When I was a student, studying Aerospace Engineering at Syracuse. And I was assigned a Professor to be my mentor. He was a great guy, and super useful.
Anyways, sometime around my second year (Sophomore) I and a friend (Samier from Syria, he was one of my study-buddies) went to him and told him that we felt “lost”. All this math, and hard sciences, but no practical exposure to tools and devices. And the professor nodded, and smiled. yeah. He “got it” and yeah, he understood.
So he gave us a room in the second basement of the Engineering building and gave us a task. We were to develop a Bicycle to generate power to run a tv set project. Oh, and we loved that idea.
Unfortunately, we had no tools, and so our efforts went round and round and got us no where. What we really needed was an older brother, or an uncle to actually do the things first and we would copy him. But, ah, we didn’t have that. So we just wasted the time.
Sad. But, you know, I learned from it.
To teach and guide you must be active. You must enjoy participation. You must lead.
And that is what I am today.
Today…
What is the reasoning behind Trump’s decision to increase tariffs, even though it may negatively impact US consumers and businesses instead of China?
Trump wants to be lord and king. But the US is not strong enough. He blames it that the US had been ripped off by the world. He takes umbrage. He wants revenge.
His revenge is tariff. He cannot fathom any country dares resist. US has a wonderful economy, and it has the mighty dollar.
He shall decide who to punish and who to dispense or withhold favours. He used a bogus formula and claimed, the rip-off by Country X was 50%, and 60% by Country Y. He was being kind to only charge out the tariffs at only 1/2 the rip-off rates – 25% to X and 30% to Y. But warned, if you dare retaliate, you will be banned from the US market, and if you don’t use the dollar, your tariff is 100%.
He was so full of hubris. He did not expect anyone dares retaliate or resist.
When he levied China the initial 20% of 10% + 10%, China’s counters were mild, it only tariffed several US goods. He must have been shocked that when he levied it the 34% unilateral tariff, the counter was swift and equaled the 34%, and incredibly shocked, when it countered 125% to his 145%. China had even the audacity to tell him it will not go beyond 125%, that the number game is silly, but it will retaliate with other means if he goes further.
Trump never consider the impact on US consumers and businesses. He never expect such vigorous counters from China. He saw the China of 6 years ago, when its counters of his tariffs were mild and hesitant.
He repeatedly told the American people that China will eat the tariff. It cannot afford to resist and will not dare retaliate. He mistakes the weakness of the US for strength, the strength that China sells 5 times more to the US than buys from it (the correct ratio is 3 to 1).
This is a weakness because US needs Chinese goods. Otherwise, its lifestyle would be in jeopardy.
He may have come to realize this, when he exempted 125% of 145% on smartphones, laptops, and other popular electronics. He could have offered respites to Walmart and the major retailers to resume imports from China to avoid empty shelves in the months to come. Walmart had cancelled orders when the Chinese suppliers refused his demand to pay Trump’s first-round tariff of 20%.
In other words, the voices from consumers and businesses may start to sink in, especially when the voices from the financial markets have been loud and clear.
What is the most embarrassing moment that ever happened to you?
I’ve lived in Australia for most of my life.
Functionally, I am still European. I hold three passports, two of which are EU. But in many ways, I am very Australian. I root for Australia every time they’re playing against Germany or Netherlands.
I also defend Australia whenever ignorant people repeat baseless stereotypes about my country. You know the ones.
- Apparently we ride kangaroos to school
- And also everywhere we go we have snakes and spiders trying to kill us
- And we all have large knives like Crocodile Dundee. I knew many people back home who carried knives around, but I wouldn’t exactly call them “australian”
- The kangaroo thing again
Anyways, one time I was out on a walk with my dog, and at the same time I was having a FaceTime call with an American internet friend of mine. I actually met her on Quora. I was arguing with her about how Australian stereotypes aren’t true, how it’s overblown by the media, and how our lives aren’t that different to how her life in the Midwest was.
Then suddenly, my dog starts barking like crazy, trying to chase a figure in the distance, and yanking me along with her.
My friend notices the disruption through the screen, and I have to explain myself to her.
“Sorry about that, my dog started chasing some kangaroos and she got overexcited. I don’t even know what she would do if she caught one…. Anyways, where were we?”
and my american friend replied sarcastically
“We were talking about how all the stereotypes about Australia are false. But then you got interrupted by a whole bunch of kangaroos outside your house”
I swear, most Australians don’t live like this. I just so happened to live near a kangaroo reserve at the time.
But it really undercut the argument I was trying to make.
Why do some Chinese people behave poorly when they are abroad, such as stealing electricity in Japan?
You mean the viral video of a Japanese influencer calling out a Chinese girl for using a public wall-outlet at a Japanese airport?
WTF?
I’ll be honest, I’ve never visited Japan.
But of the dozen countries that I have visited and lived in, public wall outlets at public infrastructures are free for public use. Nobody gives any second thought charging their phone on a wall outlet. Not in China, not in US, not in Mexico, not in Brazil, not in UAE, not in Turkiye, not in France, not even in Cuba.
Frankly I’ve never thought using a public outlet would be an issue anywhere, until this news came out.
I don’t believe that Japan is really now poorer than Cuba to restrict public use of wall outlets, so I assume this was just an absurd fringe public stunt of one individual xenophobic influencer seeking attention.
If true then they should detain that influencer for disturbing public order and molesting an innocent girl traveller at the airport, posting her image online without consent, and shaming Japan on the international stage.
But please correct me if I’m wrong and that using public wall outlet really is a big deal and considered “stealing electricity” in Japan, and people should adjust their expectation and behavior when visiting. Or based on the fact that the video actually became a thing in the first place, think twice about ever visiting Japan at all.
I would be suddenly scared to do anything normal for it could be offensive to the locals? Like do they allow wearing sandals in public? Do they allow eating snacks in public? Do they allow laughing and taking photos in public? Jeez.
Is it correct as Trump claims: “China is on the verge of economic collapse”, or is the economy in China healthy and growing without any problems?
The products in our supermarket have not increased or decreased in price, and our workers have not been fired. How do you think it will affect us?
I often watch videos of League of Legends streamers in my free time. One of them is called 挖机掘墓人 “Excavator Grave Digger,” and his main champion is Garen. His signature playstyle is the “disconnect strategy”—pushing the minion wave between the enemy’s first and second towers while also controlling their jungle. It has a distinct flair reminiscent of Chinese guerrilla tactics.
But that’s not the main point. The interesting part is that his gameplay is often quite poor, and viewers call those moments “xiafan” (literally “down-to-eat”), meaning his clumsy performance is so entertaining it boosts their appetite. As a result, during the first few minutes of each uploaded video, the live comment section (danmu) is filled with viewers posting about what food they’re eating.
The owners of these danmu are students and workers in their 20s, making them a relatively vulnerable group in terms of economic level.
The examples in these two screenshots, which the video was uploaded two days ago, include: stir-fried rice noodles, KFC, spicy chicken with mixed noodles (with an exclamation mark, he enjoys it), crucian carp soup (the fish was self-caught), Jizhimei clay pot noodles with date cake, pork floss sushi, beef tendon wrap, braised beef noodles, beef flat noodles, beef noodles with fried skewers, Cafeteria buffet on the second floor of the company.
When Chinese people are poor, they will choose to cook by themselves or eat instant noodles. However, all of these foods were purchased, and only one person mentioned ”braised beef noodles“, which may be instant noodles.
As for the one who caught his own fish, in China, fishing is a form of entertainment that involves spending money rather than saving.
Why don’t we install more weapons (Mark 41, AEGIS, etc.) on aircraft carriers so they can travel without a carrier battle group?
The Super-Carrier Fantasy
Picture this: A one giant warship capable of doing everything—shoot down threats, launch fighter jets, fire massive missiles. A floating powerhouse. Sounds amazing right?
Well it’s not. People have tried it. It doesn’t work.
Look at Russia’s Admiral Kuznetsov. It’s got big missiles with which to send ships down and it also has planes. Sounds tough—but here’s the catch: However while there are planes taking off or landing it can’t fire those big missiles. Meanwhile those huge weapons eat up room that ought to be used for more planes. And in the end it hauls fewer jets than a regular carrier can.
This isn’t a new mistake. In World War II Japan tinkered with the battleship Ise turning the dreadnought into a half carrier. The back was added with a flight deck. On paper it looked cool. In real life it wasn’t a battleship anymore such as you probably imagine and not a good carrier either.
That’s what bugs me about these ‘do it all’ ships. They aim to be all things and wind up being not very good at anything at all. They’re expensive and don’t give you much.
For one thing even if you ended up building a really tough ship it’s still one big target. With multiple ships working together you get a full carrier group (a lot of protection and firepower). Teamwork at sea still wins.
One ship alone? That thing’s toast.
Why is it that when China finishes a new type of aircraft carrier, they immediately move on into another type of an aircraft carrier? Can the US do this? If so, why aren’t they doing it?
China is in the “crawl, walk, run” process when it comes to aircraft carriers and has not yet reached its desired endpoint where it would buy several of the same design. In other words… (Read Full)
TV On The Radio – Wolf Like Me (Official Music Video) / Re-upload
Darn cool!
Does the PRC feel the need to destroy the ROC? If so, then what is the reason behind the PRC wanting to invade Taiwan and end the ROC? Why would they want to continue taking the rest of the ROC territory?
Wino Angel, does UN still have ‘United States of Indonesia’ as a member?
France is the Fifth Republic, China is already the Second Republic.
Today, I would like to remind you that our ROC was destroyed by the end of last year with the fall of the mainland! We have all become the people of a dead country today!’
Chiang Kai-shek 13 March 1950
It was not the CPC that pointed to the demise of the ROC in 1949, but the ROC President himself, Chiang Kai-shek, whose words represented the official opinion of the ROC government, and there was no one in the world more authoritative than Chiang Kai-shek’s judgement as to whether the ROC existed or not.
When Chiang Kai-shek said that the ROC perished, he didn’t mean that all the remaining members of the ROC government are dead, but that the ROC government lost its representation of China.
There is only one China in the world.
A country can only be represented by one government.
There is no new territorial definition for the ROC, so Taiwan has been PRC territory under the control of rebel groups since 1949, when the PRC government was formed and took over the power to exercise Chinese sovereignty from the ROC. – It’s just that the Taiwanese don’t want to admit it and are fooling themselves.
A rebel government that has lost 99.7% of its territory still claims to still represent the ROC, only an idiot would believe what they say.
Cracked Wheat and Parsley Salad
(Tabooley, Tabuleh)
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 3/4 cup bulgur (cracked wheat)
- 1 1/2 cups minced parsley
- 3 medium tomatoes, chopped
- 1/3 cup chopped scallions (with tops)
- 2 tablespoons snipped fresh mint leaves or 2 teaspoons crushed dried mint leaves
- 1/4 cup olive oil or vegetable oil
- 1/4 cup lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
Instructions
- Cover bulgur with cold water; let stand for 30 minutes; Drain; press out as much water as possible.
- Place bulgur, parsley, tomatoes, scallions and mint in nonreactive bowl.
- Mix remaining ingredients; pour over bulgur mixture. Toss.
- Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour.
- Garnish with ripe olives if desired.
Notes
If you desire a softer texture, cover bulgur with boiling water; let stand 1 hour.
How do people with IQs below 100 behave?
Let me tell you a real story about how IQ can destroy someone. I did two years of biomedical science with a perfect GPA (4.0/4.0). I was finishing exams; first, it took me 5 minutes, and I had the highest grade out of 150 students. A student even compared me to Einstein, and the director of the program wanted me in his lab. When I said no, just by the way I answered, he said I already looked like a professor. I thought I was a genius. Then in 2012, I met a neuropsychologist. She said I had an IQ of 92. Do you want the proof?
Look at the 4th line at the last paragraph bottom of the page. Since I always believed I was smart, this totally startled me. I met my family physician, and he was with his colleague; they told me they tried to affect my self-esteem, so I don’t think I’m smarter than anybody anymore.
Even though some people told me I was brilliant and I had potential, inside, I always had that self-doubt. But what determined is my reaction to that score. Since I knew how the test worked, I invested in activities to make me “smarter,” according to my thought.
Five years later, I got tested again, and to my surprise, my score changed. I went from 92 to 109.
Like Steve Jobs would have said:
1-“It was an awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it.”
2-“Sometimes, life hit you with a brick, don’t lose faith.”
Oh yeah, and one psychologist diagnosed me instantly me with a personality disorder when I said I was admiring Steve Jobs. You’re going to get attacked on your credibility all the time; the most important is to keep going.
The False Messiah
Written in response to: “Start or end your story with a breeze brushing against someone’s skin.“
Nathan Chandler
Land of the Celestial Order
23rd day of Ascensius
Year of Our Lord 5950 A.R.
“In the rector’s hall where lessons ring,
From a book of life will truth soon bring,
Look past the brightest star that glows,
Behind the cross where darkness grows,
A temple built on shifting land,
Hides the throne crushed by His hand.”
Rachel started as the towering angel glared at her.
“Good morning, Sister. Papers, please.”
Six and a half feet of iron and plastic, the android loomed over her, its gray, human-like face expressionless. At times she thought it strange how they referred to them as angels. Their presence didn’t evoke divinity but rather temporal memories of distant battlefields. Two more angels angled towards her, impatient. She fumbled through her purse, exhaling in relief as she finally found her ID.
Maximus, the head angel, scanned it. “Cleared. Christ is King, sister.”
“Christ is King, Maximus,” Rachel replied as the rectory doors swung open.
Inside, hymns and chattering filled the air. Cloaked in brown and white, Rachel contrasted against the priests in orange and gold robes. Her father had worked there as a scholar. Priests nodded in recognition as she passed.
Her father’s rhyme echoed in her mind. A lament for condemned heathens? She wasn’t so sure.
The oak-thorn doors to the great Hall of Archives groaned open. Bookshelves lined the stone walls, AI-assisted priests translated ancient texts at busy computer stations. Then the prayer bell rang. The priests filed out, leaving Rachel alone.
A golden crucifix leaned awkwardly against a shelf, half-covered by a black drape. She straightened it and pulled back the cloth, revealing a carving of Bethel at Zion, the first temple.
Behind the cross where darkness grows… A temple built on shifting land. Was this the meaning?
Her fingers traced its ridges.
Click.
The carving popped open, revealing a hidden cavity. Her heart pounded as she reached inside and withdrew a scroll.
At her father’s old desk, she carefully unrolled it.
“I, Marcus, son of Simon Peter, write this truth but fear it may be buried with lies.”
Rachel’s breath stopped.
“My father and the disciples saw our Lord crucified and rise again. Yet, on the road, a herald cloaked in light approached them.
‘You follow a false Jesus,’ he declared. ‘He is a demon.’
Doubts festered. At the herald’s urging, they confronted the false Jesus, but he spoke only a few words before vanishing.
On the ninth day, the herald declared himself the true Jesus Christ. He exalted them for their loyalty. Yet before he died, my father’s doubts returned. Did they choose the real Messiah that day, or were they deceived?”
Rachel trembled.
The AI scanner returned the dating results. Over 2,000 years old exactly around the time of the disciples.
If true, everything they believed was a lie.
Hours Later…
That night, Rachel returned home, but peace eluded her.
She sat in the kitchen thinking but she was interrupted when her sister-wife’s frustrations pierced her silence.
Sarah sighed and frowned. “Why isn’t it working?” she said inspecting the cylindrical holo-projectors in their living room.
Rachel left the kitchen and joined Sarah to check the holo-projector—no green light. “It’s not connected to The Veil, is the Gateway on?” asked Rachel.
Sarah sighed and went to power on a sleek black-and-silver device, the Gateway. Symbols glowed as it searched for a signal.
“To connect, recite our Lord’s Prayer,” the system prompted.
Sarah began:
“Our powerful Lord in Radiance who reigns over the heavens and time,
Hallowed be Your illustrious Name.
Your Kingdom shines, Your will is obeyed,
On Earth as it is across the heavens and time,
Grant us your eternal grace,
Extinguish our doubts, and protect us from heresy,
For yours is the radiant Kingdom, the greatest power, and the greatest glory.
From this age to the final age, everlasting.
Hosanna, Hosanna, Christ is King!”
“Blessed be, you are now connected to The Veil,” the voice confirmed.
The holo-projectors flickered to life, displaying their Lord and Savior. Clad in golden light and flowing white robes, his black curls and misty brown eyes exuded divine authority. They knelt, heads bowed in reverence.
Rachel quivered on her knees, unable to shake off the dread creeping into her skin.
Next Day…
Rachel moved across St. David’s marketplace, an area replete with relic stalls, holy breads, and the low hum of drones dropping off wares. Angels patrolled quietly, their imposing android forms a perpetual reminder of the Apostolic Conclave’s ever watchful eye.
She turned down an alley, quickly heaving and coughing as frankincense and myrrh filled her lungs.
Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, Rachel pressed on, navigating the narrow pathways towards a dark blue apartment at the alley’s end. She climbed a short flight of stairs and knocked.
Several minutes passed. Then, the door creaked open, Brother Michael, her father’s old friend, peeked his head out, his eyes darting around suspiciously. Seeing Rachel, his eyes lit up with recognition and dark concern.
“What are you doing here?”
“ I need answers. I found something,” replied Rachel.
“I can’t help you, child.” He moved to close the door, but Rachel pressed forward.
“I found my father’s scroll.”
Michael’s expression shifted. He seized her by the shoulders and yanked her inside, locking the door behind them.
Rachel stumbled into a room that smelled of old parchment and candle wax. Crucifixes and ancient verses lined the walls.
“Mind your words, girl! Do you want the Conclave to hear?”
Rachel’s heart pounded. “You know about the scroll?”
Michael sighed. “I was there when we found it.”
“What does it mean? The things it claims—”
“You feel different, don’t you?”
Rachel hesitated. “I used to pray with certainty, completeness. Now, I feel… lost.”
“Follow me,” he said.
Michael led her from the entrance towards a couch in the living room, he booted up a holo-projector as Rachel sat. Glowing scripture appeared in the middle of the room in holographic form.
“John 8:3-11,” Rachel read aloud. “Jesus condemns the adulterous woman.”
Michael shook his head. “Not quite. Look again.”
The translation displayed a passage she didn’t recognize.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
The crowd left, ashamed. Then Jesus turned to the woman and said, “Neither do I condemn thee: go and sin no more.”
Rachel gasped. “No! The punishment for adultery is death!”
“Before, it wasn’t— not until the Conclave changed the scriptures.”
“No! This is blasphemy!” Rachel protested.
A woman stepped forward from behind them. “Then every member of the Conclave should be executed for rewriting scripture.”
Rachel spun toward the voice. A woman in a blue shirt and gray pants met her gaze with reassured detachment.
Michael gestured. “This is Elara. She found the proof.”
Rachel frowned. “What?”
Elara smiled assuredly. “I was a technician for the Conclave. One day, a junior apostle sent me a device to erase. He left part of his access codes stored on the device and unencrypted—careless. I cracked the codes and found hidden manuscripts, dated and authenticated by the church itself.”
Rachel’s mind reeled. “But why would they change the scriptures?”
“To control faith, to justify their rule,” Elara said. “Have you never questioned why our kind, compassionate, merciful son of God, executes women for spurious charges of adultery and orders holy war after holy war. Do you think that truly comes from the scriptures?”
Rachel thought of the recent stonings she had witnessed.
“There’s more,” Elara continued. “Come with me.”
Elara reached a bright orange door and led them down a stairwell into a room illuminated by holographic screens. She plugged a device into a terminal. Hundreds of files appeared under the header: Confidential BioTechnical.
“Let’s find something juicy,” she muttered, searching.
Blueprints filled the air as Rachel’s stomach twisted.
“It’s a healing device.”
Michael frowned. “What?”
Rachel pointed to a familiar black-and-gold orb device. “The Messiah always holds this during healing ceremonies.”
Elara zoomed in. “There—inside the orb. See these?”
There were tiny machines. With measurements too small for the eye to see.
Rachel’s throat went dry. “It’s a machine, all of it is a machine.”
“I thought it was ceremonial. God’s son wouldn’t need a machine to heal people,” said Michael.
Elara opened another file. Images of a sleek, black and gold vessel appeared, its design unlike anything they knew.
Michael’s voice elevated. “And that’s no plane.”
Rachel read the documents aloud. “Landed in the Holy Land… About two thousand years ago…”
Elara exhaled sharply. “You see… Our Messiah didn’t descend from heaven. He arrived from the stars.”
Rachel whispered, “And we’ve been worshiping him ever since.”
Michael exhaled. “We must expose this.”
Rachel hesitated. “They’ll call it heresy and find ways to undermine this.”
“Then we find undeniable proof, in the catacombs.” replied Elara.
Later that day Elara found her nephew Azriel at the university. She knew he excelled at machinery. Elara entrusted him with blueprints to the healing device, hoping he could build his own and confirm the church’s deception.
Days Later…
Rachel tensed as holograms flickered before her. She sat beside her sister-wife Sarah watching historical programming depicting General Maximilian’s victory during the First Heathen War. They watched as the Apostolic Army struck down heathen warriors who sported banners depicting a blood red leaf atop a white background bordered by two red stripes.
Her grandfather once told her that these heathens were tree worshippers.
The programming ended as their husband Asher entered the room.
He gestured for Sarah to retire upstairs as he came to sit beside Rachel. Once Sarah left, he spoke.
“Rachel, is there something going on?”
Her chest tightened. “What do you mean my love?”
“Brother Malachi, my friend from the Conclave keeps asking me about you—your late father, your activities. And then today, he told me a husband must rule his house as Christ rules the heavens and the earth. He implied you’ve been… wayward somehow.”
Rachel’s breath caught. “I swear, husband, nothing is going on.”
“Then why were you with Brother Michael? A defrocked priest?”
“He’s an old friend of my father, Asher. I promised my father I would look in on him, that’s it.”
Asher said nothing,
“Do you believe me?”
He only nodded.
Two Days Later…
7th day of Veritium – Marketplace of Seraphis
Rachel weaved through the bustling market, searching stalls for produce. Holographic prices and mascots flickered around them. Customers walked by clicking and tapping their Lightband devices to quickly compare prices so they could haggle.
She passed an alleyway and froze. A hooded figure in blue and gold met her gaze—Elara.
Rachel looked around to ensure no one was watching, then she followed Elara into an abandoned warehouse. Inside, Michael sat waiting.
“We need to move,” he said. “It’s time to go into the catacombs.”
Rachel hesitated. “And do what? Tell the world their God is false? Bring violence, rebellion, war!”
“You sought the truth, Rachel, you cannot stop now,” Michael said.
“Maybe I was wrong.” Her voice trembled with fear. “Brother Malachi from the Apostolic Conclave has been watching me. He already questioned my husband.”
Elara turned to Michael. “We must act now—before they put it all together!”
Rachel trembled. “Even if we find proof, people will be shattered. We would be destroying their faith. What right do we have?”
“If the faith is good, then why did you seek the truth?” Michael asked.
Rachel said nothing.
Elara leaned forward. “We don’t just expose the truth—we broadcast it. My nephew has access to the holo network at his university. It’s connected to The Veil. If we upload the proof, it will spread to every city in the Celestial Order within seconds.”
“The church has firewalls,” Michael warned.
“I can bring them down,” Elara said. “I can upload a virus that will brute force the church firewalls and send our message everywhere.”
Michael turned to Rachel. “Are you with us?”
Rachel’s hands trembled.
But then she remembered the women she had seen stoned to death by angels. Suddenly, the weighty desire for truth pressed on her chest like an iron brand.
“Let’s do this.” She nodded.
Later That Night…
In the catacombs they passed through walls lined with the bones of long dead saints. Eventually arriving at a rock face with an ancient Greek inscription:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart… Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Rachel stiffened. The official church version demanded obedience—and death for heathens.
A door suddenly swung open, and a junior priest appeared, eyes fixed on his LightBand. Michael launched forward and lunged towards him, shoving the priest against the wall.
Michael struck him until unconscious. Elara seized his LightBand and waved it across the door sensor, the door unlocked.
Inside, dim green lights glowed. Rachel nearly stumbled into a row of computers. Then she saw it.
Sitting on a raised black platform was a massive black and gold vessel.
Moments later the vessel’s metal gears groaned and a hatch slid open. Elara rushed inside, Rachel following.
The ship pulsed and oozed with an unknown fluid. Rachel went to the back of the ship examining the walls and alien technology screens. She found herself in a back room filled with pods. She pressed her hand to one and the cover slid down.
Inside lay an insect-like being—four eyes, clawed hands, and an armored body. The next pod contained another. And another.
Then she turned.
Another row of pods.
Rachel’s breath hitched when one of the pod covers slid open.
Staring back at her, a body bearing Brother Malachi’s face. Then another pod, and another, all with his face.
She stumbled back, then sprinted toward Elara.
“Elara, come see this!”
Elara was at a console, screens flickering with holograms.
In one of the holograms an alien fleet commanded by the insectoid beings soared toward Earth. Then without warning an asteroid storm obliterated all but one ship. The lone ship hurtled towards Earth and crashed.
Footage changed. The surviving insectoid, using a black orb, healed its wounds.
Rachel whispered, “A god doesn’t need a device to heal.”
More images. The creature transformed—golden light engulfed it. When it faded, the Messiah stood in its place.
Rachel’s stomach twisted.
The church’s Christ… was an impostor.
They had to show the world.
Rachel and Elara recorded what they could on their LightBands. Their efforts stopped short when Michael shouted for them.
They scrambled for cover as angels opened fire. Michael returned fire, but more Angels poured in and formed a shield wall impervious to bullets.
Brother Malachi entered, flanked by the Angel Maximus.
The angels paused as he spoke.
“It pains me to find you here, Rachel,” he sneered. “A woman of faith, now a heretic. Your father would be ashamed.”
“Don’t speak of my father!” Rachel shouted, her voice breaking.
Malachi advanced. “Surrender now and perhaps the Conclave will show mercy.”
“This church is full of lies, I have seen the truth Malachi. We worship a mortal alien being, not the son of God!”
“Lies! You will pay for this heresy!” Brother Malachi shouted back.
The angels fired.
Rachel’s eyes darted to the ground. Water pooled in cracks near the platform. She felt air beneath. A hidden passage.
Elara pried up the floor panel. “Go!”
Bullets whizzed past as Rachel and Elara plunged into darkness. Michael covered their escape—then the panel abruptly slammed shut behind them.
Rachel screamed. “Michael!” She thought he was behind her.
Elara pulled her forward. “He gave us a chance. Don’t waste it.”
They surfaced near the marketplace, slipping into the crowds as they made their way to the University where Azriel waited.
The Broadcast
Inside the control room, Rachel stood before the holo-network feeds as Elara bypassed the firewalls.
The truth flashed across The Veil—images of alien bodies, altered scriptures, the false Messiah’s transformation.
“People of the Celestial Order, I come before you to reveal a long-hidden truth. Our king is not the Messiah. This being that we worship is a false god, a mortal alien being from a distant world!”
Rachel raised the healing device for all to see. She slashed her palm, then waved the orb device across her wound. The wound disappeared.
“A god does not need a machine to heal, I was able to have this machine fabricated by the hand and mind of a man.”
More images of the alien pods appeared with bodies bearing the face of Brother Malachi.
The final proof appeared: a letter from Ananias II, revealing the church’s deception.
Rachel’s voice shook. “From the time of Ananias II the church knew, they lied to us. Using soulless, motherless, copies of men to keep us in line! No more. Rise. Demand the truth!”
Elara nodded to Rachel, the truth was out.
Five months later…
Her dress billowed with nature’s breath as a light breeze brushed and caressed her skin. Rachel walked quietly through the grassy plains. Standing behind her was a simple house where Asher tended their son. Tragically, the Conclave found and disappeared her sister Sarah, along with Sarah’s daughter.
Rebellion came to the Celestial Order, commanded by a group called Children of the True Way. The false alien Christ disappeared along with its ship, many saying the alien finally returned to its world.
She no longer felt the emptiness when she prayed, comforted by the new Bible in her hands, a compendium of scripture no longer corrupted by the False Messiah.
Rachel fell to her knees in the middle of the field, lowering her head as she whispered a prayer.
“Speak to me, Lamb of God, Prince of Peace. Show me it was worth it.”
A gentle warm light wrapped around Rachel, and she felt a calming presence wash over her.
A voice, calm and steady, spoke.
“Rachel. Rachel. I am here. I was always here.”
Her breath caught as she lifted her head, this was different, the true Messiah had come.
The End…
Is Japan pretty much dead now?
There are a great many political, international economic reasons and I am sure most answers will centre around this. However the real reason is that the Japanese culture is dying from a failure to replace an ageing population. They have a declining population and cannot maintain their output, their living standard, their food production nor their infrastructure. And there is no solution for this.
Japan is facing a rice shortage in the coming years, as farmers age and die off. Young people do not want to be famers, or peasants. They want to live in the city with everything laid on. Life in rural Japan may be scenic and pleasant, but the work is hard, backbreaking toil without the aid of modern tools and equipment. The farming methods are traditional, meaning backwards and inefficient. Indeed there are larger farms that use machines, but most farming areas are too tiny for this type of farming. Many farmers are farming small areas of rice, maybe just 100 square metres, sowing and harvesting by hand, drying the crop on lines and winnowing by small machines.
Drying rice sheaves on a line
Because of the declining population 1 in 7 homes in Japan have nobody living in them. The outer neighbourhoods especially have lots of empty homes, used by the extended family to dump rubbish. Some westerners are buying up these homes for very little money, but they can only live there 3 months of the year.
So what can be done? The Japanese government is offering incentives for people to have more babies. They would do well to allow more immigration, but the Japanese people would rather see their culture die, than to become “diluted” with outsiders. Many say they are racist, but as a frequent visitor, I think it is more fear of losing the comfort and security of Japanese life. Where everybody knows their place and how to behave. They simply don’t have there guts to become multicultural. Japanese life that reminds me very much like Australia in the 50s, governed by tradition, old wives tales, shame, religion and mother England. I really think it would be very hard to be Japanese right now. It was bloody hard being an Australian prior to 1974. Many Australians opposed opening our borders, fearing that the influx of foreigners would kill the Australian culture, but it hasn’t happened yet.
Recently Japan has been in talks with China and South Korea for a mutual trading partnership. Considering these three countries hate each other’s guts since forever, this is indeed quite surprising, and commendable. But the reason is that both China and South Korea are having the same problem as Japan, only much more so. Especially South Korea.
Their births per woman are:-
China :- 1.18
Japan:- 1.26
South Korea:- .78
And you need 2.1 births per woman to just maintain a population.
People on Quora are still bleating about overpopulation, but in fact a bigger problem right now is population decline. None of the developed world has a stable population. And as population declines, so will the standard of living, manufacturing, farming and civilisation.
In the 1950’s Australia started an immigration policy with the slogan “Populate or Perish”.
Well guess what?
Staind – It’s Been Awhile (Official Video)
How will the rest of the world react if the Democrats win in 2028 and promise to restore the USA to its pre-trump state? Would the RoW re-ally itself with the USA or has Trump done too much damage for that?
This is one of trumps casinos in Atlantic city.
It took years to build. It took long time to lay out the carpets, put in lighting, electricity, air conditions. You name it. It took hundreds of people to work on this for years.
It only took 5 seconds to demolish it. Like it had never been there in the first place. Just gone.
He went bankrupt after he created a money printing machine. Not one but two.
The next building that will be built there will take years to build, hundreds of people to work on it.
Even if trump is replaced. Everything needs to be rebuilt from scratch. Just like when people who were married for decades get a divorce, they might never see eye to eye again on anything.
When you demolish something. It takes time to rebuild it, a long time. As trump has shown, it takes no time at all to destroy a good thing.
Pictures
Kanthaswamy Balasubramaniam has not posted any answers or comments for a week. Is he banned from posting anything on Quora?
KB has been edit blocked from Quora
He wrote three answers that violated Quora rules and regulations
One on Trump and his non completion of presidency
One on maoists and how they handled their corrupt people
One on Pahlgam terrorists and what would be done to them
The third was the last straw
As a fan of Thillu mullu 😁, i , murugan s/o murugan am writing on his behalf (any true blood tamilian should know the name murugan s/o murugan)
Has he been banned?
He doesn’t know
He gets so many emails from Quora that he doesn’t look at them and they go to promotions or somewhere
He received an email that his answers violated Quora policy and he had to appeal to the moderators against the deletion and if they restored his answer, he couldn’t be blocked or banned
Unfortunately he saw this much later
He first saw that couldn’t respond to comments which is why he wrote an answer “Can I post?”
After this he found he couldn’t write answers and didn’t know why until later when he was told he was edit blocked
KB was on a trip to China and later had a stop at Philippines.
He says Philippines is an excellent place and also affordable
For those who saw his pictures were grainy, he is sorry they were videos which he paused and tried to convert to pictures
If this edit ban is permanent then he bids goodbye but entrusts me murugan s/O murugan to keep his legacy and write in his style and whatever he feels is right
He also says even if he leaves this platform, his spirit will carry on through his friend murugan s/O murugan or palaniappan s/O palaniappan or saravanan s/O Saravanan
And for any true tamilian, please tell that knucklehead who made a conspiracy theory about the Malaysian angle what murugan s/O murugan means 😆
Please also follow certain enlightened YouTube channels for further information
Meanwhile if the ban is permanent then KB asked me to convey certain apologies
#1 Balaji Viswanathan – Sorry. You are a Young Entrepreneur and he shouldn’t have ridiculed your product so brazenly. You are not a bhavish aggarwal or byju ravindran to brazenly lie to the public.
#2 Karan Shanmugham, Anbazhagan ambrose & Ambika Vijay – he shouldn’t have propagated nazi racist theories. He wrote in a FLOW and he seriously believed the junk for a while then saw the actual logic and corrected himself
#3 To many commenters to whom he used words like “Slave gene” and other words. Sorry. Sometimes he loses it. Human nature. He apologizes.
If the block is temporary then he is still sorry
He is sorry for NOTHING ELSE
So that’s the long and short of it
KBs spirit will leave only when he decides to hang his boots or dies or the platform closes
He believes with the exception of a handful of esteemed gentlemen who own that debunked space 😆,most of Quora don’t hate KB or despise him
So let’s see if KB returns or me, murugan stays on
No Body Wants to Work Anymore
Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“
Joshua G. J. Insole
Lightning exploded in the bloated, black firmament. A few seconds later, thunder boomed. The lights went completely out and flickered back to life a moment later.
His heart thump-thumped in his chest as if someone had hooked him up to that great battery in the sky. Victor felt alive for the first time in his existence. It was now or never. He took the rope in both hands and pulled.
The platform lifted an inch.
Victor gasped. Good God, it was heavy! No wonder Igor had such thick arms, heaving this thing up and down all day and night. Victor – a lab-dwelling nerd if there ever was one – had never been one for physical labour. He preferred instead to exercise his mind. He wrapped the rope around his hands, locked his legs into an A-pose, and heaved.
The platform shuddered and rose in fits and starts. It swung from side to side as Victor’s uneven, unpracticed pulls jerked it back and forth.
Veins popped out on Victor’s temples, and his gums throbbed from clenching his teeth so tight. It was a good job he’d strapped the bugger down. Otherwise, the poor chap would have rolled off the edge like a sibling who claimed the top bunk. He gasped, and he wheezed, and he pulled, and he pulled.
The roof opened as the platform reached the ceiling, sliding apart to offer a slice of the sky. Rain gushed through, cascading over the platform and pattering on the grimy linoleum. Cold air snaked inside, snatching up papers and scattering them.
Goosebumps prickled up all over Victor’s skin, and it wasn’t only because of the chill. The strength in his arms waned, and he yanked harder, thankful for the breeze drying the sweat on his skin.
The platform rose, plugging the roof until the rain trickled through in only dribs and drabs.
With shaking, too-weak hands, Victor fell on the pulley and wrapped the rope around, tying it off. He held onto it for a moment longer, not trusting it. He let go and leapt backwards.
But the pulley system held, and the platform remained.
He laughed at his strength, as well as his ingenuity. He was pretty brilliant, wasn’t he? He leaned against the pulley’s central column for a breath to wait until the feeling came back into his limbs. Once he could stand without collapsing like a sheet after the ghost had fled, Victor set to his destiny.
Brilliant Science.
He ran around – giggling – flipping switches, pulling levers, hitting buttons, turning dials. And then, at last, he slapped the big red button.
The lights went out for good.
Victor stood in the dark, his chest rising and falling, his breaths filling the silence. He waited.
Lightning zapped a rain-drenched tree in the garden. Thunder boomed.
He waited.
Another brilliant flash. The thunder was a second away.
He waited, tongue dangling from his mouth, fingers dancing over the button’s surface.
Lightning struck.
Victor hit the button.
The strobing devices flared blue, bathing the lab in electricity. Ozone plumed into the atmosphere. The lightbulbs exploded as the power surged into them. The machinery awoke, growing from a bowel-rumbling growl to a supersonic whine. Sparks danced across the floor, kissing the puddles where the rainwater pooled. And, up on the roof, something flared brighter than the sun.
Victor cackled. ‘Live my child, LIVE!’
Overhead, lightning flashed once more. It boomed a little softer as the storm lumbered past like a bear who’d decided it could find better food elsewhere.
He struggled for air as the whole world around him held its breath. Hands quaking, he untied the rope and steadied himself against the platform’s weight. He let it slip through his fingers, inches at a time, whining under the strain.
The platform wobbled down from its place in the ceiling. Rainwater trickled through the gap but with less urgency than before.
Struggling to hold onto the rope, Victor wheezed. He squinted up at the platform.
The platform jerked as it descended due to Victor’s poor technique. But that wasn’t the only reason. Something up there was squirming, trying to wriggle free. A grotesque, green-hued hand burst free from its restraints. Broken bits of leather and metal linkage tinkled to the floor. The creature’s fist stood in stark relief against the backdrop of night, clenched in defiance of God.
Unfettered joy bloomed across Victor’s face. For a moment, he forgot all his worldly aches and pains. ‘IT’S ALI—’
Sudden lightning flashed – a last goodbye from the departing storm.
Victor yelped and flinched and let go of the rope.
The pulley system whirred to life without any resistance to hold it back. The ropes flew like breakdancing snakes, letting gravity finally have its say. The platform plummeted while the creature growled its inarticulate grievances with the world.
Victor tried to catch the rope but squealed and flew backwards as the hissing cord burned his hands.
The platform crashed to the lab floor, shattering into pieces. The coil-shaped conductor exploded, shards of still-sparking material spraying around the room. The shrapnel shattered glassware, sending sprays of coloured liquids splattering. The restraints popped open. The creature’s stitches snapped, unable to hold back the forces of physics. The creature burst open like a pinata filled with organs. The heart spurted free from the chest cavity – a fish through an amateur fisherman’s hands. The brain shot out of the skull, slapped into the wall, rolled down, and splattered into a gooey heap on the floor. Guts and entrails sprayed out like confetti and streamers at an NYE bash for zombies.
Tears streamed down Victor’s cheeks, mixing with the droplets of sweat. His mouth turned upside down in a comical display of grief. ‘No, no, NO!’
The creature’s lungs whizzed around the room, blowing a raspberry at him.
Victor watched them as they crashed into the windows like a blind bird.
The sacs plopped to the floor, farted a few bloody pockets of air out, and then were still.
Victor, grief-stricken, clung to the pulley’s column for support. He realised something, at long last. If you mistreat your workers, you shouldn’t feel shocked when things fall apart at the seams without them. Clutching the pillar, he sank to the floor, sobbing.
The creature’s fist clenched one last time and then went slack forever.
Why don’t US retailers just start manufacturing products at home instead of dealing with high tariffs on Chinese imports?
Because talk is cheap. Action is expensive.
When my father retired for the 7th time (for real) he got bored within a month yet again and decided on looking into another shop. Before making a penny? Just for a hot food shop? He was looking at £28,000 (circa 2015) to get into a position to be able to open a shop.
That included NO equipment, no furnishings, no staff and no stock.
That was just hot food a fairly simple thing to make.
Meanwhile something more complex?
Cinnamon Rice
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients
- 2 cups water
- 1 (1-inch) piece cinnamon stick
- 1 cardamom pod or 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
- 1 whole clove
- 1 cup long-grain rice, preferably basmati
Instructions
- Combine the water, cinnamon, cardamom, and clove in a saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat.
- Add the rice and stir once. Cover and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook, covered, for 15 to 20 minutes, until all the water is absorbed.
- Remove the cinnamon stick, cardamom pod, and clove before serving.
Why are many Chinese people poor at speaking English, despite years of learning?
Chinese and English are pretty much as different as its possible for two languages to be. They have completely different structures, grammar, writing systems, rules for forming vocabulary and use of tonal inflection.
Now, Chinese instruction is nowhere near as bad as standard Japanese instruction, but English is still taught as an academic subject and not as a second language. As such, a lot of English instruction in China is based upon being to able to take Chinese and translate it to English, or vice versa. That’s how academic instruction in most languages is done.
However, second language instruction focuses instead on language use and communicating with English speakers. Academic instructors tend not to be native speakers – they’re people who learned the language academically and had some exposure to native use. Second language teachers tend to be either native speakers or people who speak it as a second language to near native proficiency.
So when many Chinese speakers try to speak English, they internalize it to Chinese and then come up with the English equivalent, often leaving out key features of English like the /s or /z sounds in plurals, or the /t or /d sound in the simple past tense (French speakers often do that too). Getting from “excellent academic proficiency” to “proficiency to speak to a native speaker” is a massive leap and there’s just nothing in Chinese instruction (or any other academic instruction) that will help you.
Foreign learners of English are also handicapped by hearing “idealized” English in lessons – well enunciated English and, in many cases, in British Received Pronunciation or, nowadays, Standard Southern British. When faced with speakers from America, northern England or Australia, they stumble because all of a sudden the speech is unintelligible. That’s an issue for native speakers too when they’re exposed to a new accent, but they tend to overcome it quickly because they know how English is supposed to work.
My cousin’s wife is native Chinese and her English is very good, but some phrases just confuse her and I should know better when I’m talking to her. She’s very likely not really comfortable with idiomatic English use, which varies widely from place to place.
What’s one product you bought that turned you into a total snob, like you can never go back to the cheap stuff?
Cheese. Growing up, I was a cheese fan, but it was always the supermarket stuff. Tasty, but rather bland. Then one day in my 30s I walked into a store with a sign that said “cheese cheese cheese” with a big arrow pointing at the store. OMG. They had the most amazing cheeses from all over the world. My son who was five would go with me to sample all the delicious cheeses while his sister was at her piano lesson. We tried almost everything, buying small chunks of whatever struck our fancy to take home. A few years later, they had a cheeses class that I treated my son to. We were a bit late and were the last ones to arrive. There were a few “why the hell did she bring a kid here” looks shared among the others, but let me tell you, that kid knew his cheese. He listened to the discussion about the various cheeses and carefully tasted each sample.
Today, I am a huge cheese snob. Every Christmas Eve I host a cheese and cookie spread for family after the Christmas Eve service. “Experts” say a cheese tray for 8–10 people should have 2–3 different cheeses. There is no way I’m limiting my selection to three different cheeses. I get a brie, cave-aged guyere, a couple cheddars, a goat, layden when I can find it, pleasant ridge reserve (if you haven’t tried it, you’re in for a treat), and whatever else the cheese monger recommends (pretty much anything except blue cheese because I’m allergic). If you haven’t tried really good cheese, you don’t know what you’re missing.
What would happen to the economies of the United States and China if the US loses the trade war between the two countries?
Don’t get carried away by the win-lose thing. There is no measurable way to determine the win-lose. There would be the loss of opportunities by both sides.
But China has certainly made big gains on the international stage. When the dusts have settled, it would be seen that it has prevented US from destroying the multilateral WTO system. The contrast is the big diplomatic setback the US would suffer.
China’s macro economics would not be severely affected. It has advantages.
One, its exports are diversified. US’ share is about 12% of the total, and only 2.3% of GDP. Our guesstimate is that the fall of exports would account for 1% to 1.5% points of the 5% growth target in 2025, and it would tail off going forward.
The employment impact may be more serious.
Exports are driven by high tech and green tech goods, such as EVs. These do not feature in the exports to the US, which are more low tech goods. US has little or no alternative sources of a wide range of goods from China. The clear indication is Trump’s exemption of 125% of 145% tariff on smartphones, laptops, and a host of other electronics.
Two, it has ample fiscal and monetary space to make up the short-fall of growth. The total of central government plus local governments debts is only about 70% of GDP. It has budgeted to grow the fiscal deficit from 3% to 4% of GDP.
China has no inflation. PBOC can be as expansionary as it deems necessary. For example, it has just lowered the RRR that would inject about 1 trillion yuan into the system.
The situation in the US pervades with uncertainties.
One is the challenge from the financial markets, importantly, the high yields on the Treasury Bills, and the pressure on the dollar in the exchange market. New TBs to be issued in the next 12 months are about $11 trillion, $9 trillion to refinance matured bills and $2 trillion to finance fiscal deficit. The matured bills have an average rate of below 2.5%, half that of the current 10-year benchmark rate.
Two is the threat of recession, inflation, and deflation. Deflation is a particularly difficult problem. The government and the Fed have no fiscal and monetary space to take counter measures.
Three is the rising cost of goods and the threat of shortages.
Meanwhile, Trump does not care and is merry making pronouncements. Canadian PM tried to negotiate. Trump dismissed any idea of trade talks, said he will dictate “fair terms”.
The only certainty going forward is uncertainty.
Mötley Crüe – Home Sweet Home (Official Music Video)
What is the “mandate of heaven” in China? Some people say that the Taiwan-Mainland conflict has something to do with those words?
The Mandate of Heaven is a Chinese political ideology that was used in Ancient China and Imperial China to legitimize the rule of the king or emperor of China.
According to this doctrine, Heaven (天, Tian) bestows its mandate on a virtuous ruler. This ruler, the Son of Heaven, was the supreme universal monarch, who ruled Tianxia (天下; “all under heaven”, the world). If a ruler was overthrown, this was interpreted as an indication that the ruler was unworthy and had lost the mandate. It was also a common belief that natural disasters such as famine and flood were divine retributions bearing signs of Heaven’s displeasure with the ruler, so there would often be revolts following major disasters as the people saw these calamities as signs that the Mandate of Heaven had been withdrawn.
The PRC is not a monarchy, it is a republic.
Who rules the PRC? The Chinese people.
It is the people’s choice that the CPC builds the party, the army and the country.
The CPC does not need the so-called ‘Mandate of Heaven’ to support it.
Cross-Strait unification does not require the so-called ‘Mandate of Heaven’ to rally people’s hearts.
Achieving peaceful reunification will be the common choice of the people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait.
A MILLION people protested against the Taiwan rulers at the weekend! Well, it may have been 100,000 or 200,000, but if you use the Hong Kong protester way of counting, it was a million! Or maybe two million!
But it was A LOT of people.
The western mainstream media quickly launched an almost total news blackout on the story, which will come as a great surprise – to absolutely no one.
There was a lot of anger at the rally on Saturday afternoon.
And this follows earlier protests which turned rowdy.
What are they upset about?
Unpopular Washington-allied leader Lai Ching-te, elected with fewer than 30% of the votes, is using the island’s prosecution services against opposition people.
Now this is fine if you live in a primitive society like the United States, where Donald Trump prosecutes his enemies – and Trump himself was prosecuted under the previous administration.
But the people of Taiwan don’t like it.
The island, legally part of China, has long been steered by Lai’s party, the DPP, which has always prioritized Washington’s desires over the needs of the island’s own residents.
For example, it imported US pork containing a drug banned from farming use in European countries, mainland China, and the island of Taiwan itself. Whatever Washington wanted, the DPP did.
But now Taiwan has deep rooted problems. Case in point: The DPP has made Taiwan dependent on the US, its biggest customer. That country is buyer of 23 per cent of all Taiwan export goods. But Trump has raised tariffs on Taiwanese imports to his nation.
Who can Taiwan turn to?
Well, Taiwan’s next biggest customers are mainland China and Hong Kong.
They are the natural partners for Taiwan for many reasons – they are literally cousins, they are geographically neighbors, and they share the same ancient culture.
To stop this happening, the US has spent almost 40 years predicting that China is just about to invade Taiwan. After four decades, people are starting to become a little skeptical, and to realize the real source of Taiwan’s troubles, and it ain’t China.
Sir Whiskerton and the Art of Strategic Ignoring:
A Tale of Duck Desperation, Kitten Calculus, and a Very Peaceful Nap
Ah, dear reader, gather ’round for a masterclass in feline philosophy—where today’s lesson is how to make others beg for your attention by pretending they don’t exist. When Sir Whiskerton schools Ditto in the ancient cat art of “You Can’t Sit With Us Unless We Act Like You’re Air”, chaos (and hilarious desperation) ensues. Grab your invisibility cloaks and join us for Sir Whiskerton and the Art of Strategic Ignoring.
The Problem: Ferdinand’s Symphony of Neediness
The farm was in crisis. Not due to drought, nor pickles gone rogue—no, this was a social catastrophe.
Ferdinand the Duck had discovered a shiny new toy (a discarded spoon, naturally) and was demanding an audience.
- “ADMIRE MY SPOON!” he bellowed, operatically quacking directly into Doris’s ear.
- “I’d rather pluck myself,” Doris muttered, stuffing hay over her head.
Even Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow’s mood ring had turned “get me off this planet” black.
Sir Whiskerton, observing the carnage from his sunbeam, sighed. “Ditto. It’s time you learned the Way of the Aloof.”
Lesson #1: The Power of the Snub
Ditto, ever the eager student, perched beside Sir Whiskerton as the master demonstrated.
Step 1: Ferdinand waddled over, spoon glinting.
Step 2: Sir Whiskerton gazed through him like he was ghostly window dressing.
Step 3:
- Ferdinand: “LOOK AT MY SP—wait, WHY AREN’T YOU LOOKING?!”
- Sir Whiskerton: (yawns, licks paw)
- Ferdinand: (existential quacking)
Ditto gasped. “It’s magic!”
“No,” said Sir Whiskerton. “It’s tactical indifference.”
Lesson #2: The Duck Descends Into Madness
Ferdinand, now fully unhinged by the lack of admiration, escalated.
- Attempt #1: Balanced the spoon on his head. (Ignored.)
- Attempt #2: Sang “Spoon of My Heart” in falsetto. (Sir Whiskerton pretended to snore.)
- Attempt #3: Staged a spoon-based interpretive dance.
- (Ditto briefly broke character to whisper, “Is… is he okay?”)
Meanwhile, Porkchop the Pig bet acorns on how long Ferdinand would last before combusting. (Current record: 7 minutes.)
The Climax: A Duck’s Demise
Finally, Ferdinand collapsed in a feathery heap.
- “WHY WON’T YOU PLAY WITH ME?!” he wailed.
- “Because ignoring you is more fun,” Sir Whiskerton replied, stretching.
Ditto’s mind: Blown.
The Moral of the Story
Sometimes, playing hard to get works—especially when your admirer is a spoon-wielding drama duck.
Post-Credit Scene
Ferdinand, now obsessed with winning their approval, presents a “Spoon Symphony” at 3 AM. The farm votes to throw him in the pond.
Best Lines
- “ADMIRE MY SPOON!” – Ferdinand, hitting rock bottom
- “Is… is he okay?” – Ditto, witnessing art
- “Because ignoring you is more fun.” – Sir Whiskerton, Zen Master of Pettiness
Starring
- Sir Whiskerton (Professor of Passive-Aggression)
- Ditto (Quick Study in Quiet Contempt)
- Ferdinand (Spoonfluencer in Crisis)
- The Spoon (True MVP)
P.S.
Next time someone demands your attention? Stare blankly at the horizon.
(Works on ducks, relatives, and door-to-door salesmen.)
Why has there never been an Arsenal ship or a battleship specifically dedicated to carrying only missiles?
Battleships were all about big guns and closeup fighting in days of old. It was the way to win wars at sea. Missiles appeared though and everything changed.
Missiles meant you could just stay away. You would be able to hit from hundreds of miles away. Then someone came up with an idea that was so bold. What if you had this perfect ship that had nothing but missiles? No fancy stuff, no dogfights, just launch and kill. It was called the “arsenal ship.”
But there was a problem. The huge file of missiles sitting on the surface of a ship? That’s a giant bullseye. Easy to spot. Easy to kill. So the surface-based missile battleship never materialized.
Instead the idea went underwater.
These big Ohio class subs were made for the U.S. to launch nukes. When the Cold War was over they were no longer required to do that. The Navy took some of the wounded and made something different out of them: SSGNs. Each of these subs can haul up to 154 Tomahawk cruise missiles. That’s no ship down there… that’s a missile factory swimming underwater.
And they are submarines so they are stealthy. Quiet. Hard to find. Before you know they are there it’s too late.
The battleship didn’t die. It just got smart — and a hell of a lot more dangerous.