You know guys, I normally don’t have any issues with anyone,a nd I try… try to avoid stereotypes regarding people. But there is one group that I just cannot help myself with…
Indians.
Not American-Indians. No.
Indians from India.
What is there problem?
Back in my 20’s my wife and I were living in a van trying to make ends meet, and my wife got a job working for Indian immigrants who owned a hotel. I will NEVER forget their ridiculous demands.
Do the rooms. Then do their house. Then treat the woman as some kind of queen and “curtsy” to her, and always look down when near her. She was told to clean their haouse… for free. And to cook for them… for free. And to do all sorts of “unusual demands”.
Sheech!
We did it for one week, and gave up. Not liking being treated as a common village slave.
Then, I was scammed by some Indians.
Then again.
And again.
Must be a major industry in that piss-hole of a nation.
They they tried to scam me a fourth time. Promised a decent competitive price. Was late, under-delivered. Horrible quality and it was just a royal pain to work with.
Then another scam. The fifth time. Yeah. I’m a little slow.
Finance.
Investment.
Caught and called them out when I went to the Chinese embassy to find out what was going on. Man those rats scurried. Leaving behind a “boiler room” with computers still on, and the people running in every direction.
India.
Pee U!
Fuck Indians.
And that is my HARD, and my FOREVER, take on these horrible, horrible “people”.
Today…
How did you end up making more money than you ever thought possible?
I just did nothing.
When I was in college I worked at a store that sold music, software and rented movies on videotape. It was the late 1980s. It was a chain called The Wherehouse.
The chain didn’t call their crew “employees”; they called them “owner associates”. One of the perks was we got granted stock as part of our compensation. I didn’t really pay attention to it. I just looked at what my paystub said, raking in the sweet minimum wage.
This is kinda sorta what the interior of our store looked like, except we had a lot of flashing neon signs. It doesn’t show the software department, which was a totally separate section of the shop. (image credit)
I quit after almost two years, right before they were going to make me an assistant manager (I actually didn’t find this out until I had already told them I was quitting). I liked the job and especially my coworkers, but I had things to do.
Time went on and I moved to Florida. My mom contacted me and said The Wherehouse called and said they were paying me for my stock. They were getting bought out or something. Naturally I said, “What stock?” She said she was sending me a check I needed to sign so she could deposit it. It was the 1980s folks; no mobile apps, no mobile anything. Most things were still paper, and my parents were in charge of stuffing money into my bank account.
So in about a week I got a check for over $2000. At the time, that was the absolute most money I’d ever held in my hand that was mine. I endorsed it and looked at the amount again. I couldn’t believe it. Someone was paying me over two thousand dollars for something I’d forgotten I even had.
I mailed it back and she put it somewhere. I didn’t spend it all at once, but I think they used it as part of my monthly stipend over the next few months, so it did get used.
But that’s the first big windfall I remember. It was probably the first time I’d made money by doing nothing.
PART 2 – A Lawyer Shares EVERYTHING Men Need To Know About Prenups
What did India gain from Operation Sindoor, a so-called misadventure against Pakistan?
Remember this?
The Chenab bridge is a Government of India project that was approved in 2002. Slated for completion in 2007, it is still not open to traffic in April 2025.
Or take this episode from 2017, which generated much anticipation in the Indian press. 500km of shinkansen in India, 80% funded by 50-year 0.1% loans from Japan.
The first train pass was scheduled for 2022, with project completion in 2023. It is now 2025 and the dates have been pushed back to 2027 and 2028 respectively.
Gati Shakti?
One final example. The Production-Linked Initiative scheme was a $23b plan launched in 2020/21 to raise manufacturing’s share of Indian GDP from 15% to 25% by 2025. Instead, it shrank to 14%, and the scheme lapsed.
Which goes to show New Delhi narrative doesn’t match delivered realities, even for federal projects and schemes. Words sold have backfired spectacularly more than once.
In the last two conflicts over the Kashmir, India seized the initiative and pummeled Pakistan into submission on demand.
It wasn’t business as usual this time, but the domestic Indian media is reporting an 180 different picture compared to the international media. Indian leaders are promoting “we won, we showed them” while praising the superior professionalism of the Indian military.
This shaping of erroneous public opinion will come back to bite, in the form of strategic overreach.
Empathy
Written in response to: “Start your story with the lines: “The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.”“
Jeff Witorsch
“I…I was scared, and you wouldn’t answer me,” the little guy sputtered.
I wasn’t particularly amenable to children, but his demeaner tugged at me a little. I mean, if I had no idea where I was, what was this kid’s story? And why were we in this small empty room alone together, come to think of it? No wonder he was scared. I had to set my own questions aside and be the adult in the room. Even if I was only 12.
And then he started gushing and bawling, which broke the spell entirely.
I rolled my eyes and transferred myself over to his cot next to him. I patted him on the head with an obligatory ‘there, there’ as I sat down. That’s what adults do, right?
I gave him a chance to catch his breath and settle down before plying him with questions. “Maybe you can start by telling me what’s going on here. Do you know why we’re here? Do you know where here is? How did we get here? Who brought us here? And who are you?”
He stared at me slack jawed for a few moments as he sniffled. After finally rebooting from my overload, he let the dam burst. “Iwassittinghereforeverbeforetheybroughtyouinandyouwereasleepthewholetimeand…,” he paused less than a second to suck in a breath, “…thentheybroughtinfoodbutyoudidntevenwaketoeatandIstartedgettingscaredand…”
I was able to clamp my hand across his mouth before another syllable spilled out. He actually kept going for a moment before realizing it was wasted breath.
I kept my hand right where it was as I asked, “How do you expect me to understand that?”
I slowly pulled my hand away and invited him to speak again. He took a few slow breaths before proceeding at a more sedate pace.
“You were asleep when they brought you in, and you wouldn’t wake up. I got scared. I don’t know who they are. Grown ups. I’ve never seen them before. A big guy with a beard and a woman with long blonde hair.”
He took a breath to compose himself, as his emotions started to flare, before he wrestled them down again. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here. It feels like forever. There’s food over there, if you’re hungry.” The boy pointed with thumb over their shoulders, to the opposite side of the room from what I saw when I woke up.
I looked in that direction and saw two glasses of water and two plates containing cheese and bread. Prisoner fare.
Who took children as prisoners? Oh yeah. Kidnappers. Kid…nappers. Duh.
The right question is, why? My own parents must be out of their minds about me at this point. Presuming I have parents. I must have parents, right? So why couldn’t I remember them?
I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck with the kid, but the food in the corner by the door held no interest to me whatsoever. Maybe because it was the most basic of foods, but whatever. I wasn’t hungry.
But I was getting a little angry.
It was clear that I was stuck with this other small person until I could get answers from the man with the beard and the blond. Were we being hesld for ransom? Were we part of some experiment?
I stood and did a simple check on my exposed skin for obvious marks. That didn’t take long because there wasn’t much exposed skin. I was covered from neck to ankle in a one-piece body suit, with no closure in front. The only thing exposed was my head, hands and feet. I reached to the back of my neck, where the collar crept about halfway up to my chin, and found the zipper.
Checking the rest of my body would be impossible.
I sighed deeply and stared at the ceiling with my eyes closed. I didn’t really have many options but to wait.
Which didn’t end up being long.
While I was still contemplating the insides of my eyelids, the latch on the door clicked and the door swung open.
A dark bearded man, thin but nearly as tall as the door, entered through the frame, flanked by an equally tall pale skinned woman with blond hair cascading down to her midsection. She had no discernable makeup on, and she looked like she might have just woken up herself.
Before I could utter a single syllable, the man pointed a small remote in my direction and I was immobilized completely. I couldn’t move anything, even my eyes. I’m not even sure I was blinking.
The boy was still in front of me, and it appeared that whatever the man had done affected him too. Despite the fact that my eyes were squarely fixed on the two adults, I could clearly see the runt in my peripheral vision. He too was stock still and unblinking.
The man shook his head. “We’re making progress, but I think we still have a long way to go.”
The woman seemed to concur. “You’re not wrong, but I’m concerned about the empathy.”
The man responded with a shrug. “It’s better than the last time. He didn’t even have a trace of it before.”
“Still not wrong. That pat on the head, though felt more like a concession than empathy,” she replied tersely.
I realized at that point that they were talking about. I understood their words, but not what they were talking about. They had an issue with my empathy? What did that mean? Who cared? I’d been kidnapped, and was being held against my will! So what if the little brat was scared?!
The woman raised her hand toward me. “See, even now it’s like he’s devolving into a more primitive demeanor. Emotions clearly aren’t the issue, but we need to get the balance settled. He really needs to show a lot more compassion. Oh, and of course, he’s not thinking or acting age appropriately. I think the base imprint is too strong. We’ll need to adjust that too.”
If I could have rushed them, I would have done so. I was done with whatever crap was going on and I wanted answers. If I could have raised my voice at them, I would have done so. That fact was, I wasn’t even breathing.
“We’re going to have to reset. Again.” With that statement, the bearded man raised the remote one more time and everything went black for me.
The world shook. Wrenched from sleep, my eyes snapped open and I looked around. The room was unfamiliar, and I didn’t know how I’d gotten there.
What are some examples of cheap products that were ‘unintentionally well engineered’?
The VW Beetle.
Intended to provide Weimar age Germans (yes, the concept was penned in 1925, before the rise of the Nazis!) with cheap transportation at a time when the country was pretty much bankrupt, not only it survived until the early 2000s, but managed to succeed in the American market of the 60s, which at the time was notoriously averse to small cars.
The very fact it was conceived in times of scarcity led to it being nearly unbreakable, as users would not have had money to repair it often. And if something did break, the technology was simple enough for any half skilled home mechanic to fix it. The air cooling meant no fragile water radiator and no risk of freezing in rural areas with no garages, but it also ended up being an unexpected advantage during the war in Africa when hot temperatures could make the water in liquid cooled vehicles to boil over. And the original 1.1 liter engine could last for about 100,000 miles until a rebuild was needed, a lot for a 1930s car.
During the war, gasoline was in very short supply in Germany, so some Beetles, both civilian and military, were modified to run on wood logs!
See the “fuel tank”… above the roof.
If nothing else, the American ads of the 60s for the Beetle are a wonder of advertising. Bear in mind that gas was cheap at the time (until the 1973 oil embargo), so what had been a key selling factor in Europe was not very effective in the US. Just one as an example:
The very last original Beetle was built in Mexico in 2003. Not bad for a temporary solution meant for a ruined, war torn country.
Why Is the CIA Hiding the Truth About a Pre-Human Civilization That Disappeared in an Instant?
What was the moment you cancelled the friendship with your best friend?
We went to college. He became someone else.
Matt and I had been best friends since high school. We went to the same college. Once we got there, he started hanging out with the “cool” kids—older students who partied more often than they studied.
He started doing drugs with them.
First weed. Then pills. Then harder substance. “This is what it means to be young,” he said. Instead of coming to classes, he’d choose to get high.
One night, he texted me. “Bro, can I borrow $500? I’ll pay it back.”
Knowing about his addiction, I didn’t respond.
A few days later, Matt cornered me outside campus. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice shaky with rage. He snapped, calling me a “calculative traitor.”
I stared at him and said, “You need help, Matt. Go to rehab.”
And he said, “NO! I need MONEY!” Then he turned and walked away. As soon as he showed his back, I blocked his number.
I couldn’t recognize him.
Shorpy
Have you ever written a letter to a major corporation and received a response?
Not me, but my father did and quite a long time ago, around 1970 or so.
My father did most of the maintenance on our cars back then, meaning changing the oil and filters, spark plugs, points, condenser and so on.
So, he had purchased a used Cadillac for my mother and after a few months decided to change the oil and filter. At the auto parts store he made his purchases and came home with the oil and a Hastings oil filter. I have to admit I don’t know if Hasting is still in business, but they were a very recognizable brand back then.
He gets under the car and finds that the installed oil filter won’t spin off by hand. He tries and tries and can’t get it off so he takes a hammer and screw driver and drives the screwdriver through the filter to give him some leverage to spin it off. A few tries and he gets it off and the filter is destroyed.
Takes the new filter out of the box and crawls under the car and guess what? It doesn’t fit. He is pissed off, royally I might add. He checks the box and finds that the box is right but the wrong oil filter was in it. How dare they not check what oil filters are in their boxes, So off he goes to write a very angry letter to Hastings. He is angry not only because of the wrong filter being in the box but because he can’t go get a new one right away because the other two cars are being used by family member.
Gets out the typewriter, puts a piece of paper in, and starts to realize how stupid this event is, like maybe the plot of an episode of Green Acres on TV. He writes the letter but instead makes it his fault that all this happened, that when he went to the store he should have checked in the box that the right filter was in it. That when he got home he should have checked, that as he got his tools out he should have checked. And on and on. He should have checked before he punched a hole in the old filter is the upshot. So the letter ends up being a comedy letter to Hastings where he admits that it was OK that they put the wrong filter in the box, and that he should have checked, and he apologizes to them for not having checked in advance, and that he has learned his lesson and will always check in the future when buying their filters. Off goes the letter to Hastings
So some time passes and then one day several largish boxes are delivered to the house. In one is a case of oil filters and a letter stating that every box has been checked to insure the right filter is inside. In another box is a bunch of kitchen kind of stuff for my mother. I remember an electric frying pan and some Pyrex stuff. And of course there was a letter of apology that also praised his letter to them.
And we all lived happily ever after.
Why is China allowed to export PL-15E to Pakistan? Should the US Congress pass a bill banning Chinese weapons worldwide?
The United States has no ability to prevent China from exporting PL-15E, but China has the absolute ability to prohibit the United States from selling American-made weapons worldwide.
By the way, US miliary contractors like Lockheed Martin and Raytheon will be running into major bottlenecks due to China’s rare earth metal export bans, so don’t expect India or any other country to have plentiful access to US F-22s, F-35s, or the NGAD F-47 that will be in powerpoint presentation mode for over a decade.
I lap danced on our intern at the work party, he watched, then left me in front of everyone
https://youtu.be/WaQ4fMj5n80
Why don’t Chinese like it when people ask out of curiosity about the unusual things they like to eat?
Well, let’s try an exercise, shall we? A reverse cultural experience. You are from the United States; Alabama to be precise, and you are vacationing in China. Your taxi driver is very familiar with pop culture from the United States. He conversationally asks where you and your wife are from and you tell him.
“Oh! Sweet Home Alabama!” He sings out the rock song suddenly and then asks, “so did you and your wife meet at your family reunion, or were you guys brother and sister?”
You suddenly feel the urge to throw punches but don’t want to be arrested and go to jail in a foreign country so you laugh it off in irritation, not at all seeing the humor or appreciating the stereotype.
Gee golly gosh, I wonder why Chinese people might get sick of the stereotypes surrounding their foods, especially from Westerners? I just can’t fathom why someone might find that disrespectful or irritating. #sarcasm.
Do you see why stereotypes about a particular region or country get tired and old after awhile?
Guacamole Burger
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 tablespoon salt
- 1/2 tablespoon pepper
- 1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef
- 4 onions, sliced
- 4 tomatoes
- 3 California avocados, seeded, peeled and mashed
- Lettuce leaves as needed
- 12 sesame burger buns
Instructions
- Combine Worcestershire, salt, pepper, and ground beef. Shape into 12 patties.
- Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
- Broil, grill, or pan fry to desired doneness.
- Serve on bun with lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and onion.
- Place approximately 2 ounces of California mashed avocado on top and serve.
What are some meats that are inedible even for carnivorous animals?
Humans have hunted rabbits for generations. Their meat is edible and can be prepared in a variety of ways, usually roasted or boiled into soup.
Another reason to eat rabbits is because they are easily found in various habitats and are relatively easy to catch. However, did you know that rabbit meat can actually be deadly when consumed? Not because it is poisonous, but because rabbit meat is very dry or lean, with almost no fat. Someone who is in a desperate situation (surviving without other food) so that they can only eat rabbit meat or meat that is equally dry (with almost no fat) will usually get sick after a week and will die if they do not limit rabbit meat.
Apart from rabbit meat, there is another meat that can be deadly if consumed.
Polar bear heart.
Due to their position at the top of the food chain, polar bears consume and accumulate large amounts of vitamin A and store it in their livers.
While we humans can’t do the same and if we try we’ll die. In fact, a piece of polar bear liver contains enough vitamin A to kill 50 adult humans.
There are actually many other reasons from me for you to avoid eating polar bear meat. But if you must, don’t eat the liver .
If communism is good, why are the Chinese migrating to other countries?
China has a population of 1.4B. Of that amount, only a small percentage emigrate to other countries.
But because China is so big and has such a large population, even 1% is 14 million, which is larger than the population of all US cities.
Those who choose to emigrate usually leave for education and competition reasons, not political reasons. Chinese society is highly competitive, and in today’s China, the competition for certain fields, such as technology, are intense.
Many of the Chinese who emigrate have no way to get to the top of the pyramid in China, and choose to emigrate, and seek opportunities elsewhere. Many work in technical fields, or start their own small businesses.
Chinese have been emigrating from China, seeking better opportunities, for hundreds of years. There are large and vibrant communities in Southeast Asia, which emigrated several hundred years ago, long before the founding of the People’s Republic of China.
China today has a mixed economy, it is not really Communist in the way many Americans think. But it is too hard to explain that to most Americans, and I have become tired of repeating the same thing over again, so I will leave it at that.
What is the greatest miracle you have personally witnessed in your life?
Whenever I spend time with a couple I ask them how they met. I invariably get a good story: a darn near implausible series of events that end with both of them here, giddy, talking to me.
Then, I think about relationships and how incredibly difficult it is to get them right. The amount of things you have to overcome. The patterns you have to learn to see. How easy it is to give up on everything and decide it’s easier to be alone.
I think a solid relationship is vastly underrated. It’s how we should define success, and the greatest miracle.
Spinach Stromboli
This Spinach Stromboli is filled with Italian sausage, roasted peppers, Monterey Jack cheese, and creamed spinach.
Prep: 15 min | Bake: 50 min | Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
- 1 package creamed spinach, defrosted according to package directions
- 1 (1 pound) loaf frozen bread dough, defrosted
- 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1/2 pound bulk Italian sausage, thoroughly cooked, drained and chopped
- 7 ounces roasted red peppers, drained and coarsely chopped
- 2/3 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
- Olive or vegetable oil
Instructions
- Roll bread dough into 10 x 15 inch rectangle on foil-lined and greased baking sheet.
- Combine Creamed Spinach and flour in medium bowl; add cooked sausage, peppers and cheese.
- Spread mixture on top of dough rectangle to within one inch from edges.
- Roll dough up as for a jellyroll, starting at long edge.
- Place Stromboli in center of baking sheet, keeping seam side down and tucking ends under.
- Cut four diagonal slits into top of Stromboli to allow filling to show through.
- Bake in preheated 350 degrees F oven for 45 to 50 minutes or until brown.
- Brush with oil.
Nutrition
Per serving: Calories: 234 Calories from Fat: 107 Total Fat: 11.9g Saturated Fat: 4g Cholesterol: 23mg Sodium: 499mg Carbohydrates: 23.6g Dietary Fiber: 1.7g Sugars: 2g Protein: 9.2g
Attribution
Recipe and photo used with permission from: Nestlé® and meals.com
As a Brit, I read all the posts about Americans going bankrupt due to exorbitant healthcare costs. My question is this – is there any indication beforehand as to what the bill might end up being? Is there a visible pricing structure at all?
No, nothing even close.
In December 2013, my late wife had a stroke (which we didn’t know until the hospital diagnosed it). She spent 2 days in the hospital. Then we got the bill – over $200,000. The government insurance site (Obamacare) hadn’t been working correctly yet – so she had no insurance. I ended up paying about $90,000 to settle the whole thing. (The bill is padded by about 100%. Always. There were a few things the hospital’s attorney did [like sewer service on me for a court appearance when I had ironclad proof that I was in a different county] that didn’t sit well with the judge, so when I started knocking items off the list [like $5 Band Aids] he wouldn’t allow their attorney to interrupt. It ended at about $90k.)
My only option, of course, was to pay it. $45,000 per day – for nothing medical, just the determination that it had been a stroke.
(I’m lucky now – due to various circumstances, my medical bills [for myself, only] are covered 100%. I spent 10 days in the hospital last month for a gall bladder that developed a stone that was like Battlestar Galactica – sharp points from any direction, so it took the surgeon – after the normal surgery – over an hour to pick up all the pieces of gall bladder scattered all over the surgical field.
I’ve gotten “notices” – things that look like bills, but say that I personally owe $0.00 for that med, that procedure, etc. If I had to pay only the ones I’ve gotten so far, I wouldn’t be a happy camper. (I have the money, I just wouldn’t be too happy seeing my bank balance fall by $100k or so. If I’m spending anything like that, it’s going to be on an EV and the solar plant to charge it.)
But no, no listing of prices for procedures, no “estimated” bills. Those are discussed as often here as they are in the UK – never. You get your life saved (or your hurt finger bandaged) and you get the bad news in the mail. And many people, at that point, hire an attorney and start their bankruptcy filing. (Most Americans don’t have even 1 week of pay check in the bank. A blown tire is a calamity. A medical bill is “maybe I should have just died”.)
But if we had anything like the UK system? “Some of my taxes might help one of ‘them’, and I’d rather die first.” (Some white people bleeding out refuse transfusions if there’s any possibility that it could be “black blood”. They die happy that no one turned them into one of “them”.) Is the US still extremely racist? No, nothing that benign.
Please Don’t Forget Me
Written in response to: “Start your story with the lines: “The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.”“
S.M. Knight
“That wasn’t the only thing that was torn out. I worked on this one with Mark yesterday. Talk about a mess. Those rich bastards are sick, man.”
“So, you’re the one that didn’t put it in storage mode and left it sitting up like this?”
“Nah, it must have been Mark.”
“Sure, it was. And It’s not just rich bastards anymore. Even poor bastards like you and me can afford to be sickos now.”
“I’m good. These things give me the creeps.”
I try to look at the one who had called me a “Thing.” I am not a thing. I am a person. I have a name. My name is… My name is. My old friend Panic comes back in a flood. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember anyone’s name. I look at the man in front of me as he swipes and pokes the tablet’s screen. Then he looks up into my eyes.
“authentication code: One, six, two, six, five, six.” He speaks the numbers slowly and clearly.
I let out a sound that can only be described as an idiotic moan. I’m embarrassed, and the man at the table laughs. I can tell the man in front of me is more than a little frustrated.
“You two are morons. Did you not verify the system update yesterday after replacing the voice box?”
“I thought we did.”
“Well, you didn’t, it takes two seconds. Two!” He swipes and prods at the tablet as he speaks.
“Damn, Drew, sorry. Get off my case.”
“Just do your job, Mike. That’s all I ask. It’s not much.” Drew looks back up at me. “Ok, let’s try this again. Authentication code, five, two, nine, five, three, three.” He reads from his tablet.
My body feels as though Novocain was injected into every muscle. “Credentials required.” The words escape my lips. Words that were not my own. In my mind, I am screaming and flailing my limbs, trying to escape. In reality, I sit numb, frozen to the edge of the bed. I hate the voice.
“Andrew Tate, ID number one, five, six.”
“Hello Andrew thank you for visiting me today, how are you?” Again, the words came, but they were strangers. This voice is calm and almost comforting. It’s the voice of an automated phone recording. It doesn’t show the fear and uncertainty I’m feeling.
“I’m fine, thank you for asking. What is two plus two?” He asks.
“Four,” The voice answers.
“What is the ocean’s name between Europe and the United States?”
“The Atlantic.”
“What is the capital of Texas?”
“Austin.”
“Which word is unlike the others: Milk, Water, Juice, Rock.”
“Rock”
“What is your name?”
“Unit awaiting name assignment.” The words sent an icy chill down my spine. This was not happening.
“Ok, cool, easy day. It looks like you guys didn’t screw everything up. You got the base memories in.”
“You think you’re so much better than us, Drew. You’re not. You’re not any better than the rest of us techs.”
“I don’t think that Mike. I’m just tired, is all.” Andrew made some swipes on his tablet. “Ok, unit 450, your name is now Melissa.” He said to me without looking up from his tablet.
“Thank you, Andrew, I like the name Melissa very much.”
“Glad to hear it,” He said to me. “Uploading personal memories time, now.”
A life rushes before my eyes. I see my parents and my siblings, I remember how I got the scar on my right knee from falling off a bike. I remember the first boy I kissed and the first girl. The joy and pain of high school. Every sight, sound, smell, taste. Every emotion, every physical sensation hit me like a wrecking ball.
I can hear Mike and Andrew arguing over me. I open my eyes and find myself curled on the cold cement floor. I can see their bootie-covered feet as they blame each other for what happened. I can feel my body again and wiggle my fingers. I hold back a smile at my own autonomy.
“Why didn’t you lay it down before the upload!” Mike yelled.
“Because I forgot it was sitting up! You should have stored it right! They aren’t supposed to be upright in storage!”
“I did store it right! Even if I didn’t, how do you not notice those giant tits?”
“Screw you, pervert. Help me get it up on the table.”
Their cold hands grab my warm body. Hands slide into my armpits and on my thighs. I feel weightless as they lift me back on the table. When they let go of me, I sit up quickly, and they both jump back.
“Where am I, and who are you?” I beg, looking at Mike and then Andrew.
“Wow, wow, it’s ok, you’re ok. We’re not here to hurt you.” Andrew reassures with his hands held out in front of him.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You had a little fall. You’re in the hospital. I’m Dr. Tate. This is my Nurse, Michael.”
“Screw you. Why am I the nurse?”
“Shut up, Mike.” Andrew answers without taking his eyes off me.
“Why not just tell it the truth? You’re a –”
“Shut up, Mike!”
“You know what Drew. I’m getting really tired of you bossing me around.”
“M I C 547 shut down authorization Andrew Tate ID 156.” Andrew blurts out the command.
In response, Mike’s face goes blank, and his arms fall slack at his sides. He squats down and hugs his legs, making a compact ball of man. His eyes are open as he stares straight ahead without signs of life.
“These damn software updates are going to get someone killed.” Andrew says, “Sorry, Melissa, we have to start over. Can you please lay down for me?”
I can’t stop looking at the balled-up man behind Drew. The expressionless face and contortion of the body make me sick. I don’t want to lie down; I want to get out.
“Melissa, did you hear me? Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, I’ve already had a long day.”
I did the first thing I could think of. “Look out!” I shout, pointing at the balled man on the floor. It’s not very clever, but it does the trick. Andrew jumps up from his stool and turns around to find Mike’s motionless body. Now, with his back in front of me, I reach forward, wrap my arm around his neck, and squeeze.
I wrap my legs around his body, and we both fall to the floor. I contract every muscle in my body. Andrew squirms as he pries at my arms with his hands. He continues to pry with one as the other disappears.
His fist slams into my thigh. I scream in pain as he continues to stab me. The pain is like a shock from a cattle prod, but I refuse to let go of his neck. The stabs grow weaker until Andrew’s body hangs limp in my arms.
I let go, and his body lies limp next to the bloody screwdriver. I hop to my feet and am met with pain exploding through my leg. I fall back to the ground. Determined, I claw my way back up. In my head, I had pictured this going more smoothly. I had imagined Andrew falling unconscious and stealing his uniform. Reality was different. Alarms began to scream before I could catch my breath.
In a combination of fear and instinct, I grab the bed sheet. I wrap it around my body as I bolt out the door. Flashes from the red warning lights punctuate the dark hall. I run down the dark tunnel.
I hear voices and heavy boots chasing after me down the hall. I run as fast as my injured leg allows. Turning with frantic desperation down one hall, then another. I don’t know or care where the corridors lead as long as they lead to somewhere else.
Through the flashes of red, I see inside the cells, each holding a different body. Each one is in a different state of construction. Some lay limp on benches with no limbs. Others hang from the ceiling like life-sized marionettes with their chest open. Some pound on the windows and beg for help as I pass. Others curl in the corner of their cells, not knowing what to do.
They’re children and adults. Boys and girls. Men and women. I pay no attention to them; all my focus is on my escape. Then I see him. With a sheet around his waist and his dark hair reaching just past his ears. He looks as handsome as the day he proposed to me.
“James!” I shout, pressing against the glass wall of his cell. He looks at me, confused. “James, it’s me.”
“Get me out of here. Please, lady!” He yells after a moment’s hesitation.
“James, I’m not some lady. It’s me. It’s Mel, I’m your Mel.” I start to cry as I scream to James through the glass. I can hear the boots getting closer. “I’ll get you out, don’t worry, honey; I’ll get you out. There has to be some way to open this door.”
I hear a voice scream, “Shock! Shock! Shock!” Everything goes black.
The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember is… is… I don’t remember anything.
By asking Apple not to manufacture iPhones in India, is President Trump indicating that he no longer has confidence in India as a counter-balance against the rise of China?
He’s realised that his tariffs are having the opposite effect of what he planned and is afraid of losing 80000 Apple jobs, plus the 190000 hyundai jobs and their $21bn factory and the new jobs associated with that.
It’s got NOTHING to do with China and EVERYTHING about him destroying the usa. First the loss of key allies, then the global products on American brands, the boycotts and attacks on tesla cars, the loss of businesses in the usa and now getting shafted by countries in the tariff negotiations, first the uk and mow China are playing their long game by giving him 90 days to sweat it out.
Sir Whiskerton and the Love Potion Fiasco: A Tale of Sticky Skunks, Smitten Kittens, and a Very Questionable Science Permit
Ah, dear reader, steel your nostrils and ready your heartstrings for a tale so romantically disastrous, so chemically dubious, that even the scarecrow might blush. Today’s story is one of misguided affection, heroic poses ruined by clinginess, and a potion so potent it could make a rock fall in love with a hard place. So grab your goggles (safety first!), brace for the stench, and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Love Potion Fiasco: A Tale of Sticky Skunks, Smitten Kittens, and a Very Questionable Science Permit.
A Formula for Disaster
Professor Quentin’s lab was a symphony of chaos: beakers bubbled, machines whirred ominously, and a single, charred toaster (the infamous “Flight Model 2.0”) hung from the ceiling like a cautionary tale. At the center of it all stood the professor himself, wild-eyed and wielding a pipette like a wizard’s wand.
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“Eureka!” he cried, holding aloft a vial of neon-pink liquid. “The ultimate love potion! Guaranteed to spark romance—or your money back!”
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“Professor,” Sir Whiskerton said, eyeing the vial, “last week your ‘ultimate’ invention turned the chickens into temporary jazz singers.”
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“Exactly! And Doris’s rendition of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ was haunting,” Quentin argued. “Science isn’t about perfection—it’s about drama!”
Meanwhile, Echo the Kitten lounged on a lab bench, practicing her best Film Noir narration.
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“The dame walked into my office, her tail high, her secrets higher,” she purred. “But I was just a kitten with a heart of gold and a stomach full of… uh… what’s for lunch?”
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“Focus, Echo!” Quentin thrust the vial at her. “You’re my test subject! Drink this and fall in love with the first thing you see!”
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“That seems wildly irresponsible,” Sir Whiskerton muttered.
Echo shrugged and downed the potion.
FWUMP.
The first thing she saw? Boris the Super-Skunk, mid-heroic pose on the barn roof.
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“FEAR NOT, CITIZENS!” Boris bellowed, cape flapping. “I SHALL—urk!”
Echo latched onto his leg like a fuzzy, lovestruck barnacle.
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“Oh, Boris,” she sighed. “Your musk is like perfume… if perfume smelled like a crime scene.”
Stuck in Love (Literally)
The potion had a side effect: it made Echo stick to Boris like glue.
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“This is not the sidekick I envisioned!” Boris wailed, attempting a heroic leap—only to wobble under Echo’s weight and faceplant into a hay bale.
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“Science marvel!” Quentin cheered, scribbling in his notes. “Side effects may include: gluey affection, impaired heroics, and/or existential dread.”
Meanwhile, the farm erupted into chaos:
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Doris the Hen fainted at the sight of a “monstrous kitten-skunk hybrid.”
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Porkchop the Pig offered to monetize the duo as a traveling circus act.
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The Farmer squinted at them and whispered, “Bartholomew the Piñata… is this modern art?”
The Great Un-Sticking
Sir Whiskerton, ever the detective, interrogated Quentin.
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“How do we fix this?”
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“Ah! The antidote requires… uh…” Quentin flipped through his notes. “Moonbeams, a squirrel’s tear, and… dang it, I left the last ingredient in my other lab coat.”
Boris, now dragging Echo behind him like a very affectionate anchor, attempted one last heroic stand.
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“I SHALL SAVE US WITH MY POWERFUL SPRAY!”
PFFFFT.
The spray did unstick Echo—by coating them both in a substance best described as “industrial-strength stink glue.”
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“We’re… free?” Echo blinked. “But Boris, my love! Without the stickiness, what’s left?”
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“Personal space,” Boris wheezed.
The End.
Post-Credit Scene:
Quentin unveils his next invention: Unrequited Love Repellent™. It backfires, making everyone on the farm hate turnips. “Huh,” Quentin muses. “Well, 60% of the time, it works every time.”
Best Lines:
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“Your musk is like perfume… if perfume smelled like a crime scene.” – Echo, romantic
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“I SHALL—urk!” – Boris, interrupted hero
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“Is this modern art?” – The Farmer, confused patron of the arts
Starring:
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Professor Quentin (Mad Scientist & Romance Saboteur)
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Boris the Super-Skunk (Caped Crusader & Reluctant Heartthrob)
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Echo the Kitten (Noir Narrator & Sticky Sweetheart)
Key Jokes:
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Boris’s heroic monologues constantly derailed by Echo’s clinginess (“NOT NOW, KITTEN—I’M MONOLOGUING!”).
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Quentin’s lab notes include: “Hypothesis: Love stinks. Literally. See: Boris.”
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The Farmer’s ongoing belief that everything is either modern art or a government experiment.
Moral:
Love can’t be bottled—unless it’s also super glue, in which case, maybe read the label first.
P.S.
Remember: If at first your love potion fails, try again. (But maybe don’t try again.)
What is the longest and happiest Hollywood marriage?
While her most famous song “Jolene” was about a beautiful woman with “flaming locks of auburn hair” stealing her man, in real life Dolly Parton stayed with her husband, Carl Thomas Dean, for nearly sixty years.
He died on March 3, 2025, after 59 years of loving marriage. Carl Dean was reportedly suffering from the effects of Alzheimer’s disease during the last years of their union. Dolly Parton lovingly — and discreetly — cared for him. They were there for each other in good times and bad. Though the couple never had children, they raised several of Dolly’s younger siblings as their own, providing for them when her parents and other relatives were unable to.
Carl Dean Thomas didn’t enjoy the spotlight, didn’t like to attend concerts of his wife or do interviews. He didn’t ever want to distract from her fame or draw attention to himself that he believed his wife was owed. He happily stayed in her shadow, and was perfectly comfortable there.
During his birthday I publicly thanked “the other man” for loving me right, he just stood up and…
https://youtu.be/rJVy13Z2NM4