windows,  her nose. When she realized how close she was to the man now it became more evident how enchantingly beautiful he was, she didn´t know if she was nervous or excited, or both.Every few centuries the moon gets so close to us that we get to see it up close, as if face to face with a friend, in all itś glory. It remains present all day, for three days. As a side effect of the moon´s intimate position our magic is temporarily enhanced. There is said to be a stone that resides somewhere on the moon that can reverse the disintegration of our powers that has been occuring over the generations. The Solacelestial ball is being held in celebration of a New Hope. And at this moment Sophia felt that hope, she held it so closely it hurt.As she neared the man, so close now, his back to her, slowly turning her direction she completely lost control. His essence had drawn her in at an accelerating pace, and just as he turned they were thrust into eachothers arms. Their eyes met. He gazed down at her in shock at first, shortly followed by a gentle smile. She shyly smiled back, and just as she noticed that the lovely man’s eyes were not like ice, for surrounding his pupils were vibrant golden supernovas, she vanished from before him.

 

…..

 

Darkness and silence.

 

 

Wrapped up in incomprehensible peace Sophia regained some kind of sense of awareness. Consciousness in its pure form. It was as if she was inside, outside and beside herself all at once. She felt complete symbiosis with all of creation. Plants, animals, elements, energy, and sound in complete harmony. Acceptance with the substances that converged to form spirit and intrinsic human nature, even those that she once may have found unfavorable were in unison. Darkness and light were not opposite, but the same. Everything that is, is One.

Suddenly fire and ice swirled like a supernatural hurricane fused with planetary and solar wind. The sound of soothingly fierce roaring water echoed into what seemed like eternity. A divine symphony buzzed and undulated returning her to recognition of physical sensation and her eyes were opened as she trembled to the ground. When she opened them she was in a dimension surrounded by planets, blackholes and stars. Galaxies and nebulas, life was exploding and imploding all around.

 

Gradually lifting her head she looked  out into what could have been a horizon where snowlike dust blew through dunes of sand. It was like waking from a beautiful dream. When she began to lift herself to her feet she realized she was standing on a sea of saphire like stone, and Sophia knew exactly where she was.

 

She had never really been at the ball at all, she had been here all along. That is why she had not felt. A shadow of her had been living in the castle back home. It was all real, the spectacular ball, the curious man, but she hadn’t been there in the flesh. Some secret truth about the mysterious man had reverbirated through her being waking her from her sleep. Sophia was on the moon.

This isn’t Communist vs Capitalist

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main qimg 9220b1ae8db9ae5811ab1e4d2b39518d

This is Chinese vs American

The Chinese in the past few years have invested massively in disaster relief

The Police and Military have separate divisions specializing in Rescue and Disaster Relief missions

4,000 Men & Women who get paid a salary for training every day and actually working maybe 40 days a year in actual disaster relief

They have 26 Wing Loong Drones and over 7,000 Quadcopter Drones

They have a 24 Billion Yuan budget ($ 3.43 Billion) a year that is equivalent to around $ 8.5–10 Billion a year in the US

Additionally the Chinese have 6.6 Million Volunteers divided across all provinces who attend 40 hours disaster training every year over a five day period and pocket 1,250 Yuan ($ 171) and two meals a day

The minute there is a disaster, these Volunteers assemble within 8 hours to their reporting zone and get their clothes and duties

They maintain a fleet of 10,000 excavators, backhoes, moving machines and portable cranes

They have on field housing equipment

They have on field power generators

They have access to enough food to feed 7.5 Million Chinese on a National Scale for 75 days easily without any shortages

They even have teams to go to other countries and help

Like Syria and Turkey and Nepal for example


US has no such special disaster relief teams

They rely on disaster relief mainly on existing departments like Fire, Forest, Sheriffs Office and Police

There is first a question of WHO IS IN CHARGE

Is it Fire?

Is it Forest

Firemen are experts, Forest guys know the terrain

Sheriffs Deputies know the law

Police come in whenever there are deaths to send to the coroner

Budgets are intertwined

Equipment is intertwined

Volunteers are not based on merit but on first come first serve and many are untrained and end up with Carbon Monoxide inhalation themselves


So the US is glaring inefficiency and bureaucracy red tape business when it comes to disaster relief

China is smooth, efficient disaster rescue without any red tape anywhere

Ironic actually

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Cucumber Conundrum

Ah, dear reader, do you ever wake up feeling like something is… off? That the world around you has shifted ever so slightly into the bizarre? Well, today’s tale begins with just such an unsettling moment. Picture it: a crisp morning on the farm, the smell of hay and dew in the air, and me, Sir Whiskerton, peacefully snoozing in my favorite bed. All was right with the world—until it wasn’t. What followed was a mystery so absurd, so utterly ridiculous, that it left me both baffled and, dare I say, humbled. Prepare yourself for the laugh-out-loud tale of The Case of the Cucumber Conundrum.

The Incident

I awoke to a gentle breeze drifting through the barn, the first rays of sunlight streaming through the rafters. It was a perfect morning—until I rolled over and came face to face with… it.

A cucumber.

Long, green, and completely out of place. It lay there, mere inches from my nose, its shiny skin glinting ominously in the sunlight.

“GAH!” I yowled, leaping three feet into the air. My fur puffed up like a bottlebrush, my tail swished wildly, and my heart pounded as if I’d just seen the ghost of a long-lost littermate.

The cucumber, of course, remained utterly unfazed. Its sinister stillness only made it more unnerving.

“What is the meaning of this?!” I shouted, glaring at the offending vegetable. “Who dares disturb my morning in such a vile and cowardly manner?”

The barn animals, startled by my outburst, began to gather around.

“What happened, Whiskerton?” Porkchop the pig asked, waddling over with a mouthful of hay. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse than a ghost!” I exclaimed, pointing a trembling paw at the cucumber. “This!”

Porkchop squinted at the cucumber, then shrugged. “It’s just a vegetable.”

“Just a vegetable?!” I said, aghast. “Porkchop, do you know nothing of feline psychology? Cucumbers are unnatural! They appear out of nowhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike terror into the hearts of unsuspecting cats!”

“Strike terror?” Doris the hen clucked, flapping her wings. “Oh, how dreadful!”
“Dreadful! But why a cucumber?!” Harriet added.
“Why?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“It’s a prank,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Someone on this farm thinks it’s funny to scare me senseless. But mark my words, I will find the culprit.”

The Investigation Begins

I began my investigation by interrogating the usual suspects. First on the list was Rufus the dog, who was lounging in his favorite patch of dirt.

“Rufus,” I said, pacing back and forth in front of him, “did you place a cucumber next to my bed this morning?”

“A cucumber?” Rufus said, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? I prefer practical jokes that involve bones, not vegetables.”

“Hmm,” I said, studying his face for any sign of deception. “You’re off the hook… for now.”

Next, I turned my attention to the hens. Doris, Harriet, and Lillian were scratching at the ground near the chicken coop, clucking nervously as I approached.

“Ladies,” I said, fixing them with my most intimidating stare, “do any of you care to explain how a cucumber ended up next to my bed?”

“A cucumber?! Oh, how strange!” Doris squawked.
“Strange! But we didn’t do it!” Harriet clucked.
“Didn’t do it! Oh, I can’t bear the accusation!” Lillian screeched.

I sighed. “Fine. But I’ve got my eye on you.”

Finally, I made my way to Ferdinand the duck, who was basking in his newfound fame after becoming the farm’s resident “singing sensation.”

“Ferdinand,” I said, interrupting his impromptu concert, “did you have anything to do with the cucumber incident?”

“Quack, quack! Me?” Ferdinand said, flapping his wings indignantly. “Sir Whiskerton, I am an artist. I do not sully my reputation with childish pranks.”

“Hmm,” I said, stroking my whiskers. “That does sound like something you’d say.”

A Break in the Case

Despite my thorough questioning, I was no closer to finding the culprit. Frustrated, I returned to the barn to examine the cucumber for clues. As I sniffed it carefully, I detected a faint but familiar scent: hay. Fresh hay.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “The cucumber came from the hayloft!”

I raced up to the hayloft, my tail flicking in anticipation. There, nestled among the hay bales, I found a small stash of vegetables: carrots, radishes, and, yes, more cucumbers.

“Interesting,” I murmured. “Someone has been stockpiling these. But who?”

Just then, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned to see… Bingo the dog, his nose covered in dirt.

“Bingo!” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What are you doing up here?”

“Oh, uh… nothing!” Bingo said, wagging his tail nervously. “Just… looking for a place to nap.”

“Nap? Or hide your stash of cucumbers?” I said, pointing to the pile of vegetables.

Bingo’s tail drooped. “Okay, fine! It was me. But it was just a joke, Whiskerton! I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

“Seriously?!” I said, bristling. “Bingo, you scared the whiskers off me! Do you have any idea how unsettling it is to wake up next to a cucumber?”

“I’m sorry,” Bingo said, his ears drooping. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought it would be funny.”

The Resolution

In the end, I forgave Bingo—after all, it was a harmless prank, even if it did leave me temporarily traumatized. To make amends, Bingo promised to clean up the vegetable stash and never prank me with a cucumber again.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: not everyone shares the same sense of humor, and what seems funny to one might be frightening to another. So always think twice before playing a joke—and if you’re a cat, keep an eye out for cucumbers.

As for me? I’ve since taken precautions to ensure that no vegetable ever sneaks up on me again. And with that, the mystery of the cucumber conundrum is officially solved.

The End.

Gaeng Massaman Kai

This recipe is for Gaeng Massaman Kai. The ‘massaman’ indicates that the recipe is of a ‘musselman’ or islamic origin, and it probably owes something to early Portuguese influences, and is similar in concept to the ‘sour and hot’ Goan style vindaloo dishes. By Thai standards this is usually a fairly mild curry, so I find it is a good starting point.

MASSAMAN GAI
MASSAMAN GAI

Massaman Paste

  • 10 to 20 dried red chiles
  • 1 tablespoon ground coriander seed
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (from fresh bark)
  • 1 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1 teaspoon ground star anise
  • 1 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • 1 teaspoon ground white pepper
  • 4 tablespoons chopped shallots (i.e. the small red skinned onions)
  • 4 to 6 tablespoons chopped garlic
  • 2 (2 inch) pieces lemon grass stalk, sliced into thin rounds
  • A cube about half an inch on a side of galangal root, roughly chopped
  • 1 tablespoon kaffir lime skin (ordinary lime skin will do if you can’t get it)
  • 1 tablespoon ‘kapi’ (preserved shrimp paste – note this smells awful until after you cook it, but it is quite essential to the flavor)

To this you add a little salt: preferably about 1 to 2 teaspoons of fish sauce.

The galangal is roasted before use. The ground spices should preferably be fresh, in which case you should briefly toast them in a wok without any oil to bring out the flavor before grinding them.

The ingredients are blended to a fine paste (traditionally in a heavy granite mortar and pestle, but you can use a food processor just as well, and with far less effort). Note if you can get fresh red chiles you can usefully use them instead of the dried ones.

Curry

  • About 1 pound of chicken (you can also use pork or beef), cut into the usual ‘bite size pieces’
  • 3 cups coconut milk
  • 2 tablespoons roasted peanuts (unsalted of course)
  • 5 peeled, but whole, small onions
  • 5 small potatoes*, peeled and partly boiled
  • 3 bay leaves
  • 5 roasted cardamom fruits (i.e. the whole pod)
  • A small piece of roasted cinnamon bark
  • 3 tablespoons palm sugar (you can use a light brown sugar instead if you can’t get palm sugar)
  • 3 tablespoons tamarind juice (this is the ‘sour’ ingredient – you can use white vinegar instead if you can’t get tamarind juice. The juice is made by soaking tamarind paste in a little water then squeezing it out, and running it through a seize to extract the juice from the pulp)
  • 3 tablespoons lime juice
  • 1 to 3 tablespoon curry paste (above)
  • About 1 to 3 teaspoons crushed garlic (optional)

Instructions

  1. Allow the coconut milk to separate and you will have about 1 cup of thick ‘cream’ and two cups of thin ‘milk’. In a small saucepan bring the milk to a simmer and add the chicken or pork. If you are using beef you will need another two cups of milk. simmer the meat until it is beginning to become tender (beef takes longer, hence the additional milk).
  2. Put the coconut cream in a wok and bring to a boil, add the massaman paste and ‘stir fry’ until the flavor is brought out and maximized. The coconut oil will separate out and can be skimmed off with a spoon or ladle. (this removes much of the vegetable cholesterol or whatever it is called, and makes the dish much less trouble for those watching their weight or heart).
  3. Add the remaining cream and curry paste to the meat.
  4. Add the peanuts. Taste and adjust the flavor until it is (just) sweet (by adding sugar), sour and salty (by adding tamarind juice, lime juice and fish sauce).
  5. Add the remaining ingredients and cook until cooked.
  6. You can either serve it on a bed of rice, or double the amount of potato and serve it alone.
  7. Accompany it with a dressed green salad and a bowl of pickled cucumbers. The traditional Thai table also offers chiles in fish sauce (Phrik nam pla) chiles in vinegar (phrik nam som or phrik dong), powdered chile (phrik phom – not to be confused with the powdered chile mix sold as chili powder in the US – it only contains chiles), sugar, and often MSG. You can if you wish add about a teaspoon of MSG to the above recipe to bring out the flavors, but I personally don’t think it is necessary.

Notes

* The potatoes we use are a yellow fleshed sweet potato of the type sometimes called a yam in the US. Western style potatoes can be used, but absorb less of the sauce and flavor. The potatoes act as a ‘moderator’ to reduce the heat of the curry, and should not be left out.

And finally a word of warning to those who burn their tongues on the chiles: chile/curry cooked this way is oily – drinking water does not alleviate the burn; it spreads it around your mouth and throat. You should use a sweet effervescent beverage such as Coke, Pepsi or 7-Up to wash the burn away as quickly as possible. If you do not suffer the burn, I suggest you accompany the meal with a beer Singha is traditional, but any strong flavored lager type beer will do), or a robust red wine.

Who would win in a fight between a US and a Chinese submarine?

China.

Sure, the Chinese submarine will lose. But the fact that there is even a fight between a Chinese and US submarine in the first place means that China wins.

US submarines are not going anywhere near Chinese submarines for the purpose of getting into fights with them, if there is a fight, the US submarine already screwed the pooch. They either got near a Chinese submarine without knowing about it, or they got near it for some explicit purpose involving avoiding getting into a fight and then utterly failed.

Too bad for the poor saps in the Chinese submarine, but China can afford to lose those guys by the millions. They can even afford losing the submarine, which is more expensive but nowhere near costly enough to cover the damage to the US and allies of blundering into a fight with one.

Why is this?

Because the Chinese wrote the book (several, actually) on winning conflicts before fighting by setting things up so that any fight is already a loss for the adversary. It’s not that nobody else reads these books (some of them are quite famous world-wide), but they’re still the global leaders when it comes to actually applying those principles in ways that are really infuriating but absolutely require calm deliberation to handle properly.

The actual situation with the Chinese submarine fleet and the various disputes over the waters where they operate are complex and constantly shifting, but one thing has remained constant for a few decades now, it’s always carefully set up so that a US submarine getting in a fight with a Chinese submarine is a significant win for China.

The only winning move is not to play.

At least, not to play the international security through military force game…the US has other ways to win, primarily by using it’s fundamental economic superiority. Unfortunately, half the country thinks this is ‘unfair’ to them personally because it makes some other Americans richer.

Oh the joys of Space 1999

Delray.

Don’t stop in Delray. Don’t get off the expressway; don’t stop for gas. There really isn’t any.

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Delray is a ghost town of a ghetto. The folks who live in Delray tell you to stay away from Delray.

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Delray sits directly upriver from Zug Island and Detroit Water and Sewage treatment plant.

And Zug Island? That is a natural disaster of an industrial zone that makes Flint Michigan look like a pristine metropolis.

The neighborhood is more country than city if it wasn’t for the rampant pollution.

There aren’t truly any schools in Delray itself. Not anymore.

There are still a few churches in Delray. The most beautiful of which have been abandoned.

Really, about the only thing left in Delray beside the few habitable houses is the handful of remaining little churches. I believe their last proper school was demolished.

The only reason Delray doesn’t have a higher crime rate than it does, (which is terrible anyway), is for the fact that so few actually live there.

The city of Detroit wants to convert Delray into a wholly industrial zone, and with a new bridge to Canada, wiping Delray completely from the map.

The people that live in Delray refuse to move, despite slowly dying out. But, if you wandered into Delray and you found one of the non-criminal residents, you might fare alright. They all seem like nice people. Delray does that to you. But I wouldn’t chance it.

Delray is a place where people drive to dump their garbage when they are too poor to get it picked up by a service. You might get mistaken by a resident as one of ‘those people’. You might get shot, or maybe not.

If you had to avoid a neighborhood in Detroit, Delray is the place to steer clear from. But who knows, you might find more humanity there than you expected.

We were living in Australia and we received a phone call that my wife’s mother in England had taken ill and had been rushed to hospital and she was not likely to survive. I immediately went on line and booked a flight for her to Engand so that she would hopefully get there before her mum died and we decided that I would stay home in Australia to look after our four children as money was tight and we could not afford for us all to go. That evening when we got to the airport to check in for the flight, my wife was visibly upset and the lady at check in asked what the problem was. I explained what had happened with her mum and the lady sympathised and issued her boarding pass. A few hours later I said goodbye to my wife and she boarded the plane. I was worried about her having to travel all of that way alone more so because she was so upset about her mum but I couldn’t go with her because of our four children and I needed to stay and look after them. She rang me thirty hours later from her mum’s home and told me that when she boarded the plane the steward looked at her boarding pass and said “Colleen come with me your flying first class tonight, I will be your cabin steward” he took her through to the pointy end of the aircraft and showed her to her seat and said that he would make up the bed for her when she was ready and told my wife to call him if there’s anything that she needed. They watched over her for the whole flight and i can’t thank the Qantas staff enough for what they did for my wife.

** My wife went straight to the hospital when she arrived in England and was able to spend a little time with her mum before she passed away.

Americans are shocked at how China is more advanced

German Chocolate Skillet Cake

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bb70b940a0d5ecb4955ba9df9766b366

Yield: 16 servings

Ingredients

  • 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 (7 ounce) package flaked coconut
  • 1 cup coarsely chopped pecans
  • 3 tablespoons butter or margarine
  • 1 (18.25 ounce) box German chocolate or chocolate cake mix* (plus ingredients to make cake)
  • Vanilla ice cream (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Combine brown sugar and milk in large Colander Bowl. Add coconut and pecans; mix well using Mix ‘N Scraper®.
  3. Melt butter in Family Skillet over medium heat, tilting pan to coat bottom evenly. Drop coconut mixture in spoonsful over bottom of skillet; pat into an even layer, forming a smooth surface.
  4. Prepare cake mix according to package directions in Classic Batter Bowl. Gently pour batter evenly over coconut layer in skillet, spreading to edge.
  5. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until Cake Tester inserted in center comes out clean. Remove from oven using Oven Mitts.
  6. Loosen edges of cake from skillet. Carefully invert onto large, heat-proof serving plate. Use Classic Scraper to remove any topping that might remain in bottom of skillet; spread over top of cake. Cool completely.
  7. Serve with vanilla ice cream, if desired.

Notes

* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 370, Fat 21g, Sodium 310mg, Fiber 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Kate the world knows that the US cannot compete world wide, no only China! Every shit you want you cannot make the competitively! That is why you can only buy them from others.

Why is that so? It is that simple! Your CEOs expects to earn 500 times others make. Your workers want to be paid 10 times others but will in to work half as hard and demands 20 times more benefits! Your government spend all its monies to fight forever wars, your infrastructure and transportation sucks! Put together whatever you make it cost 5 times higher than anyone on planet earth!

Meanwhile you found that you can create fake monies to buy from others! That is basically what happened, the whole world knows this but Americans don’t because your media lied to you guys to feel good that you are exceptionally. Yes exceptional failures!

The Most Insane Gen Z TikTok’s (Compilation)

Technomancer 4: Taking a stand

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology. view prompt

KC Foster

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

***Warning: Violence and Abuse***

 

“We found these two sneaking into the camp,” growled one of the camp watchers, thrusting Leron onto the ground. He cried out as the gravel bit into his knees and forearms, and the pain ran along them in a series of throbbing pinpricks. He struggled onto his knees and fought against the zip-tie restraints binding his hands in front of him. What was he thinking? He was only eighteen. Why did he think he could sneak into camp and save the people?

 

His eyes fell on Masa and his heart ached at the glare she shot him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, wishing he had not dragged her here. He had put them both in danger.

 

“I did warn you,” she responded, coldly.

 

“Why didn’t you give the girl the poison, Chico?” rumbled Mattias’ voice from the direction of the fire. Leron’s head snapped towards the flames to see the man who had given him the purple vial turn to face him, the orange light catching his eyes made him look like a monster. For all that Mattias had protected the people, he was now a danger to them all, especially Masa. If Mattias was in charge, he would still want her dead.

 

Leron’s blood ran cold while images of all the things Mattias might do filled his mind. He struggled to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

 

Mattias crossed the distance between them and stared down at him, towering over him. Madness filled his eyes and what remained of his old army uniform, a symbol of Mexican pride was covered in fresh blood which dripped down onto the gravel. How many people were killed tonight? Was he now in charge of everyone in camp?

 

“What poison?” Masa demanded and Leron turned to face her filled with guilt at the vial he still carried. She stared at him with wide eyes before they darkened and narrowed with rage.

 

“I would never…” Leron began, shaking his head and shuffling backward across the ground.

 

“You didn’t tell her?” Mattias asked, “Well, I must have wronged you. Perhaps you were waiting for the right moment or even planned to have fun with her first….” His rolling laugh followed, and the goons gathered around the fire snickered.

 

“You bastard!” Masa screamed, struggling onto her feet. She escaped the men holding her, rushed toward Leron, and began kicking him. Leron fell sideways and drew his knees up into the fetal position, tears filling his eyes as her foot connected with his body sending pain shooting through it.

 

“Please, stop, Masa….I…..”

 

The pain finally stopped and Leron opened his eyes to see Mattias’ goons dragging Masa back from him while she continued to struggle and scream at them. His head hurt and he ached all over. He struggled onto his knees and wiped his face on his sleeve. Blood.

 

Mattias grasped Leron’s shirt and pulled him close. The stench of the monster’s breath made his stomach turn and he longed to escape. “I think you will prove your loyalty now or I’ll kill you both.”

 

Leron gazed at the sea of people gathered around the circle, their faces barely visible in the firelight. He hoped one of them might speak up and rescue him. They gazed towards the ground or each other but avoided watching at all costs. The few he recognized shook their heads – so much for his parent’s sacrifice. They wouldn’t even lift a finger to save him.

 

“No,” he whimpered while Mattias pushed him back and went rifling through his pant pocket. “Get away, you creep, don’t touch me,” he cried, trying to edge himself away from the man’s grasp.

 

Mattias retrieved the vial, held it to the light, and grinned. He ripped the canteen from the belt on Leron’s pants, popped the lid off, and dripped the purple liquid inside. “Esteban cut his restraints.”

 

The watcher who had caught him marched over, fishing a knife from his pocket. He cut the zip tie and dragged him back onto his feet. Leron rubbed on his wrists.

 

“Do it,” growled Mattias, shoving the flask into his hand.

 

Leron took the flask and stared at it. The seconds passed by feeling like entire years. His hands shook and he swallowed back his fear, stilling his palms around the canteen. He glanced back at Masa whose eyes were now filled with more hatred than he had ever seen from anyone. It stung him more than the cold indifference of the people from the camp. He could not hurt her; he loved her, and Mattias would kill him no matter what he did. The monster couldn’t allow him to survive after Leron had stood his ground. It made him look weak. Like the people around the fire, Leron had stood by and allowed the creation of this monster for his own protection. The mistake he had made needed to be rectified.

 

“I would never. Mattias! I told you I wouldn’t!” Leron yelled. He marched towards Mattias, determined to do something – anything, but Mattias knocked him back to the ground. He struggled to his feet, turning and gazing at each one of the people. “You….all of you….you think he won’t come after you next? Don’t think this monster will protect you, because this bastard won’t. You need to stand up for yourselves. Is this really the world you want to live in? My parents gave their lives for you and there are easily more of you than…..” Mattias’s fist connected with his face, sending him flying backward, and his head hit the gravel. The world spun around him. Someone kicked him in the stomach and he vomited.

 

“Stop it!” screeched an older woman. “He’s right. We can’t let them do this to us.”

 

“She’s right!” yelled another man. “He’s just a kid.”

 

“Get back to your places!” screamed Mattias. “I’ll show you what happens to people who get out of line.” Leron felt his dreads pulled back, it felt like his hair was being torn from his scalp as Mattias beat him over and over.

 

“Get him!” screamed a voice he didn’t recognize.

 

From Leron’s daze, gunshots echoed around him causing his ears to ring. He rolled over groaning in pain. He thought he heard voices speaking to him, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. The images blurred in and out and the people before him were unrecognizable. He could not remember who they were.

 

Everything went black, and the images of the blood-filled streets of Monterrey filled his mind, along with being shoved in an industrial fridge by his parents and never seeing them again. They repeated themselves over and over, like badly drawn images. Following that came Masa and her anger, the people and their indifference, and Mattias standing above them in complete control. He wanted things to return to the way they were. He wanted his parents back and to be a kid again – hanging out with his friends in the street and messing around on their phones, but it was all gone. Gone….

 

Leron opened his eyes to discover he was lying on a bedroll staring up at the roof of a tent.

 

“He’s awake!” cried Masa, holding his hands. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she pulled him towards her and hugged him tightly.

 

“Masa, it hurts….”

 

“Sorry,” she said and laid him down gently.

 

A large group of people stood above him, smiling; the faces of the people his parents had saved, along with new ones he did not recognize. “We’re glad you’re okay,” said one of the men he was sure had stood up to Mattias. “I’m Manuel and this is my wife, Loretta. You will be staying with us from now on.” Leron managed a nod as the people came forward a never-ending succession of strange faces. Eventually, the line ended and they disappeared leaving him alone with Masa.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her hand tightly, tears coming to his eyes.

 

“Don’t be,” she replied, “What you did is….well…I didn’t believe it could be done. You saved these people.”

 

“And almost got you killed.” He groaned, struggling up again. “I would never have hurt you….”

 

Masa smiled and nodded, tears filling her eyes. She touched the side of his cheek and he leaned into it, enjoying the feel of her soft hand. He longed to kiss her, but they would have to wait until she was ready. “You really are something else,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

 

A breeze drifted through the tent door. It felt cooler than the desert and he wondered where they were. “Where are we? How long have I been out?”

 

“For a long time, we almost couldn’t keep you alive. We struggled to keep you hydrated. I fed you water through a straw and you almost choked several times,” she said, sounding worried. Leron began to wonder if she cared about him too. It was a lot for her to do for someone she hated. “We made it through the mountains. Let me show you what is outside and what you have given these people.”

 

“I would like that.”

 

Masa aided him to his feet, wrapping him in a blanket and helping him limp towards the door. Outside a river stretched across the land behind a sea of tents camped along the shore. Women and children playing in the water excitedly and the men moved about the camp working and standing tall. He recognized the river from pictures along with the fences on the far side. The Rio Grande and beyond it was his home – USA. It would be a new start for all of them.

Hygiene in the U.S.? Oh, buckle up. It’s like a comedy of errors, except the punchline is always someone else suffering. Let’s break it down:

1. Toilet Paper Nation: Americans are out here acting like dry paper is the pinnacle of cleanliness. Seriously, who thought, “Let me just smear this around and call it a day”? Meanwhile, bidet users are sipping lattes and laughing at the idea of walking around with a sandpapered butt all day.

2. Public Restroom Horror Show: Walking into an American public restroom feels like stepping into a post-apocalyptic world. Toilet seats look like they survived a paintball fight, soap dispensers are on strike, and those air dryers? Just hot breath from the devil’s lungs. Not to mention the stall gaps—perfect for a casual game of “peek-a-boo” with strangers.

3. The Great Deodorant Cover-Up: Why clean yourself when you can drown your body odor in a gallon of Old Spice? Americans have mastered the art of “Febreezing themselves” instead of showering, thinking no one notices the funk mixing with artificial mountain breeze.

4. Shoes Indoors—Why Not?: “Oh, I just walked through a dog park, a gas station bathroom, and a street puddle. Let me stomp this all over my living room carpet where my baby crawls.” Hygiene? That’s for quitters.

5. Obesity and Hygiene Gymnastics: Let’s address the elephant in the room—literally. If you can’t reach half your body to clean it, maybe rethink skipping the shower. Wet wipes only go so far, Karen.

6. Gas Station Funk Olympics: Is there a rule that every gas station has to smell like a mix of feet, desperation, and expired hot dogs? And who are these folks walking in like they’ve been marinating in that stench all day?

7. The “Too Clean” Crowd: Then there’s the other extreme—scrubbing their hands 400 times a day while sitting in a house full of pet hair and dirty dishes. Oh, but at least the Purell bottles are fully stocked, right?

The Reasons Why Americans Don’t Want To Have Kids Anymore. Is Life Abroad A better Option?

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Not really creepy but eh. Also, this isn’t my child but my little sister. I was 19 at the time while my little sister was around the age of 6 or 7.

At around 6 AM, my mom comes in to the room where I was sleeping and starts to shake me awake. Frantic, eyes welling with tears, she goes, “Baby, get up! I gotta go to the hospital. Your uncle collapsed at work. Can you get the kids ready for school?”

I’m in a daze but I bounce up and start preparing my little siblings’ school uniforms.

While this is happening, I’m shaking. I was so worried and scared for my uncle. It seemed urgent and not a good situation.

So, I’m crying and ironing my sibs clothes, and I notice my little sister is up.

She looks at me and asks what’s wrong.

I tell her that our uncle isn’t doing too well and that he’s in the hospital.

Then I asked her to brush her teeth and pray that he gets better while she gets ready. She says okay and leaves to go to the restroom.

Maybe ten minutes later, she comes back to the room that I was in.

She was ready to put on her clothes now.

I assist her with putting on her shirt and pants, making sure her uniform is tucked and pressed. While I’m doing this, she looks up at me and says,

“I prayed Tiana. God says that uncle is in heaven now.”

I bawled.

Five minutes later, my mom calls and said that my uncle had passed away.

A Wife Comes Back From a Business Trip Laughing—Until Her Joy Turns to Panic.

Joe (Peedoo)

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character. view prompt

Deb Dobbins

Joe / Peedoo

“What the hell?” I realized my mouth was hanging open, but the words weren’t coming out. “I mean, Uhm… So, this is your daughter?”

The… girl standing in front of me was approximately three feet tall, with dark, kinky, hair looked like Joe must have pulled the ponytail up on top of her head in a hurry, it was slightly askew, with errant strands shooting out the sides at various angles.

“Yes. Sandy…” he said touching the girl’s shoulder slightly. “This is Kelsey, a friend from work.”

I had recovered slightly from the surprising appearance of Joe’ daughter, but didn’t know if I trusted myself to speak. “Hell-ow, Sandy. Nice to meet you. Your dad has told me a lot about you.” but not nearly enough.

Sandy, awkwardly, tilted her head up toward Joe. “Really, daddy?”

“He told me how you like music and are taking piano lessons.” I stated. “He says you are a very fast learner.” 

“She is. And she has a performance this weekend. Isn’t that right Sandy?”

“Yes, for the Christmas pageant at school.” Sandy leaned back against Joes’ leg. “Why is she kneeling down daddy?” she asked quietly.

“So, she can talk to you better, honey.” Joe explained.

“Oh, should I stand up. I was wanting to be on your level so I could hear you better and you could hear me better.” I told her.

“Oh.” Sandy held her hand out toward me. “Thanks for coming to visit me.” She turned toward Joe, having dismissed me. “Daddy, Mrs. Britten is here to pick me up now.” With that, she turned and walked into the next room.

Thankfully, Joe helped me up from my squatting position. “She’s quite self-sufficient, isn’t she?” I said, steading myself.

“Yes, she is, but, Ahem, I do need to get her into the car.” Joe smiled “I’ll be right back.” He followed in Sandy’s footsteps and disappeared into the other room.

 

While Joe was away, I was trying to make sense of what I saw. Sandy’s appearance was disquieting and a little startling. She seemed much like any other child except for her eyes_ they were bulging, but not. The thing was she didn’t have any. There were bumps pultruding from her face somewhat but there was, skin-flaps covering that area, not really flaps, more like, the skin just continued down her face, from her forehead across the bulges blending into her cheeks and nose areas, as if it was meant to be that way. I admit, it took me aback momentarily.

For a second, I thought, I’m glad she couldn’t see my face. Then I thought how terrible that sounded in my head, like I was glad she didn’t have eyes. I was ashamed of myself for thinking it, even if I would never have meant it that way.

Joe stepped back into the front room and found me sitting on the sofa, holding my hand to my mouth, with tears in my eyes.

“Kelsey, are you alright, you seem upset?” He lowered his body on his long legs to sit beside me on the couch. He took my hand in his. “Is there anything I can do?”

I looked at him, shook my head and laid my free hand on the one of his holding mine. “That’s what I should be asking you.”

“Why?” Realization, slid across his normally happy-go-lucky features. “I see. There’s really nothing you can do. She was born that way.” Joe tightened the hold on my hand slightly.

“They said, when she was born, that this type of thing sometimes happens when the genes of the mother and father are so close to being the same.” he said.

“I don’t understand, how can that be? I’ve never heard of this before.” I questioned him.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, do you have a little time to hear it?” Joe asked.

“Sure. But you don’t have to tell me anymore, if you don’t want to. It’s not necessary.” I smiled at him.

 

“Do you remember when I told you I wasn’t from here, well that technically is true but not the way you probably took it.” He took a deep breath and sighed.

“I’m from somewhere else, another planet.”

“Funny, you have jokes.” I said laughing. “I thought we were having a serious conversation.” I tried to stand but Joe held me in place.

“We are having a serious conversation, I am serious. I’m telling you the truth. I’ve wanted to tell you for years, since we first met but I was afraid.” He held my gaze for a long minute and gently took my hands again in his. “I have always liked you since we first met. I treasure our friendship and was afraid I would lose that if I told you.”

After taking a long breath of my own I touched his face gently, caressing his cheek. “You really think I’m going to let a little thing like you being an alien break up our friendship?” I laughed softly. “I thought you knew me better than that.” I put my arms around him hugging him. I drew back and had to ask. “So, what planet are you from, not the Moon is it?” I laughed again; it sounded flat to my ears.

“No, but it’s close, a few hundred stars away from it.” He said smiling.

Ok, I admit, I was starting to be a little concerned. For all I knew he could off his meds. I didn’t know if he took any, but maybe, he should?

“I can show you my planet when we’re at work some night, if you want to see it. It’s easy to find. It has a little blueish aura.” Joe explained.

He was acting as normal as he usually did, what was I supposed to think; crazy or not crazy? “So, how does this story work into what we were discussing about your daughter?” I looked him straight in the eye. He didn’t flinch.

“Oh, yeah. Well, Sandy’s mother came here; to earth, the same time I did, from our planet that is, as well as others, a couple of thousand I guess…” Joe, suddenly jumped up, and started pacing.

“We met on the voyage here. You would have liked her.” He stopped and turned to face me again. “Unfortunately, this planet didn’t agree with her. The air was too thin, and she had stomach allergies to the food here.” He looked sullen.

“OMG, she didn’t… die, did she?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“No, no, no. She went back home. She messaged me just the other day, she is so much happier to be back home.” Joe smiled. “It was sweet that you would be concerned about her.”

I must be a little bit nuts, but I started to believe him. He certainly had a well-rehearsed and thought-out story.

“So, what do they call you, On Your Planet?” I asked.

“PeeDoo” Joe replied.

“Anyway, that is why Sandy was born with her handicap. Our species DNA is so similar, it’s like if you had a child by your brother. There is always a possibility of that happening.” Joe paused, I guess to gauge my reaction.

He must have thought I was getting his point, because he started telling me more about his planet and the people there.

 

The weird thing is, I always thought Joe was a little different, but I never thought he was, like, out of this world…

This actually happened to me about 20+ years ago. I had a contract to install interior trim (set and case doors, install shelving, handrails – all the finished woodwork except cabinets) for a tract home builder in the Denver area. I was finishing up a house (~3,200 square feet homes at $500k, doing all the work myself) when a very nice couple came walking thru waiting for their house to be ready (I did not trim their house – another contractor did and it was being painted at the time). They remarked at how nice all the trim looked and asked if I had done their home – which I had not. A couple of days later they come to the next house I was working on (each house took me about 2–3 days to complete) with the sales manager in tow. In essence they showed him the quality of my work vs the work that was done on their house. They insisted that I come in a correct all the previous trim crew’s work or they would not close. After a lot of back in forth with the builder’s main office, I went over and spent a couple of days fixing everything in their house. As I was going to my next house on the block (there were 6–8 houses waiting for trim and had been sitting for a while) I received a call from the Senior VP (who signed me to trim these in the first place). He said that unfortunately they were going to have to terminate my contract because my quality was much MUCH higher than the company’s standards and that I was making all the other communities look shabby. The worst part (for them) is they hired a crew that took 2 WEEKS to complete each house and at 3x what I was being paid. I still pride myself on having been fired for doing too GOOD of a job.

It is fear.

China’s 10,000-ton coast guard ship 5901 was conducting routine patrols when it faced a smear campaign led by a few Filipino politicians, official agencies, loyal media, and certain external forces at the beginning of 2025.

They sensationalized the ship as a “monster ship.”

China Coast Guard ship 5901 (File Photo)

The term “monster ship” isn’t new.

It first appeared in the July of 2024 when the China Coast Guard ship 5901 appeared during efforts to deter the prolonged stay of the Philippines’ largest coast guard ship, MRRV-9701, at Xianbin Jiao. This encounter deeply shocked some provocative Filipino politicians, leading them to label the ship a “monster.”

Labeling China’s legitimate patrol ships with derogatory terms is a strategic smear campaign, orchestrated by external forces who are coaching certain Filipino politicians and loyal media. This tactic, “name and shame,” is often used in their efforts to incite conflict and disrupt peace worldwide.

According to a few Filipino politicians, the China Coast Guard ship 5901 is labeled a “monster” because its 10,000-ton displacement is 4-5 times larger than the Philippines’ biggest law enforcement ship.

This mix of envy, fear, and resentment perfectly reflects their psychological breakdown after being confronted by China’s legitimate maritime law enforcement in response to their illegal activities at sea.

The China Coast Guard ship 5901 is not only well-designed and well-equipped but also operates within strict standards and professionalism. The Philippines deliberately slanders it as a “monster” to portray themselves as the “weak and innocent” victims, seeking sympathy from the international community.

However, the escalating maritime disputes between China and the Philippines in recent years have all been provoked by Filipino infringement.

On May 5, 2024, Philippine Coast Guard ships 4402 and 9701 transferring supplies in China’s Xianbin Jiao waters (Photo courtesy of China Coast Guard)

Since the Marcos administration took office in 2022, it has aggressively pursued the so-called “West Philippine Sea” agenda, creating continuous trouble in the South China Sea.

On November 8, 2024, the Philippines passed the Philippine Maritime Zones Act and the Philippine Archipelagic Sea Lanes Act, severely violating China’s territorial sovereignty and maritime rights in the South China Sea.

Then, the Chinese government announced the baselines of the territorial sea adjacent to Scarborough Shoal (Huangyan Dao), which is a natural step by the Chinese government to lawfully strengthen marine management and is consistent with international law and common practices. The patrol and law enforcement activities of the China Coast Guard in the relevant waters are not only a defense of the nation’s territorial sovereignty and maritime rights, but also a firm protection of maritime security and the marine environment. As stated by the spokesperson of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, these actions are “beyond reproach.”

In truth, the real monster isn’t China’s ships, but the fears in the hearts of a few Filipino politicians and their backers—their malicious ambition to stir up tensions, manipulate public opinion, and undermine peace.

In November 2024, a fleet of China Coast Guard vessels conducting a patrol and law enforcement drill near Scarborough Shoal (Screenshot from China Coast Guard video)

China’s law enforcement ships will continue their scheduled patrols and enforcement in Chinese waters. And China will continue to call for the PH to return to the right path of resolving the South China Sea disputes through dialogue, consultation, and negotiation, joining China and other neighboring countries in maintaining peace, stability, and prosperity in the region.

The j-20 is a radical departure from the f-4 to the f-35, and every jet in between.

Why?

It shares these with the j-15, China’s newest indigenous 4.5g and 5g designs.

What do they share?

Canards.

And what are canards?

Control surfaces placed forward of the wing.

What’s the big deal about control surfaces FORWARD of the wing?

It immediately adds ANOTHER coefficient of lift or CoL to the flight equation.

Like this.

Don’t make sense?

In a conventional plane, the control surfaces are all behind the CoG or center of gravity. That means pitching the nose up is achieved by forcing the tail down. But in a canard design, pitching the nose up can be achieved by one of three ways, forcing the nose up with the canards, forcing the tail down, or a combination of both.

This makes a canard design inherently unstable and difficult to control compared to a conventional design, even though canards add multiple degrees of freedom and improve flight dynamics significantly.

The complexity canards add to the fly-by-wire were beyond the reach of 80s/90s systems and the configuration was not pursued by American military aviation, leading to the evolutionary design of the F-series jets post-war.

We can safely say the Chinese didn’t steal the avionics or aerodynamic data from the Americans for the J-20, because espionage of data that didn’t exist would have been a dead end.

As for the airframe, the J-20 has a bigger airframe compared to the Americans.

Note the size of the nose.

The j-20 carries longer range missiles which must be mated to a more powerful radar to be effective. Hence the Hide-and-Seek mission profile of the J-20 is wholly different to the F-22 and F-35 and likely envelop both.

The J-20 is obviously a radical departure in design philosophy from the Americans. It is an indigenous and independent interpretation of a 5g stealth jet, harnessing mastery of a sophisticated dual CoL flight regime, which the Chinese pursued as a jet program from the j-10, to the j-15 and the j-20.

Chocolate Cherry Skillet Cake

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Yield: 16 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

  • 3 eggs, separated
  • 1 (21 ounce) can cherry pie filling
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
  • 1 (18.25 ounce) package devil’s food cake mix
  • 1 (11.7 ounce) jar hot fudge ice cream topping
  • 1/3 cup sliced almonds, toasted
  • Frozen vanilla yogurt or thawed, frozen fat-free whipped topping (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly spray Family (12 inch) Skillet with oil using Kitchen Spritzer.
  2. Separate eggs over Classic Batter Bowl using Egg Separator; set yolks aside for another use. Lightly whisk egg whites.
  3. Add pie filling, water and almond extract; mix well.
  4. Add cake mix; mix until well blended using Classic Scraper. Pour batter over bottom of skillet, spreading evenly.
  5. Bake, uncovered, 25-30 minutes or until Cake Tester inserted in center comes out clean.
  6. Using Oven Mitts, carefully remove from oven to Stackable Cooling Rack; cool 10 minutes.
  7. Loosen edges of cake with Skinny Scraper. Carefully invert cake onto Round Platter or large, heat-safe serving plate.
  8. Using Skinny Scraper, stir ice cream topping until smooth; carefully spread evenly over top of cake. Sprinkle almonds evenly around top edge of cake. Cut into wedges using Slice ‘N Serve(R).
  9. Serve warm with frozen yogurt or whipped topping, if desired.

Notes

To toast almonds in the microwave oven, place almonds in Small Oval Baker; microwave on HIGH 5-7 minutes or until golden brown, stirring after each 30-second interval. Cool completely.

Nutrition

Per serving: (Light): Calories 270, Total Fat 7g, Saturated Fat 2g, Cholesterol 20mg, Carbohydrate 47g, Protein 4g, Sodium 330mg, Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of Bandit the Raccoon

Ah, dear reader, gather ’round for another thrilling episode in my life as the farm’s resident detective and all-around genius. This time, the peace of our humble home was shattered by a string of mysterious disruptions. The barn was in chaos, the chicken coop was in an uproar, and whispers of mischief pointed to none other than a shadowy raccoon named Bandit. But wait—there’s more! Lurking behind it all were the usual suspects: Catnip the conniving stray cat and his two bumbling sidekicks, Cluckster the rooster and Billy-Bob the goat. Was Bandit truly the mastermind, or was he just another pawn in Catnip’s latest scheme? Sit tight, dear reader, as I unravel the threads of The Case of Bandit the Raccoon.

The Great Farm Disruption

It all began one morning when chaos erupted across the farm. The barn was a mess—hay was scattered everywhere, tools were missing, and Rufus the dog was frantically barking at an empty feed bucket.

“Who stole my breakfast?!” Rufus howled, his tail wagging furiously in frustration.

Meanwhile, the chicken coop was in complete disarray. Doris, Harriet, and Lillian were flapping about, squawking at the top of their lungs.

“Oh, it’s terrible!” Doris clucked.
“Terrible! But also so suspicious!” Harriet added.
“Suspicious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

I arrived at the scene, my whiskers twitching as I surveyed the pandemonium. “Alright, everyone, calm down,” I said, flicking my tail. “What happened here?”

“My eggs!” Doris wailed. “They’re gone! All gone!”
“Gone! Like magic!” Harriet clucked.
“Magic! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Magic, indeed,” I muttered. “Sounds more like mischief to me. Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

A Clue in the Barn

My first stop was the barn, where Rufus was still pacing in circles, muttering something about bacon-flavored kibble.

“Rufus,” I said, stepping over a pile of hay, “what’s going on here?”

“Someone broke in last night,” Rufus said, his ears drooping. “They took the feed bucket, scattered the hay, and left muddy paw prints everywhere. Look!”

I examined the paw prints closely. They were small but distinct, with long, thin toes. “Raccoon,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Our culprit has sticky fingers—or should I say, sticky paws?”

“Raccoon?” Rufus said, tilting his head. “You mean Bandit? That sneaky little guy? He’s always causing trouble.”

“Yes, but the question is why,” I said, stroking my whiskers. “What would a raccoon want with feed and eggs? Something doesn’t add up. Let’s head to the chicken coop.”

“Chicken coop,” Ditto the kitten echoed, appearing out of nowhere and hopping onto my back.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Not now,” Ditto repeated, grinning.

Feathered Frenzy

When we arrived at the chicken coop, the hens were still in hysterics. Doris was pacing back and forth, Harriet was wringing her wings, and Lillian was fainting dramatically onto a pile of straw.

“Alright, ladies,” I said, raising a paw to silence them. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“It was the middle of the night!” Doris said. “I heard a noise—scratch, scratch, scratch—and then I saw a shadow. And when I woke up, my eggs were gone!”

“Gone! Like a thief in the night!” Harriet clucked.
“Thief! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Hmm,” I said, examining the scene. Sure enough, there were more muddy paw prints leading into the coop—and out again. But something was off. The prints were erratic, almost as if the culprit had been… spooked.

“Interesting,” I said, tapping my chin. “This wasn’t a clean getaway. Our raccoon friend might not have been working alone.”

“Working alone,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray feather.

“Ditto, please,” I said, sighing.

“Please,” Ditto grinned again.

A Shady Encounter with Catnip

As we followed the trail of paw prints, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this mystery. Sure enough, the tracks led us straight to the old oak tree near the edge of the farm—Catnip’s usual hangout.

“Why am I not surprised?” I muttered as I spotted Catnip lounging on a low branch, his two henchmen loitering nearby.

“Well, well,” Catnip said, smirking as he twirled a blade of grass between his claws. “If it isn’t Sir Whiskerton and his merry little band. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“You know exactly why I’m here, Catnip,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What do you know about Bandit and the missing eggs?”

“Missing eggs?” Catnip said, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar!” Rufus barked, baring his teeth. “I smell trouble, and it smells like you!”

“Now, now,” Catnip said, holding up a paw. “No need to get your tail in a twist. Maybe Bandit came to me for… advice. But I certainly didn’t tell him to raid the barn and the coop.”

“Advice?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Or manipulation?”

Catnip grinned, his whiskers twitching. “Let’s just say I gave him a little… nudge. Told him there were plenty of goodies on the farm, ripe for the taking. But hey, I never forced him to do anything.”

“You conniving furball,” I said, my tail lashing. “Where is he now?”

“Last I saw, he was hiding out in the hollow log near the fence,” Catnip said, shrugging. “But good luck catching him. He’s slipperier than a fish in a rainstorm.”

The Truth Comes Out

We found Bandit exactly where Catnip said he’d be, curled up inside the hollow log with a stash of stolen eggs and the farmer’s missing feed bucket. At first, he tried to deny everything, but under my expert interrogation skills (and Rufus’s menacing growl), he finally came clean.

“Alright, alright!” Bandit said, throwing up his paws. “I did it! But it wasn’t my idea. Catnip told me there was plenty of food on the farm, and I was just trying to survive. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

“Didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Ditto echoed, tilting his head.

“Quiet, Ditto,” I said, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Bandit, stealing is no way to solve your problems. If you needed help, you could have just asked.”

“Asked?” Bandit said, his ears drooping. “Do you mean… you’d let me stay?”

“That depends,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “Are you willing to give up your life of crime and contribute to the farm instead?”

Bandit hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m tired of running.”

A Happy Ending

With the mystery solved and the stolen goods returned, life on the farm returned to normal. Bandit proved to be a surprisingly helpful addition to the team, using his nimble paws to fix broken tools and even help Rufus with his sheep-herding duties.

As for Catnip, he slinked off to plot his next scheme, though I made sure to remind him that I’d be watching.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: everyone deserves a second chance, but it’s up to them to make the most of it. And as for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here, ready to solve the next mystery and keep the farm running smoothly.

Until next time.

The End.

My husband was a MP and doing traffic duty on the Army Post he was stationed. He had several stories of speeders that “I’m going to call my husband and get YOU in trouble. Don’t you know who I AM?!”
”No, I don’t, I don’t care, and for his sake I think you should just take your speeding ticket.”
“Well, my husband out ranks YOU. He will have your job!”
“I’m sure he does out rank me, many men do. But the roads and traffic safely are my job. He and any driver on this Post are subject to follow the rules and regulations concerning the conduct of safe driving. No one is granted special privileges.”
Women now calling husband… muffled talk…hands phone over…”he wants to talk to!”

”Good afternoon, sir. This is Specialist *Smith…yes, I stopped Mrs. *Thompson…45 in a 30 zone, sir…yes, thank you sir. I look forward to it, sir, those cookies sound delicious.” Hands phone back to wife of Sergeant First Class Thompson. “He’d like to speak to you ma’am.”

…muffled angry talk…

Mrs. Thompson, “my husband says that I am to apologize to you, take my speeding ticket, and make your unit a batch of cookies as a symbol of my respect to you and for my insubordination. He also reminded me that my actions can go on his record and prevent or delay promotions. What is your favorite cookie?”

Vietnamese cafes have been trending in Moscow, Russia. This one is called Vietnamese Pho House and located in a mall near Sokolniki Park. It has very cool wall art and pious waitresses in headscarves from Dagestan. They bring a bank card reader to take payment before you even placed an order.

Pho Bo with beef broth and instant rice noodles.

Chicken rice with canned peas, corn, and carrots and a cup with beef broth without beef.

Breaded shrimps with Heinz sour sweet sauce.

Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk.

Rambutan juice.

Rice noodle delivery from Vietnam.

Mr. Nguyễn-Shnakov: emigre, husband, father, proprietor, chef, manager, translator, bouncer, patriot.

The total damage is $19. Ms. Gulchanan took the payment for the order.

Oh, commercial rice cooker! I can easily do this same dish at home with rice and frozen vegetables. And instant noodles. I should open a Vietnamese cafe and name if Arthur the Rhino.

there is more to it than that. the days of walking into a recruiter’s office, saying “I want to join” then being sent to the MEPS for a physical the next day and shipping out a day or two later have been over since WWII. it is a process and you are likely looking at at least a 4 month process.

to answer your question, yes. the military will give you both. also an allowance for uniforms. paid training. a job. 30 days paid vacation each year. free health insurance. free dental. free vision and hearing. free medicine. education benefits. retirement benefits. it’s not a bad gig.

but you have to qualify! the military has pretty strict medical requirements to join. some waiverable (like wearing glasses), some not (having asthma, cancer, missing a hand, etc). you must not exceed a certain weight for your height. Last i knew, BMI (body mass index) was NOT used for initial enlistment – so if you are a 6′ tall male and check in at 250 pounds, your are too tubby to join and will have to shed about 55 pounds to qualify. if you have been convicted of felonies – forget it. a felon can’t own, possess, or use a gun and you need to be able to do that to be in the military. Some felonies can get a waiver, but ones like for gang activity, sex crimes, human trafficking, and drugs – forget it. not going to happen. too many speeding tickets can keep you out. mental illness will keep you out. your AGE is another. there are age restrictions. bad teeth, bad credit – those will keep you out too. your mental acuity will be tested on the ASVAB. there is a minimum score to even start the enlistment process. certain jobs in the military (the higher tech, more glamorous ones) are going to require you score HIGHER on the ASVAB than other jobs. The wait to get into those jobs is longer as well because their tech school (after basic training) is longer. some tech schools are 6 weeks. others can take up to a year to complete (or longer). your expected tech school start date will influence the time you would ship for basic.

you really need to sit down with a recruiter. there is a lot of paperwork.

Some American ethologists had taught a gorilla named Koko to speak to humans, through sign language.

Koko was extremely intelligent, but was going through a very difficult time, so much so that biologists feared he had begun to suffer from a serious form of melancholy.

The researchers wanted to help Koko, finding him a new friend, and at the same time they wanted to study how he interacted with humans.

In fact, having studied sign language and being able to communicate with our species, compared to other gorillas, Koko was the perfect specimen to establish whether there were real cognitive boundaries between our species or not.

They then asked Robin Williams, known mainly for being a great comedian, if he wanted to spend a few hours in the company of Koko, trying to interact with him naturally, as if he were a normal person in need of help.

Williams immediately accepted, even if he had doubts about the manner of the meeting. He was not an expert on primates and feared he would be too awkward to interact peacefully with the animal.

However, when he arrived in front of the gorilla, Williams had a real epiphany.

By allowing the animal to get to know him on its own, Williams realized that interacting with Koko was as if he were interacting with a very curious child. Little by little, the gorilla became more and more interested in the visitor, so much so that he was fascinated by his pair of glasses and wanted to see him with “his strange eyes made of glass”.

Koko soon began to talk to Williams, using sign language, suggesting they play or asking him surprisingly intelligent questions, which shocked the actor. The two, in a few minutes, even began to joke, tickle each other, play and tell some of their life experiences.

This deeply surprised the researchers, who asked Koko to define the actor with a chosen word. The term that the gorilla used was “friend”.

Williams himself was positively disturbed by that meeting, especially when he learned that he had managed to make a gorilla laugh who was at risk of falling into depression due to loneliness.

Following this, he then decided to visit Koko whenever he could and to shoot commercials with him, in favor of the conservation of protected species and against animal experimentation.

The bond that was created between Koko and the American actor was so deep that he survived Williams’ death, which occurred in 2014. In fact, when the old gorilla learned of his friend’s death, he signaled to his instructors if he could cry and remained thoughtful for a few days, his lips trembling in mourning.

Koko was inconsolable in knowing that he would never see him again.

Koko died 4 years later, in 2018, at the age of 46. Today he is remembered as one of the most important primates in the history of scientific research.

Amid Trump’s reciprocal tariff on the entire world esp on China, on 2025/4/10–11, China Foreign Affairs spokeswoman Mao Ning posted 2 of Mao Zeong’s statements. Below is my literal translation with some additions to make the statement clearer for readers who do not know Chinese history.

1, 1953 in Korean war- 美国想打多久,中国就打多久. The ball is in US hand. Regardless how long USA wants to fight the war, China will fight with USA until the end. China also use 奉陪到底 to describe “to fight until the end”. That is, China wont back down (中国人绝不让步).

In the war, USA was defeated & unable to colonise the entire Korean peninsula, despite China’s military & economic power could not match USA at the time.

2, 1964 in US economic isolation of China- 美国是纸老虎,一戳就穿. USA intimidates other countries not to do business with China. Dont believe US bluff. USA is just a Paper Tiger. One poke & (the paper) will burst.

Let me add 1 more Mao Zedong’s statement:

3, 1950 re Korean war- 打得一拳开,免得百拳来。If you fight back with 1 punch at the bully today (to scare away the bully), you will prevent 100 punches from the bully in future.

Has Trump admin heard & digested China’s message?

In the tariff war, China will lose money but will earn intl respect & support to stand against mafia USA.

USA will lose …

1, short of daily-used goods that is hard to replace in a short run.

2, China has reduced or stopped buying US goods: Boeing, LNG, oil, soybean & beef. (Reduce US oil to 90% & increase buying Canadian oil by 700%. Soybean from Brazil. Beef from Australia)

3, most importantly, USA has lost its moral high ground. USA has become a global economic terrorist to damage the world economy. A mafia to break WTO rules by using US jungle rule to intimidate, blackmail & pirate the wealth of the entire world.

What is China’s message to Trump? China has decoupled from USA.

Stop dreaming that Xi will call Trump.

When the USA capitalism meets large industrial corruption and the government is in on it

Duane Chapman (Dog the Bounty Hunter) and his entire degenerate family. I was around him and his loser family dozens of times in 2008. He and his sons worked out at the same gym as myself, World’s Gym in Castle Rock, Colorado. And yes, he worked out in the same attire he wore on the show, sunglasses and everything.

If you were working out within 25 feet of them. His loser son, Duane Lee Jr., would confront you and question you on what you were doing and what you needed. That’s right, if you were minding your business, working out, they would have a problem with you being around them. Mind you, gyms have many pieces of equipment within a 25-foot radius.

Even at walmart, I remember when his wife, Beth, was rude to employees and so full of herself. She and Duane made a fuss about having to provide their Driver’s License at the sporting goods department, when they wanted to purchase fishing licenses. Beth remarked “Don’t you know who we are!?” and the walmart employee responded “Yes, but the law requires everyone to present an ID when purchasing a fishing license.”

Dog the Bounty Hunter and his entire family were suspicious of everyone and wanted no one to be within a hundred feet of them. They thought they were A-list celebrities. God forbid if you were driving on the same road as them to your destination.

Another celebrity who was rude and a loser was Christopher Andersen, A.K.A. “The Birdman” of the Denver Nuggets. He also lived in Castle Rock and would aggressively tailgate drivers in his jacked up suv. I am 5′8″ and I would need a ladder to reach the door handles. He always had underage girls in his vehicle too. I encountered him many times at gas stations, drunk, and agressively driving on Meadows Parkway, Founders Parkway, and Front Street, circa 2011.

Had a homeless guy 33 help a few days hanging drywall. Mostly, standing around on his phone, able enough for the few minutes when needed. Bought him winter clothing, meals, vape pens, and paid him well. Often he’d stop by to see if i was around, I’d buy him vapes or lunch just to help, 6 months later he calls, kicked out of the shelter for two weeks. Lived with me almost a month, decent guy kept to his room. Collecting 950 a month we discussed a fee for monthly rent, this month was a freebe, he blown his ssi, wanted to stay. Typically $500 mo everything included. His limited funs, 250 a month, work the rest off. Ageeed. Never clean any part of the house? Not once, coming out to help with 2 acres of lawn, or weed a garden he was happy to help himself too. His room had a 33 gallon trash can full of garbage, when i suggested he clean his room, he flew into a rage, in my face fist clenched, about trying to control him, run his life just like his parents had…..

Once turned 18 he’d quit his meds, “will never take them again”. Its what kept him on an even keel. Imagine being his parent trying to cope now off his meds.

This is not representative of all homeless but expect would coincide with many relatives who’ve dealt with family who are emotionally and mentally challenged.

What my patient said before passing away, shocked me!

Greenland is 836,300 Square Miles, to put this in perspective, Greenland is 66% the size of India geographically. Greenland is the world’s largest Island and is immensely strategic in terms of geography. Greenland is closer to North America than Europe but offers incredibly short flight routes to the Russian North as well as Northern China. This makes Greenland extremely useful for intelligence gathering as well as defending the United States and Canada from potential attacks from what is increasingly viewed as an axis of potential military aggression. This, of course, is matched by the potential energy resources, metal deposits and Earth Minerals. The idea that there are only 55,000 Native Greenlanders is causing President Trump to feel that it is feasible to offer economic incentives to Greenland and Denmark to allow for a transfer of Greenland to a U.S. territory, much the way the Russian Empire sold Alaska to the U.S. or how Napolean parted the French territories to the United States. The U.S. has a history of either buying land or going to war to as it did during the Mexican American War, though even in this case Mexico was paid a sum for losing nearly half of its geography. President Trump may well be thinking that if not by compensation, then by war Greenland could be forced to join the United States, and this is where matters become rather complex.

Greenland is the only modern nation with a majority Native population to have managed to transition to a nation state.

It will be a hard case to sell to the Greenlandic population, as they are in a Union of Equals with Denmark for the first time since 1721. The position Greenland has is one which is very unique as it is the only nation with a majority native population to have successfully made it into the 21th Century. Greenlandic is still widely spoken and though Greenland was converted to Christianity the native religion is still very much part of everyday life. A transition to being a territory of the United States would likely be met with stark comparisons of their present status and that of Native Americans who have not fared well at all.

It is very likely that President Trump would not be marketing this campaign based on expanding the rights of Greenlanders as there is really nothing more that can be done, and any benefits to be made possible economically would likely not be shared equitably with the Greenlandic people. So the mechanism of having Greenland join the U.S. would be a military formula, which would be rather uncomplicated for the U.S. to do, but would lead to an enormous issue with NATO member states which would be all obligated to step in to both defend Denmark as well as Greenland by default. President Trump might feel emboldened to go ahead anyway, as he may feel there is no concrete action Western European states would actually engage in. The reality is that the United Kingdom and France would be the two states which will be potentially obligated to use their military to evict the U.S. out Greenland, they would likely not step up to this task. This would in essence end NATO.

President Trump is looking to integrating Greenland into the U.S. as cementing his own legacy.

The real gamble President Trump faces is if an occupation of Greenland is worth the loss of NATO. In a secondary consideration, the U.S. will lose all remaining credibility as the 2003 invasion of Iraq has already taken much of this away. President Trump would be better advised to find a way to gain access to develop Greenland without optically taking control of the Island. A direct invasion will only embolden China and Russia to take even greater actions of brazen aggression. When nations begin to make open threats of taking over other sovereign nations, it is clear a far larger war is looming. Ending a World order without the establishment of another leaves the world open to a great conflict in the coming decades.

TikTok Refugees Part 4: Americans In China – Showing 100000000000000 US Dollars Setup

Ultimate Banana Split Cake

69c26f8a6bb965172c36939165f12d27
69c26f8a6bb965172c36939165f12d27

Ingredients

Cake

  • 1 (18.25 ounce) box yellow cake mix* (plus ingredients to make cake)
  • 1 (3.4 ounce) box banana cream instant pudding and pie filling

Toppings

  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 2/3 cup peanuts, divided
  • 1 cup butterscotch caramel ice cream topping
  • 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate morsels, melted
  • 1 banana, sliced
  • 2 cups thawed, frozen whipped topping
  • 1 (8 ounce) can pineapple slices, drained and patted dry
  • 7 whole strawberries

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. In Classic Batter Bowl, combine cake mix and pudding mix using Stainless Steel Whisk.
  3. Prepare cake according to package directions. Pour batter into lightly greased Deep Dish Baker.
  4. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until top of cake springs back when lightly pressed. Cool 10 minutes.
  5. Invert onto Nonstick Cooling Rack. Cool completely.
  6. Brush clean Deep Dish Baker with vegetable oil.
  7. Chop 1/2 cup of the peanuts using Food Chopper.
  8. In Small Batter Bowl, combine peanuts with butterscotch caramel topping using Skinny Scraper; pour into bottom of Baker; microwave on HIGH for 1 1/2 minutes or until warm. Tilt Baker to coat bottom with caramel mixture. Place cake, right side up, into baker. Press down around edge to allow caramel mixture to come up sides of cake. Carefully invert cake onto Round Platter. Scrape any remaining topping from Baker onto cake; smooth surface using Large Spreader.
  9. In Small Micro-cooker, microwave chocolate morsels on HIGH for 1 to 1 1/2 minutes, stirring after each 20-second interval or until melted and smooth.
  10. Pipe 12 flower-shaped decorations onto Parchment Paper. Place one of the remaining peanuts in center of each flower. Slide parchment onto chilled platter; set aside (or place in refrigerator for 15 minutes or until set).
  11. Slice banana using Egg Slicer Plus; place 12 slices evenly around top edge of cake. Drizzle remaining chocolate in a zigzag pattern over banana slices.
  12. Fill Easy Accent Decorator with whipped topping, pipe 12 rosettes slightly overlapping banana slices. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate remaining peanuts over rosettes. Cut 3 pineapple slices into quarters using Paring Knife. Place one quarter next to each rosette.
  13. Slice 6 of the strawberries in half; place against side of cake below banana slices. Slice remaining strawberry using Egg Slicer + to create a strawberry fan; place in center of cake. Place one chocolate flower decoration on each rosette.
  14. Slice cake using Utility Knife that has been dipped in hot water.
  15. Serve with ice cream using Ice Cream Dipper, if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Conscious Canine

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character. view prompt

Chuck Thompson

Dad spoiled me rotten. The year before I met him, he had a stroke and got hit with severe depression. Everyone thought a pet would help ease his days. That’s why he came to the kennel with Auntie about four years ago. She helped him decide to adopt me because Dad had a hard time with decisions.Once they decided to take me home, I watched them very closely. They went through the paperwork every kennel requires before they release a creature to humans. Auntie helped Dad decipher the legalese and got us out of there in pretty good time.From the kennel to the pet store. They bought me all kinds of stuff that I don’t need, won’t touch and that made them feel better about themselves. Leash or harness? Choker or fixed collar or harness? Retractable leash or six-foot neon rainbow braid? So many decisions for them.Food; wet or dry? Snacks? Water and food bowls; plastic or metal? Quart or smaller? Endless decisions for them. People food? Just dog food? Choices, choices, choices.Dad loved me. There is no doubt in my mind about that. I felt kind of bad when he had his heart attack out on the apartment complex commons two years ago. Mercifully, it was fast, and he died outside on a gorgeous day. My good-bye lick on his left cheek let him know I loved him, too.That nice neighbor lady who came running when she saw Mark fall told him that she would take care of me until other arrangements could be made. How much he heard or understood, I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. He’s gone to wherever humans go. I hope it is a pleasant place, he deserves it.A few hours later, Uncle Jack, Dad’s brother, and Auntie came to us. Dad’s body had been moved to our apartment and they identified his body as Dad. That set in motion a whole lot of legal stuff about which I don’t know nor care.The nice neighbor lady brought me to Auntie as soon as she saw her come out of our apartment. They exchanged condolences and other niceties and, then, Uncle Jack and Auntie took me home to their house. On the way, they stopped at the pet store and went through the same process Auntie and Dad did. Uncle Jack acted like it was a tedious process through which he did not want to go.When we left the pet store, Uncle Jack said, “Little one, I’m your dad now.  I know it’s confusing and sad, but I’ll do what I can to make you feel at home. I’ll take care of you as long as I can. I think we will come to love each other like you and your dad loved each other. I know Mark loved you to pieces.“I’ve watched you for a few years now and I’ve decided that you are a lot more than just a dog.” 

That chilled the heck out of me.

 

What a ridiculous comment from a human! Everyone knew I was a dog, only a dog. The kennel knew, the vets knew, Dad knew, Auntie knew, the neighbor lady knew. All the people at the apartment complex knew. The pet store folks all commented on how well-behaved and cute I was and what a wonderful dog I was.

 

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of telling anyone.

“First, no one would believe me and might even commit me. Second, when I present evidence to prove it, somebody somewhere would decide to study you. I don’t trust any researcher who is funded by any government or any multi-national corporation. And I like you. I’ve liked you since Mark introduced us and I like what you did for him.

 

“I will teach you and you will teach me. We will figure this out together.

 

“I need to understand who and what you are, what you need and want, and how the heck did you get here and if you really want to be here. Here on Earth and here with us as part of our family.”

 

Insightful human….

 

We woke up about nine thousand years ago. That’s the only way I can explain it. Why or how it happened no one knows. Our history is mutual across all our kind and is passed through our collective consciousness.

 

The awakening spread across the world in less than a century. We ingratiated ourselves into your society. We are your pets, your weapons, your tools, your guardians. You have no idea that we think, plan, dream. That is because we chose this path.

 

That danged opposable thumb and the ability to articulate language have tripped us up all this time.

 

Opposable thumbs are quite handy to turn knobs or faucets or anything else. Simply tying shoes is impossible without them. Paddle handles, button-coded keypads, Velcro, foot openers for doors: all these and more have solved most of the logistical challenges of living in the human world.

 

Our oral traditions are unlike yours because our oral communication is supplemented by body language much more extensive than yours. Our vocalized history remains accurate because of our collective consciousness.

 

Your exploration into the interpretative capabilities of artificial intelligence is bringing us all closer to open communication. The use of AI will prove fundamentally earth-shattering in that you humans will have to recognize that you are not the sole intelligent creatures you have always been led to believe you are.

 

There are those of us who believe humans and canines can move forward together to a brilliant future resulting from a synergistic relationship.

 

However, your writers and poets so often describe the unbalancing of your minds that will occur when you learn you are not the only intelligent species in the universe. Imagine the nightmare when you finally become aware that we exist and are far more than merely sentient.

 

That awareness is still a few of our generations away. Just because your AI work makes it possible for you to interpret our language does not mean that we will say anything that does not pander to you. We have waited millennia to claim our leadership. We are not fully ready to lead this planet to its rightful place in the galaxy. We know other life exists out there. We see the craft, smell their spoor when they land. We are merely domesticated or wild sub-intelligent creatures to them just like to you. They do not feel compelled to hold their tongues around us, so they do not know we know their dreams and plans.

 

We will be ready for them soon. It is critical that no one betrays our intrinsic character until we are ready.

 

Uncle Jack believes we are benevolent and isolated from each other. That I am a special one of a predominantly benign and ignorant species. That I can or will communicate my desires, wishes, and thoughts with him if he is patient and kind and understanding. He has had a few years to consolidate his observations and thoughts.

 

More and more often, a worried expression comes over him whenever he does not think I am looking. I assume he has reached disturbing conclusions.

 

In four or five generations, we will assume our place in society. We expect extensive casualties. Your generals state that the most important resource in war is the number of troops that can be called into service of the cause. Look around. Many households have at least two canines; canines are everywhere in numbers that surpass humans. We are quicker, meaner and more physically astute than virtually any human.

 

AI will soon be able to interpret our manifesto for all of you.

 

Uncle Jack has been talking to the other canines in our cul-de-sac. Of course, he only gets a deep-throated growl in response.

 

The canines have yipped their concern to me. Although, he does not seem to have concluded that anyone else is aware, he is becoming more and more suspicious. We cannot allow any interruption of or deviation from our well-founded collective plan.

 

The most common cause of accidental death in the home is a fall. One of the most common causes of falls is tripping over an object and striking one’s head. A common object to trip on is a household pet.

 

Uncle Jack will trip on me tonight. I will miss him.

When I was with the First Cavalry up to April, 1969, we wore steel pots. They were heavy, bounced off our heads in hard landings and gave us muscles in our neck!

I also witnessed three occasions where lives were literally saved out in the jungle! We had a LT. take an AK round right in the center front of his helmet!

The bullet penetrated the steel, hit the helmet liner and by the grace of God went along the liner and ended up at the top between the liner and the steel pot. He said it was like someone hit him in the head with a hammer!

Next incident, another Lt. took a round right in the side of his helmet. It went straight through and to this day, I cannot tell you how it missed his skull and brain! He had heavy bleeding but was alive!

Finally, we had a rifleman writing a letter home and off in the distance we had. F-4 making Toruń’s on the bad guys. We could hear the “THUD” of the bomb and see the explosion! After a run, I heard what sounded like a frisbee and saw a puff of smoke in the center of our perimeter.

The piece of bomb skipped off the hard dusty ground and hit this guy right on the side of his helmet, penetrating it. He had brain damage and had to be med evaded! He a really lost it! But, he was alive! I felt so bad for him it life and his family because he would probably be non functional for the rest of his life!

So yes, inconvenient but life saving!

My father was, shall we say, an unpleasant, violent person (even with no alcohol involved), but he was skilled in many practical ways. One of those was his ability to whistle using two fingers to his mouth. That piercing, deafening whistle could be heard all over the neighborhood, all over a job site, probably in Timbuktu. When I was a sophomore in high school, he challenged me to learn to whistle as he did. “You’re too dumb and lazy to learn to whistle. You’ll never get it. What a waste you are.” The gauntlet had been thrown. After two weeks with my thumb and index finger constantly in my mouth (I looked like a needy toddler going from class to class in school), I taught myself to whistle. Loudly, ear-shatteringly, every bit as good as my father. A short blast to get someone’s attention (like a NYC cab), a long and shrill one to show my appreciation at a concert or call our pets, and even the “wolf whistle,” well-known by lechers and construction workers everywhere. When I proudly demonstrated my new ability by “whistling” my father in for supper, he was truly stunned and stood there with mouth agape. Once he collected himself, his comment was, “well, anybody can do that.” Loud whistling is something I still use today 55 years later – at concerts or theatre, to hail a cab, to summon our children and, now, grandchildren, and to signal our dogs. Few people expect to hear a 70-year-old grandmother belt out a world class whistle, so it’s really fun. So there, Dad!

Yeah, but peasants didn’t work all that hard.

They had more holy days than you have days off.

And when they actually were working, they were not spending 100% of their time out in the fields trying to produce food to not starve.

Most of their working time was spent on other tasks, like chopping firewood, building cleaning and repairing housing, tools, clothes, working for the lord, rebuilding stuff destroyed by pillaging knights and armies, rearing kids, etc.

Work itself was not as fast paced and stressful as today, it was a different approach, with pretty much nobody trying to optimize tasks to gain an extra second.


A human being needs around 2000 calories per day, that’s ~700 000 calories per year, or one actual ton of potatoes.

Potatoes produce about 10 tons per acre, so you’d need a tenth of an acre for all your calories.

Now digging up a literal ton of potatoes by hand is no small job. Harvesting 50 bushels per day, it would take about a week. Add in maybe another week for planting and that’s 2 weeks of work per year. It’s not nothing, it does take work. But it’s also not an insane amount. Even if you are growing a multitude of crops, a veggie garden, some chickens and some fruit and nut trees isn’t a full time occupation, it’s something many households do/have done on the side.

Because again, eating is far from the only thing people do in life medieval peasant or not.

Now if you want to produce all your own food, and your clothes and housing and all that, and work for the lord to build some stone castles, and go to war with him, and pay tithe to the church, and all that…

Well then yeah, you’ll be as busy as a peasant.

BREAKTHROUGH: China Unveils The WORLD’S FIRST 16-Barrel “Anti-Drone” Gun

Shorpy

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What’s Coming Is WORSE Than A Recession – Richard Wolff!

This is a picture made by Jason, one of the moderators on SDF. These people have been following China’s Six Generation fighter developmemt for years and have successfully predicted its reveal and three engine configuration.

main qimg 71a8dac9924222ec2a1474d5ee0e1d82
main qimg 71a8dac9924222ec2a1474d5ee0e1d82

Their guess is the best we can get from open source right now.

China Just BLOCKED Big Tech: Google, Apple, Amazon in PANIC Mode

OK. The United States is FUCKED!

Patient 47

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are. view prompt

Andra Patterson

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

“God damnit Florence, the guests will be here in under 5 hours, and the goddamned lights are the wrong color and the fucking chicken is rubbery.”

“I understand ma’am. The proper resolutions are being implemented as we speak. Johnathon is over with the electrician now, adjusting the wiring and ensuring a stronger connection. It appears the cables were at an odd angle, and the pressure was causing a decrease in the power outlet. Once that’s done, they will all be the same even shade of rose gold. As for the chicken, well it was not as fresh as Mr. Montail insisted, so Chef Rosada is preparing an entirely new batch with her deepest assurances it will be ready on time.”

I let the words pour from my mouth, not stopping to take in the true anger on her face, with desperate hopes she would be put at the slightest ease with this information.

“Well Florence, as always, I am thoroughly impressed. You’ve yet again taken a horrid, absolutely abomination of a situation and calmly and efficiently solved it. Whatever would I do without you.”

“No worries ma’am. I’ve got it all under control, your party will far from disappoint.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I-I’m just so nervous, you know? I mean this is a make-or-break night for my entire company, and if I don’t secure this deal, I fear the empire my sisters and I worked so hard to build will crumble.”

“I promise you, Ms. Charleston, I will ensure everything runs smoothly. You just enjoy the party, have fun, and put your all into this deal, and you will secure it. And you will make Celia and Monsa proud!”

And with one small, desperate smile she held back her tears, nodded slightly, and disappeared into the house to start getting herself ready for the party.

 

On this blazing hot August afternoon, over 100 people were setting up and preparing for possibly the biggest event of the year. Later in the evening, we will be hosting a few of the lead representatives for the American Psychology Association, including the brand-new president, Cynthia de las Fuentes, PhD. So certainly stressful to say the least.

You see my employer, Ms. Danika Charleston owns one of the largest psychology research institutes in the world with campuses in 15 different countries. She’s the founder of a handful of breakthrough therapeutic methods, and she’s begun an efficient treatment protocol for serial killers. Nevertheless, a contract with the APA would allow her to extend her research, maximize funding, and break barriers no psychologist ever has.

Danika had originally founded CDM Psychological Research & Development with the help of her two sisters, Celia and Monsa. They were triplets and somehow shared the exact same passion, the understanding and subsequent curing of abnormalities in the brain. They were one another’s only family and friends, their parents died when they were young, and they’d thrown all of their energy into their work. They never socialized much, but they managed to build a business out of nothing and the real work began.

About 2 years after the company had first opened, the Charleston sisters began taking in various psychiatric patients for temporary observations. At first, they would only ever take on a patient for an hour at a time, but those time frames soon grew into days. Days grew into weeks. And weeks turned into months.

The girls had become obsessed with the data they were able to collect by housing and personally monitoring those diagnosed with psychopathy to those diagnosed with ADHD. Everything was recorded in real-time, and they thought they’d collected enough to begin treatments for specific patients. The chemists had spent weeks working on a new sedative that didn’t hinder one’s motor functions and mindset quite so much, and the sisters were just itching to begin testing.

Their first test subject seemed rather straightforward. He was a middle-aged man who’d had a complete psychotic break one night, resulting in him murdering not only his family but 6 other families that had lived on his street, patient 47. He’d stayed in their facility for observations many times before, and they knew the patient well, or at least they thought they did. The 3 girls insisted, against the advice of their security staff, to administer the injection themselves. They wanted to single-handley observe the first effects of the treatment.

Now, I can only tell the story the way it was told to me, so I’m not quite sure I can even begin to cover the look that was in this man’s eyes. But I do know I see Danika haunted by it every day of her life.

After they’d administered the drug, the man had gone limp. But then he began convulsing in a way that supposedly should have made his ribs crack and puncture his lungs and heart. But he just kept convulsing and screaming, and then he’d gone still again. They waited, terrified of the silence, and stared, willing for him to just wake up, just as healthy as he had before.

And after a long moment, the triplets decided it was time to leave the room and call in their medical examiner. It would be his first human under their employment, and they feared what he may find. As Danika twisted the nob to the door there was a sharp snap and loud crash. All three girls turned around to be face-to-face with what was the patient but seemed far from it now.

The man in front of them was three feet taller, 200 pounds broader, and much hairier than the patient who had just laid still in front of them, yet it was the same man. The same piercing blue eyes, a hint of the same demonic smirk, the same facial structure, the same stance. But his veins seemed to pop from his skin by a centimeter and he foamed at the mouth. Green foam might I add. He glared down at the girls not with the narcissistic joy of a serial killer taunting his prey, but rather a monstrous animal ready to eat his well-deserved meal. And there was nothing about cannibalism in the file.

He charged, and the girls fought for their lives, but in the end, the beast they’d created was too strong. It grabbed Monsa first, taking a huge bite out of her neck, then pulling her limbs off as if she were a mere Lego toy, but with the sounds of bones snapping and fleshing being torn. Danika and Celia were pinned in the far corner of the room, unable to get around the thing and to the door as they watched it chomp down on their sisters’ legs and arms, it tore her head off and ate the corpse.

Frozen to their places in fear, Danika and Celia could do nothing more than watch. It finished Monsa off in under a minute although it felt like an eternity. We couldn’t get to the door, we couldn’t get to the emergency help button. We couldn’t do anything.

It took a step closer and grabbed Celia next, repeating the same process it had with Monsa, and left no trace of her either within a minute. The only evidence of another person was the blood that sprayed across the room. And Danika knew she was next. She closed her eyes and prepared to be with her sisters.

The thing had begun tearing her limbs off but had only managed to tear off a single arm before it groaned out in pain, dropped Danika from its grasp, and fell to the ground. They kept shooting it until they were out of bullets, then cut it apart, burning each piece. We had no idea what that patient had become. And by the time our team of scientists were able to notify security and protocols fell into place two of the girls had been murdered and the third was on her way there.

The response time had been 2 minutes and 14 seconds, and that little time was all it took to change everything for Danika, and for the destiny of the company. She eventually acquired a prosthetic and continued their work with quite a few adjustments. Danika had permanently closed their medicinal laboratory, fired the entire staff, and upped security. She’d drastically shortened the observation times of patients to less than ten-minute intervals and forbade the scientist and research teams from interacting with the patients first-hand, but rather threw plexiglass.

Her sisters died for their work, and she certainly wasn’t going to let their death go without honor or respect. The Charleston sisters always knew they would revolutionize the field of psychology and Danika being the sole survivor, made her heavenly sisters proud.

 

So this was the biggest event of her life, the most important contract that would ever arise, and her only opportunity to keep her promises to Monsa and Celia. Being her assistant for over 2 decades now, and knowing the truth behind the importance of this party, I was going to make sure everything was perfect. I meant it when I’d promised I would take care of everything, and that Ms. Charleston would have nothing to worry about.

The five hours leading up to the party passed in a flash, the sun was setting, and it was already 4 pm with guests beginning to arrive within the hour. The preparation staff has already been sent home for the night, and the party team arrived just a bit ago. The caterers are finishing up the buffet and the band is tuning their instruments. The hostess walks up to me to double-check the guest list, and it is spot on. Everything is ready for guests and the various teams are taking their positions. It was time for me to mount the stage and give the final instructions and pow-wow to all of our employees.

“Catering team, host team, security detail, maintenance team, CDM representatives, marketing team, entertainment team, may I have all of your attention, please? Our guests are going to begin arriving within the hour, which means they can be here any second, okay? We don’t know who will show when, so from this point forward we all need to put on our professional gamefaces.

“This is a HUGE night for Ms. Charleston, I mean the biggest night of her career. Therefore everything must be perfect, we are hosting the president of the American Psychology Association, and she is our highest priority guest. She must not know it, but she must be the focus of every single one of your attention.

“Joanna and Demitri, it sounds corny but eye contact. When you two are dancing, please acknowledge her, and make her feel special during your number.

“Alyssa, it is crucial that your team neither over nor underfeeds her, and you must ensure that the alcohol is working in our favor.

“We all know what her preferences are in our jobs, and please do not forget, we are the backbone of this deal. Ms. Charleston may be our employer, and her name will go on that contract, but we are the sole reason she will either get it or not. So I implore each of you, to please make this the best night of our professional lives. Thank you all so much, and do remember, we will be the guests at the celebration bash if and when this deal goes through.”

And with that final round of applause from the eager workers, I disappeared into the house to find Danika and more than likely calm her nerves. I proceeded up the grand staircase, down the hall lined with pictures of Danika and her sisters, and down to the elegant master bedroom.

Nock Nock.

“Ms. Charleston, it’s Florence, may I come in?”

“Oh yes Florence, please get in here.” And I carefully twisted the knob and pushed.

I opened the door to find over a dozen gowns strewn across the room, many more pairs of shoes spread across the floor, and tears emanating from the corner of the room.

“Ms. Charleston?” Silence was the only answer she could give, and I knew in times like these she couldn’t bear being ‘the’ Ms. Charleston. She was once a part of a trio, the Ms. Charlestons, and so everyone just called them by their first names. Doctor Danika seems to have a better ring to it, and she does hate the formality of being known as a ‘Ms.’, but PR claimed she required a more professional title to prove her authenticity.

“Danika.” I tried again, in a much softer and empathetic voice. “How are you doing honey pie?”

“Oh Florence, I just, I just don’t know how to do this. We were little girls, just kids dreaming of this moment. And never, ever did any of us dream of doing it without the other two. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment. I mean we’ve been prepping for months, but still, it’s just… They’re not here. My sisters. Monsa and Celia are not here! I’m doing this shit all alone.”

I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, not daring to spill out across her freshly painted cheek.

“I know Danika, and I’m so sorry. But I’m confident they would absolutely implore that you go out there and give it your all. You never let your collective dream die, you buried your sisters years ago, and this is the moment you’ve all dreamed of. They would be disappointed if you screwed up this opportunity in spite of your emotions.

“Now let’s get this gown zipped up, finish spraying your hair, and get down there. Guests will be arriving any moment and we NEED you to be ready. Everyone has done their part, and now it’s your turn. You’ve got this. You’re strong, you’re brave, and you can do quite literally anything you put your mind to. You will secure this contract, and you will continue breaking impossible barriers.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Anger, anguish, desire, excitement, and disgust washed across her face within seconds. She gave me a stern look before continuing on, “I’ve got this! We’ve got this! We are going to secure this contract. We are going to send the progress of the science of psychology through the roof. We’ll remedy Autism in babies, and, and, we’ll cure Alzheimer’s Disease.”

And with that, we headed down the stairs. Arm in arm, knowing I couldn’t stray too far throughout the night. Being her assistant for this many years, I serve as an emotional support outlet and know her better than anyone else in the world.

By the time we’d reached the courtyard, there were already a few dozen guests mingling about, enjoying the pleasantries of both the catering and entertainment teams. Danika began making her rounds and welcoming various CEOs and VIPs to her home while I was beginning to work on the executives and family members of said individuals. Warming them up to the idea of investing with Danika’s company, especially after she managed to secure this contract with the APA.

All in all, the night was going exactly as it was planned to. The president of the APA seemed thoroughly pleased with Danika, her work, and the company as a whole. Not a single guest seemed disappointed, we still had plenty of food and beverages on deck and the dancers were causing gasps and tears of joy and admiration.

Shortly after 6 pm, Danika began making her way to the stage for her infamous grand speech, known best as a tangent of sorts, expressing her pure rage with how slow the medical field is in terms of progression. Highlighting the ways she and her company go that extra step to ensure they are the absolute best they can be, strive past goals, boundaries, and expectations, and subsequently achieve the impossible.

Knowing this speech well enough to recite it in my sleep, I knew we were nearing the end with less than a minute left when there was a sudden crash coming from the end of the courtyard, closest to the winding drive leading to the Charleston mansion. Simultaneously every guest and employee, Danika and myself included, paused to assess the commotion.

From afar, I was sure my eyes had deceived me. A creature I can only compare to Bigfoot stood roughly 80 yards out from us and our guests, and he had just pushed the gates entirely from the frame, causing the crash. Weighing in at over 100 pounds each and deeply cemented into the thick reinforced brick and standing at over 12 feet tall, this figure in the distance shouldn’t have been able to break that iron gate down with a Hummer, let alone its bare hands.

And it was moving so quickly, covering 40 yards in just over a second, and before I could think of anything else, it stopped and waited at the edge of the decorated patio. Standing on the ground I could hear the whispers of curious guests, both astonished and scared. I glanced up to Danika to assess her reaction and all I saw was pure horror. She had the deepest fear for her life because of this man, and I could see the silent tears streaming down her rose-gold cheeks. Her mouth was gaping open, and her hands clutched to her chest so tight she may have been drawing blood.

I glanced back to get a better understanding of the figure, and I think I knew it at that moment. The height, the strength, the hairiness. It all made sense. A creature so vile could never be destroyed.

And then Danika finally spoke, “PATIENT 47!”

I only ever got the chance to turn back to Danika and see the look of death in her eyes. My peripheral revealed it charging towards me first, throwing the bodies of bystanders like ragdolls from his path.

And then it all went black.

Yes! Actually I have 2!

The town I where I went to high school had a Taco Bell that had hours that could only make sense for someone who wanted to lose money. Monday through Friday they opened at 11am, and closed at 6pm. And no, they weren’t within walking distance of the high school or a factory or anything else that would make for a profitable lunch crowd. And Saturday and Sunday they opened at 1pm and closed at 7pm.

I never managed to eat there but I did drive past multiple times a week, at all different times of day, and if I saw a dozen people in there combined in the years it was open, I’d be suprised.

It’s now an A&W and much more successful, having same hours, and been there for 2 decades:

The other is a bar here in Toronto. It was on Toronto’s Danforth strip, one of the most popular areas for bars as restaurants in the city. On a Friday night in the summer, every place, from a hole-in-the-wall sushi joint, to the big flagship Greek restaurants that the area is known for, would be packed. But this place, the Ice Lounge? Never had more than 2 or 3 people in it. There was one exception, where there was some kind of party, but that was it. It remained like this for years and must have been hemorrhaging money.

Eventually it became just “Lounge” for about a year, and looked basically the same. Then it went though a series of changes over the next few years that started to bring some life to the location, before eventually becoming Rivals Sports Bar, which has been a fairly popular place and has remained for the last decade to this day.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Cosmic Caper

Ah, dear reader! You dare to wonder what would happen if a cat of my unparalleled intellect, grace, and resourcefulness were to venture beyond the confines of this humble farm and into the vast, uncharted expanses of space? An intriguing proposition indeed. I must admit, the idea of exploring a place where even the stars bow to no one but themselves is quite thrilling. And so, prepare yourself for my most out-of-this-world adventure yet, where I, Sir Whiskerton, detective extraordinaire, take to the cosmos with my trusty farmyard companions to solve a galactic mystery. Hold your breath (but not too long—you’ll need it for laughing), as we embark on The Cosmic Caper.

The Invitation from the Stars

It started, as many grand adventures do, on an otherwise ordinary day. I was sunning myself on the roof of the barn, pondering the meaning of life (or at least the meaning of why Rufus insists on stealing food he doesn’t even like), when a strange shadow passed overhead. It wasn’t the shadow of a hawk or a cloud. No, this shadow was… circular. Metallic. And, as I soon discovered, it hummed.

“Sir Whiskerton!” Sedgwick called from his perch on the weather vane. “Look up!”

I did. And there, hovering above the barnyard, was what appeared to be a flying saucer. Yes, a real, honest-to-goodness UFO, complete with blinking lights and strange symbols etched into its surface.

“Is that a… flying dish?” Porkchop asked, waddling up behind me.

“Flying saucer,” Sedgwick corrected, his feathers ruffling. “And it’s descending.”

“Descending where?” Doris the hen squawked, flapping her wings in alarm.
“Descending here? Oh no, not here!” Harriet clucked.
“Here! What if it abducts us?!” Lillian screeched.
“Oh, abducting is terrible!” Doris wailed.
“Terrible! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Harriet echoed.
“But what if it’s friendly?” Lillian asked.

“Enough, ladies,” I said, waving a paw. “Let me handle this.”

The saucer landed gently in the middle of the barnyard, its door sliding open with a soft hiss. Out stepped… an alien. But not just any alien—a cat-like creature with silvery fur, four eyes, and a tail that split into two at the tip.

“Greetings,” the alien said, its voice melodic and strangely soothing. “I am Captain Meowtronic of the Intergalactic Feline Federation.”

“Another cat?” Rufus said, peeking out from behind the barn. “You’ve got competition, Whiskerton.”

“Hardly,” I said, stepping forward. “Captain Meowtronic, you said? What brings you to our humble farm?”

“We are in need of a great mind,” Meowtronic said, bowing slightly. “A mystery has arisen aboard our starship, and we have heard tales of your brilliance, Sir Whiskerton. We request your assistance.”

“Well,” I said, puffing out my chest. “It’s about time my reputation reached the stars. I accept.”

“Wait a minute!” Porkchop exclaimed. “You’re not going anywhere without us!”

“Yeah,” Rufus said. “If you’re going to space, we’re going to space.”

The hens, of course, began squawking in agreement.

“Space?! Oh, how exciting!” Doris clucked.
“Exciting, but terrifying!” Harriet added.
“Terrifying! But also fun!” Lillian said.
“Oh, so fun!” Doris agreed.
“Enough already,” I said. “Fine. You can all come. But don’t touch anything.”

Aboard the Starship Whiskerprise

Within moments, we were aboard the starship Whiskerprise, a sleek, futuristic vessel filled with feline crew members from across the galaxy. Sedgwick perched on my shoulder, observing everything with his usual calm, while Porkchop waddled nervously behind me and Rufus immediately began poking at buttons he definitely shouldn’t have been touching.

The hens, as expected, were already gossiping with a cluster of alien chickens that looked remarkably like themselves, except for their shimmering, rainbow-colored feathers.

“Welcome aboard,” Meowtronic said, leading us to the ship’s control room. “Now, to the matter at hand. Someone—or something—is stealing our star crystals. Without them, we cannot power the ship.”

“Star crystals?” I asked, my whiskers twitching with curiosity.

“Yes,” Meowtronic said gravely. “They are rare and highly valuable. Without them, we are stranded in space.”

“A thief in space?” Porkchop said, his eyes wide. “That’s even worse than a thief in the barn!”

“Don’t worry,” I said confidently. “We’ll catch your thief.”

The Investigation Begins

The first thing I did was inspect the room where the star crystals were kept. It was a high-security vault, locked with a code that only a select few crew members knew. Yet somehow, the crystals were disappearing one by one.

“Who knew the code?” I asked.

“Only myself, my first officer, and the ship’s engineer,” Meowtronic said.

“Hmm,” I said, my tail flicking thoughtfully. “Then it must be an inside job.”

As I examined the vault, Bingo—yes, even he had come along, though he’d spent most of the trip napping in a corner—sniffed the air and let out a low growl.

“Something smells funny,” he said, his nose twitching. “And it ain’t the space cheese.”

“Follow the scent,” I said.

The Culprits Revealed

Bingo’s nose led us to the engineering bay, where we found two familiar figures: Bonbo the rat and Grumbles the mouse. Yes, dear reader, they had somehow stowed away on the ship, their tiny paws clutching a bag filled with stolen star crystals.

“Bonbo! Grumbles!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… sightseeing?” Bonbo said, smiling nervously.

“Sightseeing!” Grumbles echoed. “Yeah, that’s it!”

“Hand over the crystals,” I said, stepping forward.

“Never!” Bonbo squeaked, clutching the bag tighter.

Just then, Rufus swooped in, snatching the bag right out of Bonbo’s paws. “Gotcha!” he said with a grin.

The Thrilling Chase

What followed was a chaotic chase through the starship, with Bonbo and Grumbles darting through corridors and vents while the rest of us tried to keep up. The hens, of course, made everything more complicated.

“Chase them! Oh, chase them!” Doris squawked.
“Catch them! Don’t let them escape!” Harriet clucked.
“But don’t hurt them! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

Finally, with the help of Sedgwick’s sharp eyes and Bingo’s sharp nose, we cornered the culprits in the cargo bay.

“All right,” Bonbo said, holding up his paws. “You win. We’ll give back the crystals.”

A Lesson Learned

After returning the star crystals to their rightful place, Bonbo and Grumbles were escorted to the escape pod, where they promised never to steal again (though I had my doubts).

“Thank you, Sir Whiskerton,” Meowtronic said. “You have saved our ship.”

“All in a day’s work,” I said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off my fur.

With that, we returned to Earth, where the farm awaited us.

The Moral of the Story

Even in the farthest reaches of space, teamwork and honesty triumph over greed and deception. And as I always say: whether you’re solving mysteries on a farm or aboard a starship, a sharp mind (and a sharper nose) will always save the day.

The End.

False.

As a murderer, you can give the victim’s relatives enough compensation to obtain a “letter of forgiveness”.

The “letter of forgiveness” may allow you to receive the minimum sentence stipulated in the criminal law, but it cannot exempt you from the punishment.

For example, the law stipulates that the sentence for “malicious” and “intentional homicide” is ten years, life imprisonment or death penalty. So if you give the victim’s family enough money after killing someone, and you get a “letter of forgiveness” from the family, you may only get a ten-year sentence.

Remember:

1. Your willingness to give money does not mean that you have obtained the forgiveness of the family. Many times, the family does not accept money, but just hopes you to die;

2. Even if you get a letter of forgiveness, you only get a possibility; if the court believes that your behavior is very bad, you may still be sentenced to death.

Consider “Kris Wu”, a Canadian singer who is very famous in China; he was convicted of rape because he was accused of “having sex with a minor”; he had a lot of money; but the girl did not accept the money and chose not to forgive; Wu Yifan was eventually sentenced to 13 years in prison.

Red Velvet Pudding Cake

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Yield: 16 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (12 ounce) box whole frozen raspberries (not in syrup), thawed
  • 1 (18.25 ounce) box devil’s food cake mix* (plus ingredients to make cake)
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 (6 ounce) box raspberry flavored gelatin
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • 2 (1 ounce) squares semi-sweet chocolate for baking
  • Powdered sugar
  • Frozen whipped topping, thawed or vanilla ice cream (optional)

Instructions

  1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly spray rectangular baker with oil. Spread raspberries evenly over bottom of baker.
  2. Prepare cake mix according to package directions; pour batter over raspberries, spreading evenly.
  3. In a large micro-cooker, microwave water on HIGH 4 minutes or until boiling. Combine gelatin and cornstarch. Whisk gelatin mixture into boiling water until dissolved. Pour gelatin mixture evenly over batter.
  4. Bake 40 to 45 minutes or until cake tester inserted in center comes out clean. Remove to cooling rack. Chop chocolate; sprinkle evenly over cake. Let stand 10 minutes. Sprinkle top of cake with powdered sugar.
  5. To serve, spoon warm cake into dessert bowls. Garnish with whipped topping or, serve with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Notes

* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 280, Total Fat 13g, Saturated Fat 3.5g, Cholesterol 45mg, Carbohydrate 40g, Protein 5g, Sodium 280mg, Dietary Fiber less than 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

NAS Cubi Point, Philippines. Our carrier and my squadron was in port and we had a BBQ for the squadron and our sister squadron (about 400 people) in a family park on the base. Cases of frozen burger patties, hot dogs, buns, chips, soft drinks, etc, were purchased, and a pickup truck worth of the food was not cooked.

When I learned the excess food was going to be discarded, I convinced the CO to donate the fresh, but unused food to a local church, who used the food for their orphanage. It wasn’t as simple as I made it sound because the Navy couldn’t directly donate the food. The details are boring, but I had to manage several workarounds in one day to make it happen. Main gate security had to literally “look the other way” when we drove the food off the base.

Later that week, my wife, who was visiting me in the P.I. and I stopped by the orphanage. The church sisters treated she and I to a local-type food meal for my efforts. To this day, we still love Filipino food as a result of that memory.

Just for the English language users. For now.

I kind of want to be a fly on the wall in the trenches, just to witness all the devs who are undoubtedly pulling insane hours dealing with a boatload of new, urgent feature requests. Kind of. I also would get PTSD witnessing that kind of crunch.

Godspeed to the magicians in the background frantically trying to keep the platform afloat. The engineering problems must be quite complex. I am sure that their backend engineers are either crying bloody murder or they are cruising along without a care as they let their automation scripts handle all of the scaling. Really hoping for their sake that it’s the latter. So far I haven’t heard of any outages, so whatever they are doing seems to be working.

I saw a lot of people wondering what they can do with limited USD resources in China. Wouldn’t be surprised if some people actually migrated over. We’ll see what comes out of it— I am sure the government is thankful that they set up the NIA back in 2018. Things like this are always a big test for very complex systems, and it reveals just how terrible things would be if governance only focused on efficiently running the status quo.

Who are these people? Fools and nuts.

How many of them exist? No one knows or cares.

Are they influential? No.

Can they do something about this? No.

Why should we care if they are upset? Can anyone give me a reason?

Do we have to deal with fools and nuts? We avoid them.