Growing up as a boy in Western Pennsylvania during the 1960s was an experience shaped by both post-war prosperity and traditional values.
Western Pennsylvania, known for its steel mills, coal mines, and rural landscapes, offered a mix of industrial grit and small-town charm.
Life was slower-paced compared to today, with many conveniences delivered right to your doorstep or handled with personal care that has largely disappeared from modern life.
Milk delivery was still common in the 1960s, especially in suburban and rural areas of Western Pennsylvania. We subscribed to a local dairy service, and milkmen were familiar figures in neighborhoods.
Early each morning, before most people woke up, the milkman would arrive in his distinctive white truck stocked with fresh dairy products. He’d leave glass bottles—always embossed with the dairy’s logo—inside a special insulated box designed to keep them cool.
The milk bottles had a metal cap covered with a paper cup, sometimes decorated with advertisements or nutritional information.
If you wanted extras like cream, butter, or eggs, you could request those too, and they’d be included in your delivery.
At the end of the week, empty bottles were collected, washed, and reused.
It wasn’t unusual for us kids to peek out the window early in the morning to catch a glimpse of the milkman making his rounds, his white uniform was always crisp and his demeanor generally pretty friendly.
Our family meals were always the biggest event in our house.
Dinner was always eaten together at the table in the dining room, not in front of the TV.
Sundays were particularly special, often featuring large family gatherings where extended relatives might join for a hearty meal after church. We would have them either at home or at grandparents houses.
Traditional dishes were always served, such as pierogies, kielbasa, haluski (cabbage and noodles), and stuffed cabbage rolls. Pot roast, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans were also staples.
Breakfast was simpler but no less important: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, oatmeal, or pancakes fueled us kids for school and parents for work.
Lunches might include sandwiches made with homemade bread, soup, or leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. Snacks were basic—apples, peanut butter on crackers, or cookies baked at home.
Yeah. Fast Food existed but we rarely ever visited them. Sure Fast food existed but wasn’t yet ubiquitous; eating out was reserved for special occasions.
Mealtime wasn’t just about food—it was about connection.
Parents asked about school, siblings teased one another, and stories from the day were shared.
All in all, truthfully, there was a sense of ritual and stability in these moments, which provided comfort …
A comfort that is long gone and what is really NEEDED in America at this crazy, crazy point in time.
Full-Service Gas Stations
Gas stations in the 1960s weren’t just places to fill up your car—they were community hubs. Most were full-service, meaning attendants did all the work while you stayed comfortably seated in your vehicle. When you pulled into a station, a uniformed attendant would greet you with a smile and ask how much gas you needed. They’d pump the gas, check your oil, clean your windshield, and even inspect your tires for proper inflation—all without you lifting a finger. Some stations offered additional services like battery checks, radiator fluid top-offs, or minor repairs.
Payment was often handled through cash or credit accounts kept on file at the station. Many locals knew their gas station attendants by name, and conversations about weather, sports, or current events were part of the routine. Kids loved visiting gas stations because they could browse racks of candy, gum, and comic books near the register. Soda machines dispensed icy-cold bottles of Coca-Cola or Orange Crush, adding to the nostalgic appeal.
These interactions fostered a sense of neighborliness and trust. Attendants took pride in their work, ensuring customers left satisfied. For boys growing up in this environment, gas stations were fascinating places—not only because of the cars and gadgets but also because they represented a microcosm of adult life, filled with camaraderie and practical skills.
Is Japan expected to catch up with its GDP growth compared to other countries like the USA or China? If not, what are the reasons for this?
It will be difficult or impossible for Japan to catch up to the growth of US or China.
US growth is driven by deficit spending. Even though the national debt has gone haywire, it has the advantages of the Fed’s printing press and the dollar is the international currency.
China’s growth is intact at a sustainable level of 4% to 5%. It is driven by high quality high tech forces on the production side and domestic demand on the consumption side, and aided by the growing trade with the global south countries.
Japan’s government is ossified and has no means of a robust fiscal policy. National debt in the quadrillions of yen is about 250% of GDP, and rising.
It does have over $1 trillion of US Treasury Bills. But BOJ has less influence on the yen exchange rate than the US Fed, and it is always mindful of US accusing it of forex manipulation. It is highly dependent on exports to the US, and has to bow to US demands in its trade with China, its biggest market.
The huge national debt has been a cause of generational unhappiness, an element of the low morale of the young Japanese, and a disincentive for them to work hard as their elders did.
Moreover, educational spent in Japan has been amongst the lowest in the OECD countries. Japanese universities are distinguished for their absence in the world’s top rankings.
Japan’s economy has been in a doldrums for 3 decades since the surrender of its technology prowess and the Plaza Accord in the mid-1980s. There are no signs to indicate how it is able to recover. The last attempt by Shinzo Abe, hailed as the 3 arrows, ended in utter failure.
Japan has no leading technology. How low it has fallen is seen in that it has to offer generous subsidies to entice TSMC to set up a middling chips fab in the country, when once this was its bailiwick.
Japan has less than 200,000 STEM graduates each year, compared with almost 1/2 million for the US, and about 2 million for China.
Chinese youths are confident of the future. American youths has still some ideals, such as the widespread protests against Israeli’s atrocities in the Gaza. Japan youths are frustrated by the lack of prospects and the burden of the rising age dependency in the country.
Can you describe a time that your company only discovered that you were irreplaceable after they fired you? How did you feel? What did they do?
It wasn’t so much me personally, as much as the job that I did.
The company I worked for was in the petroleum services industry. Specifically, my company acted as “oil well plumbers”. We had workover rigs that were sent out to existing oil wells. They are similar to oil drilling rigs but smaller. They are used to clear congested drilling lines, perform plug and abandon work, etc.
My job was to work with their primary customers (major oil companies) to convert paper-based invoice processing to electronic, using Electronic Data Interchange (EDI). I wrote the translations, and I ran the system to process daily invoices.
The oil companies were in a major push to convert to EDI as it allowed them to reduce or eliminate their accounts payable staff. This was back in the 90s and the price of oil had been at historic lows for a long time. Oil companies were doing anything they could to cut staff.
We had one client at Kern Ridge, near Bakersfield CA that kept 21 of our rigs working full time at their facility. The guy that ran that facility made it clear to me that the only reason we got their business is that we could not only invoice them electronically, but also provide billing that was accurate to 30-minute time periods, instead of rounding to an hour.
The company I worked for understood the importance of this. That contract alone was for millions of dollars per year. It was our single largest client.
The thing is, my company was sold to a much smaller competitor. So right off the bat, I knew that this company had leveraged itself to its neck to buy us. I was making a fairly meager salary ($40,000), and I was due for a raise. The new company wanted to keep me, but told me that my existing salary was already more than anyone at the company made. Not only would I not be getting my annual raise, but I probably had little chance to advance at the new company. Also, I would have to move from Houston to San Antonio for the new job, with no reimbursement for moving expenses.
“Hmm…. let me think….. I’ll pass.”
However, I did make another offer. I could start my own business, processing EDI transactions. I could make them my first customer. I wouldn’t have to move, and it would allow me to start a new business and hopefully grow it from there.
They were open to this and asked me to submit a proposal. I did. For a whopping $50,000 ($10K a year increase over my existing salary), I would provide all the computer hardware, software, maintenance and data archival to do a turn-key solution for them.
Their response… was not to respond at all. I got complete silence. They wouldn’t return my phone calls or emails.
After a few weeks I went to see them in person. They very smugly said, “Your offer was so outrageous that we didn’t think it deserved a response.”
I couldn’t comprehend this. I was giving them a sweetheart deal. Not only that, but I knew the existing systems backwards and forwards. There would be no learning curve. Not to mention, they would be saving the FICA and benefits cost of employing me. The $10K was almost a wash.
“So you don’t think keeping a multi-million dollar client is worth an extra $10K a year!?”
I got blank stares in response.
Apparently not.
So I moved on to another company, still doing EDI (I still do, almost 25 years later).
I still had contacts in the industry and still was part of EDI user groups. About six months after leaving, I went to a meeting and was chatting with my contact at Marathon oil. He asked me, “What’s going on at ______ (my ex-employer)?”
“Well I don’t work there anymore, so I don’t know anything. Why?”
“They keep sending me paper invoices!”, he replied.
I smiled. “Not surprising. And?”
“We throw them in the trash. We’re on EDI with them. We don’t do paper anymore.”
In other words, Marathon hadn’t paid a single invoice to my former company in the six-months since I left. They probably weren’t alone.
I’m pretty sure the company lost that Kern Ridge contract too, but I don’t know for sure.
What I do know is that, within a year, the company had sold itself off to another competitor at a significant discount.
Was it just because I left? Probably not. There are lots of EDI people out there. But I’m pretty sure that severely underestimating the value of my position had something to do with it.
Nezha 2 Movie Review | MY FAVORITE MOVIE OF THE YEAR?
What are your impressions of the meeting between Chinese President Xi Jinping and a group of prominent Chinese tech entrepreneurs?
That was the most important thing that happened in 2025 so far.
Forget all the show and talk about Ukraine. Everyone knew that was coming in one way or another. Bottom line, Russia has deeper resources and popualtion than Ukraine. It was always unwinable for Ukraine. The West was going to cut its loss sooner or later.
What happened in China was different. That meeting between Xi and private entrepreneurs marked a change of direction in Chinese economy.
In 2008, China came out with a 4 trillion stimulus afte the financial crisis, and it went mostly to Chinese SOE. The government, the banks and the state owned enterprises became more entangled than ever after that. Also there was the Obama Pivot to Asia and Trump trade war and tech war, which pushed the Chinese government to rely even more on state owned companies, as they followed the government’s orders far more effectively than the more West-leaning private sector.
Combined, these factors led to the common belief of “in with the public and out with the private” throughout the 2010s. The banks leaned more toward the public sector, and many rich people moved out of China, looking for more favorable business environment and avoided possible state take-over of their companies.
This hampered economic activity in China, but ensured stronger state control and joint action that defended the Chinese economy from outside shockwaves. You can kind of view it as a quasi-wartime economy.
By the 2020s, the Chinese government has mostly absorbed the residual effects of the 4 trillion stimulus, by popping the property bubble, as well as standing firm against US sanctions, bans and boycotts of the first Trump and Biden administration. The private sector has come up with impressive innovation despite not having the full support of the government, and the ones that tried to move their operations overseas were met with mostly hostile US and Indian reception. Yes, a lot of Chinese private businesses tried to move to India.
So by 2025, the government has proved that it remains the safe haven, the only real safe harbor for big Chinese private businesses, and it has successfully driven out finance from the property sector. The private sector has demonstrated its worth and superior ability at tech innovation than state owned enterprises, and has acknowledged the importance of adhering to the Chinese political leadership. The two are ready to work together again, under the backdrop of a looming tech/trade war 2.0 coming from Trump.
Thus the realignment. It’s a public statement that China is ready to push ahead with innovation-driven economic development, led by private companies this time, with the full support of the Chinese state. Get ready for better economic growth coming out from China.
Fuss Free Swiss Steak
This delicious Swiss steak is made in a cooking bag and cooked in the slow cooker. Clean-up is a breeze!
Ingredients
- 1 (Reynolds) cooking bag
- 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 2 (15 ounce) cans diced tomatoes
- 1 teaspoon celery seed
- 2 tablespoons tomato paste
- 1 tablespoon prepared mustard
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 3 ribs celery, thinly sliced
- 1 or 2 carrots, sliced into 1/4 inch rounds
- 1 small onion, chopped, or 1 tablespoon minced dried onion
- 1 to 1 1/2 pounds round steak, 1/2 inch thick, cut into serving-size pieces
Instructions
- Measure flour into cooking bag.
- Add tomatoes, celery seed, tomato paste, mustard, Worcestershire sauce and brown sugar. Squeeze bag (carefully hold the top to keep it from spilling) to mix all ingredients.
- Add vegetables and steak. Secure top of bag with tie; place in slow cooker. Cut several small vents in the top to allow steam to escape.
- Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 9 hours, then pour into a serving bowl.
Considering that tariffs are paid by the people of the nation who issued them, why is it a good idea to retaliate with tariffs of your own? Would that not be self-harming?
If you target your tariffs on products that you don’t have to buy, and have ready substitutes – no its not self harming.
For example if Trump attacked the UK’s exports, the UK could retaliate with large tariffs on Bourbons and Whiskeys produced in Tennessee and Kentucky. Brands like Jim Beam and Jack Daniels would become insanely expensive, but we wouldn’t really care because Scotland makes the best Whisky in the world anyway, and if they didn’t have enough capacity there’s always our neighbours on the other side of the Irish sea to fill the gap.
Secondly you obviously don’t do this in isolation. You make common cause with other nations who the USA is attacking. For example:
- Petrochemicals are a big US export – but they are threatening to block or tariff Canada’s export of petrochemicals to the USA. So the nations under attack make common cause by switching their orders from US-based suppliers to Canada based-suppliers
- Power generators are a big US export to the UK, but its not like European firms such as Alstom, MTU, Rolls-Royce and Wartsila are lacking capabilities to supply that type of product.
Meanwhile Tennessee and Kentucky are filled with newly unemployed Trump voters. Wonder how that plays out?
How fast can Europe out pass China and Russia in fully AI capabilities to respond combat in a wider IBM scale, if they decide to cut all ties with President Trump? Can Europe compete with fully integrated AI capabilities with inferior AI systems?
French Lucie AI, off the shelves in less than three days.
Macron spent €54 billion ($56.8 billion) to train this piece of shit…
It is said that Asked to multiply 5 by (3+2), the model gave an answer of 17, instead of 25, and Lucie also said that “the square root of a goat is one,”
How China’s Lifestyle is Making America Look Like a Rip-Off!
The Human Invasion
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
Matthew Ruiz
“Yea”.
“Con, are you watching the news?” The words seem to come out all at once, using whatever little breath the person on the other line could muster.
Connor’s mind was not present, though, and he barely registered the voice of the person who called, so he quickly stole a glance at his phone and saw that it was his brother, Matt.
“Of course I am, who isn’t?” Conner answered, voice completely devoid of any hint at having some actual interest in this conversation at the moment. Scrolling below the news anchor team in big white letters was the headline “Sources Confirm Alien Contact with Several World SuperPowers”.
“So I guess that ramp up on UFO sightings the past two months wasn’t all a hoax afterall…” Matt’s voice trailed off as the anchor team was replaced by a montage of UFO pictures and videos, all having been captured from all over the world in the last few months. It wasn’t rare to see them anymore, the objects were out during all hours of the day, worldwide.
“The president is set to hold a state of address in mere minutes…” the anchor woman’s voice said in the background of a hand held video of what looked like a dozen UFO’s zipping across the sky at breathtaking speeds.
“Oh great”, Matt groaned animatedly, “can’t wait to hear what this shithead has to say about this”.
For once, Connor agreed, but he was still too stunned to say anything and in truth, he was scared. He’d always believed in aliens, had even had several heated debates about the topic with friends and family, but he never thought he would see the day when they would actually arrive on Earth. His heart was beating faster than he ever felt, breaths coming in shorter and shorter bursts, and he was starting to feel dizzy.
“Con! Are you there?”, Matt asked, irritated with Connor’s lack of response.
“Sorry, Matt, I’m just not feeling well,” Connor said in between breaths, resting his elbow on his knee and head in hand, gripping the phone like his life depended on it.
There was a short pause on the other end and then, “It’s ok, I get it, bro. This is fucking crazy…oh the president is coming on now!”
Connor put Matt on speaker and placed the phone down on the coffee table in front of him, tapping the volume button on his laptop to put it up. It was still low by normal standards but it boomed in his ears as the president came on screen. Connor winced in pain and lowered the volume, settling into his couch, feeling more sick by the minute. President Cooper was a tall, handsome man in his early fifties, and his whole platform was built on his calm and collective manner. He looked anything but at this moment.
“Great,” he could hear Matt mutter through the phone, “this guy”.
“Good evening, My fellow Americans. By now, you have all been aware of the rapid increase in UFO sightings over the last two months and the mist-like substance that these vehicles have been dispersing among the population. Our intelligence agencies have been hard at work and in constant communication with other countries all over the world, trying to get answers and understand what exactly is going on. Up until yesterday we were unable to get answers, but then….we were contacted.”
He paused here, not for dramatic effect or because he was having a hard time reading the teleprompter. President Cooper was doing all he could to keep the tears that pooled at the bottom of his eyes from falling onto his face. If Connor had not felt like total crap at the moment, he would have felt sorry for him, but his head was killing him and his eyes were having a hard time focusing. He blinked furiously as the president composed himself and continued.
“Yesterday, several world leaders were contacted by Extraterrestrial beings, in numbers larger than we could have imagined. After a few short hours it became quite clear that they have no intention nor are inclined to entertain any negotiations on behalf of any individual country or the planet. Now, as president of the United States, it is my sole responsibility to tell you, my fellow citizens, that we will fight this threat as we have all others and that there is no need to panic.“
President Cooper paused, and that calmness he was consistently praised for took control of his entire body.
“But the truth…the real truth is that it will all be in vain. The ETs have been spreading a deadly pathogen across the skies. If you or anyone you know has come into direct contact with that…”
Connor wasn’t listening anymore, it really didn’t matter. His eyes hurt so much he couldn’t keep them open and his body had gone completely numb. The only thing that seemed to work normally was his hearing, albeit at a much more sensitive level.
“Connor!”, he could hear Matt calling his name as if he were sitting beside him, but Connor couldn’t move at all. “Con, you’re scaring me man, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”
Connor focused his hearing outside of the apartment. It was an odd sensation, like clogging one ear while you put the other to a door to hear through the other side. Except now, those sounds weren’t muffled. He could clearly hear his neighbors across the hall, Mike and his girlfriend Jess, packing frantically, moving around their apartment as if it was on fire. Jess was on the phone talking to her mother, trying to figure out a place to meet up and hunker down together. Mike was on the phone as well, whispering to his ex-fiancé about how badly he wanted to be with her.
Gunshots echoed loudly from somewhere outside the window, but for Connor that bullet might as well have lodged itself in the back of his skull because his head felt like it split in half with pain. He fell to his knees, squeezing his head in between his hands, crying out with every ounce of his body it hurt. His blood now ran boiling hot like lava scorching its way through his body and destroying everything it touched. His heart beat so hard he swore he could see it hitting his chest when he tore off his shirt and looked down. His eyes burned and tears streamed down his face freely like an overflowing sink.
Then it stopped.
The episode was over as quickly as it began and Connor laid out on his floor panting and more afraid than he had ever felt in his life. His body calmed quickly, however, and he was able to sit up with relative ease and surprise at how well he was feeling. He had overturned his table during his spurt of madness, so he crawled over to find his phone and laptop.
“Matt?”Connor said, “you there?”.
“Uh..yea Con. What the fuck was that?” He sounded scared and Connor couldn’t blame him, but he was better now. Wasn’t he?
“I don’t know, but it’s over now, I feel fine. Listen, the world is going to go to shit. I can hear it already outside my window. Am I going to you or you coming to me?”
“Were you exposed to the UFO mist, Con?” Matt asked, a seriousness in his voice that Connor had rarely heard.
Connor hesitated to answer the question and he wasn’t sure why. He trusted his brother, knew he would never rat him out. If he was asking it had to be for good reason.
“Yea, I was, a few nights ago on my way back from your place. They were all over the sky, Matt, coming down really low too. At first I just thought it was raining, but now, thinking back on it, it had to be the stuff coming from the UFOs.”
It wasn’t until he said it out loud that the magnitude of the situation began to make sense in his mind and the implications hit him like a runaway train.
“Get back on your laptop, Con, now.”
Connor grabbed his laptop and opened it up, refreshing the news channel it was on. The president was still on. In fact, Connor was stunned to realize that only a few minutes had gone by since his whole thing had started. He zoned his hearing to focus solely on the laptop, unsure of when he had figured that out.
“We have identified the mist as a biological weapon that the ET’s have told us will change the biology of those it has affected to the detriment of the major population. Anyone who has been affected, please, stay inside and call the number down below, and if anyone knows or sees anyone-”
The screen went black.
Connor could hear as the world around him gasped in surprise or screamed out in fear. His laptop was completely dead, which made no sense as the charger was plugged in. He checked his phone and it was dead also. His hearing pierced the walls of his apartment and he could hear the entire building coming alive as all the tenants scrambled in panic, wanting to get out.
Connor was unsure what his next move should be. He was affected by the bio weapon the aliens had spread, of that he was sure. The president had specifically detailed that people like him should stay inside, not only for their safety but the rest of the population as well. They also had a number that he had not recognized nor was he stupid enough to call it and turn himself in. Anyone with a brain could determine what would happen if you called that number.
Connor stood from the couch feeling stronger than he ever had before, an energy coursing through his entire body begging to be released. His ears detected a sound by his door, like someone was tugging at the door knob.
God, he thought, the world is ending and people immediately start becoming assholes. He took long powerful strides to the door and reached it just as it exploded inward, just inches from slamming into his body. The first thing he saw was the gun, right in his face, and he somehow was able to hyperfocus on the finger starting to squeeze the trigger.
Connor casually dipped his head away from the gun just as the bullet came flying out. His left hand shot out to grab the invaders gun, ripping it out his hands, and his right hand shot out into the man’s face. He dropped cold into the hallway, leaving Connor standing in the doorway holding a gun for the first time in his entire life. He studied it and had this overwhelming feeling that he didn’t need it, that it would be wrong to use. He tossed it back onto his couch and stepped out into the hallway. He couldn’t stay home, no matter what the president had ordered, he wouldn’t be a sitting duck. Besides, he felt completely fine.
As he moved down the hall to the stairway he could hear people rushing down the steps, making their way slowly down. It was then he realized that there were no lights on in the entire building. He looked up at the ceiling and down the hall. He could see the fixtures but no illumination and it did nothing to deter his vision.
What in the hell, he thought to himself, shaking his head and pushing himself into the stairway with the humans who were struggling to make it down without hurting themselves.
Humans. That was a weird thing to call them. Aren’t I human?
As he moved around the people his body began to throb, not painfully, but knowingly. It was alerting Connor that there was something he was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t until he exited the building and entered into a world of chaos of apocalyptic proportions that he understood. People were running everywhere and others were chasing them, moving insanely fast and not like humans at all. Buildings and cars were burning all around them, a person ran by completely engulfed in flames, his screams making Connor cringe like someone scratching a chalkboard.
The screaming, the fighting, the dying, it was all too much for him. It was enough to drive a person…but he wasn’t a person now. He could feel it right now, in the midst of all of this, he could feel himself removed from it all. He was not afraid, nor did he shy away from all the destruction. His body felt stronger because of it, excited by the revelation that he was no longer human.
“Con!” The voice sounded familiar, even the name seemed to hold some kind of meaning.
“Matt”, came the response, quiet and emotionless as if the word meant nothing. But the being that now stood in Connor’s body did not care to try to unravel the sudden mystery of what this encounter meant. He did, however, wish to satisfy his need to destroy the human race.
TARIFFS 101: Trump’s Power-Hungry Trade Wars Threaten China, Canada, Mexico w/ Prof. Richard Wolff
Shorpy
Have you ever had a family member misunderstand a word and it changed the whole scenerio? It was hard to keep a straight face!
My poor old mother could have a conversation in English — it not being her mother tongue was very obvious sometimes.
We used to go to Housie/Bingo together.
This particular day, there was a group of women sitting at our table who’d chat away between each game.
This particular time, a game was called back after it was found to be a mistake.
Everyone raced to get their old tickets back to resume, when one of the other women noticed and asked my mother what was going on.
Mum replied ‘Salami’.
The woman just looked at mum, saying nothing — I think my hysterical laughing made her think we were both crazy.
As it turns out — everytime someone called a win incorrectly, they’d quickly call out ‘False Alarm’ to have the game resume.
Each time, mum thought the person was calling out ‘Salami’, and getting a salami as a prize …
Not to mention when mum talked about the peanut butter that was going to fix her car.
She meant panel beater…
Or — how about when mum asked my (new) husband to look at her crack.
I was laughing so hard, husband (lightly) punched me in the arm telling me I had a dirty mind.
Poor mum began to blush realising she had definitely said the wrong thing.
I explained to her how the word ‘crack’ could be taken and her blush got deeper.
Give her her dues, she always asked for the correct word when she screwed up.
I told her she should have said ‘Look at my cracked HEELS’ …
Yes, I screwed up with words in the mother tongue, that mum laughed at a lot as well…
Could the United States survive completely alone and cut off from trades from the rest of the world?
Very likely; it’s basically the size of a continent. All resources to build a functioning society are present somewhere inside its borders, to some extent.
The standard of living would have to be massively reduced, of course. USA is a major importer of petroleum products, for instance. Few people would be able to afford driving their own cars. Anything containing microchips would easily double or triple in price, although some items could be reverted to older designs, like cars and washing machines.
Essentially, think 1975, only with spotty coverage of tech from about 2000, and quite plausibly even smartphones. At three times the current price.
And mind you, in 1975, lots of people thought life was pretty OK. So it’s not like we’re talking complete misery here.
But one thought for you. The USSR. It crumbled not because they were poor, exactly. But it was a source of huge discontentment in the East that they were perpetually 20 years behind the West in standards of living. And that was a major factor when the Wall came down.
And already today, USA is 20 years behind Europe in many ways… and you’re talking about creating a 50-year gap.
I can’t see that ending well.
Sir Whiskerton and the Misadventures of Big Red
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another barnyard escapade in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves Big Red, the farm’s most curious (and clumsy) rooster, along with his partners-in-crime: Sylvester the sly cat, Pork Chop the perpetually hungry pig, and Rufus the overly enthusiastic dog. What follows is a story filled with laughs, chaos, and a moral that will leave you grinning like a chicken who just outsmarted a fox. So grab your sense of humor and let’s strut into The Misadventures of Big Red.
Big Red’s Bright Idea
It all began on a sunny morning when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual spot on the barn roof, sipping Earl Grey tea with a dash of cream. The peace was shattered by the sound of Big Red crowing at the top of his lungs.
“Attention, farm animals!” Big Red announced, standing on a hay bale like a feathery general. “I, Big Red, have devised a plan to make our farm the most famous in the land!”
“Famous! But also so… rooster-iculous!” Harriet the hen clucked.
“Rooster-iculous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Gertrude the goose honked, collapsing into a dramatic heap.
Sir Whiskerton sighed, flicking his tail. “This is going to be a long day.”
The Plan Unfolds
Big Red’s plan was simple: he, Sylvester, Pork Chop, and Rufus would create a “Farm Spectacular” to attract visitors from far and wide. The show would include Sylvester’s “amazing” juggling act, Pork Chop’s “talent” for eating corn, and Rufus’s “world-famous” high jumps.
“And I,” Big Red declared, puffing out his chest, “will be the master of ceremonies! The star of the show! The rooster of the hour!”
“What could possibly go wrong?” Sylvester muttered, already regretting his involvement.
The Spectacular Disaster
The Farm Spectacular began with Sylvester’s juggling act. Unfortunately, Sylvester had chosen to juggle eggs—fresh eggs from Harriet’s nest.
“Behold!” Sylvester announced, tossing the eggs into the air. “The art of juggling!”
The eggs, however, had other plans. One by one, they splattered onto the ground—and onto Pork Chop, who was waiting for his turn.
“Hey!” Pork Chop oinked, licking egg off his snout. “I didn’t sign up for an egg bath!”
Next up was Pork Chop’s corn-eating contest. He devoured the corn with gusto, but in his enthusiasm, he accidentally knocked over the water trough, flooding the stage.
“Oops,” Pork Chop said, looking sheepish.
Finally, it was Rufus’s turn. He bounded onto the stage, ready to show off his high jumps. But in his excitement, he misjudged the distance and launched himself straight into the hayloft, sending a cascade of hay tumbling onto the audience.
“Whee!” Rufus barked, wagging his tail. “Did you see that? I flew!”
Sir Whiskerton to the Rescue
Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, Sir Whiskerton sprang into action. He gathered the animals and addressed the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Whiskerton said, his voice calm but firm, “thank you for your patience. It seems our performers have… over-egged the pudding, so to speak. But fear not! The show will go on!”
With Sir Whiskerton’s guidance, the Farm Spectacular was salvaged. Sylvester performed a much safer act (juggling apples), Pork Chop demonstrated his “talent” for napping (which he was very good at), and Rufus showed off his impressive ability to fetch sticks without causing chaos.
As for Big Red? He took on the role of narrator, regaling the audience with tales of farm life—most of which were wildly exaggerated.
A Happy Ending
The Farm Spectacular was a resounding success, and the animals celebrated with a feast (courtesy of Pork Chop, who insisted on helping with the menu).
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Ambition is wonderful, but it’s important to plan carefully and know your limits. And when things go wrong, a little teamwork and a lot of humor can turn any disaster into a triumph.
As for Sir Whiskerton? He returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day—and spared the farm from further rooster-related chaos.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
“Drill, Baby, Drill” is crashing into global peak oil demand: new US oil fields cannot make money
What is the funniest joke you’ve been told that you still think about to this day?
A widowed Jewish lady, was sunbathing on a totally deserted beach at. She looked up and noticed that a man her age, also in good shape, had walked up, placed his blanket on the sand near hers and began reading a book. Smiling, she attempted to strike up a conversation with him.
“How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you,” he responded, and turned back to his book.
“I love the beach. Do you come here often?” she asked.
“First time since my wife passed away 2 years ago,” he replied and turned back to his book.
“I’m sorry to hear that. My husband passed away three years ago and it is very lonely,” she countered. “Do you live around here?” She asked.
“Yes, very close to the beach”, he answered, and again he resumed reading.
Trying to find a topic of common interest, she persisted, “Do you like pussy cats?”
With that, the man dropped his book, came over to her blanket, tore off her swimsuit and gave her the most passionate lovemaking of her life.
When the cloud of sand began to settle, she gasped and asked the man, “How did you know that was what I wanted?”
The man replied, “How did you know my name was Katz?”
Has your boss ever shown up at your front door?
Yes he has.
It was the day after I was released from the hospital where I had been getting rehab for my recently operated on broken leg (tib and fib).
I broke my leg on a Monday, was operated on Tuesday, moved to rehab hospital on Saturday and came home the next Thursday. A whirlwind.
On the way to the hospital while the ambos (that’s Australian for ambulance men) tried to find a vein to give me pain killers I texted my boss – ‘On my way to hospital. Broke my leg. Sorry.’
This would have flummoxed a lot of people but not my boss. We texted that evening and he came to see me the next day and dropped off chocolate and a phone charger. Saviour !
The first day I got home I tried to organise my life to cope with being one-legged for the next 6 weeks. Difficult as my only house mates were two demanding cats. They refused to help. Typical.
The next day my boss arrived at my front door.
He moved furniture to make it easier for me to get around. He swept the floors and washed dishes. He made sure I had food. He made sure I had what I needed close to hand. He gave me decorating advice.
Best boss in the world !
Global PANIC: US Bonds CRASHING as USA Imposes the Unthinkable – No Country Can Escape This
Have you ever worked with someone who deliberately tried to get you fired?
Yes. I worked with a very ambitious woman who had her eyes set on becoming a vice president at the company I worked for. She apparently considered me, and several others, a threat to her goal so she worked to get us all fired. Little comments in meeting, filing conducts reports against us that we had to defend, making sure we were not invited to key meetings.
Two of the people she targeted quit their jobs, deciding life was too short for harassment. I was bullied through most of school so her actions annoyed me and I did worry about her succeeding, but I needed the job so I stuck it out. More than that, I never sank to her level and even referred things to her that could help her promotion prospects (which drove her nuts – why was I doing that? It made her very paranoid.)
One day the HR group contacted me and asked me a bunch of vague questions about her management style, which I answered as honestly as I could. I wondered if she was going to get that promotion she wanted, to be honest. Then a HR agent from our corporate office flew in to interview me and several other people, asking even more in depth questions. I had no idea what the interview process was for job of director level or above was, so again I answered as honestly has I could. She wasn’t my boss after all.
About a month later, to my surprise, Building Security and two police officers came and presented her with a bunch of documents telling her she was terminated immediately and they were there to escort her off the property. She was fired for “creating a hostile work environment ” for her staff.
Ten years later, she is a Avon sales person with a couple of other side gigs. She couldn’t find a full time job. And I am the same company and not a Vice President because I do not want to be a Vice President. I was never any threat to her at all.
The White Toblerones
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
Shuvayon Mukherjee
Before responding, I glance around to make sure we’re alone, or maybe to delay the conversation as long as I can. There’s no-one in the waiting room this late in the afternoon. I spy a fresh stain on the carpet where a sick toddler threw up this morning, just before the doctor sent them to the ER. The stain is oddly symmetrical, like an inkblot my psychologist showed me once. I realise I’m feeling queasy myself.
‘Okay, here it is,’ I exhale, rubbing my hands on my pants to get the sweat off. In summer we crack the windows open to keep the temperature bearable, and through them leaks the hum of traffic, the beeping of a pedestrian crossing, faraway sirens. Outside the world seems alive, but here in reception we might as well be stuck in time. The only movement is Ana’s finger and the Windows screensaver floating lazily across the computer screen behind her. I sigh again. ‘I’m leaving. I’ve asked to be relocated, and today’s my last day here. They’re moving me to the clinic across town.’
Ana’s finger stops abruptly, her knuckles growing white around the cup. She raises it to her mouth, takes a long sip with her eyes closed, and swallows. I fight down a pang of guilt and watch her, distracted by the elegant curve of her neck, the stray waves of dark hair falling across her cheek, the poise she shows despite the pain. When her eyes open again, there’s a hint of moisture in them.
Just as she starts to speak, a gust of hot wind rushes into the building, followed by the rolling squeak of the automatic double doors, and the cacophony outside suddenly intensifies, drowning out our conversation. The two of us whirl back to face our computers; she resumes typing, if a bit more forcefully than before, and I turn my attention to the man on crutches limping up to the counter. He wears a wide-eyed expression of excitement.
‘Name, sir?’ I inquire.
‘Edward Bunton,’ he replies, his rapid breaths condensing on the glass screen between us. ‘Appointment with Dr Jenkins.’
‘Bunton…’ I murmur, clicking through my computer.
‘You hear the news, son?’
I glance up at him. ‘About the aliens? Yes, sir.’
‘Extraordinary, isn’t it?’ he gushes. ‘I knew it. I knew they were real.’
‘Mhmm.’ My mouse clicks faster.
‘You must’ve seen Star Wars, eh? Star Trek? ET? Amazing that we can come up with all this tosh and in truth they wouldn’t look out of place in a bloody zoo. Must be chilly on their planet with all that fur, eh?’
‘Dr Jenkins, you said?’ I interrupt.
‘Er, yes. For three-thirty. You know, they’re saying they’ve got technology that’ll put us hundreds of years into the future. Help us make spaceships, even. Faster than light! Unbelievable.’
I look at him again. His face is beet red with elation.
‘You can go in now,’ I direct him.
He hesitates. ‘My appointment’s in fifteen minutes. Bit early, isn’t it?’
I point down the hallway. ‘First door on your left.’
Now looking confused, he nods to me and goes on his laboured way. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I lean over to Ana and, unwilling to touch her, I put a hand on the back of her chair. She pauses her furious typing and looks at me with dried tears etched into her cheeks.
‘Why?’ she chokes out. Another question she already knows the answer to.
Seeing her upset wipes my mind clean of all the words I’d rehearsed over and over again in the shower and in front of the mirror. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I bow my head, unable to meet her gaze.
‘Crosswords,’ I mumble. ‘Too many crosswords.’
Confusion flickers across her features. ‘Huh?’
I clear my throat. ‘Crosswords. How many have we solved together since last year? Hundreds? I love doing them with you.’
Our eyes meet again, and she’s looking at me intently, like there’s something she’s searching for. She doesn’t say anything, so I ramble on.
‘And before I met you, I’d never tried anything Mediterranean before. That salad your mom makes, what’s it called? Tabbouleh? I could eat it for breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, even whatever you call that meal we had at 2am during that night shift.’
‘Din-fast,’ she smiles. My heart skips a beat.
‘I loved our din-fast. And I love the way you don’t take smack from anyone. How many rude visitors did you tell off when I didn’t have the guts to do it?’
‘I told you, you shouldn’t let them just walk all over you.’
I smile back. ‘When you’re around, I don’t need to worry. And as much as I hate this place,’ I gesture to the office at large, ‘I love it too, because it’s our space. I feel safe here. You make me feel safe. And you might be the only person on the planet who thinks I’m funny.’
Her tears take on a different quality. ‘Toby, are you saying – ’
The sound of a door creaking open cuts her off. The stooped form of Dr Jenkins emerges from his office, one hand clutching his stethoscope, the other running a hand through his wild bone-white hair. By the time he reaches reception we’re already back at our computers looking as busy as possible, as if we can somehow shield ourselves from the moment.
‘Have you two seen the news?’ he exclaims.
I glance at the TV on the wall in the waiting room. I’d turned it off just before telling Ana I wanted to talk to her; before that, it had been blaring CNN’s latest on the alien contact.
‘It was getting distracting.’
‘Nonsense,’ he scoffs. ‘Something big has happened. You’ll want to see this.’
He grabs the remote and flips the TV back to life. A reporter is standing in front of the White House, gesturing at some peculiar triangular buildings on the usually pristine green lawn.
The aliens have arrayed their craft in front of the White House in a startling display of power, the reporter says, but so far it appears their intentions are benevolent. Predictably, social media has gone into a frenzy, quickly dubbing the triangular spacecraft “White Toblerones”.
The news report momentarily captures my attention, a brief distraction, the words barely registering in my mind. I steal a glance at Ana from the corner of my eye; her profile is bathed in the soft glow of the office lights. She’s composed now, but her eyes still shimmer with unshed tears.
‘Toblerones? Can’t see the resemblance myself,’ Dr Jenkins grunts.
‘Don’t you have a patient waiting?’ I ask him. Ana loves Toblerones. Last month, after she had a particularly rough day, I surprised her with one of the giant ones they only sell at certain confectionery stores. I recall the way she squealed with pure delight, suppressing a smile at the memory.
Dr Jenkins waves a nonchalant hand at me, his attention fixed on the screen.
‘Edward can wait,’ he says. ‘His appointment hasn’t started yet, anyway.’
The news report drones on for another fifteen minutes, during which I try and fail to avoid stealing glances at her. I click through my computer aimlessly as a whirlwind of emotions tugs me in different directions. Self-reproach slides through my gut like a parasite. My mind chatters incessantly, a constant stream of doubts about the ill-timed confession, at once regretful and relieved.
It took me months to realise and then admit to myself how I felt. Anabela is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before: a firebrand, in the vein of her Latin mother, a romantic, a thinker, an obsessive, a quandary. She hasn’t shown me a red flag yet, but even if she did, I’d charge at it faster than a Spanish bull.
There’s just one problem.
‘How is Lucy, Tobias?’ Dr Jenkins asks, suddenly standing in front of my counter, the TV muted.
‘She’s great, thank you,’ I stammer back. ‘She was just promoted to partner at her law firm. I’m so proud of her.’
He nods. ‘I’m not surprised. She’s extraordinary, that one.’ He looks at Ana. ‘And how is your mother, Anabela?’
She turns around, lashes glistening. ‘Very well, Dr Jenkins. Sounds like the aliens are supplying us with all sorts of medical tech. You and her might both be out of a job soon.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, Tobias, we will miss you here. Some more than others, perhaps.’ His eyes dart between us as he stalks back into his office.
Once we’re sure he’s gone, we exchange another meaningful glance. Heart pounding, my breath catches in my throat, and I have to force the words out.
‘I’ve realised there are some things I can’t avoid anymore,’ I say softly. ‘Even if they complicate everything.’
A dozen expressions dance across her face, each more anguished than the last. At last she settles on a tearful smile. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment, her eyes searching mine.
‘Being friends would be easier than… ’ she trails off.
I feel a warm flush in my cheeks. ‘Sorry.’
‘No,’ she murmurs, her voice carrying a hint of humour. Her chest rises with a deep, steadying breath. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s complicated, and I’ve tried to push it away, but it’s the truth. I feel the same way.’
My animal brain almost takes control of me then. It warms my cheeks, quickens my pulse, screeches that this is when I’m supposed to kiss the girl. But my rational brain wins. It hurts, and part of me doesn’t want to, but I say it in a whisper.
‘And that’s why I have to leave.’
We share a moment of silent understanding, and she inclines her head, a sad smile on her lips. By the time Edward Bunton emerges from Dr Jenkins’ office, we’re both busy at our desks. I’m packing up my stationery, my spare lunch containers from Ana’s mom, my book of crossword puzzles. She deals with Bunton, shutting down his awkward attempts at conversation about the White Toblerones and ushering him out the door with a minimum of fuss.
I look around the office as I leave, a space that holds so many memories, and the lump in my throat returns. We do our customary walk together back to our cars. We stop at hers first, the blue Mazda Demio with a chipped wing mirror. The earlier heat hasn’t fully faded but somehow my limbs and hands are shivering.
She looks up at me uncertainly. ‘You finally told her about me, didn’t you?’
‘Before this, I’d only been in love once.’ Reaching into my pocket, I slip my wedding ring back on. It’s cool, but it slides back into the depression on my finger with comfort, like it never left. ‘And now it’s twice. But I made a commitment to Lucy, and I have to honor that.’
She studies the ring, then shakes her head. ‘You were an idiot for taking it off in the first place.’
‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘No, you weren’t.’
‘Somehow, it made me feel less guilty for feeling the way I do about you.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if your brain is made of tabbouleh,’ she retorts. We share a chuckle.
‘I don’t know Lucy,’ she continues, ‘but I can’t do this to her. From everything you’ve told me, the way you talk about her, the way you love each other. She doesn’t deserve this.’
She takes a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know if it’s possible to love two people at once. Especially with your whole heart. So it’s okay. I understand. Sometimes you meet the right person,’ her voice breaks, ‘but someone else got there first. That’s life.’
‘And that’s why we can’t talk for now.’
‘No,’ she corrects me, ‘that’s why we can’t talk ever again.’
The words make a physical pain in my chest. I always imagined heartbreak would feel like a tearing sensation, or the stab of a dagger, or that it would make me cry out in anguish. Instead it’s a dull ache between my ribs, like someone pulled the fibres of my myocardium and twisted them into knots. At the same time my conscience is beating on the inside of my skull, demanding why this is so difficult when it shouldn’t be. Should it?
We let the silence stretch for a time, unwilling to let the moment end. Then a piercing sound from above makes us both jump and whirl around. A dark triangle emerges from the distance, gradually looming larger, until it takes shape as one of the White Toblerones streaking past at incredible speed. It passes just above us, and the reflection from the otherworldly metal is almost as bright as the sun itself, beautiful and incomprehensible. A few blinks later and it’s a speck in the distance.
We turn back to each other, eyebrows raised.
‘I thought they’d be… more,’ I admit, my voice raw and unsteady. Squinting into the distance, I convince myself I can still see a dot on the fiery horizon. ‘Something more than a bus-sized triangle.’
Ana sniffs. ‘That’s the problem.’
We share one last glance of shared understanding that needs no words. She tilts her head and gives me that slightly wider smile that shows all of her teeth, wrinkling up her nose. The evening sun lights her skin golden, a longing wind caresses her hair, and I know she’ll never look at me that way again.
Fajita Steak Rolls
Ingredients
- 2 (1 to 1 1/2 pound) beef top round or flank steaks, cut 1/4 inch thick
- 1 tablespoon of olive oil
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
- 1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
- 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, minced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons lime juice
- 1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
- 1 (2 ounce) can chopped green chiles
- 1 cup salsa or picante sauce
Instructions
- Rub both sides of the meat with olive oil.
- Combine remaining ingredients except the salsa in mixing bowl and blend well. Measure out about half of the vegetable mixture and set aside for later use. Spoon the remaining vegetable mixture evenly over each steak. roll the steaks, beginning at the narrow end, jellyroll fashion. Tie with a kitchen string.
- Place the beef rolls into slow cooker. Spoon 1/4 cup of salsa evenly over the beef rolls.
- Cover and cook on LOW for 8 to 10 hours (HIGH 4 to 5 hours).
- Meanwhile stir 1/2 cup salsa into the reserved vegetable mixture. Cover and refrigerate.
- Spoon the remaining 1/2 cup salsa over beef rolls during the last 15 minutes of cooking.
- Slice the steaks into serving portions and accompany with vegetable salsa mixture.
Never heard of Rory Gallagher until today | MINDBLOWN! | Shadow Play (Reaction!)
This is great.
Do you think US containment strategy for AI will be effective against China’s DeepSeek?
US containment of China has failed in every turn.
In supercomputers, China now has more on the top-500 than the US. Sunway OceanLight its top model, is as powerful as the top model in the US.
US showed it had the power to deny China’s access to its GPS. China shows its Beidou navigation system has higher capabilities than its GPS.
US refused China’s participation in the international space station. China builds it own Tiangong Space Station. Tiangong is expanding. ISS is on its way out.
Trump threatened to cutoff the supply of chips to China. China goes on an expansion spree. It has now 35% of global capacity of legacy chips.
Huawei breaks through to high-end chips. It competes with Nvidia in AI chips.
DeepSeek uses efficiency and innovation to overcome the big money spent by OpenAI and GPT.
It is open-source. US ambition of AI dominance has broken. Not all the king’s soldiers could put it together again.
US containment of China has reduced to a combination of desperation and dirty tricks – accusations, witch-hunts, embargoes, government agencies are banned from using it, and there is even a proposed bill to impose hefty fines if people in the US use it, ……
How can this be effective?
Maybe only in the US in its own cloister.
Elsewhere, open-source will reign. Efficient algorithm and innovations will replace the reliance on hardware.
How was your experience working with super rich people?
I once worked as a nanny (Aupair) in a very wealthy family in a small town in Austria.
personal documentation
My job was to look after a 10-year-old child. The parents of the child I was looking after were pharmacists. They had their own pharmacy and a very large, modern, contemporary-style house with a garden and yard that was as large as a basketball court, about 30m x 20m. They had two Volkswagens and one Audi. They had a maid and a gardener who came three times a week. They also had a private apartment at the foot of the mountain, close to their pharmacy. That was where I lived for two years.
This family is very nice. I mean, really nice. And despite being very rich, they never spend their money on extravagances or just buying the latest gadgets . They wouldn’t buy a new phone if their old one wasn’t really broken. They never show off their wealth. They also don’t have social media.
While working at their place, I had many opportunities to go to other countries. During the summer holidays, for example. I was invited to Tunisia, Turkey, and Spain. All accommodation and tickets were covered by them. Even when I was going to travel with friends to Germany and Slovenia, they gave me a lot of pocket money. They also paid for my schooling while in Austria. I took a German language course up to level C1 at a school in the city. The apartment I lived in was also free, I didn’t have to pay for it. In fact, if it was rented, the monthly rent could range between 600€-800€. At certain times, such as when the wife and her husband were on vacation together out of town or abroad, I had to stay at their big and luxurious house to look after their child. I was provided with a spacious room with complete facilities in the house, but I rarely chose to stay overnight if it wasn’t really urgent . I prefer to live in an apartment alone because it is more private and free to do anything, including being free to cook food with a strong aroma at night. Yes, I often get hungry around midnight.
Why are Americans so ignorant about the world?
Right now the most reasonable answer probably is: Because they are dumb as shit.
I know this does not sound nice. In general, when meeting a foreigner I assume that he is fairly bright as long as he does not prove to be dim. After all what has happened in the U.S. since last Nobember, my rules for U.S. citizens have changed. A majority of them voted for Teump, although he had declared that he would destroy the U.S. government system, destroy the transatlantic relations, threaten all neighbors and kick every U.S. ally in the ass. Nevertheless, a majority of U.S. citizens voted for him.
And now he is doing what he has promised to do before. And nobody rises up and shows resistance. To me this proves that a vast majority of people do not care living in a semi-democratic oligarchy on Russian level.
So, my new rule when dealing with U.S. Americans: I assume that they both are dumb as shit and malevolent – unless they present valid proof for the opposite.