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.

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