When Yodeling Fish Meet Intergalactic DJs—and Things Get Weird

Uh. Sigh.

More information on the present BANG BANG of slides.

Apparently nuclear events took place, and “those that actually control this reality”, as opposed to “those that think that they know how to manipulate this reality” took control of the master control board. (Well, it’s far more complex than that, but the imagery that I am getting is really clear that it’s a control room of sorts.)

I don’t know what happened to the “bad actors”.

But I do know that reasonable people / interests / aliens / spirits are back in charge. And they are not allowing things to go “tits up”.

My understanding is that things still can revert.

But probably won’t.

BOOM! BIG BADS are occurring on a series and sequence of other world lines. Just not on OURS.

More as I get it.

-MM

Sir Whiskerton and the Alien Abduction Hoedown

Or: When Yodeling Fish Meet Intergalactic DJs—and Things Get Weird

Introduction

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale that’s out of this world—literally. Today’s story begins with The Yodeling Fish, those melodious marvels of Sir Whiskerton’s pond, accidentally catching the attention of extraterrestrial beings. Mistaking their yodels for an interstellar distress signal, the aliens whisk them away aboard their glowing spaceship.

Enter Sir Whiskerton, who must don his finest cowboy boots and negotiate their return—not through words, but through interpretive dance. Along the way, Rufus the Radioactive Dog befriends a three-headed space squirrel, and autotuned alien communications create chaos on the farm.

So grab your lasso (and maybe some glow sticks), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Alien Abduction Hoedown, where music is the universal language—but yodeling remains… questionable.

Act 1: The Cosmic Mix-Up

It was a quiet evening at Sir Whiskerton’s farm when the pond erupted in a chorus of yodeling. “YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!” sang The Yodeling Fish, their synchronized swimming routine shimmering under the moonlight.

Suddenly, a beam of light shot down from the sky, engulfing the fish in a dazzling display of cosmic energy. Before anyone could react, they were gone—abducted by a sleek silver spacecraft hovering above the pond.

The aliens, intrigued by the strange sounds emanating from Earth, had mistaken the yodeling for a cry for help. Little did they know, it was just Tuesday night karaoke for the fish.

Doris the Hen clucked nervously. “This isn’t good! What if they dissect them?!”

Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle. “Fear not, my feathered friend. I shall retrieve our aquatic divas—with diplomacy and flair.”

Act 2: Negotiations via Dance

Aboard the alien ship, Sir Whiskerton found himself face-to-face with a group of wide-eyed extraterrestrials whose communication sounded eerily like a robotic remix of “I Will Survive.”

“We are here to assist,” autotuned one alien, tilting its head quizzically. “Your distress signal reached us across galaxies.”

Sir Whiskerton cleared his throat dramatically. “Ah, yes, about that… allow me to explain.”

With no common language between them, Sir Whiskerton resorted to interpretive dance—a graceful blend of cha-cha, waltz, and what can only be described as “fish impersonation.” He twirled and leapt, mimicking the synchronized swimming patterns of The Yodeling Fish while occasionally yodeling himself.

The aliens watched intently, their glowing antennae bobbing along to the rhythm. Finally, one nodded approvingly. “Understood. No distress signal. Just… music.”

Act 3: Rufus and the Three-Headed Squirrel

Meanwhile, back on the farm, Rufus the Radioactive Dog discovered an unexpected visitor: a three-headed space squirrel named Trixie. Each head introduced itself individually:

“I’m Ziggy!” said Head One, sporting neon green fur.
“I’m Zoggy!” chimed Head Two, adorned with sparkly blue stripes.
“And I’m Zuggy!” added Head Three, wearing mismatched sunglasses.

Rufus wagged his tail enthusiastically. “Cool! Can you fetch frisbees?”

Trixie blinked all six eyes simultaneously. “We prefer existential debates over snacks.”

Despite their differences—or perhaps because of them—the unlikely duo bonded over shared adventures. Together, they explored the farm, leaving behind trails of glowing pawprints and philosophical musings scrawled in mud.

Act 4: Return of the Yodeling Heroes

Thanks to Sir Whiskerton’s interpretive prowess, the aliens agreed to release The Yodeling Fish. As the spacecraft descended back to Earth, the fish burst into song once more:

“YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO! HOMEWE ARE!”

The farm erupted in cheers. Doris flapped her wings wildly. “They’re safe! Quick, someone get the glitter cannon!”

Sir Whiskerton tipped his imaginary hat to the departing aliens, who responded with a final autotuned farewell: “Peace, love, and harmonized vibrations!”

Reflection Scene

Gathered around the pond later that evening, Sir Whiskerton addressed the animals.

“Today taught us two things,” he began, sipping a moonlight mojito served in an acorn cup. “First, music truly is the universal language—even if it involves questionable yodeling. And second…” He paused, glancing at Rufus and Trixie, who were now debating the meaning of life atop a haystack. “…even the most unexpected friendships can brighten our days.”

Post-Credit Scene

Trixie stood triumphantly beside a glowing jukebox labeled “Intergalactic Karaoke Machine.”

“This device contains every hit song from across the cosmos,” she declared proudly.

Doris pecked suspiciously at one of the buttons. “Are these radioactive?”

Trixie grinned. “Only slightly.”

Cue horrified squawks.

Moral of the Story

Music connects us all—even if it involves yodeling fish and autotuned aliens.

Best Lines

“YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO! HOME WE ARE!” – The Yodeling Fish, making a triumphant return.
“Peace, love, and harmonized vibrations!” – The aliens, bidding adieu.
“Existential debates over snacks.” – Trixie, explaining her priorities.

Key Jokes

The aliens communicate entirely in autotune, turning negotiations into a galactic DJ session.
Rufus befriending a three-headed space squirrel adds absurdity and charm.
Sir Whiskerton’s interpretive dance includes moves like “fish impersonation” and accidental yodeling.

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Diplomatic Dancer Extraordinaire)
The Yodeling Fish (Interstellar Divas)
Rufus the Radioactive Dog (Space Squirrel Sidekick)
Trixie the Three-Headed Squirrel (Philosopher-Snack Debater)

Summaries

Moral: Music bridges gaps—even between species and galaxies.
Future Potential: Could Trixie become a regular visitor to the farm? Or will Rufus start hosting intergalactic dance parties?

Until next time, may your yodels reach new heights—and your friendships span the stars. 🚀

Coconut Chicken

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

3/4 cup pineapple juice, divided
1 cup cream of coconut, divided
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup rice-wine vinegar
2 pounds boneless chicken breasts, cut into strips
1 cup all-purpose flour
Salt and pepper, to taste
6 eggs, beaten
1 (2 pound) bag shredded coconut
3/4 to 1 cup peanut oil
1/4 cup heavy cream

Instructions

Combine 1/4 cup pineapple juice, 1/4 cup cream of coconut, soy sauce, brown sugar and rice-wine vinegar in a large bowl.
Add chicken strips, cover and refrigerate 4 hours or overnight.
Place flour in pie plate and add salt and pepper.
Beat eggs and 1/4 cream of coconut.
Place shredded coconut in a bowl.
Dredge chicken pieces in flour, then egg mixture, then coconut.
Heat just enough peanut oil in a sauté pan to cover the bottom of the pan.
Sauté the chicken strips in peanut oil, about 5 minutes on each side. Do not let oil become too hot or you will over-brown the coconut.
When chicken is cooked, remove from pan and keep warm.
If there is any oil left in the pan, drain the pan but do not scrape out the drippings.
Add the remaining 1/2 cup pineapple juice and 1/2 cup cream of coconut to the pan along with the heavy cream. Cook, scraping the bottom of the pan, until sauce has thickened.
Use sauce by pouring over the chicken or as a dip for the chicken pieces.

Oasis – Don’t Look Back In Anger

What are some of the most dangerous ancient civilizations?

The ancient world was a brutal, violent and chaotic time and there were many dangerous Empires, but none more so than the Assyrians

Neo-Assyrian Empire

The Assyrian Empire is divided into three different time periods and names: the Old Assyrian period (2000–1364 BC), the Middle Assyrian Empire (1363–912 BC), and the Neo-Assyrian Empire, which existed from about 911 to 609 BC.

Old Assyrian Empire

During the Old Assyrian period, Assyria began as a collection of city states. The city of Ashur was founded and became a center of commerce but this Assyria was not yet a world power. The Middle Assyrian Empire was a growing power and began to conquer empires around it. The Neo-Assyrian Empire was the zenith of Assyrian might and was the dominant power in the ancient world at the time.

Assyrian Sickle Sword of the Middle Assyria Empire

There are a number of reasons why the Assyrian Empire was so dangerous. First, they were not the first Empire to create iron weapons (The Hittites were the first to introduce the technique of iron smelting around 1500 BC) but the Assyrians adopted and perfected this technology, allowing them to mass-produce superior iron weapons for their large, technologically advanced armies.

Assyrian siege weapons

Second, the Assyrians were the first Empire to build and use siege weapons that were able to conquer walled cities. Their Empire was the first to have a separate engineering unit, capable of setting up ladders, ramps, could fill in moats and dig tunnels to help them breach and get into walled cities.

Assyrian siege weapon attacking city wall of Lachish

Historians have found extant reliefs excavated from Assyrian palaces that depict detailed scenes of warfare. One of the more interesting finds, dated to the reign of Tiglath-pileser III (744–727 BC), shows a wheeled siege weapon at the walls of a fortified city being used to lever away at its fortifications. The siege weapon was covered in leather to protect it from attacks.

Assyrian cavalry in use with their army

Third, the Assyrians were one of the first Empires to use heavy cavalry and integrated them with their chariots. One of the most devastating innovations the Assyrians used in warfare was cavalry. Before the Iron Age, chariots were the standard means of using horses in combat.

Assyrian cavalry

But Assyrian reliefs during the 9th Century, were the first to depict horseback archers. By the time of Tiglath-pileser III, cavalry was heavily used by the Assyrians.

Assyrian cavalry

Cavalry allowed the Assyrian armies to move much quicker and to be more maneuverable than they would have been with chariots. Since the Assyrians were at the vanguard of the transition from chariots to cavalry, they were able to use that advantage over their neighbors who were lagging behind them in warfare technology.

Finally, the last and most important reason why the Assyrians were the most dangerous ancient Empire was their extreme levels of brutality. Not only were the Assyrians incredibly cruel to their foes but they employed their brutality in a rather systematic and clinical fashion.

The Assyrians would approach an enemy city and demand they surrender. If the enemy refused, the Assyrian army would lay siege to the city and once captured, the unfortunate inhabitants would be systematically, tortured raped, beheaded, and then flayed.

In one particular graphic example of their Assyrian brutality, the king of Kadmuhu, a small kingdom located just north of an Assyrian, refused to swear allegiance to the Assyrian king.

The king of Kadmuhu was eventually captured by the Assyrians, flayed alive, and then had his skin hanged off the walls of his city for all to see what happens when one resists the Assyrians.

Assyrian soldiers forcing captured Babylonian to grind down his families bones

But the brutality of the Assyrians was not just reserved to opposing royalty but was also extended to their subject peoples. Tales of Assyrian brutality spread far and wide and many cities would simply surrender rather than face the consequences of Assyrian vengeance.

The Assyrians depicted the torture in great detail on the walls of the imperial palaces. They created tablets containing every single punishment the Assyrian army carried out. They cut off the limbs, gouged out the eyes, and then left those poor victims to roam around. Those poor people served as a living reminder of the Assyrians’ cruelty.

Ashurnasirpal II

Ashurnasirpal II (884-859 BC) was one Assyria’s most famous and brutal kings. He was infamous for his cruelty in warfare. He had reliefs depicting his military successes and his brutality towards his victims covering the walls of his grand palace of Kalhu.

One of his most famous quotes comes from his conquest of Tela and the inscription built upon one of his monuments.

“I built a pillar over against the city gate and I flayed all the chiefs who had revolted and I covered the pillar with their skins.”

“Some I impaled upon the pillar on stakes and others I bound to stakes round the pillar. I cut the limbs off the officers who had rebelled. Many captives I burned with fire and many I took as living captives. From some I cut off their noses, their ears, and their fingers, of many I put out their eyes.”

“I made one pillar of the living and another of heads and I bound their heads to tree trunks round about the city. Their young men and maidens I consumed with fire. The rest of their warriors I consumed with thirst in the desert of the Euphrates.”

Ashurnasirpal Il’s trademark and would include skinning insubordinate officials alive and nailing their flesh to the gates of the city and “dishonoring the maidens and boys” of the conquered cities before setting them on fire.

Ashurnasirpal II shooting a lion

Eventually the size of their Empire and their brutality became their undoing. Their empire grew too large to control and manage, and the absolute hatred from defeated people’s helped them unite and eventually overthrow the Assyrian Empire.

A coalition of Babylonians, Medes, and other former vassals destroyed the main centers of Assyrian power, including the capital of Nineveh in 612 BC and the final capital of Harran in 609 BC.

My Life as an Alien in Mississippi

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Bruce Friedman

My name is Brad Chao. I’m living in Chicago now but I spent my growing-up years in the Mississippi Delta. It’s now 2001 and I just turned 80 years and have been thinking lately about my early life down south. I never fit in there despite my goal of trying to be accepted. The worst thing that ever happened to me took place there when I was only a teenager. The events almost cost me my freedom and life. I ultimately had to flee for suspicion of murder with the sheriff on my tail. We Chinese were a handy target for the bullies in town but I’m getting ahead of myself.You may be curious about how I got to Mississippi in the first place. I was born in 1921 in a poor area in southern China. Rocky, dry land, and large families with too many mouths to feed. At age 15, I took off, seeking a better life. I made my way to Canton, now Guangdong, and was hired as a mess boy on a passenger ship bound for New York. I jumped ship when we arrived in port. I quickly found work in a Chinese laundry in Brooklyn but it was not a satisfying life for me, particularly since I was by myself.My uncle, Charlie Chao, had come to the U.S. around the turn of the century and settled in Rosedale, Mississippi, which had a small Chinese community. A speck of a town with a handful of rundown stores, one of which Charlie rented to sell groceries to black people. Chinese grocery stores played an important role in Mississippi rural culture because white store owners wouldn’t sell goods to them. Their stores, small shacks really, filled an important function in small towns. They served as gathering places for blacks who wanted to socialize with their neighbors and also for job-finding. They also offered credit that was essential to the very poor people.Anyway, Charlie was growing quite frail. He had sent a letter to me in Brooklyn, offering me a job in his store which I quickly accepted. I was his only heir and also his only family. He had lost his wife about 30 years previously and had no kids of his own. It was tough work, mainly because of the long hours. Sun up to sun down, 365 days a year. None of us Chinese had been to school back home and spoke poor English and, perhaps, even poorer Chinese. We lived in the back of our stores, squeezed together like sardines.Our social status in Mississippi was somewhere between the whites and blacks. We were shopkeepers which did earn us some degree of respect. But we also weren’t allowed to go to school with the whites. The county did set up Chinese school rooms for our kids, usually taught by a white teacher. We made enough money to put rice on the table but not much more. Most of the Chinese kids in town caught a bus heading out of town as soon as they could. Family ties did keep a number of Chinese in the state but under continuing and difficult circumstances, particularly from the local Klan. I won’t go into that here.

***

Shortly after I arrived in town, Uncle Charlie took sick and died. I then became the sole proprietor of his store which I had inherited. The Chinese community was always very supportive of me and I never felt lonely or heartsick. My life was as good as it gets down there until one evening when I seemed to have become a criminal with no special effort on my part.

Bursting through the front door of my grocery store one evening came Mr. Beauregard Tavernier, dragging a large, heavy burlap sack behind him. I knew who he was from town gossip but, of course, he had never set foot in my store. I did know that he owned the largest cotton plantation in the area.

He entered in a rush and obviously in a foul mood. He was grunting as he pulled a heavy sack into the room. I came out from behind the counter and respectfully bowed to him, anxious to find out what why he was there. My humble gesture didn’t seem to put him in a better mood.

“Don’t just stand there, boy,” he said to me. “Can’t you see that I need help with this here load,” he shouted.

“Help in what way, Mr. Tavernier? I’m sure what kind of help you need.” My question definitely put in an even fouler mood. In retrospect, it truly was a stupid question but chalk it up to me being scared shitless.

“Quit your yapping, boy! I need to store this here sack out of sight for a while,” he said, glancing around the premises.

He then said: “Where does that door yonder lead to?”

“My storage room for canned goods and sacks of flour,” I replied. “No customers are allowed back there,” I replied.

“That suits my purpose for my package,” he replied. “Now help me get it back there.”

The two of us pulled his heavy sack back to the room. Both of us were straining because it was so heavy and flopped around.

“You hear me good now, boy. Y’all hold onto this for a day or two until I find a more suitable place for it. Right now, your store is my best choice, at least for a spell. No one’s gonna think of your place when lookin’ for the corpus delicti. But that’s pretty fancy talk for y’all. Pay it no mind.”

“Anyone asks,” he continued, “you never seen me this night or any other. I’m goin’ to send one of my boys back here tomorrow night to collect it. You’ll need to help him boost it onto the truck. Don’t let anyone see what you’re doing. The dark night will help but there are a lot of ‘eyes’ in this part of town.”

He then rushed out of the store as quickly as he had entered, never looking back. I just stood there, shaking my head and wondering what had just happened. I did not have a good feeling about it. It was clear that I had few or no other options so I went along with his directions.

***

The next day around lunchtime, a sharp rap came on the front door. This time it was Sheriff Burnley who stepped inside. No one ever knocked on the door so I was on high alert to see who was there. His visit, though, set a new record for me—two high profile, white men showing up out of nowhere in my store in just two days. He looked around suspiciously and then beckoned for me to come over to him from behind the counter. I was in a state of shock, continuing from the previous night, and aware that I was in deep trouble.

“You Brad Chao? he asked.

“Yes, sir, how can I help you.”

“Well, to start and unfortunately, there’s been a lynchin’ of a colored boy in town. Age 16 years. You may have heard some talk about this? It’s on everyone’s lips. This gossip will truly be the death of me.”

“No, Sir. What you are saying is none of my business. I don’t pay no mind to town gossip. I try to keep a clean record and just run my store for my black customers who are also good citizens.”

“I decide who’s a good citizen,” the Sheriff replied. “More to the point, I was told by one of your neighbors that Mr. Beauregard Tavernier was seen entering these premises last night. That seemed strange to all of us back at the station. White men don’t usually have no truk with the the Chinese and their shops. Did you, by any chance, see him last night?”.

I replied, trying to keep my cool and provide him with the best, honest answer I could under the circumstances: “Sheriff, you of all folks, know that no white men would be caught dead in a Chinese grocery in town, particularly at night. Only for black folks.”

“That’s sure true, the Sheriff replied quickly, stroking his beard and still looking at me, squinty-eyed. “The story didn’t make no sense to me but I am trying to cover all the bases. Lynchin’ has become less ‘popular’ these days in the state and I am starting to feel some pressure from above to find a guilty party. ”

For a moment, he appeared to be suspiciously eyeing the back of my store. That’s the last thing in the world that I wanted.

“Watcha’ got stored back there, boy? he asked suddenly. “Your stock or, perhaps, even some other goods?”

“No need to search the store any further, Sheriff” I responded. “You don’t want to go back there. That’s where I live. Very messy. I also cook there on a hot plate. Kind of smells bad. You won’t like it. Best stay away.”

He seemed to be satisfied by my words, and also not inclined to stay in my store any longer than necessary. He suddenly wheeled around and strode out the front door, not even giving me a backward glance. I was glad to see him gone, but I didn’t know what to do next.

I finally realized that I was in a heap of trouble, none of which was of my own making. I was now apparently on the sheriff’s short list of possible suspects for the lynching, although it made no sense at all. He just wanted to arrest someone but certainly not a prominent white man.

***

It was the next night and I was sleeping. I heard a soft knock on the back door. I opened it carefully to see Aaron, a black man who worked for Mr. Beauregard. A truck was parked in the back of the store, idling.

“Boss man, sent me to pick up a ‘package’ that you holdin’ for him in your store,” he said. “He tole me not to let anyone see me transport it. So here I am.”

I got out of bed and helped Aaron load the sack on his truck bed and then covered it with a tarp. He motioned me over to him and placed his mouth gently to my ear.

“Mr. Chao, I don’t know what you done and I don’t even want to know. You been kind to us. People in town doin’ a lot of talkin’ about recent events, however. The sheriff lookin’ for someone to pin this lynchin’ on. The ‘trouble’ seems to be puttin’ the town and state in a bad light. You yourself now seem to be the perfect choice for blamin’ for the crime. They won’t never pin a lynchin’ on a black man and you may be the next best choice.” With that he hurried over to the truck and drove away in a cloud of dust.

***

I began to go over my options to stay alive. They were to stay in town or jump on a bus headed north. It would not be good for one of our community to be under a magnifying glass. Best thing, I finally concluded, would be to catch the bus for Chicago that left early the next morning. The sheriff would soon be looking for another patsy. Unfortunately for him, to charge a black with a charge of lynching would be laughable.

I packed my suitcase in a hurry, reserving a place for a small Chinese shrine with the ashes of my Uncle Charlie. Nothing much else of value to take with me. A few wrinkled clothes. I knew that hightailing it out of town made me look guilty.

I knew for certain that the large number of white people in town who had actually witnessed the lynching knew that I was not involved. All the sheriff needed to do was to ask a few questions in town which he didn’t seem to want to do. No, he would merely let this incident fade in people’s memory with his most important suspect gone to “who knows where up north.”

After nearly twenty years living in China, what is the single most pervasive Western misconception about the everyday lives of ordinary Chinese citizens?

Common sense. Sometimes I feel that some Westerners lack the most basic common sense.

You can’t, on the one hand, say that China is on the verge of collapse, and on the other hand hype up the so-called “China threat.”

You can’t, on the one hand, accuse China of consuming 50% of the world’s pork, 33% of the world’s lamb, and 40% of global vegetables and fruit — supposedly “causing environmental destruction” — and on the other hand claim that Chinese people are starving. Even billionaires couldn’t possibly eat tens of tons of food every day, could they?

Above all, we must acknowledge one simple fact: 2 + 2 does not equal 5.

Once you accept that, many problems become much easier to resolve.

For example, today I saw a Western video smearing China, told from the perspective of a so-called “persecuted Uyghur intellectual.”

He claimed he was thrown into a labor camp and forced into hard labor just because he owned 5,000 books.

This bizarre lie is simply meant to suggest to viewers that the CPC hates knowledge and hates books.

But think carefully: 5,000 books.

In China — a nation that loves books — having a private collection of 5,000 volumes is actually rare. I’ve only met fewer than five people who had that many.

Since this person calls himself an “intellectual,” surely his collection wouldn’t just be Harry Potter or The Da Vinci Code, right?

Specialized books are usually expensive. Even at a modest 80 yuan per book, 5,000 volumes would cost about 400,000 yuan.

And don’t forget — 5,000 books would require at least a dedicated study room.

So it seems this “Uyghur intellectual” must actually be quite wealthy.

In China — a country that respects knowledge and cherishes books — someone who owns 5,000 volumes would only be admired and respected.

So, was this lie fabricated out of ignorance about China?

I don’t think so. It’s just pandering to certain Western audiences and their stereotypes.

We Decoded the Oldest Genetic Data from an Egyptian – Here’s What it Told Us

Adeline Morez Jacobs/The Conversation

A group of scientists has sequenced the genome of a man who was buried in Egypt around 4,500 years ago. The study offers rare insight into the genetic ancestry of early Egyptians and reveals links to both ancient north Africa and Mesopotamia, which includes modern day Iraq and parts of Syria, Turkey and Iran.

Egypt’s heat and terrain made it difficult for such studies to be conducted but lead researcher Adeline Morez Jacobs and team made a breakthrough. We spoke to her about the challenges of sequencing ancient remains, the scientific advances that made this discovery possible, and why this genome could reshape how we understand Egypt’s early dynastic history.

What is genome sequencing? How does it work in your world?

Genome sequencing is the process of reading an organism’s entire genetic code. In humans, that’s about 3 billion chemical “letters” (A, C, T and G). The technology was first developed in the late 1970s, and by 2003 scientists had completed the first full human genome. But applying it to ancient remains came much later and has been far more difficult.

DNA breaks down over time. Heat, humidity and chemical reactions damage it, and ancient bones and teeth are filled with DNA from soil microbes rather than from the individual we want to study. In early attempts during the 1980s, scientists hoped mummified remains might still hold usable DNA. But the available sequencing methods weren’t suited to the tiny, fragmented molecules left after centuries or millennia.

To sequence DNA, scientists first need to make lots of copies of it, so there’s enough to read. Originally, this meant putting DNA into bacteria and waiting for the colonies to grow. It took days, demanded careful upkeep and yielded inconsistent results. Two breakthroughs changed this.

In the early 1990s, PCR (polymerase chain reaction) allowed millions of DNA copies to be made in hours, and by the mid-2000s, new sequencing machines could read thousands of fragments in parallel. These advances not only sped up the process but also made it more reliable, enabling

Since then, researchers have reconstructed the genomes of extinct human relatives like Neanderthals, and more than 10,000 ancient people who lived over the past 45,000 years. But the work is still challenging – success rates are low for very old remains, and tropical climates destroy DNA quickly.

What’s exceptional about the sequencing you did on these remains?

What made our study unusual is that we were able to sequence a surprisingly well-preserved genome from a region where ancient DNA rarely survives.

When we analysed the sample, we found that about 4%-5% of all DNA fragments came from the person himself (the rest came from bacteria and other organisms that colonised the remains after burial). The quantity of DNA of interest (here, human) is usually between 40% and 90% when working with living organisms. That 4%-5% might sound tiny, but in this part of the world, it’s a relatively high proportion, and enough to recover meaningful genetic information.

We think the individual’s unusual burial may have helped. He was placed inside a ceramic vessel within a rock-cut tomb, which could have shielded him from heat, moisture and other damaging elements for thousands of years.

Rock cut tombs at Nuwayrat enclosing the pottery vessel containing the pottery coffin burial. (Image courtesy of the Garstang Museum of Archaeology, University of Liverpool. As in Morez Jacobs, A. et al. (2025). Nature)

To make the most of this rare preservation, we filtered out the very shortest fragments, which are too damaged to be useful. The sequencing machines could then focus on higher-quality pieces. Thanks to advanced facilities at the Francis Crick Institute, we were able to read the DNA over and over, generating about eight billion sequences in total. This gave us enough data to reconstruct the genome of what we call the Nuwayrat individual, making him the oldest genome from Egypt to date.

Does this open new frontiers?

We did not develop entirely new techniques for this study but we combined some of the most effective methods currently available into a single optimised pipeline. This is what palaeogeneticists (scientists who study the DNA of ancient organisms) often do: we adapt and refine existing methods to push the limits of what can be recovered from fragile remains.

That’s why this result matters. It shows that, with the right combination of methods, we can sometimes retrieve genomes even from places where DNA usually doesn’t survive well, like Egypt.

Egypt is also a treasure trove for archaeology, with remains that could answer major questions about human history, migration and cultural change.

Our success suggests that other ancient Egyptian remains might still hold genetic secrets, opening the door to discoveries we couldn’t have imagined just a decade ago.

What was your biggest takeaway from the sequencing?

The most exciting result was uncovering this man’s genetic ancestry. By comparing his DNA to ancient genomes from Africa, western Asia and Europe, we found that about 80% of his ancestry was shared with earlier north African populations, suggesting shared roots within the earlier local population. The remaining 20% was more similar to groups from the eastern Fertile Crescent, particularly Neolithic Mesopotamia (present-day Iraq).

This might sound expected, but until now we had no direct genetic data from an Old Kingdom (2686–2125 BCE) Egyptian individual. The results support earlier studies of skeletal features from this period, which suggested close links to predynastic populations, but the genome gives a far more precise and conclusive picture.

This genetic profile fits with archaeological evidence of long-standing connections between Egypt and the eastern Fertile Crescent, dating back at least 10,000 years with the spread of farming, domesticated animals and new crops into Egypt. Both regions also developed some of the world’s first writing systems, hieroglyphs in Egypt and cuneiform in Mesopotamia. Our finding adds genetic evidence to the picture, suggesting that along with goods and ideas, people themselves were moving between these regions.

Of course, one person can’t represent the full diversity of the ancient Egyptian society, which was likely complex and cosmopolitan, but this successful sequencing opens the door for future studies, building a richer and more nuanced picture of the people who lived there over thousands of years.

Top image: Pottery vessel in which the Nuwayrat individual was discovered. Source: Author supplied

The article ‘We decoded the oldest genetic data from an Egyptian, a man buried around 4,500 years ago – what it told us’ by Adeline Morez Jacobs was originally published on The Conversation and has been republished under a Creative Commons license.

Dishwalla – Counting Blue Cars

Pictures

Creamy Mushroom Chicken

Ingredients

2 large chicken breasts, cut in half lengthwise
All-purpose flour, for dredging
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons butter, divided
12 ounces mushrooms, sliced
1 dash Italian seasoning
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Cut chicken breasts in half lengthwise to make four thinner cutlets. Coat them in flour.
Add the oil and 1 tablespoon of the butter to a skillet over medium-high heat.
Once the pan is hot, add the chicken. Cook it for 4 to 5 minutes per side until golden. Remove the chicken and set it aside.
Add the remaining butter to the pan. Let it melt, then add the mushrooms and Italian seasoning.
Once the mushrooms start to release water, add the garlic to the pan. Continue cooking the mushrooms until all the water is cooked off.
Remove the mushrooms out of the pan and put them with the chicken.
Add the chicken broth, lemon juice and Dijon mustard to the pan. Stir until the mustard dissolves, and let it reduce for 3 to 4 minutes.
Add the cream to the pan, along with the chicken and mushrooms. Let the chicken cook for another 5 minutes or so until it is cooked through and the sauce has thickened a bit.
Season with salt and pepper.

Princeton Study Maps 200,000 years of Human–Neanderthal Interbreeding

For centuries, we’ve imagined Neanderthals as distant cousins — a separate species that vanished long ago. But thanks to AI-powered genetic research, scientists have revealed a far more entangled history. Modern humans and Neanderthals didn’t just cross paths; they repeatedly interbred, shared genes, and even merged populations over nearly 250,000 years. These revelations suggest that Neanderthals never truly disappeared — they were absorbed. Their legacy lives on in our DNA, reshaping our understanding of what it means to be human.

Neanderthals and Humans Mix

When the first Neanderthal bones were uncovered in 1856, they sparked a flood of questions about these mysterious ancient humans. Were they similar to us or fundamentally different? Did our ancestors cooperate with them, clash with them, or even form relationships? The discovery of the Denisovans, a group closely related to Neanderthals that once lived across parts of Asia and South Asia, added even more intrigue to the story.

Now, a group of researchers made up of geneticists and artificial intelligence specialists is uncovering new layers of that shared history. Led by Joshua Akey, a professor at Princeton’s Lewis-Sigler Institute for Integrative Genomics, the team has found strong evidence of genetic exchange between early human groups, pointing to a much deeper and more complex relationship than previously understood.

“This is the first time that geneticists have identified multiple waves of modern human-Neanderthal admixture,” said Liming Li, a professor in the Department of Medical Genetics and Developmental Biology at Southeast University in Nanjing, China, who performed this work as an associate research scholar in Akey’s lab.

“We now know that for the vast majority of human history, we’ve had a history of contact between modern humans and Neanderthals,” said Akey. The hominins who are our most direct ancestors split from the Neanderthal family tree about 600,000 years ago, then evolved our modern physical characteristics about 250,000 years ago.

“From then until the Neanderthals disappeared – that is, for about 200,000 years – modern humans have been interacting with Neanderthal populations,” he said.

The results of their work were published the journal Science.

Rethinking the Ice Age Stereotype

Neanderthals, once stereotyped as slow-moving and dim-witted, are now seen as skilled hunters and tool makers who treated each other’s injuries with sophisticated techniques and were well adapted to thrive in the cold European weather.

(Note: All of these hominin groups are humans, but to avoid saying “Neanderthal humans,” “Denisovan humans,” and “ancient-versions-of-our-own-kind-of-humans,” most archaeologists and anthropologists use the shorthand Neanderthals, Denisovans, and modern humans.)

Using genomes from 2,000 living humans as well as three Neanderthals and one Denisovan, Akey and his team mapped the gene flow between the hominin groups over the past quarter-million years.

The researchers used a genetic tool they designed a few years ago called IBDmix, which uses machine learning techniques to decode the genome. Previous researchers depended on comparing human genomes against a “reference population” of modern humans believed to have little or no Neanderthal or Denisovan DNA.

Akey’s team has established that even those referenced groups, who live thousands of miles south of the Neanderthal caves, have trace amounts of Neanderthal DNA, probably carried south by voyagers (or their descendants).

With IBDmix, Akey’s team identified a first wave of contact about 200-250,000 years ago, another wave 100-120,000 years ago, and the largest one about 50-60,000 years ago.

AI representation of a Neanderthal couple wearing fur. (Ricky/Adobe Stock)

Challenging the Out-of-Africa Model

That contrasts sharply with previous genetic data.

“To date, most genetic data suggests that modern humans evolved in Africa 250,000 years ago, stayed put for the next 200,000 years, and then decided to disperse out of Africa 50,000 years ago and go on to people the rest of the world,” said Akey.

“Our models show that there wasn’t a long period of stasis, but that shortly after modern humans arose, we’ve been migrating out of Africa and coming back to Africa, too,” he said. “To me, this story is about dispersal, that modern humans have been moving around and encountering Neanderthals and Denisovans much more than we previously recognized.”

That vision of humanity on the move coincides with the archaeological and paleoanthropological research suggesting cultural and tool exchange between the hominin groups.

Li and Akey’s key insight was to look for modern-human DNA in the genomes of the Neanderthals, instead of the other way around.

“The vast majority of genetic work over the last decade has really focused on how mating with Neanderthals impacted modern human phenotypes and our evolutionary history – but these questions are relevant and interesting in the reverse case, too,” said Akey.

They realized that the offspring of those first waves of Neanderthal-modern matings must have stayed with the Neanderthals, therefore leaving no record in living humans. “Because we can now incorporate the Neanderthal component into our genetic studies, we are seeing these earlier dispersals in ways that we weren’t able to before,” Akey said.

Shrinking Populations and Genetic Illusions

The final piece of the puzzle was discovering that Neanderthals had a smaller population than researchers previously thought.

Scientists often estimate population size by looking at genetic diversity. In general, more variation in the genome suggests a larger group. But when Akey’s team applied their tool, IBDmix, they found that much of the apparent diversity in Neanderthal DNA actually came from genes inherited from modern humans, who had far larger populations.

With this new insight, scientists lowered their estimate of the Neanderthal breeding population from about 3,400 individuals to roughly 2,400.

Taken together, these findings help explain how Neanderthals disappeared from the fossil and genetic record around 30,000 years ago.

“I don’t like to say ‘extinction,’ because I think Neanderthals were largely absorbed,” said Akey. His idea is that Neanderthal populations slowly shrank until the last survivors were folded into modern human communities.

This “assimilation model” was first articulated by Fred Smith, an anthropology professor at Illinois State University, in 1989. “Our results provide strong genetic data consistent with Fred’s hypothesis, and I think that’s really interesting,” said Akey.

“Neanderthals were teetering on the edge of extinction, probably for a very long time,” he said. “If you reduce their numbers by 10 or 20%, which our estimates do, that’s a substantial reduction to an already at-risk population.

“Modern humans were essentially like waves crashing on a beach, slowly but steadily eroding the beach away. Eventually we just demographically overwhelmed Neanderthals and incorporated them into modern human populations.”

This research was supported by the National Institutes of Health (grant R01GM110068 to JMA).

Feeling That Way – Journey | The Midnight Special

Time Perverts

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Robert Egan

From the Peabody’s mezzanine, I watch as the Duckmaster in his crimson regalia arrives to usher the ducks from the hotel fountain. What began as a 1930s prank fueled by Tennessee whiskey is now a time-honored tradition.Each morning at 11, the ducks slip into the marble fountain with practiced ease, ripples of time spreading outward beneath the crystal chandeliers, a wholesome counterbalance to the sordid spin cycle of my own life. Now as dusk approaches, they will begin their gentle ascent to the rooftop Royal Duck Palace at exactly 5 pm.They’re never late, not like Shelly. Still no sign of her, and I’m supposed to die in the Peabody Memphis tonight.It’s also our anniversary—not of our wedding. Marriages come and go, but first meetings are for forever. 27 years ago today, that’s when we found each other on this hotel’s rooftop. The rest is either history or a story waiting to unfold.As the five mallards waddle with quiet dignity down their red carpet, a hush falls over the grand lobby, across young and old alike. How could it not? With webbed feet tapping and Sousa’s King Cotton march playing, it’s a lullaby for a bygone era.My throat catches as the birds enter the elevator and return to their palace in the sky.

Dead from a heart attack at 47. I take good care of myself, but it has to happen. It just runs in the family.

Perhaps my life is a spacetime prank, some Shadowlord’s idea of a joke, but like the Peabody ducks, it’s become something more in the meantime.

All I know is I’m nothing without Shelly.

I’ve learned to do what feels natural over the years, and it feels natural to call Paul Jr.

I subvocalize his name to pair my embedded Xfon with his. My ear tingles twice before he answers up in Chicago.

19 going on 20, he’s fixated on his current college girlfriend, though I give it a 0% chance of working out. After some prodding, he mentions the wildly impractical romantic gesture he has planned.

Oh God, the chest tattoo. I bite my tongue, fighting against every fiber of my fatherly being.

<Dad?>

<There’s nothing like a self-made man?>

<No, the other thing I always say.>

We talk for a while longer, but I’m not that worried about him to be honest. He’ll figure it out along the way.

<Talk to you later son.> I lie and leave it at that.

I consider calling my daughter Michelle, but I’m worried about choking up and freaking her out. Plus, she’s at summer camp and probably doesn’t want to talk to her dear old dad. 9 going on 10, she came later in life. That’s my main regret, not getting to see her grow up—well, that and Shelly not being by my side. She’s supposed to be here when it happens.

The ducks have probably settled in their rooftop palace by now, so I head up there. I take the stairs all the way to the top. I’m barely out of breath and my heart feels more or less fine. Ridiculous.

Before walking out onto the open roof, I make a quick stop at the bathroom. Not to pee, but for the paper towels. Emblazoned with the Peabody logo and a line of ducks, they feel like fine linen. I slip a few into my pocket. Not that I’ll need them but still… they’re damn fine paper towels.

No one else is on the roof except for some gangly tourist taking pictures of a city past its prime. The Peabody still stands tall—I’ve seen to that—but the rest of Memphis sags under the summer heat.

And all these years later, pieces of Xcalibur are still strewn along the banks of the Mississippi like some hastily discarded exoskeleton.

Take me back to the 2027 Memphis skyline, booming and bustling in the midst of nationwide stagflation thanks to one man: Ely Kuck, the mad mogul who turned the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid into his own personal fortress.

Everyone called it the Kuckhold behind his back but kowtowed to him in person. How could you not? He was promising 80,000 jobs to piece together Xcalibur, humanity’s space engine.

Those were the days when we’d just become aware of the Shadowlords fiddling with the fringes of our solar system.

We didn’t know who they were or what they wanted—still don’t—but there was really only one response to the possible existential crisis: Build a phallic monstrosity to rip through the cosmic folds and show the Shadowlords who was boss.

And Kuck was the man to do it.

Rumors of Shadowlords among us abounded. I’m not sure about back then, but it’s true in this day and age.

Skip ahead to 2054 some months from now. Grieving and loveless, I will be young again, but I won’t appreciate it. Instead, I’ll be riding the late night Red Line up to Edgewater in the middle of a Windy City winter.

Dealing with the death of my own father and a bad breakup, my current plan will be to get off at Edgewater then walk out onto the ice lining Lake Michigan’s shore.

I’ll never get there. The only other person in my L train car will be a man wearing a trench coat and humming as he drifts toward me.

When he opens that coat, there’ll be nothing there except for what I can only describe as soft sepia crystals. It’ll be too late to turn back, the hum will become a roar, and then…

Bam! Back to 2027 Memphis, courtesy of what must’ve been a Shadowlord.

I wasn’t lost, since I knew Memphis, but this version of it looked bigger and busier though I couldn’t put my finger on the differences just yet. Maybe I’d died or finally lost it, so there was only one thing to do. I went to Beale Street and found a bar that didn’t card me.

The bartender stared at the $50 bill I handed him for a long moment, but he pocketed it all the same. By my second beer, I noticed people were giving me strange looks. I was still wearing my winter jacket, and it was the middle of summer here. While peeling off my layers, I popped the top few buttons of my shirt and unknowingly exposed my shame.

“Hey, that’s my wife’s name.” A bearded man smiled and staggered into me.

“What?”

“Kimberly.” He pointed at the fresh tattoo across my chest.

“Oh yeah, what a bitch.”

The man’s grin vanished. There wasn’t time to tell him that I meant another Kimberly from 2054, the one who’d scoffed at her name across my chest then refused to go to my father’s funeral. There wasn’t time because he’d already punched me in my nose.

I flailed back but someone lifted me from behind. I found myself out on my ass back on Beale Street.

“He called myyy wiiife a bitch!”

I didn’t stick around to see whether the man’s drawn out vowels would rile up a mob.

A red light brought direction to my aimless running. It was The Peabody sign shining high.

My nose wouldn’t stop bleeding and I knew their top floor bathroom had really nice paper towels. I hid my ruined face with my ripped shirt as if I were stifling a prolonged sneeze and no one in the lobby stopped me.

That damn fine Peabody paper towel was like a balm to my bloody nose. I plastered my face with more, then walked out onto the rooftop in hopes of a soothing breeze.

Someone cleared their throat over by the Royal Duck Palace, a marble and glass structure overlaid with a country home facade.

Peering from around one of its corners was this silver-studded goddess—seriously, back then Shelly had enough piercings to set off every metal detector in the tri-state area. Man, how she gleamed against the Memphis skyline.

Traveling back to 2027, dying in 2054, being born along the way, my life is a closed constellation of guiding stars, and this moment is the brightest of them.

My greatest fear is that I’ll change something along the way, and this first meeting will never happen.

But it did, and it will again.

“You here to see the ducks?” she asked.

“For the paper towels.”

“Okay weirdo.”

She seemed so worldly that I thought she must be at least 25. I didn’t know what else to say, so I espoused my love of ducks while still trying to staunch my nose.

“Everyone pays attention to them in the fountain, but barely anyone visits them in their palace,” she said.

“Do you think they get lonely, the ducks?”

“I don’t know, but people do.”

As we drew closer, I noticed, to my relief, that the miraculous Peabody towels had soaked up all my Beale Street blood.

And God almighty, that first kiss was like riding a rollercoaster through a cinnamon haze.

We spent the night up there with the ducks.

And Shelly was right there beside me when I buried Kimberly’s name in a landslide of ink.

She wouldn’t give me any suggestions for a new tattoo. She just said go big or go home, so I got a giant duck across my chest.

It should have dawned on me then, but it didn’t.

Back in 2054, I’ve got incoming on my Xfon. It’s Shelly.

<You’re kidding, right?>

<No, let’s try something new this year.>

Graceland? I don’t want to choke on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I don’t want to faceplant on one of Elvis’s fancy antique cars. I don’t want to die in Graceland. That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

<I’m staying right here with the ducks in their palace. I don’t know if they get lonely, but people do.>

<I’ll buy Graceland for you if you come visit the duck palace first.>

<Please? Listen, something bad will happen if you don’t leave there right now. Don’t ask me how I know.>

“Right, I’m going to die, but how do you know?” I blurt it out instead of subvocalizing and the picture-snapping tourist glances in my direction.

<Wait, I—>

She kills the connection. She doesn’t answer when I call back, so I set my Xfon to ping her every minute until she blocks my frequency.

So… if I leave this spot, I may never meet her for the first time. And if I don’t leave this spot, I’ll apparently never see her again. Stupid Shadowlords.

Wait, does she know? A cold stab of fear shoots through me despite the sun still blasting the bricks. Impossible, she can’t know. I decide to stay put. I have faith she won’t abandon me.

I wouldn’t be here without her. She’s the guiding light of my constellation, and back in 2027, she was the one who introduced me to Kuck.

We had a nice townhouse right on Turley Street thanks to Shelly’s connections. She was a sort of executive whisperer. CEOs from all around would visit her, lay out their future plans (after a non-disclosure of course), then pick her brain. She called herself an intuitionist, and they loved that.

When Kuck heard about her, he put her on retainer. He was often at the Turley Street house and offered me a job on the Xcalibur project after one of his intuition sessions. When there was a problem with my social security number registering as nonexistent, he got me a new one. And, for the next 7 years, he owned me.

Meanwhile I was growing increasingly paranoid about running into my father, or, worse, running him over while driving.

I knew he’d lived in Memphis around this time and even worked for Kuck as well. Would bumping into him knock me out of existence? Believing in alternate timelines helped me stay sane.

Those were some of the worst and the happiest years of my life with Kuck grinding me down with his halitotic mismanagement then Shelly building me back up with her cinnamon haze.

Then, in 2034, we welcomed a new addition to the family: Paul Jr.

One night, while I was staring at his tiny toes, I almost dropped him. The two middle toes of his left foot were slightly webbed with a patch of skin between them. I’d noticed it before of course, but…

I took off my sock and checked my own left foot.

Yeah…

“There’s nothing like a self-made man.” My dad would always say that like it was some kind of joke. The bastard, he knew.

As for Shelly, my mother and wife, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her, but I grew distant.

The Xcalibur project was grossly overbudget and behind schedule, and I convinced myself that I could fix it. The Kuckhold Pyramid became my second home as Shelly spent long nights alone with our colicky baby.

She cajoled and coaxed me, but mostly, she just seemed puzzled, and it broke my heart.

This went on for months until it finally clicked: I was denying myself the greatest love I’d ever known and risking my existence out of some sense of chronological prudishness.

I have Kuck to thank for that.

“How’s my #1 Kuck boy?” He startled me at my desk in the wee hours of the morning. “And how’s that frisky wife of yours?” he said without giving me time to respond. “Listen, I’ve got a proposition for you…”

“Yes?” I grit my teeth, caught in between a husband’s possessiveness and a son’s defensiveness.

“Next time I see Shelly, she needs to give me a definite yes or no on Xcalibur. No intuition. Just a measure of success.”

“Don’t bother. I can tell you that Xcalibur is going to fail in the next 5 years tops.”

“So… you’re saying I should fire you?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you. I’m going to cut something out of my head and give it to you.”

“Metaphorically?”

“No, I need a knife.”

“Oh, this should be interesting.”

Together we found a penknife, then he took a big step back as I went to work on my ear. When I was finished, I had the Xfon from 2054 in my hand.

“This is going to replace smartphones, and you’re going to make it happen.”

Kuck’s eyes widened at the Xfon’s intricate circuitry then glazed over as he did some quick mental calculations.

“Yes, of course, how’d you get that prototype from my lab? It’s called an Xhear. Give it to me and leave now, and I won’t press charges.”

“No, it’s called an Xfon. X, lowercase f, o, n. Don’t Kuck it up.”

After that, I put every last penny into X stock and every last ounce of effort into making things up to Shelly.

I went from hating my father to becoming him to learning to love him again.

I took control of my life because I was a self-made man.

Now, all I have left to do is die, one more point along the constellation that will send Paul Jr. off along a series of bad decisions turned good in 2027 Memphis.

I just wish I could see Shelly on the Peabody rooftop one last time.

“You here to see the ducks?” She walks towards me like a dream.

“Nope, just the paper towels.”

Instead of smiling, she starts sobbing.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“H-heart attack. You have it if you stay here, stupid!”

Her words leave me weak in the knees. When she beats her fists against me, I fall on my ass.

“No no no, I didn’t mean to. Oh God, it’s happening!” Kneeling down beside me, she rips open my shirt and starts pumping my chest.

“Stop. It’s not a heart attack. Not yet.”

“How do you know?” I don’t know who says it first, but Shelly already has her explanation ready.

“Paul… I am Michelle.”

“Yeah, I know. Shelly, it’s short for Michelle.”

“No, I’m Michelle. Our daughter.”

She recoils at the initial look of horror in my eyes, but she doesn’t look away.

“Let me guess. Shadowlord?”

“Hey! Don’t treat me like I’m crazy. You have no idea—”

“No, I believe you. It’s just… well, I have something to tell you too.”

Then it’s her turn. We panic, but we do it together.

“Shelly?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how much time I have left, but I want you to know… I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Don’t you see? We were made for each other.”

And I’m lost once more in her cinnamon haze until I notice there’s someone standing over us.

It’s the picture-happy tourist. Perhaps, with my duck chest tattoo exposed, he thinks I’m part of the Peabody experience.

That’s when I see he’s wearing a trench coat. I hear the hum.

Shelly and I get to our feet.

The Shadowlord opens his coat to expose the soft sepia crystals within.

“I think this one’s my turn,” I say.

“What will I tell the kids, I mean, us?”

“Heart attack, you already know.”

“How will I find you?”

“Today by the duck palace, no matter the year!”

I have to shout as the Shadowlord’s hum becomes a roar, but I think she hears me.

Either way, there’s no turning back.

Oasis – Wonderwall (Official Video)

When Nature Calls, Everyone Answers—Loudly.

Something happened to all my scheduled posts. They are now missing critical updates and floating in and out of this timeline. If you miss a daily post, please do not freak out. It’s part of the high strangeness.

Ok. Time machine time.

Something is going on. (wink)(wink)

Our reality is in flux. I am seeing it or better yet NOTICING it, in various inconsistencies in my digital systems. Nothing serious. Just minor things. Password changes. e-mail renaming. Folder restructuring. Etc, etc.

This (if it follows previous events that I have been part of) should evaporate once the new reality has been locked into place. Most everyone will think that they imagined something…

Nope.

Our reality is being manipulated.

BIG TIME

By someone, somehow, and it’s for SOME REASON.

Digital by nature.
Significant tells will / are in the digital environment we use.
Will influence something IMPORTANT.

-MM

How to Store Gasoline (Prevent it going bad)

Hal Turner Nation March 28, 2026

The shelf life of gasoline varies significantly based on fuel type and storage conditions, ranging from 1–3 months for ethanol-blended fuel to 6–12 months for non-ethanol fuel in sealed containers.

With the addition of a fuel stabilizer, gasoline can remain usable for 12–24 months under ideal conditions.

Key Storage Lifespan Factors:

Ethanol-Blended (E10)
1–3 months
Highly susceptible to moisture absorption and oxidation.

Non-Ethanol Gas
6–12 months
More stable; requires cool, dark, and sealed storage.
With Stabilizer 12–24 months
Effective only if fuel is fresh when treated.

In Car Tank
1–3 months
Degrades faster due to heat and air exchange.

Degradation Process:

Gasoline begins to degrade immediately upon exposure to oxygen, forming gums and varnishes that can clog fuel lines and engines.
Optimal Conditions: To maximize longevity, store fuel in approved, sealed containers (metal or high-quality plastic) filled to 95% capacity to minimize air space, and keep them in a cool, dry, and shaded location.
Safety Warning: Fuel should never be stored in glass containers, and containers larger than 5 gallons are generally not recommended for home storage due to safety regulations.

STABILIZERS

Fuel stabilizers are additives designed to prevent gasoline from breaking down, oxidizing, and forming gum or varnish deposits that can clog engines and fuel systems. They are essential for gasoline-powered equipment like lawnmowers, motorcycles, boats, and generators that will be stored for 30 days or longer, as fuel can begin to deteriorate in as little as 30 to 60 days without treatment.

STA-BIL Storage Fuel Stabilizer is the most widely recommended product, capable of keeping fuel fresh for up to 24 months when used correctly. It works in all gasoline blends, including ethanol (up to E-85) and non-ethanol fuels, and eliminates the need to drain fuel before storage. To be effective, the fuel tank should be filled 95% full to minimize air exposure, and the engine should be run for 5 minutes after adding the stabilizer to circulate the solution through the entire fuel system.

FUEL STABILIZER IS CURRENTLY AVAILABLE ON AMAZON FOR $11

it won’t stay that way

Sir Whiskerton and the Great Pee-Pee Panic

Or: When Nature Calls, Everyone Answers—Loudly.

Introduction

Dear reader, prepare for a tale that tackles one of life’s most urgent dilemmas with humor, heart, and a splash (pun intended) of chaos. Today’s story begins innocently enough on Sir Whiskerton’s farm—but when a sudden “pee emergency” sweeps through the barnyard, all decorum goes out the window. Literally.

Through this calamity, we’ll learn essential phrases like “I need to pee!” (我要小便! Wǒ yào xiǎobiàn!) and explore body parts in a way that’s both educational and hilariously unforgettable. So grab your sense of adventure—and perhaps a towel—and dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Great Pee-Pee Panic.

Act 1: The Emergency Strikes

It started with Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, who was mid-dance under the shade of the old oak tree. Suddenly, she froze, her rainbow-colored tail twitching nervously.

“I need to pee!” Bessie cried, hopping from hoof to hoof. “我要小便! Wǒ yào xiǎobiàn!”

Before anyone could react, the cry spread faster than spilled milk.

Doris the Hen flapped wildly. “Me too! 我也要!”
Porkchop the Pig squealed, waddling awkwardly. “Pee emergencies are no joke!”

In moments, the entire farm erupted into what can only be described as organized pandemonium. Animals dashed toward the outhouse, bushes, and even the unfortunate vegetable patch.

Act 2: The Chaos Unfolds

As everyone scrambled, Sir Whiskerton appeared, clipboard in paw, looking every bit the composed conductor amidst a symphony of urgency.

“Order, my friends!” he called, adjusting his monocle. “Let us establish some rules. Who goes FIRST?”

He held up a chart titled “Pee-Pee Priority Chart”:

Chickens Inside Outhouse: “They’re small but mighty!” argued Harriet the Gossip Hen.
Pigs Near Barn: “We have superior bladder capacity!” countered Porkchop.
Cows Under Trees: “But I’m leaking rainbows!” protested Bessie.

Meanwhile, Ditto the Echoing Kitten ran circles around everyone, repeating their cries:
“Pee! 小便! Splash!”

Chef Remy LeRaccoon stood nearby, holding a tray of suspiciously glowing snacks. “Anyone hungry? These muffins absorb liquids… or so I’ve been told.”

The animals gave him horrified looks before continuing their frantic search for relief.

Act 3: The Symphony of Relief

Eventually, the farm settled into an uneasy rhythm. Each animal found their spot—or at least tried to.

Underneath the plum tree, Ferdinand the Duck quacked melodically as he relieved himself. “This is art,” he declared.

Nearby, Rufus the Radioactive Dog glowed faintly, muttering, “At least mine matches the ambiance.”

And then came the pièce de résistance—a QR code taped to the outhouse door, labeled “Listen to the Pee Symphony! 听! Tīng!”

Curious, the animals scanned it. A cacophony of splash sounds, giggles, and occasional dramatic sighs filled the air.

“It’s beautiful,” whispered Count Catula, tears streaming down his face.

“No, it’s horrifying,” muttered Taxman Ted, shielding his ears.

Reflection Scene

Once the crisis subsided (and several buckets of water were used to clean up), Sir Whiskerton gathered the animals for a debrief.

“Friends,” he began, perched atop a fence post, “today taught us two valuable lessons. First, always listen to your body—it will tell you when it’s time. And second…” He paused dramatically. “…never underestimate the power of teamwork. Even if that teamwork involves sharing a bush.”

The animals nodded solemnly, though Porkchop couldn’t resist adding, “Next time, let’s build more bathrooms.”

Post-Credit Scene

Chef Remy unveiled his latest invention: Portable Pee Pods™, tiny capsules designed to collect liquid waste.

“This is the future of farming!” he announced proudly.

Doris pecked at one suspiciously. “Are these radioactive?”

Remy grinned. “Only slightly.”

Cue horrified squawks.

Moral of the Story

When nature calls, answer promptly—and maybe invest in better facilities.

Best Lines

“I need to pee! 我要小便! Wǒ yào xiǎobiàn!” – Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, setting off the panic.
“Pee emergencies are no joke!” – Porkchop, embodying desperation.
“This is art.” – Ferdinand the Duck, turning relief into performance.

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Conductor of Calamity)
Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow (Rainbow Relief Specialist)
Porkchop the Pig (Master of Bladder Drama)
Ditto the Echoing Kitten (Repeater of Urgency)
Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Solutions)

Summaries

Moral: Listen to your body and prepare for emergencies—because sometimes, everyone needs to go NOW.
Key Jokes: From glow-in-the-dark relief to the infamous Pee Symphony, laughter abounds.
Future Potential: Could Chef Remy’s Portable Pee Pods™ become the next big invention—or disaster? Or will another bodily function spark its own crisis?

Until next time, may your bladders stay light and your bushes plentiful. 🚽

Is US manufacturing really in decline or is it just the manufacturing jobs that are declining?

OK, in actual dollar value, US manufacturing has been increasing. In actual manpower counts US manufacturing has been increasing. However, the rate of increase for Manufacturing is less than the rate of increase for the general economy, so manufacturing has been declining as a percentage of GDP, and as a percentage of the work force.

At the same time certain sectors of manufacturing have been in steep decline. The steel industry has migrated away from the high wages paid in the US, and away from the high environmental standards in the US. Aluminum has migrated to places with low electricity costs as it consumes a HUGE amount of electricity, so to places in Canada where they have excess hydro generated power, and to Iceland where extensive Geothermal is available. Any product that can be assembled by low skilled labour has moved to China or India.

What does that leave? It leaves the high pay highly technical products. It leaves products that can support expensive automation, which requires highly skilled people to operate. These are the jobs you want, they pay well and are generally high profit items. They are often products with very low volumes that make it difficult for countries like China to compete.

So, which do you want, lots of low pay low skill jobs or Lots of high pay high skill jobs?

If you live in a red state you are trying to attract low pay, low skill jobs, because your education system has been gutted. If you live in a blue state you are attracting the high pay high skill jobs.

Trump is fighting for the low pay low skill jobs.

AMERICANS SHOCKING CONFESSION: “WE FEEL FREER IN CHINA THAN IN THE USA” 🇨🇳🇺🇸

Chili Chicken with Avocado Sauce

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

2 teaspoons chili powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
4 boneless chicken breasts (1 pound)
Salt
1 large avocado
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1 clove garlic
1/4 cup water
2 teaspoons lime juice
1 tablespoon chopped fresh coriander
1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

Combine chili powder and cumin.
Sprinkle chicken with salt and coat with spices.
Peel avocado and cut into chunks.
In a blender combine avocado, yogurt, garlic, water, lime juice, 1/2 teaspoon salt and coriander. Mix until smooth.
Brown chicken in olive oil, 2 minutes a side.
Cover, lower heat and cook until just done, about 3 minutes.
Put chicken on plates and pour avocado sauce over.

Have you ever accidentally met a celebrity who went above and beyond to help you?

When the Matrix was being filmed in Sydney, Keanu Reeves was living in the same apartment building as my husband’s cousin.

One morning Justine was running late for work, and flew out of the front entrance of her building and ran in to (literally!) a guy’s chest.

When she looked up to apologise, she realised and recognised who it was – it was none other than Keanu Reeves!

Justine was embarrassed, but Keanu put her at ease. He asked if she was okay, and offered to buy her a coffee and stayed with her for a while, until she was fine enough to go to work.

What a story Justine would have told her workmates why she was late to work that particular morning – lucky her!!!!!!!! haha

(for the record, Keanu is the nicest guy and it’s no wonder that everybody loves him!!!!!!!!!)

Flowers Bloom In Desolate Places

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Jed Cope

Then there is the legend of the Heaven Flower, the flower that blooms only in the desolation of the largest desert in the world. This rarest of all flowers blooms in the dead of night and for one hour of intense daylight it lives, and in living provides more beauty than a human mind can comprehend. The Heaven Flower is an intoxicating distillation of all that is good. No one is built to behold it in all its glory. No one is pure enough to withstand its truth.

Legend has it that once every hundred years, the flower emerges from the desert sands and shines more brightly than the sun. Quite how this story came about, no one knows, for it is an unlikely tale and were it to be true, surely none who witnessed the flower in all of its heavenly glory would survive to recount its brief but wondrous visitation in the harshest of lands.

A legend, a flight of fancy, or an impossible dream? Ser Philip believed that he saw beyond the unlikely veneer of such fancies. He knew that the Heaven Flower was his destiny, or at least a part of it. He had heard the story in a far-flung tavern and it had enraptured him. This tale of a mythical flower was a beginning. The much delayed start of his own story. He would find the Heaven Flower and in finding it he would discover the meaning of his life, perhaps even the meaning of life itself. Once his eyes were opened to the existence of such a wonder, his life’s purpose would be clear.

When young Philip was a squire, there had been another flower. That delicately delightful flower had been a slip of a girl called Miranda. The two of them had been inseparable and although neither of them had ever voiced the words that approached the promise that lay between them, it had been there all the same. These two were meant for each other. Two peas in a pod. The fair lady and her devoted knight.

Then one day, a terrible blight had visited the land and Miranda had been plucked from the earth and discarded as though she were but a single blade of inconsequential grass. Ser Philip had heard the dread news of his love’s demise, but refusing to believe it, he had returned immediately from the tourney in a neighbouring kingdom. His desertion of his master-knight had earnt him a sound thrashing, but he felt not a blow as he succumbed to a state of terrible numbness following his audience with the cold and waxy thing that Miranda had become. Having lost the spark of life that she had harboured so perfectly and beautifully, she was a sickening reminder of what had once been and now could never be.

Amongst the rumours of that night were whispers of a dark and foreboding visitation. A man who was not a man stalking the ramparts of the castle before darting inside to take Miranda away forever. These stories could be nothing more than tall-tales. The wasted words of scoundrels and gossip mongers. The truth was not in those words, for no man could enter the castle, commit such an abominable deed and then slip away undetected. Not unless he had wings and had flown onto ramparts.

After Miranda’s death, Ser Philip was never the same. Some say that a part of him died on that fateful day. A pitiful, sad and heartbroken sacrifice to his one true love. Nevertheless, he committed himself to the life of squire and then of knight. Never was there a more proficient warrior, but he lacked for something and that lack was apparent. No fire burned within him and his heart was but a dull and grey organ, reluctantly pumping his barely warm blood around his still grieving body.

It would seem that the quest for the fabled Heaven Flower was perhaps an attempt to rekindle this flame of his, not that he could or would admit this to himself, let alone anyone else. Ser Philip was a taciturn and insular man. He had withdrawn from those around him when he was still a boy and was never for changing.

When he broke the news of the quest to his faithful squire, Daniel, the man was crestfallen. Never having cut the mustard or made the grade, Daniel was never going to hold his own standard, only the flag of his master-knight. Squires are boys, and Daniel had never grown up. What he lacked was not only maturity, but also the gumption to work beyond the bare minimum. He had gravitated towards Ser Philip, because this knight was so obviously lost and his lack of lustre almost matched Daniel’s. They deserved each other, at least as far as Daniel was concerned. This consideration of the quiet and undemanding knight helped perpetuate the denial of his own sloth and laziness.

Daniel kept a firm grasp of his lackadaisical ways even upon receipt of his new instructions. He was in no rush to go adventuring. This was not what he had expected from this knight, but now all was a-change. What Daniel could not understand was Ser Philip’s delivery of the news of their mission. The man himself remained cold and monotone. There was no excitement here. This was not the spirit of adventure. It was more like a visit to a grim and dour maiden aunt out of a sense of duty, and with no more than a thimbleful of devotion. There was no roar and there was no vim and vigour, and so Daniel felt all at sea. Confused and worried at what the future held. He didn’t want to go into the night and to do so quietly troubled him to a point of delirium.

Nonetheless, Ser Philip set out the very next day and seeing that he had little alternative, Daniel followed. Even as he trailed behind his master-knight, Daniel considered his options. Those options depressed him being the ignominy of dishonour having failed his master-knight and the subsequent derision and exile from polite company and all other company for that matter. He would starve as he began to freeze to death. He stopped short of thinking about how his life choices were not helping him right now. His adoption of the maxim do the bare minimum, left him with few skills and abilities and the truth of his existence was that no other knight would put up with such a scruff of a slob.

Daniel sighed.

Ser Philip did not acknowledge the sigh even though his training as a warrior had heightened his senses and made him aware of far more than most would attend to. The man was all focus, more so in his embracing the quest that he had been made for. This was what he had been waiting for all his life. Everything before now had been mere practice. All of it. He had built himself into a knight worthy of this task and he was ready. Ready to be tested. He found that he was relishing his being tempered in the fires of this quest. Daniel missed the hint of a smile on his master-knight’s face as they rode onwards.

Following a long and arduous journey, the two stopped in the small town of Santa Cruz. The town was so small and lacking in the luxuries that Daniel had been looking forward to that he could not bring himself to consider it to be a village, let alone a town. This was to be the last civilisation that they would encounter before they entered the desert itself. A sun-bleached outpost that hinted at what was to come.

Having secured provisions and a room for the night, Ser Philip afforded Daniel the freedom of the town for the remainder of the evening, preferring himself to sip at his carafe of water and contemplate the trials to come.

“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Daniel grizzled as he ambled off in search of whatever it was the locals drank to forget this hell hole, music to drown out the sound of the complaining and moaning voices in his head and the company of a woman to help him remember that he was a man and not a spare pack horse.

Eventually, he found a place that sold drink. A woman who had seen better days and better teeth grinned at him as she poured him the cloudy drink that they brewed in these parts. The liquid looked like milk that had been contaminated in unspeakable ways. It tasted worse than it looked, but there was the familiar scorching of alcohol, so it would have to do.

“Leave the bottle,” he told the woman, sliding a coin across the table towards her in favour of handing her the coin. He did not relish the prospect of physical contact with her. Later, two thirds of the way down the bottle, he would change his mind and he would more than relish it, having asked her about the possibility of younger versions of herself, weighing up the pros and cons of those bad teeth compared to the gnashers of his mule. He never stopped to consider just how much of the vile fermented milk drink the woman had had to consume before she considered laying with him to be a good idea.

UP!

Daniel dreamt the word, but he felt the slap outside of his dreams, struggling to unglue his gummy eyes and attach meaning to his senses, he squirmed on the straw lined crib.

“I said up!” cried Ser Philip, “the day has long dawned you useless bag of skin!”

Daniel opened his eyes in time to see the face of his master-knight moving into clear and intimate view. Ser Philip had a hold of his shirt and had hauled him to a sitting position, “you are here to serve me, you drunken son of a weak minded goat! If you fail me, I will use your arse to sharpen my lance!”

Daniel’s eyes were now as wide as plates and he was nodding feverishly, the possibility of a hangover now rescheduled to another life, “yes, Ser! Right you are, Ser! Right away, Ser!”

Ser Philip growled.

Daniel bolted across the room and was a one-man hive of activity. He had never seen Ser Philip like this. The man had been transformed overnight. A furnace had been lit and now, Daniel was the squire of a master-knight in the mould of the knights of old. This was a force to be reckoned with. The proverbial one man army. It was said that a master-knight in his prime was worth a thousand foot soldiers or more, Daniel no longer doubted this. Not one bit.

The sun beat down upon them as they left Santa Cruz. Daniel did not look back, he did not dare. He would not risk being found lacking. All the same, he felt eyes upon him and knew that one pair of those eyes were those of the old woman. He envisioned her and as her face came to mind he felt a pang. He would not exactly miss her, but she was the symbol of the life he was leaving and he was already missing that.

He doubted he would return, and that gave him a moment of morose contemplation.

The desert swallowed them up and the heat built and built. The horse and mule gave forth with sad utterances. Those sounds chilled Daniel as he watched Ser Philip’s back. The master-knight was a statue. Their progress in the deep and unrelenting sands was slow, but Ser Philip was relentless. He had set himself against this place and the fierce sun, and he was not for faltering.

That night, Daniel shivered in the inexplicable, creeping cold. His body had been cooked all day, but when the sun slipped away so did all of the heat. There was a short period of relief from the trials and tribulations of the day, but then the cold seeped into him and he battled the terror of his limbs becoming numb and never returning to him. All the same, sleep eventually took his exhausted form.

The morning came via rude motion. Ser Philip shook the man like a terrier shakes a rat in his jaws. They were up and away in a matter of moments, Daniel chewing on dried meat that took the moisture from his mouth and left his mouth dry for the rest of the day.

His eyes hurt, but the hurt went well beyond his eyes. There was a trick being played here. The featureless desert was a never ending expanse of nothingness, and yet it was doing something to his eyes. It was latching onto them and now the contours of sand were bending this way and that, twisting his mind out of shape. He felt his breath becoming laboured and he would have cried if he had any tears left in his head. The sun had taken them long ago. He felt his lips cracking and bleeding as his mouth formed the shape of a silent scream. Then his mule stumbled and he fell unceremoniously to the sands.

A merciful shadow fell over him. He felt it and opened his eyes, “we’ll have to walk from here,” Ser Philip told him.

“I can’t,” Daniel told him, and he thought he might even mean it. The sun and burning sands had leeched his life from him and now, as he lay there, he didn’t think he had it in him to get up. He was dead barring a few minor technicalities.

“Then you are dead,” Ser Philip told him, as though he had read the man’s broiled mind.

Daniel nodded, it would be blissful to close his eyes and drift into sleep. He was a man who had always been fond of sleep and he was reconciled with a demise that was as simple and easy as easing himself into slumber.

Ser Philip curtly returned the nod and walked away. There was nothing to be done. He could not help his squire, unless his squire helped himself.

Leaving his dying horse and carrying what provisions he could, the knight walked deeper into the desert. Later, were a hawk to fly over the corpse of the squire, it would see several interlaced circles of foot prints. The delirious man had tried to leave the desert, but had not managed to get more than a few yards from his deceased mule. Soon enough, the both of them would be nothing more than a few bleached bones that would in time be swallowed up by the sands of the desert.

Now, time lost all meaning for Ser Philip. He travelled in the bosom of the infinite and with every step, he shed an unnecessary piece of himself. As he did so, he found an inner peace that spoke to him of the simplicity of an existence uncluttered by the noise and nonsense that people accumulate and draw to themselves in a foolhardy attempt at defending them from the truth of who they really are.

At the point at which his provisions were exhausted, Ser Philip saw things for what they were and he let go of the last of the things he had valued and in that moment, he understood.

This was the quest.

He was the quest.

He had needed the desert to strip it all away. To take from him all that was not needed. Now he was pure.

Was he the bloom?

He thought that might be the case, and yet he walked some more, for walking was good. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and creating the momentum of life.

That was when he saw it. In the dying embers of the sun, the single stem and the closed bud of a flower. He knew it for what it was. He ran towards it, shedding what little clothes he still wore. Barely aware that he was doing so, but understanding that he must be naked in the presence of such beauty. He bore himself towards the miracle on feet that barely touched the sand, his heart filled with an elation that threatened to burst it.

Then his way was blocked.

A bewinged armour clad knight barred the way. The impossible was being denied by the improbable. Ser Philip did not falter and he did not slow, he launched himself at the dread warrior and grappled with he would deny him everything. He fought with an inhuman strength that was matched by the anonymous warrior, and as they wrestled with each other, Ser Philip experienced a growing desire to know who it was that he was locked in battle with. As this curious desire grew, so did his unease. This built and built until he knew that he must unmask his foe. He must discover the identity of the enemy who would deny him everything, but try as he might, he could not get his hand to the visor of that helmet.

The two of them fought and fought until the sun returned, and not once did Ser Philip see the face of his adversary, nor did he catch a glimpse of the fabled Heaven Flower. The sun rose and he knew that he had precious little time left to him, and so he gave everything he had left, he tore at the man before him using every ounce of strength he had left to him. He committed himself and his last breath to the defeat of this man and in one glorious moment he grasped the visor of the helmet and tore if open.

In that moment he saw everything, and he understood it all.

He froze in the rising desert sun, gazing down upon the bloom and the glory of the rare and precious Heaven Flower consumed him.

How close is America to being a third world country?

US can never become a Third World country

The US has 2 Million people who are sucking the life blood of 349 Million people

That is the problem with the US

Cancer like Capitalism or Capitalist Cancer !!!

A Patient who paid $ 13,650 a year in Premiums in 2012 and who paid $ 136,770 for the last 19 years complained of Chest Pain

He was hospitalized for 11 days in a Semi Private Ward, tested and recommended for a Angioplasty procedure

He was discharged with a bill of $ 293,000

He was asked to pay $ 121,447 from his own pocket

80 days later HE FILED FOR BANKRUPTCY

This is called Cancerous Capitalism

Today in US – a same patient would have to pay between $ 137,000 and $ 203,000 out of pocket for the same procedure depending on Insurer

Around 182% of the Median Annual Income

In Canada?

2,600 Canadian Dollars Out of pocket

Around 2.45% of the Median Annual Income

In UK?

£ 12,650 out of Pocket

Around 18.22% of the Median Annual Income

In China?

65,000 Yuan out of Pocket (Private Hospital)

16,000 Yuan out of Pocket (Public Hospital)

Around 14% (Public) to 49% (Private) of the Median Annual Income

In India?

₹ 2,00,000/- to ₹ 6,10,000/- out of pocket (Private Hospital)

Around 27% to 91% of Median Annual Income

In fact no country is as expensive as the US

This means the AVERAGE CITIZEN is becoming

More laden with Debt
Losing Wealth
Becoming Poorer

This indicates SIGNIFICANT INCOME DISPARITY

Especially over the last 15 years (2010–2025)

Lets see wage growth

US saw a rise in wages of 2.27% a year between 2010 and 2025 among the Median Working Population

Yet it saw a rise of 21.86% a year between 2010–2025 among the Top 1% of the Working Population

This ratio should never go above 5.5

0–2 is Bad (Socialist)

2–4 is Perfect

4–5.5 is Borderline Disparity

5.5–8 is Significant Disparity

8–15 is High Disparity

Greater than 15 is Unsustainable Disparity

The US has 9.63 – High Disparity

Between 1995–2010 – Median Wages rose by 3.17% a year and Top 1% saw a 14.73% rise in wages per year -4.64 Disparity Index which is much much better

Disparity doubled between 1995 & 2025

Now Check China

Between 1995–2010, Median Wages grew by 4.48% but Top 1% wages grew by 27.82%

A Disparity index of 6.21

Significant Disparity

Yet between 2010 -2025 , Median Wages grew by 5.36% and Top 1% wages grew by 13.98%

A Disparity Index of 2.61

Absolutely PERFECT

Its why Most Chinese are extremely happy and satisfied and having Deepseek moments and PL-15 moments

Disparity reduced by almost 65% between 1995–2025

The Top 1% are pissed off but they can TAKE A HIKE

These guys don’t need Donors for Elections or Campaign contributions

If the Top 1% go too far, WE ALL REMEMBER JACK MA 😁

In the 1990s – Landlords were primarily Individuals

Today Landlords are CORPORATES

You could have your own Trailer and live in a Trailer Park for $ 450 a month rental in 2019

Today it’s $ 1,075 a month rental for the Same Trailer Park

A Rise of 140% in 5 years!!!!

Just because a Landlord who owned the Lot, sold it to a Corporate who wants $ 1100 or else you vacate

The Corporates own Congress

The Corporates own the Senate

They make the laws

So they can nullify all their contracts easily

No Scope of anything getting better

The US is proof that Capitalism can be a controlled chain reaction which equals good nuclear energy or an UNCONTROLLED CHAIN REACTION which means a Nuclear explosion

The US is thus declining faster than usual due to it’s own capitalist cancer corroding it’s insides

Now another country is going the same way

Another Country with Capitalist cancer with added Corruption, Religious Mania & virtually nothing that the US has

Any guesses?

Starts with an ‘I’, ends with an ‘A’, five letters

Japanese ‘Comfort Women’ Were Shocked When American Soldiers Finally Liberated Them

How would a drill instructor react if a recruit in boot camp was an expert marksman every time they shot on the gun range and did incredibly well with every rifle that they used?

Well… depends.
For me, the first time I shot was a 298 (300 is perfect). This got the attention of the Range Marshal, but prior to that, I had gotten the attention of the GySgt in the ‘pits’ overseeing target operation because his troops on my target were complaining because I kept shooting the spotting disc during slow fire (from the 3 and 500 yd lines), causing splinters to fly off from the wooden dowel used to poke through the hole the round made, so I could see, with iron sights, from 500 yards away, where my round had hit.

My SDI, SSgt Steele, was bragging to the other DIs on the line that he had the best shooter in the company, probably the battalion. One of them said “Yeah, can he do it twice?” Challenge accepted.

Not by me. But there I was, sitting on the block waiting my turn (a literal block of wood) to shoot again, with the next group from our platoon. So, 200 rapid fire. Perfect score. 300 rapid and 300 slow: perfect score. SSgt was ragging the other DIs about the performance of their guys, touting again how Plt 2203 made everybody else look like shit.

500 yards. Slow fire. SSgt Steele, as I’m slinging my weapon and adjusting my cheek weld, leaned in close and said “If you want to see the dawn, tomorrow, you better not miss one.”

No pressure or anything. The GySgt called from the pit, again, and threatened my life if I shot the disc ONE MORE TIME! BAM! Knocked the dowel right out of the spotting disc. 10 for 10. Every one inside the 6″ spotting disc. SSgt Steele actually ‘whooped.’ Perfect 300.

A Major came down from the Range Tower, the OIC for the rifle range. WE snapped to and saluted.

“I hear that right, SSgt Steele? Your recruit shot a 298 and a 300?”

“Yes Sir, he did.” beaming.

“Too bad he wears glasses.” the Major said.

“Yes, Sir, it is. Canterbury’s a natural killer, Sir.”

And there it was. If I hadn’t worn glasses, I’d have been made to shoot again, and if I scored the same or close, after Boot Camp, I’d have been off to Sniper School.

Alas, that was not to be. However, as a Defense Information Specialist, I did attend Sniper School to do a ‘history’ of said training. Passed top 3 (unofficially) and got a nice hand shake from GySgt Young. “Too bad you wear glasses.” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Sgt.”

So, that’s what would happen.

Pictures

Why do most Chinese international students often return to serve their homeland after graduation while Indians often choose to stay and work for American and European companies? How has China stopped the brain drain and what can India learn?

There was a Chinese scientist who went abroad on a government scholarship — meaning all his study expenses back then were paid by the state, with the natural expectation that he would return to serve his motherland.

But after earning his PhD with top honors, he made a “traitorous” decision: to stay in that country and take its citizenship.

Such cases were not uncommon at the time, because China was very poor back then; even washing dishes overseas earned more than being a scientist in China.

Still, it was generally considered disgraceful.

His parents also felt too ashamed to face others.

But what he thought at the time was this: with a Chinese face, he had no access to the latest scientific materials — the only way was to change nationality.

His father never saw him again. In their last phone call, the father sighed:
“Son, I guess we won’t see each other for the last time… You may be unfilial, but you must not be disloyal — you are a man with a motherland!”

Two years later, his mother also quietly passed away. At that time, he was working on experiments at a foreign air force base. Before her death, his mother’s final words were the same: “You are a man with a motherland.”

And so, carrying the stigma of “traitor,” he immersed himself in research abroad.

Years later, the motherland called out to him: Come back, child — your country needs you!

By then, he was earning millions of U.S. dollars a year and was already a successful man, while China was still quite poor.

When he announced he would return, his wife was stunned and firmly opposed. He said, “Then we’ll divorce.”

In the end, his wife was persuaded and went back with him.

After returning, he threw himself into work. In seven years, he brought a certain Chinese technology up to world-leading standards.

The People’s Daily wrote that his work had forced a carrier fleet of some power to retreat by 100 nautical miles.

Sadly, he eventually fell seriously ill from overwork and passed away at the age of 58.

After his death, the Communist Party of China restored his party membership and posthumously honored him as a “National Outstanding Communist Party Member.”

Comrade Xi Jinping called on people to learn from him.

One netizen wrote: I wish I could give up ten years of my life and gift them to him.

Another replied: He works so hard just to help ordinary people like you live longer.

China has had quite a few people like him.

Time Wars

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Jack Kimball

Scientists say that as we approach the speed of light, time slows down for us compared to everyone else. If we actually made the round trip, we’d come back younger than the people we left behind. We might experience only a day, while a year passes for everyone else.****Emily grew up skipping time. Everyone with the gene could do it. She used her power for the little things—jumping past the wait at train stations, fast-forwarding through boring afternoons, or once, when she was in a car accident, skipping straight to the wail of sirens, pain erased by the promise of morphine.But now it was different, she knew, while winding the grandfather clock in the foyer of her home, smiling to herself at the irony. She had an incurable disease that only the future could fix, and she was running out of time. The future advancements in medicine called to her, but only she had the gene to jump ahead in time to where a cure might be. Her husband, Isaak, and their five-year-old son didn’t have the gene, and would have to stay behind.She moved the hands on the clock to the proper time. With each day that passed, she heard the ticking both faster and louder, counting down.Isaak rounded the corner of the hall and saw his wife adjusting the clock. “You don’t have a choice. Jump, and maybe when you get there, they’ll have a cure. But time’s a thief, Em. We try to outrun it, skip ahead, but in the end, it takes what it wants.”“I’ll think about it.”Later, Emily wrapped her arms around her son—small, warm, and trembling slightly—and breathed him in. “And what about Jack?” she asked her husband, perched in his reading chair.Isaak looked up with his eyes glistening. “We’ll be older. You’ll miss some time with us, and us with you, but you’ll get the chance for a long life, and we’ll get the chance to spend it with you. What else can we do?”“I don’t know.”Jack peeked from under his mother’s arms. “Where are you going?” He swiped his hair and stared at her, his eyes wide and scared.Isaak lowered his voice. “Em, think about it. The doctors are giving you six months.”“I’ll be giving up six months with you both.”“Six months of dying?” Isaak tried to smile, but his face twisted into a grimace, reflecting pain in broken shards. “At least I’ll be the older man when you see me again.” His laughter caught in his throat.They decided on ten years, long enough forward to predict a cure, but short enough that when Isaak and Jack arrived, they would only have aged ten years. For Emily, it would be the same day, and no wait at all.The day of the jump, the family had a party. The parents explained to Jack that his mother was going away, but he’d see her again. They didn’t mention the length of the ‘going away’. Can a five-year-old understand the value of time? The following morning, Isaak and Emily went to the center of town and found a place that likely wouldn’t change in ten years—a courtyard with a fountain spraying water and in the center a Greek statue of an old man with wings. Emily picked the spot she’d jump from, at the feet of Chronos, holding the hourglass of time.

“Don’t you move in the next ten years to where I can’t find you,” Emily said to Isaak. The day was blue and fresh.

Her husband laughed. “What if I get an offer in five years to move to the West Coast?”

“You better—”

Isaak reached out and grabbed Emily, held her tight, and kissed her. Now, she thought. Now. Or I won’t be able to do it.

Her image shimmered, and she faded from her husband’s arms.

****

Maybe we should have seen it coming—the ability to jump ahead in time. At first, we needed a capsule that helped us move fast enough to skip forward. Then Dr. Forsythe figured out how to splice the trick into our DNA. Suddenly, anyone with the right gene could jump: five minutes, a hundred years, it didn’t matter. The only rule? No one could ever go back.

****

Emily staggered, her heart pounding, as an armored vehicle roared past. Soldiers swarmed the square. The air—so blue and clean before—was now thick and gray, stinging her nose with the reek of cordite.

A man in fatigues pointed Emily out to other men. “A jumper,” he said.

The men handcuffed her and threw her into the back of a transport vehicle. Soon they locked her away with other women in a fenced-in compound. Emily recognized her son’s elementary school, but there was no laughter echoing through the empty schoolyard. No children’s voices. No happy footsteps. Only weeds choked courtyards now abandoned laden with the smell of pending death.

A haggard woman with stringy hair blocked Emily’s path. She eyed her jeans and pink blouse. “New arrival? When did you jump from?” the woman rasped. Her eyes were a deep pink where the whites should be, and Emily saw a faint, unnatural movement, something slivering, deep within them.

“I guess I am a new arrival,” Emily said, her skin crawling under the woman’s stare. There had to be over a hundred women in the compound.

“How long?” the old woman asked.

“Ten years. At least I hope it was ten years.”

“Easy to figure. When did you jump?”

“I jumped from 2040.”

“You’ve landed right on target. It’s March 2050.”

Ten years. Her pulse quickened. All Emily could think about was finding her family. She knew Isaak couldn’t be far. But if they took her, could they also have taken Isaak and Jack somewhere? What had their lives been like over the last ten years without her? She looked at the woman, her lined red eyes pulsing faintly. Emily looked away, and a shiver went up her spine.

A red-haired woman stepped from behind. “Take her boots, Kali!”

They pinned Emily down, her hiking boots soon stripped. Once the two women moved off, Emily lay in the dirt, staring at her bare feet, ignored by the other passing women in the compound.

A week later, a bald officer with a penciled mustache peered at Emily from across his desk. She felt his eyes undress her, and then his Boston accent growled into thick air.

He snickered. “It’s a funny thing, this jumping, don’t you think? The game is jumping or being jumped, and they say the army is losing. Not losing by battlefield deaths, mind you, da’ling, but to our men skipping ahead in time. We’re losing our own to a future sucking them forward, damn right we are.

“But here’s the deal, pretty thing. You desert, or jump, well… we’ll send a tracer. A jumper leaves tracks. But you’re a lucky one, not jumping to the war front. You’ll be helping with the arrivals.” Now he spoke louder so that those around them could hear. “We all need to pitch in for the war effort.”

Lucky one? Would she ever find her family? Isaak and Jack had already waited ten years after she jumped. Imprisoned not by bars, but choice, even if she jumped, she would be further away in time, and then the tracers would find her. She returned to the compound, resigned.

“You’ll die, girl, with that attitude,” Kali said. They were standing in line for the after-work meal. Kali heaped as much slop on her plate as she could. Then motioned for Emily to take more.

“Then I’ll die. What’s it to you?”

“I’m an observer of the human condition, is what I am, Emily. In this case, yours.”

Emily laughed. “What do your observations tell you?”

“You laugh, but I wasn’t always a slave, mistress. The odds are running you’ll fold like what we call a suburbanite, a waste of air.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t look at me like that. My bets on you, not against you.”

“Good to know.” Emily moved away.

Kali called out to her back. “Em! You need to get your damn boots back, is what you need to do!”

Emily crouched with her food for a long time, but didn’t eat.

A week later, Kali joined her in line and smiled. Emily was beat up, bruises on her face, her arm angled in a handmade sling. But she was wearing her boots.

Two years later, a line of jumpers queued up in front of Emily’s desk. The latest refugee jumper was in front of her. His clothes hung on his thin frame, and his eyes were red, like so many arriving. “What year did you jump?” Emily asked.

The man stirred as if waking from a dream. He shook his head at her question. “Last year. 2051. The year before. I don’t know. I’ve jumped a lot, ma’am.”

Emily barely looked him over. He was like thousands of others. Can he jump for the military? Or does he have the eyes of an addict, and jumped too many times to gain five minutes of convenience, a day to save time, or to move ahead to hoped-for better times? With each jump, how much of his mind had gone, carrying the burden? His deep red eyes and blank look gave Emily her answer.

The man stepped forward and leaned onto her desk. “I see that look, mum, and you’re right. I was sent up with the 51st in ’44—we jumped out quick as we could. Fire behind us, burning through our lines. My brother Billie died black in my arms, skin still crackling. I jumped again, and next thing I knew, a jumper was behind me, slashing away. We kept jumping, seconds at a time, trying for an edge, you know? But the eyes, Mum—redder every time, our minds peeled away like bloody hides. Now I’m near red-eyed and nothings left. But I’m not as red as some. Please don’t send me to the red-eyed quadrant. I’m begging you, ma’am.”

Emily shuddered. His eyes stared back like organic red stars, no longer his but lost from jumping time. She looked away. He needed to be processed, but there was nothing she could do. A chill rose on her back. “We’re looking for clean jumpers.”

Other red-eyes guided the man to another line.

“I’ve never jumped,” the next man said.

At first, Emily didn’t look up. He was one more person in line to be processed.

“Still like older men?”

Emily’s heart skipped. She’d never forget the sound of her husband’s voice. She sprang to her feet, her chair tipping over behind her. This man was gray at the temples, and lines creased his eyes, but it was Isaak!

He cautioned her with both hands. “Not now,” he said. “I’ll meet you where we last saw each other. Tonight.”

Later, Emily stood at the fountain in the town square. The water was dry and the winged statue was gone, but it seemed like yesterday she had faded from Isaak’s arms, nearly fifteen years ago. Would he really meet her? Was the man she talked to in line a dream? And what happened to Jack?

****

Of course, there were problems. In the early days, people disappeared when they jumped, only to reappear naked in the future. People skipped into death, embedded in walls within a building that hadn’t existed. The proximity monitor solved this, which enabled people to bring artifacts along: clothing, tools, military apparatus. Both armies chased the future until what they were fighting for was forgotten, and long ago in the past.

****

She heard Isaak behind her at the fountain. “I told you. Older men have their charm, Em.”

Emily spun and threw her arms around her husband. She held on until her breath came back, until she was sure he was real.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have been here. I tried.” He pointed to a row of buildings in the distance. “See those? Labor camps if you can’t jump. Those were home for me and Jack. We were locked in those places when I should have met you. Isaak then motioned to the groups of homeless strewn along the streets. “Those are jump addicts, the red-eyed; their minds are nearly gone. They’re no good to the army, and they fend for themselves in refugee camps, living on streets, feeding in dumps.”

“And I’m part of the machine,” Emily said.

Isaak shoved a pack at her. “Not anymore. You’re coming with me.”

Emily picked up the pack. The same old Isaak. Never explaining, just assuming. But I’d go anywhere, I love him so. “So where are you taking me, old man?”

“To the mountains. You’re now a resistance fighter.”

“And Jack? Will we see Jack? He’s a young man, isn’t he? How does he look?”

Isaak stopped and turned back. “It’s not good, Em.”

“What? Tell me. Is Jack ok? Is he still alive?” Emily felt a horrible panic rise in her stomach. If something had happened to Jack…

“He’s alive. That’s not it.”

“What? The truth.”

Isaak’s blue eyes glistened once again, and Emily remembered the last time she’d seen her husband that upset.

“He’s who we’re fighting against, Em. He’s with the State.”

****

If you think about it, when you jump the world moves forward in time, but you stay put. The world around you is doing the changing. They could never figure out why a jumper didn’t just freeze, why they disappeared. But they did, disappear I mean. Then pop back alive sometime later in the exact same spot, a day, a decade, or one-hundred centuries later. Who knows.

****

“They’ve turned us down,” Isaak said, now the fifty-year-old resistance leader. “The negotiating team doesn’t want an armistice. The meat grinder into the future goes on.”

Ambassador Harrington sipped her wine. As she aged, she found she enjoyed the simpler things: wine in the afternoon, a sunset, a quiet moment with her husband where they weren’t having to strategize a campaign. The simpler things, she thought to herself. But enjoyed was the wrong word. ‘Cherished’ was closer. Even the pain in her leg seemed right. To live with it.

“Why would they trust us?” Emily said. “Neither can trust the other. But there’s a solution, and you know what it is.”

Isaak stared at Emily. “The Assembly will never go along.”

Emily’s voice was flat. “The virus stops the jumping, but it kills the host.”

“Which means it could kill you.”

Emily touched Isaak’s cheek. “Or not. I’ve lived longer than most said I would already. But don’t we all live with so little time? Maybe our time is over.”

“Millions will die, Em. They’ll be carnage once it begins, riots, looting. You know people will jump in panic, but the infection will follow them into whatever time they jump to. Imagine the panic as the virus infects jumpers who are generations, hundreds,, thousands of years ahead.”

A guard knocked. “The general will see you now.”

The general, Emily repeated in her head. My son. “Show him in.”

Jack entered. He stood in front of his parents and swiped hair from his eyes.

Emily broke, her face crumpled. She rose and strode to him, her arms outstretched. He turned away, and she stopped. A cold ache rose in her chest.

Jack spoke only to Isaak, his father. “I came because I think we are more on the same side than not. Only for that. The past is the past. I want to stop the jumping, and I think you do as well. It’s only ‘how’ we can’t agree on.”

“Jack, I lost you also,” Emily said.

He turned on her, his face a scarlet red. “Lost me? Can you imagine? A five-year-old?”

“I’m sorry.”

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry also, but it’s not about us anymore.” He turned to Isaac. “We don’t need a virus. We need a surrender, and then we’ll figure it out.”

Isaac sat back down. “I can’t advise that, son. We’ve gone too far already.”

“Then the war continues,” Jack said.

Emily touched his forearm, and he yanked it away

“I just can’t. It’s too late.”

He left without a word.

Emily stared at the door he’d exited, set her wine down, rose from her seat, and slowly entered another door. The Grand Hall of the United Nations Building opened up. Thousands crowded the layers of stadium seats. When they saw her enter, many cheered, more booed.

Isaac looked on from the side. He laughed, and Emily traced his eyes to her boots.

Her hand found the vial in her pocket. Her secret, her choice. She could stop the madness of jumping, but when?

She went to the podium. Now the hall was a crescendo of people screaming at one another. A fight broke out in the upper chamber, and masses of people turned to stare and jeer. Security stormed in from the rear doors and rushed the crowd.

Emily held out the vial and raised it high above her head as if offering it to the crowd.

A hush. Thousands of people, as one, frozen, fixated.

“Murderer!” screamed a man from the silence.

She unscrewed the cap.

“Emily. Don’t!” Isaak yelled.

Jack rushed from the audience towards the stage.

She held the vial higher with both of her hands, shimmered, and faded from sight.

A Former Male Stripper Exposes The UGLY TRUTH Of What Really Happens At Bachelorette Parties

When trucking companies go out of business, what happens to their 18 wheeler trucks? Do the trucks go to the auction or back to the dealership? Why aren’t they sold at a cheap enough price for other truck drivers to afford?

Here is what happened to my neighbor.

As they were moving in down the road I went over to say hi. Turns out he and his family had been in New York City along with other family members. Two of his brothers decided they would make a change and go to Indianapolis, up the interstate from me, and open a series of pizza restaurants. They became decently successful land other relatives came west to get work in the restaurants.

But my neighbor had been driving trucks out there and wanted to continue doing this as his own boss. He wasn’t making much progress takeoff business away from established trucking companies until somehow he got connected with a factory owner down here. The guy suggested that he would make an exclusive contract with my new neighbor if he were willing to invest in a certain type of trailers plus the tractors. (I don’t know the technicalities but the trailer interiors had to be fitted out a certain way.)

It was a great contract for neighbor. He eventually had 12 units, plus a “collectible” flat nose tractor just for fun (I don’t know trucking terms, sorry). It even benefited me directly because, as they had a very good income, they began contracting me to remodel the interior of their house, which I had built way back in ‘93 anyway.

Then three years ago, it turned out that putting all his eggs in that one basket may not have been the best idea. The factory owner sold out. My neighbor went to the buyer to talk about a contract and was told that there would be no new contract, as the new owner was going to contract with a trucker friend of his.

It wasn’t all bad as the new trucker bought 9 of the specially modified trailers. It took my neighbor until last winter to sell the rest and all the tractors, and the collectible tractor. Meanwhile with the money from the sale of the trailers he bought a recovery wrecker (for cars and light trucks), a straight truck, and a roadside diesel repair truck. He’s hanging in there with various odd contracts. His wife got licensed as a home health aide and worked that for a couple of years to help ends meet although she’s back to being stay at home now.

Citrus Chicken with Tarragon and Mustard

Here is a quick and easy supper with the fresh taste of lemon, earthiness of tarragon and zing of mustard. Canola oil blends all of the flavours together beautifully.

Citrus Chicken with Tarragon and Mustard

Yield: 6 servings, 1 chicken breast each

Ingredients

1/4 cup all-purpose flour 60 mL
1/2 teaspoon lemon pepper 2 mL
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard 2 mL
6 boneless skinless chicken breasts (4 oz / 125 g each)
2 tablespoons canola oil, divided 30 mL
1/4 cup finely diced shallots 60 mL
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard 30 mL
1 teaspoon dried tarragon 5 mL
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice 60 mL (or 1 tablespoon/15 mL concentrated lemon juice + 2 tablespoons/30 mL water)
1 tablespoon honey 15 mL

Instructions

In shallow bowl, combine flour, lemon pepper and dry mustard.
Dip each chicken breast into flour mixture, shake to removed excess and set on a clean plate.
In large skillet, heat 2 teaspoons (10 mL) canola oil over medium high heat.
When canola oil is hot, add three chicken breasts and cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until lightly browned.
Turn over and cook additional 2 to 3 minutes until lightly browned.
Remove to clean plate.
Add remaining 1 teaspoon (5 mL) canola oil and repeat with remaining three chicken breasts.
To same saucepan, add 1 tablespoon (15 mL) canola oil and heat over medium heat.
Add shallots and cook for 1 to 2 minutes until translucent; do not brown.
Add Dijon mustard, tarragon, lemon juice and honey and stir to combine.
Return all chicken breasts to saucepan, spooning sauce over chicken and cook for 4 to 6 minutes or until chicken has reached internal temperature of 170 degrees F (77 degrees C) on an instant-read thermometer.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 200 Total Fat 7g Saturated Fat 1g Cholesterol 65mg Sodium 200mg Carbohydrates 10g Fibre 0g Protein 24g

What was the most surprising thing you witnessed at your high school reunion?

I attended my 10th and 50th high school reunions.

At the 10th, my expectation was that the girls would have started to go to seed and the guys would look about the same. I was the same weight I was when I graduated, so I guess I projected my own lack of changes onto the others.

When there were changes, it was mostly the opposite. The guys, especially the former jocks, were starting to develop paunches. The girls, if anything, looked better. One girl who had been sort of an ugly duckling in high school looked absolutely radiant.

One guy walked up to me and introduced himself. I wouldn’t have recognized him, even though he had lived around the corner from me. He had been only about 5′6″ when we graduated. He had a late growth spurt, and was six feet tall.

A girl who hadn’t been in my class approached me and asked if I remembered her. Oh, did I remember her. She was a couple of years older than me and had attended another high school in the same town. She and I lived in the same dorm my freshman year. We had a little fling then, and she was responsible for several “firsts” for me (though not The Big One). After she graduated from college, she moved back to our home town, met one of my classmates, and married him. We all went out for coffee after the reunion and had a pleasant time. For obvious reasons, we didn’t discuss our history, other than to say we knew each other in college.

At our 50th anniversary, her husband was there, but with a different wife. I asked him if he was still in contact with whom I assumed was his ex. She had made him a widower, having been killed in a traffic accident about ten years before.

One classmate had lived about six doors down from me on the same street. We had been in Boy Scouts together. He was a musician, and a much better student than I had been. He had gone to a good private university, obtained his music degree, and was trying to become a conductor somewhere. I had the impression he wasn’t doing too well at it, as his singular claim to fame was that he once conducted the Danish Radio Orchestra. He did have a very nice suit, and an air of obnoxious sophistication. He, I, and a girl I had barely known in high school were sitting at the bar, and I made some lame joke. He did this phony laugh and said, “That’s the sort of humor I’d expect from a common policeman.” I came back with, “A common policeman? At least I’ve got a f***ing job!”

At our 50th reunion, he told me he had just retired from his music publishing business. I guess conducting didn’t work out, after all.

The girl I had barely known in high school had become a nurse. She told me she had a minor crush on me in high school. I had no clue. Actually, having no clue was kind of a common theme for me in high school.

One classmate who had been our student body president was one of the few people I’ve ever known who professed nonviolence and actually lived it. He was sincere, and not obnoxious about it. I’m going to phony up the names here, and say his was Tom Parker. I was talking to the girl mentioned in the previous paragraph when I saw Tom come in the door. I told her, “That looks like Tom Parker, but the name on his nametag is much longer.” I couldn’t read it at that distance. The organizers had asked everyone to send in a little bio statement that they collected and published in a handout we got when we arrived. I looked up Tom Parker, and read, in part: “After graduating, I moved to Vienna, came to realize my true life as a strong, proud gay man, and took the name Peter Soaringbird in recognition of my new persona.” We had graduated in 1971, during an era where one did not admit any homosexual proclivities if they didn’t want to be ostracized. He and I are still friends, though I call him Tom.

Our class valedictorian was not in evidence. She was a beautiful girl, brilliant, and pleasant to talk to. She had dated the frustrated conductor mentioned above. Everyone expected great things from her. She had a full-ride scholarship to a small private college. There, she met and married one of her professors and moved to someplace in South America with him. No one has heard of her since.

Three of my classmates returned to our high school as teachers, two of them PE teachers. Both had been on the basketball team in high school.

Predictably, there were not as many people at our 50th reunion as at our 10th. The aforementioned Tom Parker was one of the organizers, and he had researched the names of our classmates to find out who had died. Soberingly, there were almost as many names on that list as there were attendees at the 50th. When I thought about those people, most of whom I did not know well, I realized that they tended to be the ones who lived fast and hard, drank and partied a lot, and were often in trouble. Two had died in prison.

High school reunions are educational, though not in the subject areas I expected.

China’s 66 Trillion Dollar Plan For The Moon!

(Repost) From then to now; how my unrelenting sequence of prayer & affirmation campaigns changed my life. (duplicate)

Oh boy! Buckle up!

One of my friends, in casual conversation, asked me (while talking about prayer campaigns and affirmations) what all the changes were like, for me, after over four decades of prayer / affirmation campaigns.

And I read what she asked of me, and I’ll tell you truthfully, I just leaned back in my chair and stared dumb-founded at the screen. Oh, yes. Things have really changed. They really, really, REALLY have changed. I just never really thought about it that way.

But… yeah.

And yeah…

It’s complicated.

Our experiences change us.

My role in MAJestic changed me.

My relationships with others changed me.

The culture sand society changed me, and all kinds of influences shaped my life.

And if you take one such influence out, I would be a completely different person.

Life changes you.

And, I’ll tell you what, four decades of life is gonna change you.

It’s one thing to live life, and sway in the wind, guideless and directionless. Like some clothing hung on a clothes line to dry. But it’s another thing to pilot an ocean steamer, blind in the dark, dark night trying to make it to paradise.

Since I left the Navy, and entered MAJestic, my entire life has been that of directed prayer / thought / affirmations and intention.

In fact, what I am trying to say is that without the prayer / affirmation campaigns I would not have had so many changes. Without my role in MAJestic, I wouldn’t have been exposed to so many things, ideas and changes. And all things taken together as a whole, I have to admit… life, and experiences are all intertwined with affirmation campaigns.

Do. Not. Assume.

That.

I. Would. Be.

What. I. Am. Today.

Without. Prayer. Campaigns.

Don’t make that assumption. It’s a foolish and stupid assumption. I attribute my material wealth, the quality and quantity of life, and my experiences are all a direct result of my personal prayer affirmations that I have conducted for over four decades.

My current life, and lifestyle is the direct result of my prayer affirmation campaigns.

For Starters

Let’s begin with answering the question.

What changes do I have in my life right now, compared to the life that I had in the 1980's?

Well, since I started the affirmation campaigns in the late 1980’s. We will begin there. Let’s use the starting point where it’s a few years after my calibration and training at China Lake NWC outside of Ridgecrest, California.

At that time, I had left the Navy and MAJestic told me to “make a living and live life”, and so I found work in an automotive electronics company in central Indiana.

So we will use that as the initial baseline. We will refer to that period of time, say middle to late 1980’s as the comparison subject. And on the other end, we will compare it to my life, right now today.

The differences are stark. And i have never really thought about things in that way. So it kind of took me back a little.

So thinking about all this, I ended up pausing. Contemplating.

At which point, I made this little picture…

Indeed, you just cannot assume that every single office dweeb that working in the monstrosity work environments of the 1980’s are now big powerful bosses. You just cannot say that this is what happens, that everyone follows a career and that they naturally rise up. It’s been my personal experience that I was the outlier.

My co-workers from those days pretty much “bailed out” of that environment after maybe four or five job layoffs. Many are now retired or wrapping up their own (much smaller) self-employed businesses, or are running consultancies, or teaching. Very, very few are as “successful” as I am.

As if “success” is a universally understood concept.

Everyone is different, and life has a way of grabbing you “by the balls” and give you “a few knocks in the head”, in order to “straighten you out”. And as a result, you end up changing. You become a different person.

I like to think that many of my former co-workers are doing well. They are certainly doing and living life different than I am. But one man’s ideal, might be another man’s nightmare.

Who’s to say that my life is “better” than theirs are?

You cannot.

Instead, you have to judge “success” on the basis of the individual. AND STOP COMPARING yourself to others. Instead, we will compare myself to myself. And if we do that, we can see the relationship that time, and intention has over my own personal life. And that, my friends, might be illustrative… and I hope… inspiring.

You should be able to see things…

You should be able to see that my overall attitude is quite different. The feelings of helplessness compared to the feelings of raw power that I hold today are beyond compare. But it is more than that. Much more.

There used to be a song (in the 1970’s), and while I have long since forgotten the name of the song and who sang it, the lyrics went something like this…

"Life is what you make it...
...if you can take it...
...you don't have to break it...
...life is what you make it."

Well…

Is my life “better” than it was four decades ago in the 1980’s working in the States? Am I living a fantastic life? How does my life compare now? Can it be attributed to intention prayer campaigns, or to something else? Like coincidence?

First off, let’s see if my life can be judged as a “success” compared to what it was four decades ago. But, we have a problem. What actually is “success”?

Judging by money and wealth

If you judge a man, or anyone, or me (even) by the amount of money that I have then I would be classified as a failure. I have restructured my life so that I do not have any money, nor savings accounts, nor credit accounts, nor any tangible means to equate personal value with my monetary wealth.

No bank accounts.
No legal ownership papers in my name.
No “paper trail” of employment.
No credit rating.

An investigator would find me a very boring subject. I don’t have anything. And that includes money. So under these terms, I would be classified as an abject failure. This is absolute, in those specific terms.

Of course, Heh heh, what do you all think an ex-spook would look like? You think that we would be on the grid, and monitored like some kind of common criminal, felon or hoodlum.

Judging by number of children

Some people view success as the ability to father the most children as possible during their lifetime.

I have met many ethnic youth in America, and some SA’s that feel this way. They talk about their “baby mama” and how they have 12, 14, or 16 of them. This single unemployed African American man impregnating 16 women, but not being a father to any children. Some people define that as success.

I don’t.

But if you did, then the king of this effort would be Genghis Khan.

And yet again, I would be considered a failure by those lofty standards. There’s a very precious few metallic-babies walking round in this world today. And I for one, think of this as a good thing. I’m not a mass-production baby-making factory. Don’t you know.

I do not have a long train of children crying for their daddy, or a a zillion courts demanding the garnishment of my pay checks.

I think that it is a good thing, but other people might not consider this a “successful” life.

Judging by appearance

Some people, most especially those in the 20’s judge others by appearance. If you are attractive, or cart around an attractive wife (or two) on your arm, and drive a nice expensive car, and wear the most stylish and trendy clothes, you are considered to be successful.

I know how it works.

And then you have a kid, and your priorities change. Or you get locked into a career, and things change further. Or, that you start having obligations, and your children need braces, school books and they want a pony. Oh, it is amazing how these criteria change so rapidly.

Yah. Well, but these criteria I too would still be considered a failure.

I dress fine, and wear nice comfortable clothing, but I don’t own or drive a Ferrari. In fact, my days of driving a care are pretty much sunsetted. Let others deal with the headaches, and the hassles. Just take me where I need to be, and be done with it, Sir.

Truthfully, I happen to like being driven around by my driver, and I really don’t care what people think about the car that I am riding in. As long as it is big and roomy and fits my personality, I am fine with it. I like the door being opened for me, and the driver and my aides buckling me in. I like it when they say “you can take a nap, sir, it’s going to be a couple of hours”. And I like it when we arrive at the destination and they stand outside ready for my calling.

Now, it's true that a Maybach is certainly something that I would enjoy riding in, but the price tag is not something that I believe is worthy of consideration.

Yet, to others, judging by this kind of criteria, I do not appear to be a very successful and wealthy businessman. I don’t have fine expensive sports cars to flaunt and to rev up the engines with.

Judging by physical attribute

Many, many people judge others by their appearances. And while I just covered the appearance of wealthy people, here, we can talk about physical beauty and their attractiveness towards the opposite sex.

Physical appearance.

For women it might be big boobs, Big hair, Big ass, or long legs, long silky hair, clear complexion, or a naturally curvy backside. And, for men it might be a big dick, a full set of hair, impressive pecks or something else… like a enormous wallet.

All this is silly.

By these criteria, I’m just so-so. I am average. Pretty much.

A big cock. — Here’s a guy proudly showing his big cock for the whole world to see and be amazed by.

Now, truthfully, if I were to improve my appearance it would be to slim down my waist some, clean up some of my wrinkles and thicken my hair a tad. There are a precious few people who are completely satisfied with their appearances, and there are entire product segments that capitalize on this fact.

I wouldn’t touch my penis. It’s big enough, thank you. I want to be comfortable with myself. And when I am, I am naturally happy and light, and I radiate.

This is real and true attractiveness.

I strongly believe that if you take care of your body. Fill it with fine delicious food, smile and laugh a lot and ignore the sad, doom and gloom others that surround us, that you will do fine. Just be clean, and if that means taking three showers a day, then do it. A happy, scrubbed clean, cheerful person who is open and friendly is amazingly attractive to a wide range of people.

But, you know…

Since there are so many things that are desirous of improvement, you could also say that I am pretty much a failure in those areas. I am not the most handsome man in the world. I’m just an older man. And I pretty much live that role.

Judging by experience

Ah. Now this is something that I am proud to say that I am worthy of judgement. Few people have experienced the wide ranging and comprehensive diversity of experiences that I have had. Very few. Perhaps Sebastian has.

And there is so much more open to experience…!

And I argue that this is a good thing. As the more experiences that you have, the more quantum associations you make. And thus the more quantum bonds and entanglements, the more you grow.

Ah…

But it doesn’t make for “good television” or movies. Don’t you know.

So what’s the deal?

Indeed. So what is “the deal”?

Well, you are not in competition with anyone. So there is no need to be or become “the best”.

What you want is a suitable, and comfortable life that fits YOUR personality, not that which is provided to you via the American media.

And. That. Is. It.

Do not use the media as a yardstick for success.
Your goal should be to be the best you as possible, and live the life that you deem fit.

You need to find out what you like, and the kind of life that holds meaning for you, and then you need to set your prayer campaign in motion to obtain those goals and objectives. And for me, I am very sad to say, that this understanding and realization did not occur immediately. It developed over time.

Ugh. And what you see now is not the pristine result of four decades of planning and implementation, but rather the result of a back and forth, mish mash, of attempts and direction-seeking prayer / affirmation campaigns trying to discern the best fit lifestyle for myself to adopt.

But, all in all, I think that I’m pretty darn close.

Let’s look at the changes the affirmation campaigns have brought about.

Well, right off the bat, you have seen the differences in my work / career. It’s pretty dramatic, I’ll tell you what. I studied to become an astronaut, trained as a Naval Aviator, worked as an engineer, lived as a hobo, toiled in prison, and now am a Boss out of necessity.

Life can have many twists and turns, don’t you think?

Living Environment

Let’s start with the house and living environment.

Back in the late 1980’s, I was working as an engineer inside a massive electronics corporation, owned by GM, and modeled after the work environments in Silicon Valley. They constructed these facilities in the middle of nowhere; Kokomo, Indian and all the top tier of management snagged up all the housing. I ended up living in a mobile home in a flat (former) soybean field.

Think of a mobile home on the tundra wastes in Alaska. That is what it was like. Though in the Spring and Fall, it was pretty lovely.

Today, I live in a big house off the beach. I can watch the people walk their dogs and play on the beach from my living room window, and my neighborhood is nice, and friendly.

So you might want to say that in comparison, it is sort of like this… (I will not use actual pictures of my personal life in this post. I do hope that you all understand.)

Yeah, it’s a bit of a change.

Do you all think that it is luck? Or that I somehow managed to eventually save my way to my current lifestyle though scrimping and saving, or through the stock market, or a “big break”? Eh?

Let’s compare companions

Oh. Now, none of these pictures that I am using is of MM’s personal life. I don’t have any pictures of my life in the 1980’s, and I sure as Hell aren’t gonna provide pictures of my current home and personal shit.

But, for the most part the pictures are accurate and are designed to give the proper IMPRESSION of the changes that I have personally experienced as a result of my life and four decades of affirmation and prayer campaigns.

And now, let’s talk about my wife; my companion.

You know, the BIGGEST influence in your happiness, your success in life, and you ability to be happy is your spouse. It’s true and I do believe it.

To understand the differences between then and now, you need to understand the ladies that I was with. And while today, my current wife is beautiful, stacked, tough as nails, but sweet as a kitten, and a strong powerful mother, my wife from the 1980’s was almost the exact opposite.

At that time, in the 1980’s my wife ( a lovely and attractive lass when I married her ) was just starting to lose her mind. Literally, not figuratively. She had an inherited mental illness known as Schizophrenia. It’s a pretty horrible illness, and at that time it was just starting to manifest, and it hit her hard. Really, really hard.

She was incapable of normal life, and started to behave very strangely. She started to hear “messages” in the radio and the television. She started to obsess about events that took place when she was seven years old, and she started performing all sorts of odd and crazy rituals. Her mannerisms changed. Her actions changed. The way she spoke changed, and her interactions with others began a near immediate down-hill side. She was impossible to take around anyone.

And so for personal tranquility, we stayed at home most of the time.

Schizophrenia is a serious brain disorder that distorts the way a person thinks, acts, expresses emotions, perceives reality, and relates to others. People with schizophrenia -- the most chronic and disabling of the major mental illnesses -- often have problems functioning in society, at work, at school, and in relationships. Schizophrenia can leave its sufferer frightened and withdrawn. It is a life-long disease that cannot be cured but can be controlled with proper treatment. — Schizophrenia is a serious brain disorder that distorts the way a person thinks, acts, expresses emotions, perceives reality, and relates to others. People with schizophrenia — the most chronic and disabling of the major mental illnesses — often have problems functioning in society, at work, at school, and in relationships. Schizophrenia can leave its sufferer frightened and withdrawn. It is a life-long disease that cannot be cured but can be controlled with proper treatment.

At that time, she started to get counseling, and the doctors prescribed some medication for her to take.

The medicine worked, but ended up causing certain side effects. One of which was that she gained an enormous amount of weight, became very lethargic, and would just spend the entire day sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Then out of the blue, she would become enraged and passionate. And it was absolutely maddening.

After an entire night of dealing with this madness, I would have to drag myself to work and deal with a true-to-life scene from the movie “Office Space”. It was horrible, and absolutely not enjoyable.

Nightime = caretaker for a mentally ill person.
Daytime = Worker drone right out of the “Office Space” movie.

When I would return home, I would need to clean up her messes (she would destroy things, break things, and became completely incapable of normal activity. Like throwing the chicken bones from KTC on the living room rug when she was through eating, or never taking a shower or brushing her teeth.), then I would make dinner for both of us, and try to act as her counselor to help her sort out her near-constant distress and emotional turmoil.

Times change…

We divorced, she managed to control her illness somewhat, and last I heard she was doing fine.

And me, today I am happily married to a beautiful Chinese gal, and she is normal and healthy and wholly functional. Praise the Lord!

You know, the BIGGEST influence in your happiness, your success in life, and you ability to be happy is your spouse. It's true and I do believe it.

Time changes everything.

Where I am today is a direct result of my prayer affirmations. Listen to me. I tell you this two times. Where my life is today is the direct result of my various prayer affirmation campaigns.

Let’s compare automobiles

This is pretty easy, but it didn’t work out as planned. But it all manifested when I started to concentrate on the end result of my desire. Not so much on the details. And as a result, an amazing thing happened…

Today I do not drive.

I have contemplated buying a car, and it is on the family table as a discussion item, but we have held back. There are numerous reasons for that, but mostly its that the local public and private transportation avenues are so well established and cheap where we live in China, there just isn’t a serious need to get a car. Though, it would be nice to have one to go outside of the community, and we are contemplating it as a future option. But right now, nah.

Instead, right now, I employ private drivers. I have them on retainer that stand by for me and drive me here and there (as a chauffeur). When I am elsewhere on travel, and not with my driver, I will if necessary, use DD or ShaoJiu which are Chinese equivalents of Uber.

Back in the day, of course, I had my own car. And at that particular point of time in my life, I drove a distressed Mazda RX-7. It was a good little car, but every month I was out in the cold or the heat trying to fix one thing or the other. A few years later, I bought a brand new car to replace it and my life changed accordingly. But right now we are talking about then compared to now, and it looked a little something like this…

Let’s compare meals

You can really see the differences in what I ate then, compared to what I eat now. Back then I ate a lot of simple foods that were cheap and easy to prepare. Much of our budget went into paying medical bills, as my wife at that time was very prone to call 9-11 and have an ambulance take her to the hospital because “she didn’t feel right”.

Breakfasts were mostly cereals with milk, and a drive through coffee and breakfast sandwich. Lunches were a drive through burger meal. I would often mix it up between McDonald’s, Burger King, and Wendy’s.) And dinners were either spaghetti, hamburgers, hotdogs, a tuna salad, a can of Campbell’s tomato (or chicken noodle) soup or chicken wings. Simple and plain, easy to make, American meals. Often the sides would come from a can. Canned corn. Canned peas. Canned beans. Canned spinach. We would eat salads. But fruit were pretty rare in our household. We would buy bananas maybe once a month.

Like I said, my wife was sick. I did all the cooking, and I was exhausted after dealing with my career and work. Only to come home to a house that looked like an army of five year olds played in it, and an out-of-control wife that was raging about something or another that she watched on television.

Today, things are quite different.

I tend to eat really well.

My wife does all the cooking, and every meal is planned and cooked by her. We go out numerous times during the week for a much more extensive meal which tends to be steaks, seafood, or specialty Chinese dishes.

And of course, there are always exceptions. There are days where I need to get something outside, or make up something myself. It's called "reality".

Today, my typical breakfast is usually a bean porridge, rice congiee, toasted Italian baguette, eggs and sausage and, of course coffee. Lunch tends to be the biggest meal of the day and it is a multi-dish affair with meats and vegetables. Dinner (supper) is slightly smaller. The difference is that I have a few beers during lunches, and my wine or VSOP at dinner.

When I am on travel, of course, I eat like a real King.

Let’s compare weekend recreation

This is also a big change, and again, doesn’t look like anything that I could have ever planned for. Back in the 1980’s my weekends were so damn predictable. We would go out for a breakfast in a diner, the highlight of the weekend might be a hike in a state forest, and I would spend most of the weekend tending to the things around the house. I would mow the grass, repair things, like the porches or windows, and of course, fix the perpetually broken car.

Today, I have a very relaxed lifestyle. We go out, walk a lot and enjoy nature. We eat really well. It might be boring to others, but lazing by the beach and chilling with a glass of wine in my hand is what I like to do.

This is not instragram

No it isn’t. This is real life.

But if I show you the pictures of my real life, it will just look “normal” and “everyday”. My life doesn’t look anywhere near as exciting and glamorous as Hollywood and social media makes out an “ideal” life to be.

Do not compare yourself to the images that you find on line.

I could have easily enough pulled off some amazing photos from the internet, pointed at them and said “this is me, and this Lamborghini is my car, and this beautiful instragram beauty is my wife”. But I didn’t.

Do not ever be under the impression that I have an “ideal ” life (what ever the fuck that means).

I have plusses and minuses in my life, just like every other person in this world. Just like you (the reader) does. And yes, just like you, there are things that I want to change, and things that I want to improve upon. And yes, I do maintain active affirmation / prayer campaigns. And yes, I have just finished one a few days ago.

And yeah, I do get it. What I have presented as my life looks just fantastic. Well, that is because I am using stock images and selected pictures off the internet. I tried to carefully select the ones closest in appearance and general “feeling” that represents the point that I am trying to make…

But, let’s be real. OK?

As in… REAL.

My life might not be what you, the reader might desire. It is what fits me. And I am sure that there are elements in my life that you would find undesirable. Please do not compare yourself to others, and certainly do not compare yourself to me. It’s like comparing apples to green-beans.

The reality is a little bit (not that much, though) different.

So, for instance the picture of a delicious steak does not mean that every single meal that I eat has steak. It means that I eat quite well, all things considered. I eat a lot of fresh food, and far more sea food than I did when I lived in the States. And while I might of had 80% of my day to day meals as fast food, today, it is much less than 1%.

I eat well.

But it is difficult to quantify directly… I eat delicious, and healthy and tasty food in nice eating establishments, or cooked at home with a degree of special care and love. It is not a mass produced GMO-laden artificial-food-product dished out to drone-workers in a corporate grind-mill.

I eat well.

The real deal; Metallicman and family having "paper fish" at a restaurant. The fish is cooked in a paper wrap with all sorts of spices and tasty vegetables. It is so very super delicious! So yes, I eat far better now than then, but it's not always steaks, don't you know. — The real deal; Metallicman and family having “paper fish” at a restaurant. The fish is cooked in a paper wrap with all sorts of spices and tasty vegetables. It is so very super delicious! So yes, I eat far better now than then, but it’s not always steaks, don’t you know.

And you know that chick that I use to represent my wife, is not my actual wife, but (you know) she actually is a pretty darn good approximation. Asian, big smile, attractive, stacked, nice long hair, great personality, happy. She’s fine for me, and yeah she had a lot of suitors. But she ‘chose” me. Good and bad.

Here’s a more realistic picture of her, not showing anything, with our youngest. Looks so plain, un-glamorous, and so very uninspiring. Right? Real life is not all glamor. It is… real.

Don't compare yourself to others. — Mrs. Metallicman with our metallic baby in front of our old house on the bay. It’s not instragram. It’s real life. And the point of all this is NOT to compare yourself to what you THINK others live their lives. You need to compare it to yourself based on your prior experiences.

And the picture of the guy holding the wine glass and relaxing. That isn’t me, and that isn’t my glass of wine. (I tend to fill the glass up to 80% full, not the “oh so dainty” one fourth glass full.) Nor is the guy pushing the lawn mower. In fact, in the 1980’s I had a used lawn mower that continually broke down all the time, and I was constantly playing around with it.

And that guy holding open the door for me to get in is actually a stock image off the internet. Though they really do open the doors and close them for me in actual life when I get into the automobile.

And the picture of the boss isn’t me, but gosh darn it, it could well be. My reality is not that far off from what is depicted. Let me tell youse guys that for certain. I am a BOSS. And I portray that image and that feeling. I don’t wear a tie, and if my customers can’t handle that fact, well… too bad.

And that image of me as a beta cluck worker drone in corporate cubicle-ville in the 1980’s could very much have been me.

So you can see that my life has it’s plusses and minuses.

And it is about tradeoffs.

For instance, I love living near the ocean in a laid back area, with friendly folk around. But living on the beach in the tropics is quite different from living in a mountain top, with swirling snow while you are all cozy and snuggled inside of a toasty cabin.

It’s about trade-offs.

To live on the beach in the tropics means that I will not be able to experience the cabin in the snow squall. Tradeoffs.

it’s all about tradeoffs and what matters to you personally.

Conclusion

It is all good and bad, and areas that need improvement, but all accounts much better than what it was forty years ago, and it wasn’t by accident either. I worked and toiled and controlled my mental processes to make it all happen.

So…

If that is what I can do, what about you?

You have something that I didn’t have. You have guidance, direction and skills on how to conduct prayer campaigns. I had to learn as a consequence of my MAJestic role, and a lot of it was forced trial and forced error. And now you can greatly improve your life to an extent that would amaze. So make it be.

Do you all want some more?

You can see more in my writings about Prayer and Affirmation campaigns here…

Affirmation / prayer campaigns

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When Math Meets Mayhem—and Pawprints Become Proof

Cluster slides.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Rapid fire in sequence.

Big ones, too.

DC is informing me that the slides are “regular maintenance” to the reality, but I am not… NOT agreeing.

Something more significant is going on.

Oh, “regular maintenance” my ass! Yeah, oh the DC got a big chuckle out of that.

*Regular maintenance is what the DC is supposed to say. But we (DC and I) actually know what is really going on. (Image of a 1920’s elevator with an “out of order” sign dangling at the gate.)

In any event, most of the slides are over.

I think the template (that we mostly inhabit) went from a very BIG BAD to a group cluster of small BADS.

And for most of the people, they will not notice it.

DC suggests that it’s a return to a reality template dated to the early 1960’s (whatever the HELL that is supposed to mean) which is more stable than the tattered-cluster-fuck that we are on right now.

Impression is that some stupid, selfish agents (meaning entities in physical bodies) got control of the reality controls and were driving the reality towards some ultra-crazed religious-based catastrophic nightmare (probably nuclear inspired) to create a realm where “heaven will be on earth” or some other nonsense like that.

They were stopped somehow.
The controls are back in place and locked in. Somehow.
Things are more stable. Somehow.

Oh for sure things are choppy, but the world war III thermonuclear fiasco was avoided (not the right word. Not avoided. It actually did occur and is actually happening right now, but only on a different world-line. Not on one that your consciousness now bulk inhabits. it’s someone else’s nightmare) because we all were carted off to a reality where it did not occur.

This is what JUST NOW happened.

(Well, actually over the last week, give or take).

And I might be the only one on the planet to knows about this and what just happened.

Ah. It SUCKS to be me.

Ignorance, as they say, is bliss.

I need a drink of whiskey.

-MM

Sir Whiskerton and the ‘Show Your Work’ Cat-astrophe

Or: When Math Meets Mayhem—and Pawprints Become Proof

Introduction

Dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of numbers, nonsense, and existential crises. Today’s story follows Ditto the Echoing Kitten as he faces his greatest challenge yet during his kitten-version of the Chinese Gaokao (高考): math homework.

When Taxman Ted attempts to audit Ditto’s scratch paper—covered in pawprints, drool, and what appears to be a faint outline of a fish skeleton—it sparks an uproar on the farm. Count Catula waxes poetic about depreciation, while Ditto licks everything in sight, declaring it all “salty.”

So grab your abacus (or maybe just some snacks) and enjoy Sir Whiskerton and the ‘Show Your Work’ Cat-astrophe.

Act 1: The Great Pawprint Equation

Ditto sat at his tiny desk, staring blankly at the math problem before him. His solution? A flurry of excited pawprints smeared across the page, interspersed with suspicious wet spots that smelled faintly of tuna.

Taxman Ted approached, clipboard in hand, adjusting his glasses dramatically.

“This… this can’t be depreciation,” Ted muttered, squinting at the chaotic mess. “Unless kittens depreciate?!”

Before anyone could respond, Count Catula swooped in, cape billowing theatrically.

“We all depreciate in the sunlight of truth,” he declared, placing a dramatic paw over his heart. “Even vampires—especially when taxed.”

Ditto blinked, overwhelmed by their conflicting interpretations. Then, true to form, he echoed both voices:
“Depreciate… sunlight… salty?”

Act 2: The Calculator Incident

As the debate raged on, Ditto became increasingly curious about Ted’s shiny calculator. Before anyone could stop him, he gave it an enthusiastic lick.

“SALTY!” Ditto yelped, recoiling dramatically.

Ted stared at his now-slobber-covered device in horror. “That was my only working calculator!”

Chef Remy LeRaccoon waddled up, sniffing the air. “Ah, mes amis! This calls for my newest invention: Edible Numbers™. Chewable digits infused with existential dread—and just a hint of tuna flavor.”

The animals exchanged horrified glances.

Act 3: Resolution Through Reflection

Sir Whiskerton finally intervened, herding everyone under the old oak tree for a moment of clarity.

“Friends,” he began gravely, “we must ask ourselves: What does it mean to ‘show your work’? Is it merely scribbling equations—or is it the journey of discovery itself?”

Porkchop snorted loudly. “I’m just here for the snacks.”

Ignoring him, Sir Whiskerton turned to Ditto. “True learning comes not from perfect answers, but from effort—even if that effort involves more drool than digits.”

Ditto nodded solemnly. “So… no more licking calculators?”

“Precisely,” Sir Whiskerton replied. “Unless they’re Chef Remy’s lasagna-flavored ones. Those are exempt.”

Post-Credit Scene

Count Catula stood triumphantly beside a glowing chalkboard covered in cryptic symbols. “Behold! My latest masterpiece: The Depreciation Sonata.”

Doris the Hen pecked suspiciously at one of the symbols. “Are these radioactive?”

Count Catula grinned. “Only slightly.”

Cue horrified squawks.

Moral of the Story

Effort matters more than perfection—even if your math homework looks like abstract art.

Best Lines

“This can’t be depreciation… unless kittens depreciate?!” – Taxman Ted, philosopher-accountant extraordinaire.
“We all depreciate in the sunlight of truth.” – Count Catula, self-proclaimed poet of despair.
“Salty!” – Ditto, accidental taste tester.

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Voice of Reason)
Ditto the Echoing Kitten (Abstract Artist)
Taxman Ted (Auditor Extraordinaire)
Count Catula (Dramatic Vampire Cat)
Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Munchies)

Summaries

Moral: Perfection isn’t the goal—effort is. Even if it involves pawprints and drool.
Key Jokes: From Ted’s existential confusion to Ditto’s salty discoveries, laughter abounds.
Future Potential: Could Chef Remy open a restaurant serving only edible homework? Or will Ditto face another existential crisis involving geometry?

Until next time, may your equations balance and your calculators remain drool-free. 📚

Indian journalists visited Tianjin, China and returned home shocked

Why doesn’t honey go bad?

Honey never spoils–Archaeologists have dug up jars of the stuff from ancient civilizations, perfectly edible after thousands of years in the earth. The secret is honey’s hostile environment for bacteria and fungi–It’s essentially concentrated sugar syrup with moisture levels so low they’re almost nonexistent. Any microbe that attempts to enter is dehydrated immediately. The sugar molecules suck every last bit of water from invading cells, which dry up and die.

But honey doesn’t even leave it at that. It also has a pH of approximately 4, rendering it an acidic wasteland in which most pathogens cannot survive–On top of that, bees leave behind glucose oxidase during production. This enzyme slowly converts sugars into hydrogen peroxide, rendering honey an ongoing antiseptic factory. So bacteria are dehydrated, acid burned, and chemically attacked simultaneously–It’s biologic overkill that keeps honey indefinitely.

How China SOLVED Homelessness While America Made It a Crime!🇨🇳🇺🇸

Time Is All We Have, My Friend.

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

James Scott

Reginald saw no change at all in the man sat across from him. He didn’t appear to have even moved. His old face was still creased with deep lines; his cheeks were redder than they used to be and what was left of his hair was just as grey as always. The damn fool had gone and gotten old. He hadn’t truly noticed until that moment. But then, when was the last time he had really looked at his friend? It never seemed necessary. He knew the twit’s face well enough, having to deal with it every damn day for the past thirty years. No matter. He was looking now, and he saw nothing the slightest out of place.“Well…?” He snapped.“It worked…” Jasper mumbled, wide eyed, “Reg, we’ve done it! We’ve actually gone and done it this time!”“What are you talking about, you daft prat! You didn’t go anywhere. I was watching the whole time! You didn’t move!”“Maybe not from your frame of reference…but I’m telling you, Reg, I’ve been sat here for the last minute, itching to tell you. I had to be sure though, had to go through the motions, until I caught back up to the present.”“I don’t believe you. What number prototype is this?” He said, gesturing to the crude box of circuits and wires on the table between them, “I lost count years ago. Still, I’d know if it had worked. I’d have seen it.”Jasper just nodded smugly. Man of few words was his colleague, and it suited Reginald just fine. Spend enough time locked in a lab with the same man and you began to wish only for silence from anyone. Jasper tossed his pocket watch across the table. It landed face down, with the loud clack of metal on wood. Spinning to a stop, it proudly displayed the engraving Reginald had paid an arm and a leg to have scratched onto the back plate of the time piece. A kingly gift for the mans fiftieth. “Time is all we have, my friend” it had once read crisply. Now it was battered and scraped with use. With a huff, he reached out and flipped the old thing over, and there it was. A minute ahead. He even pulled out his own matching model to compare. He had set them both himself before the testing began. They had read the same time. He was sure of it. Reginald looked up to see the satisfied grin on Jasper’s weathered old face. He’d just time travelled a minute into the past, and he knew it. After so many years of perseverance, Reginald should have been overjoyed. They had finally cracked the fourth dimension. Instead, curiously, all he felt was a sinking in his stomach.Glancing between the watch face and that of his friends, then back again, Reginald’s mouth worked, unable to produce a sound.“I know!” Was all Jasper could say, still nodding.“After all this time? After all of this…” Reginald whispered, looking around the room at all the government funded equipment lining the walls, “We’ve really done it? I guess I never actually believed-”“So, where are you going to go, old boy!?” Jasper barked, as excited as a fresh pup. His smile so broad it made his face seem foreign.Reginald looked down at his hands, still clutching the two watches. His wrinkled, veined and spotted hands. He was old, it was true. They both should have retired years ago. But no one else could have done what they had done, none understood what they did. It had taken a lifetime to wrap their own two heads around it. Now that they had succeeded, did age even matter anymore? Would it ever again?“What are you on about?” He asked, realising he had mostly forgotten the question.“It’s late. The whole facility is closed up. We’re alone. Before the powers that be come to claim our work as their own, we agreed to test it. Just us. Remember? I would take the risk and go first, since you’re a giant girl’s blouse, and if it worked, you’d go for real. So… where…when are you going to go?”“I-I don’t rightly know.” He admitted.“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you didn’t decide a decade ago!?”“Of course!” Reginald snapped, sliding the mans watch back across the table to him. He caught it deftly. It was impressively done. The old fart must have been brimming with adrenaline. “But it’s real now. That sheds a different light on things. I’ve thought so long and hard about what this could be used for, I’ve come full circle a dozen times.”“Lets make it simple then,” Jasper said, tucking his watch into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Future or past?”“Can you imagine me in the future?” Reginald laughed, “We might be leaders in our field, my friend, but I still need my son to show me how these damned phones work these days, and I barely understand a word my grandson spouts!”“Agreed, past it is then.” The other man said, rubbing his chin and looking to the ceiling, “Hitler?”

“Perhaps we should aim a little smaller than changing the entire course of human history on day one? Who knows what effects something like that could have…although maybe none, if you remember my theory.”

“That it would have just been someone else anyway?” Jasper asked.

“Well if you look at the state of Europe at that time, it was a powder keg!” Reginald began to argue.

“Yes, yes, I know.” His friend said, waving away the debate for another time, “You’re right, you should just observe. Like we talked about. No changes that could end with us anywhere but here, now. That’d be some feedback loop, sending you back, resulting in it impossible to send you back? That’d melt a few brains hey, old boy!”

“Yes, quite right.” Reginald said, pushing his glasses up his nose. Suddenly nervous.

“How about satisfying that little boy in you? Dinosaurs?” Jasper suggested.

“Tempting…but I’m not much for running anymore. Wouldn’t want to get eaten…” Reginald smiled, attempting to appear lighthearted about the idea. He stood up, grimacing at the ache in his ankles and the twinge in his back. Their funding hadn’t exactly stretched to comfortable chairs and if sitting was so arduous, hiding from gigantic reptiles in a tropical forest was most certainly out of the question. He tottered stiffly along the rows of equipment, tracing his finger along the polished tabletops.

“Look at all this,” he said, “all the tool’s we basically invented, in order to create that thing. If we were able to share even one of them, we would be heralded as visionaries. Ever regret taking their money? Agreeing to their terms?”

“Reg, stop procrastinating. We don’t have all night! They’ll find out soon enough. Then the chance will be gone, and it’ll be someone else taking the first steps on this proverbial moon.”

They both paused for the barest second and then simultaneously roared with laughter. Reginald slapped the stupid sod rather too hard on the shoulder and wiped the tears from his eyes, chuckling away as his mirth wound down.

“Just to be clear,” He wheezed, “anyone knocks on that door…who ever is closest hits the button and jumps back to the beginning of this conversation, then speeds us along. Deal?”

“Yeah, alright, Reg.” Jasper said, rubbing his own eyes dry, “Sorry. its late. I’m not a half-wit, I promise.”

“Bah! You’ve always been a pleb!” Reginald laughed, patting the man a couple more times on the shoulder.

They both thought in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncommon in their field to spend time exploring their own thoughts before lending them voice. Reginald was the first to speak up, his voice soft and conspiratorial.

“What about the other plan?” He ventured.

Jasper sighed and leaned back in his chair, placing both of his hands on the back of his head and stretching out his elbows.

“We never really entertained it before.” He said, evading the question.

“We should consider it now though, right? Now that its possible?”

“Well, I can confirm that when you go back, you’ll enter your own body of the time. I appeared right here, behind the same eyes, just as I was the previous minute. Except with knowledge of the sixty seconds to come. I knew everything you said, everything that happened, because I had already lived it. So that rules out any kind of ‘meeting yourself’ paradox.”

“So I could do it. Take the knowledge of this final product back to the younger versions of us? The poor sods who worked out of your aunts damp garage those first few years. I could save us thirty years of labour, simply returning with the solution?” Reginald asked.

“Wouldn’t that mean all of that work never happened though? So how could you return with a solution that had never been developed? Except that it would still exist, just without the work having been done? Isn’t that an issue?” Jasper asked.

Reginald slapped an open palm to his forehead and swore in the only way his wife had ever allowed.

“Biscuits!” He gasped, “Madeline. I met her while we were spending all that time at your aunts place. She and Maddie’s mother, they were friends. If I change this, none of that will happen. I’d never meet her. I can’t have that.”

“You could wait? Until after you meet? Reveal it then?”

“No. It wouldn’t work. What would she see in me now? I’m an old man! She was so full of life back then, so adventurous and bright. And I…I was so hell bent on my dreams, so passionate…”

“You’ll be in your old body you dolt!” Jasper laughed, “She’ll still see you as you were!”

“Will she?” Reginald snapped, “I don’t think so. Maybe in my face. My body. But I’m so different now. She will see it. She always saw it…always saw me.”

“I miss her too.”

“Its tempting though, ain’t it?” Reginald smiled, “She was a firecracker, no doubt about that. Or hey! What about Samantha. She admitted not so long ago she always had a crush on me back then. Maybe I could, you know, make that happen a little different? Before I ever meet Maddie?”

“Reg! You’re a dog!” Jasper cackled, “You’ve got my mind running now! All those missed chances…”

“Ah, to correct all the dumb things we moron’s did! Spare ourselves these thirty something years of struggle! Wouldn’t it be something!?”

“Sure would, Reg. Sure would. It wasn’t all bad though. Most of it, for sure. The lifetime of poverty and stress, chasing a dream straight out of a science fiction novel. Most people still think we are crazy, you know? But it wasn’t all bad. Not all of it.”

“No. Not all of it, old friend. Not at all.”

Silence reigned again and Reginald dumped himself back down into his chair. It had started as a gentle lowering, and ended with the uncontrolled drop of a man who should have been in bed hours ago.

“So,” Jasper said, hand back on his chin, muffling his words, “Dinosaurs are out, Hitler can live his sordid life. We commit to doing the work, for Maddie. What else is there? Maybe you go small, just drop in, grab a newspaper and come back?”

“Newspapers can be forged. Preserved. Its no kind of proof. Always thought that was stupid.” Reginald yawned.

“Well, whatever! Make it Napoleon’s hat for all I care! Just do a quick fly-by. No harm, no foul.”

“That’s what I think I’m coming to,” Reginald said, “I don’t think there’s any action I could take that wouldn’t cause harm. Future or past. I know you’ve thought on it as much as I have, Jasper.”

“A damn sight more, I should imagine.” He scowled.

“Can we really hand over something as powerful as this to our government benefactors? Will they sit around a table and talk like we are now, or will they just hit go and send some meat head with a machine gun leaping headfirst into disaster?”

“I think we both know that answer to that one,” Jasper said, rolling his eyes, “What are you saying here, Reg?”

“I’m saying I’ve had a good life. I’m an old man and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes. But I own my past. I treasure it. I wouldn’t give it up. Not a second with Maddie. Not my children or my grand babies. Not a minute of the time I’ve spent with you on this project. You damn fool. Would we really rewrite all that we’ve become? Because make no mistake, any single butterfly would do it!”

“You’re a sentimental jackass,” Jasper said, shaking his head, “But damn it if you aren’t right.”

“So what do we do then?” Reginald asked, lost for the answer himself. His mind foggy and wanting little more than his pillow.

“We do this.” Jasper said, leaning forward. The old man wobbled, putting all his slight weight on one hand against the table. With the other, he grasped a fistful of wires and half a circuit board and yanked hard, turning all their hard work into a mess of nothing.

“Alas, prototype number seven-hundred-and-forty-two is another failure. I do keep count.” He smiled, “So, back to it tomorrow? We’ll need to begin designs for the next one.”

“Yeah, alright, old friend. We’ll start again tomorrow.” Reginald nodded, the relief washing over him and suddenly making him exhausted.

They both stood slowly, fighting their own aches and pains, then wandered side by side toward the doors they had entered together every morning of their adult lives. Reginald slapped a hand to the old dolt’s shoulder, nodded his goodbye, and they both moved apart, heading home through the night.

Americans Are Living On the EDGE And Fed Up

Rant after rant, after rant. Worthwhile.

Do marriage counsellors ever tell couples to divorce?

My second wife and I decided (less than a year into it) that we needed to see a therapist. The problem was she insisted we go to her therapist, whom was seeing her once a week. I was to go every other session. I figured I’d give it a shot.

Over the course of several sessions it was clear this was a mistake. The therapist not only agreed with everything my wife said but agreed I need to change a lot of stuff to make my wife “more comfortable”.

Now, a little background for the reader: my wife had been diagnosed officially with Dissociative Identity Disorder (popularly known as “multiple personality”.) It wasn’t like a didn’t know this, and it wasn’t like I was unsympathetic. But another facet to the problem was that her therapist was a renowned specialist in treating D.I.D., and I began wondering if she was writing a book on her therapy with my wife, she was so biased toward her.

The next to last straw came my wife complained that when my 16 year old son had a buddy or two over, she felt terrified that they were going to gang rape her. The therapist ordered me to not let my son have friends at the house.

At that point I realized I was myself going nutso trying to keep my own sanity. I scheduled an appointment with a therapist my late first wife and I had used for a bit of marriage counseling (very successful therapy).

During my first session my therapist suggested a joint session with my wife and me and both therapists present. She set it up.

It didn’t go well. My own therapist tried to maintain a neutral face but I could see her straining at it.

After this I had a return session solo with my therapist. Among other things, she said, and I still remember the exact words 28 years later: “I ordinarily would never say something like this, at least so early in our consultation, but I don’t see any possible path forward for your marriage.”

I trusted this therapist based on prior experience. I made an appointment with a divorce attorney and started the process.

If you are about to get in a fight, what is your opening intimidating line?

Don’t talk, hit.

When I was 11 I started high school and was the tallest kid in the school year, but I wasn’t a fighter, so bullies used to pick fights with me to show they could beat a big guy. Sometimes they’d say they were going to beat me up after school. So school life was pretty miserable. One day though I watched Survival, a 1970s UK TV nature program. The episode was about Lions. I learned how lions fight. They’re not super-fast but they use their weight to absorb punishment, grab hold of their opponent and then go in for the kill. That taught me that I needed to use my size and weight. I wasn’t a great boxer, I could not throw fast punches and being shortsighted I needed to take my spectacles off to fight, which left me half-blind, a distinct disadvantage in a stand-up fight. By combining wrestling with boxing though, that disadvantage ceased to matter. Like the lion I’d soak up some punches to get in close, grab a good hold, and then beat the shit out of them. I didn’t need to be able to see well or punch fast, I just needed to be able to soak up their initial attack, and I could do that.

As regards the ones who then threatened what they’d do to me out of school on the way home, as soon as they made that threat, I’d just hit them with a shot there and then, regardless of the time or place. I once did it in a French lesson with a guy sitting opposite me, and once in the school dinner hall with the guy who was the supposed ‘cock of the school.’ I bust his nose and lips and he ended up covered in his school dinner to the great amusement of the 300 other kids in the hall at the time. Of course, it meant that I was often in trouble with teachers who’d see me throw my punch but who wouldn’t know what had gone on in the run-up. Even so, getting detentions and having to explain myself was better than having the asshole’s pals join in against me the minute the bully boy found out he’d bitten off more than he could chew. The reputation I got for letting fly anywhere anytime meant that pretty soon they stopped picking on me. Problem solved.

Here’s the lesson: Bullies don’t actually want a fight. They want to frighten and thus dominate you. The minute they get a smack in the mouth, they are the ones on the back foot. It’s the same with muggers. They don’t want a fight, they want your wallet. I’m 62 now and three times in my life I’ve had guys try to mug me. I’ve never given up so much as a penny but one of them ended up in hospital and another in jail.

There are people who say that violence is never the answer. Sadly, they are wrong. You have to be able to defend yourself, and you have the right to do so.

The METOO Movement Hit The WRONG Men! Now The Nice Guys Aren’t Approaching

What is pemmican, and how does one make it?

Pemmican is shelf-stable meat loaf.

Making meat shelf stable without pasteurization was a trick learned early in human history. There are people who have been using the same pemmican recipes for forty thousand years.

The trick is the render the loaf too dry to support bacterial growth and too greasy for yeast growth, then add ingredients that preserve the meat and grease against rancidity.

It helps if you can make the loaf really big and blocky, which protects the bulk of the pemmican from perfused oxygen.

Thus the ultimate, sin qua non pemmican is something called a Tauron.

When French trappers made their way west of what’s now Ontario they met people who hunted bison without horses.

The migratory bison passed their way only twice each year, but these locals knew how to render bison into immense blocks of pemmican that trappers dubbed ”taurons”. Each block could keep for over a year and feed the crew of a canoe for months on end.

The trappers learned to depend on these taurons being there when they started a trapping run, and brought as their provisions mainly salt, tobacco, bagged split peas and pepper.

Each tauron weighed ninety pounds. It was all the fat of a single bison rendered to dry tallow in a skin bag hung over a fire, to which fire-dried meat and sweetbreads (mainly lung) would be added after first pounding them into a fluff.

When they had added enough dried, broken meat to soak up the tallow they turned it out onto a scraped rawhide and began working small dried berries into it, turning over and over until it was crusted.

They they cut and sewed the hide into a skinbag shaped a bit like a stuffed duffel bag, closing it with a flap.

The trick was to add lung to the mix. Lung is rich in ascorbic acid which halts damage due to oxidation. The berries are important too; they bring eugenol-like biostatic compounds similar to clove oil into the mix, as well as benzoic acid, a potent rancidity fighter.

Making it as big as a man could carry was the other trick. For the same reason that hard cheeses are traditionally made into immense dense lumps as big (or bigger) than a man can carry, taurons were made big and blocky to self-protect against rancidity due to perfused oxygen. The sewed-on rawhide helped, but it was the sheer density and thickness of the block that did most of the work keeping oxygen out and rancidity halted.

A day’s ration would be prepared by opening the end flap and paring off some pemmican, to which would be added split peas, salt and pepper. Stewed for hours this becomes rich stew somewhat like ham and pea soup. The pea starch soaks up a lot of the bison tallow and becomes like a roux. The trappers and their rowers would eat this stew hot and cold throughout the day, before stopping to make camp and prepare a new batch.

The trappers didn’t invent this ration; it came as instructions with the taurons themselves. The people who knew how to make taurons had been eating similar food since before coming to North America from Asia, made from all sorts of critters we know only from fossils today. Their ancestors had settled where they did to maintain access to both the berries and the bison, and thus had kept the knack for making taurons when many other groups didn’t.

Taurons had powered the eastward expansion of mankind into North America, sent wave after wave of migrating nations into rich new lands beyond the sunrise. Many a block of pemmican had traveled for a year or more beyond the hunting grounds, feeding walkers and towers alike, until travelers reached warm climates where other travel rations proved necessary.

And because they contain no bones, no stones, the taurons themselves vanished from the paleontological record.

China’s Strategic Blow to U.S. Military Power | Jeffrey David Sachs!

What are the differences between a trip to Japan and a trip to China for an Indian traveler? Which one would be a better choice and why?

I have lived in Japan and in China. An Indian here. Let me give you a no fluff answer.

Japan is more expensive than China. China is much affordable though it has its expensive pockets.

As an Indian you might face racism in both countries but while Japanese will not show it because they are polite Chinese won’t show it because they value their own face value more than the pleasure of being a racist like westerners. Though do note that in Japan you can be stopped from entering a restaurant for not being a Japanese but in China that will never happen. However this racism is nuance compared to what you face in your favourite country.

In Japan every corner, alley, area, city, village, mountain, valley is beautiful. In China the natural beauty is more at a travelling distance.

Technology wise China is making huge jumps daily while Japan has done all that long back. China has extremely high speed trains to travel around while Japan high speed trains are like a thing of the past. They have been there since before you were born. That’s a Chinese high speed train.

You will find Chinese food much more appealing than the Japanese food. Chinese food can be spicy should you want it but in Japan if you go for a spicy food they make it like a mission. Below is a levelling system which you will find in such restaurants. Know your place in this universe and order accordingly. I have tried level 6 and I stopped midway when I could go no further and I am an Indian so that’s saying something. Be wise.

China is noisy like really noisy. Japan is much calmer. Both are clean and both have their dirty areas. A dirty alley in Japan.

Both have English spoken in cities and have signs in English. You go to the countryside and you might need a translator in both the countries.

Women from two countries are very opposite of each other. Chinese girls can be snobbish but Japanese are cute even when they act snobbish. Both are amazingly beautiful though and not fat. Infact fat women are so rare in Japan that having a fat girlfriend is like a desire for some guys in Japan. There are no fat girls in China.

In Japanese restaurant leaving food in the plate is considered rude. You need to finish it up if you ordered it. In China don’t try to bargain on the prices too much. They hate it.

Both countries are safe and not like western countries safe but real safe. Nobody on the train will bother you. No one will tell you to go back to your country and no one will try to start an unasked conversation. They both value your privacy.

In terms of work culture both countries value hard work. Respect at a work place is of paramount importance. People ask me that they have heard that there is a high work pressure there. That’s a western mentality. You finish your work more than what’s expected of you and your life is a breeze. That’s how the work is supposed to be. So if you are from a country where they stop the time of the universe for one hour just because it’s winters and you feel lazy to get up, these countries are not for you. If you don’t value work don’t even think of immigrating there. In work life balance, work comes first.

Both of these countries are known for their hospitality. Being rude is considered idiotic and not confident. You smile and they smile, and they will smile first.

If you act classy in both countries you will do just fine.

Mandarin Orange Chicken Stir Fry

Ingredients

Chicken

Olive oil
Minced garlic
Cooked boneless chicken breast, cut into julienne strips
Mandarin orange segments
White rice cooked in chicken broth

Stir Fry Vegetable Blend

Sugar snap peas
Broccoli
Water chestnuts
Carrots
Baby corn
Celery
Mushrooms
Red pepper
Onion
Bean sprouts

Instructions

Heat wok until warm; add olive oil and minced garlic. Cook for 1 minute.
Add stir-fry vegetables. Sauté until tender; move to sides of wok.
Add chicken, and sauté until temperature is 165 degrees F.
Mix chicken and vegetables together, add mandarin oranges, and cook until oranges are warm.
Serve on top of a bed of warm rice.

Notes

Add soy sauce if desired.

Are you proud of the Mali people for kicking the greedy Chinese out that exploited them for gold?

No, I am proud of the Rwandan Defence Forces.

Amid the scorching African heat, the Rwandan soldiers each fastened their uniforms tightly and adhered to strict discipline.

This demonstrates to the world that the Chinese People’s Liberation Army’s reputation for “excellent conduct and the ability to win battles” is not empty talk. The Rwandan soldiers trained by the PLA have perfectly inherited its fine traditions.

Paul Kagame is the best African leader in nearly half a century.

Under his leadership, Rwanda underwent tremendous changes in just a few decades and became a rich and powerful country in Africa.

I am very optimistic about Rwanda. Rwanda’s success has provided a model for Africa, which will change the order in Africa in the future.

As for former French West African colonies like Mauritania, Senegal, Niger, Mali, Guinea, Côte d’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, and Benin, they were deeply influenced by France. Their repeated swings back and forth under French influence are perfectly normal, but only fleeting. Sooner or later, these former colonies will finally break free from the influence of their former colonial masters.

The Seven Major Gold Mining Companies Active in Africa

Barrick Gold – A Canadian company headquartered in Toronto, operating mines such as “Loulo-Gounkoto” in Mali and “Kibali” in Tanzania.
Newmont Mining – An American company, with its “Ahafo” mine in Ghana being one of its major projects.
AngloGold Ashanti – A South African company with 10 mines in Ghana, Guinea, and Tanzania.
Kinross Gold – A Canadian company operating the “Tasiast” mine in Mauritania.
Gold Fields – A South African company with mines in Ghana and South Africa.
Newcrest Mining – An Australian company with operations in Côte d’Ivoire, acquired by Newmont in 2023.
Sibanye Stillwater – A South African company producing gold and precious metals in mining areas such as “Witwatersrand” and “Free State.”

China also has many companies investing in Mali, but not in gold mines.

Hainan Mining and Kodar Mining have jointly established the Bougouni Lithium Mine, with the Malian government also holding a stake.
Ganfeng International Co., Ltd. has acquired the Goulamina Lithium Mine from Australia’s Leo Lithium, with the Malian government also holding a stake.

Pictures

Was America a paradise for Native Americans before Europeans arrived?

Hi, Native American here.

The very idea that we were peaceful people who were victims of colonialism is a gigantic lie. We were not peaceful. We warred against each other and took territory all the time. If we wanted a river that had lots of fish and it was controlled by another tribe, we either kicked their asses and took it while enslaving the loser tribe, or we got our ass licked trying. And we would be enslaved.

We colonized all the time, made the people we colonized speak our language and forced our culture onto them.

That’s the honest to gods truth. The truth leftists don’t want you to know.

And if we had the technology, the numbers, and the diseases, we would have colonized Europe. It would have been us coming east across the Atlantic. Because that’s what humans do.

Americans in Europe But They Get Increasingly CLUELESS…

What are your thoughts on ZTZ-201? Do you think it’s any good?

Ah, the funny new Chinese support tank.

To be clear out the gate, the actual title is the Type-100.

(Type-100 tank during rehearsals for the September 3 parade)

You know that old joke about opening up a dictionary to a term and finding a picture? Yeah that applies to this thing. If your ever wondering what a cutting edge tank design looks like, this is it.

To summarize the publicly known features, the turret is completely unmanned and armed with a 105mm cannon. This is in addition to a CITV integrated to the vehicles RCWS, which appears to mount a 12.7x108mm MG, and a coaxial 7.62mm MG of some description. The vehicle uses the GL-6 hard kill active protection system employing both turreted launchers and fixed firing vertical mounted launchers.

The tanks power pack is a hybrid diesel electric unit, outputting a purported 1,500 horse power.

Accompanying the traditional battery of periscopes is no less then four radar systems, almost certainly phased array, and a significant number of onboard camera’s. Visible on screen is that the crew are wearing heads up display visors. This indicates that the vehicle is likely to overlay sensor data onto the crews visors as they operate the vehicle, offering a substantial increase in situational awareness compared to effectively all other tanks in service.

It’s also been noted that the commanders RCWS is able to be slaved to the commanders HUD, meaning that the commander can aim the MG turret and its optics by simply moving his head.

Also, the entire vehicle weighs no more then 45 metric tonnes.

What does this equate to in practical terms?

This thing is the AFV equivalent of the starship enterprise right now. Because its already reported to be in limited service, China’s managed to beat all the other contenders to the punch when it comes to getting a tank with an unmanned turret onto the field. That’s impressive, especially since nobody knew of this machine until a few early prototype pictures leaked a couple months ago, and it became more widely known with photos of the parade rehearsal. It may not be the first one designed, but the first to serve is very impressive.

Technologically, its out competing everyone else currently. While the US and much of Europe have discussed fielding hybrid powerpacks for the better part of the last two decades, nobody else has a serving example. The CITV and RCWS are also ahead of the game given the motion tracking. This is to say nothing of the GL-6, which thanks to the inclusion of the vertical launch tubes, confirms itself as being ready to deal with top attack munitions, something that cannot be said about really any other hard kill APS on the market.

With all the good, there is a practical knock against it, and that’s the gun. At 45 tonnes, carrying a 105mm cannon is a questionable move, even with the rumors of China’s latest sabots making the AT performance between the 105mm and 120/125mm class cannons largely negligible.

Of course, it also only weighs in at 45 tonnes. This thing can go places where a lot of prospective opponents, particularly American armour, cannot hope to deploy to. Certainly not reliably at least.

The end result is a fire support asset with at a glance, phenomenal protection and mobility. China now has an exceptional asset for expeditionary forces and regional conflicts.

Marry Me Chicken

It is said that serving this to a man will elicit an immediate marriage proposal. It is that good! But it could also refer to the marrying of flavors in this delicious dish. Either way, it’s a keeper!

Prep: 15 min | Cook: 20 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

8 ounces angel hair or vermicelli pasta*
2 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth, divided
1/4 cup whipping cream
1/2 cup freshly shaved Parmesan cheese
1 pinch red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon ground thyme
1 (6.3 ounce) jar sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained and roughly chopped
1/4 cup thinly sliced fresh basil

Instructions

Bring a large pot of water to a boil over medium-high heat. Season the water generously with salt. Add the pasta and cook until al dente according to the package directions. Drain and set aside. Keep warm.
Cut chicken breasts horizontally to make two chicken cutlets.
In a shallow dish, mix together the flour, salt and pepper. Coat all four pieces of chicken with this mixture.
Heat the butter and oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the coated chicken breasts and cook for 3 to 4 minutes on each side, or until they are golden brown and cooked through.
Remove the chicken from the skillet and set aside.
In the same skillet, add the minced garlic and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, or until fragrant.
Stir in the chicken broth and whipping cream, deglazing the pot as you stir.
Then add the Parmesan cheese, red pepper flakes, oregano and thyme. Stir together over low to medium heat.
Add the sun dried tomatoes to the skillet and stir until the sauce is well combined. Continue stirring and on a low simmer for 5 minutes as the sauce thickens and bubbles.
Add the chicken to the skillet for 10 more minutes, spooning the sauce over the chicken, until heated through.
Garnish with freshly chopped basil, and serve warm over your favorite pasta.

Notes

* You can use any type of pasta you like or even rice or potatoes.

This dish may be stored in a covered airtight container for up to three days.

Attribution

Photo credit: irisphotos / CC BY

You’re the TV

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Carina Caccia

If you could travel to the future, would you? Would you risk knowing an outcome and thereby realising it, ensnared in a self-fulfilling prophecy that mightn’t have eventuated had you not known?On the nightstand sat a silver bowl like a miniature satellite dish or a metal hibiscus, an antenna in its centre.“So, it’s a time machine?” said Melissa, cross-legged on white sheets.“Not quite,” said Nora. “It’s a time dish – it collects signal, waves, from existing superpositions yet to be collapsed.”“Alternate realities, then?”“Alternate potential realities – or futures, I suppose.”“Here,” she said, handing Melissa a white cap from which wires grew like hair. “It’s an EEG cap. We typically use it to monitor brainwaves, but when attached to the dish, it transmits time directly to you. You’re the receiver – the TV, so to speak.”“I’m the TV?” said Melissa, pulling it on.“You’re the TV. Now sit back—” she plumped a cushion— “and make yourself comfortable. We need you in Hemi-Sync.”“Are you sure it’s safe? I mean, it can’t go wrong, really, can it?”“Melissa… We can postpone if you’re not ready.”Melissa sighed. “Are we ever?”She downed a glass of water, audible gulp, and closed her eyes. Inhale, exhale. And very quickly, from years of practice, she slipped into Theta.*Welcome mat like a large cork coaster, floral border in red and yellow and green. Melissa rang the doorbell and muffled Mozart played once, then twice. Her stomach curdled like milk – something was off.“I’m not answering,” she mumbled, eyes clamped shut, forehead vein like a vine.“Try the window,” said Nora, leaning back in her chair and biting the butt of her pen.And so Melissa did, she tried the window, stumbling over flowerpots, their occupants bowed and withering. The sliding of glass. A pane smudged with fingerprints. She squeezed through the frame, out of sunshine and birdsong, and into the silence of a pristine kitchen. Dishrack full, crockery so white it winked. Pessoa on the counter half-read, shadow of a white lace curtain projected across the checkered linoleum.Fridge, empty. Instant noodles in the pantry. A Snickers wrapper in the otherwise empty bin. There was little else there in the kitchen – uninhabited, it almost seemed.Melissa peered into the next room – unopened letters in the hallway beneath the front door. She leant down only to find her full name, as small as thread, in each of the envelope windows. Red stripes, red stamps. Her stomach sank.“Is everything alright?” came Nora’s voice as though over a PA system.

Melissa didn’t respond – a smell, something sickly sweet like rotten meat, lured her down the hall to the bathroom door where she turned the knob.

A strangling stench. Her head throbbed. A buzz as loud as a beehive – and a fly, green and bottle-eyed, diving through the crack.

Melissa? Nora’s voice, ignored.

Wine bottle on the floor. Aluminium blister pack, like a domino, empty.

A hand—Melissa gagged—a hand, swarmed with black and white, overhanging the bathtub. Grains of rice, only grains of rice – squirming grains of rice.

Her insides emptied themselves onto the tiles. Burning throat and nose, acid eyes, maggot-ridden mind, and swarming flies. Retreated – she retreated, stumbling.

Nora was monitoring the screen, sipping at green tea, when Melissa’s brainwaves shot from Theta into Gamma.

Thud of porcelain against wood as Nora abandoned her cup and rose to her feet.

A metre away Melissa removed the cap with jittery hands, as careful as one in a minefield. Don’t move. Stillness. And the silver time dish, like a metal frill-necked lizard, seemed to glare at her, an inanimate object registering, at least to her nervous system, as a threat. Frozen and wide-eyed she sat.

“What did you see?” asked Nora, hurrying to her bedside.

No response.

Nora knelt on the white carpet and took Melissa’s hand in hers. Cold and clammy, it was, nail beds turnip white.

“It’s not fixed, Melissa. What you saw – it isn’t fixed.”

At this, Melissa lifted her head and the women’s eyes locked like a Chinese finger trap. Neither blinked for a minute. A transmission of sorts.

“All it means,” said Nora, “is that your energy is in homogeneity with that future right now.” She’d had this conversation before – once, believe it or not, on the receiving end. She rose from the carpet, poured a second cup of tea.

Melissa accepted, hands abuzz like a room with voices. And the tea, it rocked, it sloshed against the cup’s lip.

“So,” she managed, swallowing, “I’m on a collision course with that future?” as though it were a meteoroid hurtling towards her.

“You could say that. But it isn’t real, not yet.”

“So, what is it if not real?”

“A potential reality,” said Nora. “And judging by your reaction, one that you’d like to avoid.”

“Right, and how so?”

“Change.”

“But grief has become my identity,” managed Melissa. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

“You’re the TV.”

“What do you mean?”

“You receive signal but at the end of the day it’s you who turns it into something – into images, sound, reality. You convert the invisible into something perceptible, something real.”

“But it was all already out there, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly – there are a million superpositions waiting to be collapsed, to be realised. But whatever signal you pick up, whatever you’re in consonance with, is ultimately what you bring into fruition, what you collapse into being.”

Melissa nodded. Pursed her lips. Something was still shaken behind her eyes.

“You’re not grief,” said Nora. “You’re just vibrating at that frequency.”

“Right.”

“So, what did you see?”

Self-fulfilling prophecies – not only do they work backwards; they work forwards, too. It’s no mystery you go wherever you believe you’re going, and you needn’t a time machine, a time dish or clues to tell you as much. Because despite your doubt and disillusionment, your deterministic sense of defeat, your damning naïveté and foredooming self-deceit, you – you’re the TV. What, don’t you believe me?

What is an example of when your dog puts two and two together?

Many years ago, my then wife and I and our two toddlers brought home a rescue German Shepherd. Some weeks or months later, we were sitting on the front porch watching the kids play in the front yard. This was in an older city neighborhood with big back yards and narrow front yards, a sidewalk, a “boulevard”, and then the street.

Well, anyway a couple of times one or the other of the kids wandered into the street and I, or my wife, ran out to them, gave them a little swat (on their diapered butt), said “no, no, don’t play in the street” a, led them back into the yard. After a few times of us doing this, as the kid once again head for the street, the dog ran up to them, got between them and the street, and “herded” them back into the yard. She (IIRC) did this several more times until, either, the kids stopped going into the street, or we went into the house.

Why do so many people like Keanu Reeves?

Keanu Reeves isn’t your ordinary celebrity. Far from it.

Keanu Reeves is a famous actor around the world. Known for movies such as ‘The Matrix’, John Wick, just to name a couple… the list goes on and on.

It’s not only his acting skills and good looks, but everyone loves him. The main reason? Because he’s such a humble and down to earth person.

He’s the opposite of your typical celebrity.

Do you know any celebrity that takes the subway? Or flies economy class? Or takes a walk in the park and enjoys his sandwich on the park bench?

I would never have thought it was possible, but Keanu Reeves does all these seemingly “ordinary” things.

That’s right. That’s Keanu Reeves taking the subway in New York. Just like everyone else.

Despite his success and millions in the bank, he doesn’t drive a fancy car. Instead, he commutes using public transportation.

So what does he do with all his money?

He gives most of it away to charity and to help others in need. After the Matrix movies made more than $1 billion in the box office, Keanu took home an estimated $75 million.

He gave each member of the FX and costume teams $1 million. And he also gifted the entire stunt team Harley Davidson motorbikes.

Who wouldn’t love this man? He’s so humble, generous, famous but doesn’t care about his fame.

He should be a role model for all the celebrities out there. That just because you’ve found fame and success, you shouldn’t forget about the ordinary things.

Hope this has been an interesting read!

Which historical or political fact would surprise a lot of people?

I’m sure many people must have heard of the financier and investment banker J.P. Morgan (1837–1913), one of the most prominent figures in the history of the United States in terms of its economy. He was known for having bailed out the US government during the financial panics of 1895 and 1907 and saving the American economy from collapse, for spearheading the formation of industrial giants like General Electric, U.S Steel, and American Harvester, for reorganising and stabilising many railroads, and of course, for founding founding the firm that’s now called J.P. Morgan Chase & Co. He was also called a “robber baron” for his cutthroat-capitalistic and monopolistic tendencies.

If you look at his official photos, he’ll come across like this:

Looks completely normal aside from a slightly large nose. Doesn’t it?

However, this isn’t what he normally looked like, and the photo has undergone touch-ups.

Why?

It’s because J.P. Morgan suffered from a condition called rhinophyma, a condition characterised by a bulbous, enlarged nose with thick, red skin, visible pores, and a bumpy, lumpy surface. Due to this condition, he actually looked like this:

He was extremely protective of his public image, due to which he would make sure that his nose didn’t appear like this in his photos. He would demand that the photographers retouch the negatives or prints to remove imperfections, soften wrinkles, and make his nose look normal.

Which is why, whenever someone took his photo without him knowing (provided Morgan found out), he would become enraged. Here’s one example:

He didn’t just do this out of body insecurity. He also did this because he believed that coming across as a dominant, commanding figure and controlling how he appeared in newspapers, magazines, and journals helped him maintain influence over the investors, the government, and the public. Not to forget how having no imperfections is often seen as a symbol of wealth and sophistication (which is still the case).

Turns out that Stalin was not the only moustache guy obsessed with retouching photos.

What a Polish Teacher Saw in New York Schools Will Shock You: A WARNING for America

When Technology Meets Poultry—and Fails Spectacularly

How are you all holding up? Most of you guys won’t notice anything different. But it really is.

Facts…

We just went though multiple world-line slides in rapid succession. With more on the way.

Think of reality as a deck of cards. and our consciousness is in every one of the cards. but the cards that have the highest percentage of our consciousness is the top card on the deck.

Now, the cards are being rearranged.

Our percentages are staying the same. You are still the top card, and then the second card, and so on and so forth.

But (for your consciousness) the top card is no longer “The Joker”, it is the “King of Hearts”.

For other people it still might be “The Joker” and they are living though world war III. But not you.

So you might feel a little dizzy, but that’s far better than living inside a world that is in the middle of a world war. So everything is sliding.

So the table analogy still stands. The “table” is the “top card” in the deck of cards. Confused? Don’t be. It’s all pretty simple.

Reality is shifting, and your is getting better.

I think the worst of the shifts are over.

I do not know who is doing this, but I do have an idea as to why. -MM

Today…

Sir Whiskerton and the Robot Chicken Cheating Scandal

Or: When Technology Meets Poultry—and Fails Spectacularly

Introduction

Welcome, dear reader, to a tale of academic ambition, technological tomfoolery, and poultry-based pandemonium. In today’s story, Ditto the Echoing Kitten finds himself in hot water during his kitten-version of the Chinese Gaokao (高考). Desperate for help, he turns to Professor Quackenstein, who unveils his latest invention: a robot chicken programmed to assist with exams. Unfortunately, this clucking contraption only knows one word—”BANANA”—and promptly blue-screens mid-test.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ducky seizes the opportunity to sell the robot’s “answers” as NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens), sparking a farmwide frenzy over what is essentially digital gibberish. So buckle up—or should we say “peck up”—for Sir Whiskerton and the Robot Chicken Cheating Scandal.

Act 1: The Birth of the Clucking Genius

Ditto sat nervously at his desk, staring blankly at the exam paper. His tiny paws trembled as he whispered to Sir Whiskerton, “I can’t do this!”

“Fear not, young apprentice,” said Sir Whiskerton, adjusting his monocle. “Professor Quackenstein has just the solution.”

Enter the professor, dragging behind him a shiny, futuristic chicken-bot adorned with blinking lights and a nameplate reading Clucktron 9000.

“This marvel of modern science will guide you through your test,” declared Professor Quackenstein proudly.

The robot whirred to life, tilting its metallic head dramatically before declaring in a monotone voice:
“BANANA. BANANA.”

Ditto blinked. “…That’s it?”

Before anyone could respond, Clucktron’s screen flickered wildly before displaying a bright blue error message:
ERROR 404: INTELLIGENCE NOT FOUND.

Act 2: The Great Banana Boom

As Ditto struggled to make sense of the situation, Mr. Ducky waddled into the scene, clipboard in wing. Spotting the malfunctioning robot, his eyes lit up like fireworks.

“Rare digital knowledge!” Mr. Ducky announced, slapping a price tag on Clucktron’s side. “Limited edition answers, folks! Only 50% off today!”

Within moments, the entire farm descended into chaos. Animals gathered around, waving their hooves, paws, and flippers to bid on the robot’s “wisdom.”

Chef Remy LeRaccoon scratched his head. “But all it says is ‘banana.’”

Mr. Ducky leaned in conspiratorially. “Exactly! It’s abstract. Avant-garde. Post-modern genius!”

Even Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow couldn’t resist joining in. “Ooh, I’ll take three bananas’ worth!”

Amidst the madness, Ditto stood frozen, echoing the robot’s endless refrain:
“Banana! Banana!”

Act 3: Resolution Through Reflection

Sir Whiskerton finally intervened, herding everyone back under the old oak tree for a moment of clarity.

“Friends,” he began gravely, “we must ask ourselves: What are we truly seeking here? Is it wisdom? Or merely shortcuts disguised as progress?”

Porkchop snorted. “I’m just here for the snacks.”

Ignoring him, Sir Whiskerton turned to Ditto. “True learning comes from effort, not shortcuts. Even if those shortcuts come wrapped in shiny metal chickens.”

Ditto nodded solemnly. “So… no more banana bots?”

“Precisely,” Sir Whiskerton replied. “Unless they’re serving fruit salad.”

Post-Credit Scene

Mr. Ducky stood triumphantly beside a glowing billboard advertising Clucktron 2.0. Beneath the slogan “Smarter Chickens, Better Grades!”, a new robot clucked monotonously:
“WATERMELON. WATERMELON.”

Chef Remy sighed. “At least it’s seasonal.”

Cue horrified squawks.

Moral of the Story

Shortcuts rarely lead to success—and sometimes, they just leave you hungry for bananas.

Best Lines

“BANANA. BANANA.” – Clucktron 9000, philosopher-chicken extraordinaire.
“Rare digital knowledge! 50% off!” – Mr. Ducky, master marketer.
“Banana! Banana!” – Ditto, accidental parrot.

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Voice of Reason)
Ditto the Echoing Kitten (Accidental Cheat)
Professor Quackenstein (Mad Scientist of Poultry Tech)
Mr. Ducky (Hustler Extraordinaire)
Clucktron 9000 (Blue-Screening Genius)

Summaries

Moral: Hard work beats shortcuts every time—even if the shortcut involves robots and fruit.
Key Jokes: From Clucktron’s existential crisis to Mr. Ducky’s absurd sales pitch, laughter abounds.
Future Potential: Could Clucktron evolve into a sentient being? Or will Mr. Ducky start selling glow-in-the-dark bananas next?

Until next time, may your exams be fair and your bananas ripe. 🍌

How do you emotionally handle going to more funerals than weddings as you age?

My reaction and processing of grief has changed as I have grown older. I guess it has happened so much that I am “getting better at it.” Both parents, all siblings save one are gone. Many dear family members and close friends have died. I almost lost my dear husband in a freak accident a few years ago. Beloved pets, treasured colleagues, crib deaths/ still borns, military conflict, overdoses, suicides, car accidents, cancer, even murders— I have seen it all.

I even co-wrote a book for very young children “Everyone Dies,” to help children start to process this fact of life.

When in my 20s-30s, I felt the loss more keenly: maybe it was because I was looking ahead to a long future without that person, and wondered how I would cope? Now that I am almost 70, it is very different. Experience has taught me coping strategies, and there is no long future yawning ahead. In fact, I am now processing and preparing for my own inevitable death. I believe in an afterlife, and so am looking forward to reconnecting with those who have gone before me, if that’s possible. My feeling about death is more anticipation and wonder than fear.

At funerals you see people comforting the bereaved spouse/parent/child/sibling, who is generally weeping and exhausted, bereft. The younger they are, the more profound the reaction. I have noticed that when the bereaved is very old— 80 or more— they are usually hugging and comforting the attendees! Pats on the back ,“There there dear, it will be alright.” They seem more resigned, calm, at peace. By this time they understand that death is a normal part of life, and somehow they will go on.

This is a generalization, and not true in all instances. But it is true for me and my own circle of friends and family. It is a great blessing of old age. We feel grief, but we feel it differently.

Are Iranian missiles as good as the Chinese ones?

China conducts as many hypersonic flight tests in one year as the US does in ten. Moreover, the success rate of China’s hypersonic tests is surprisingly high – there’s never been any news of a crash. Guess why that is.

Have you ever heard of a wind tunnel?

It’s as crucial to missiles as a ruler is to drawing a straight line. Of course, you could build missiles and rockets without wind tunnel for testing, but you’d have to fail so many times that your economy couldn’t possibly bear the cost.

Most countries can build ordinary wind tunnels, The ones which blowing cars, for example, 0.2 Mach, and all you really need is a civil power supply.

There are bigger ones too. Take the US, for example, they built a tunnel last November that could reach 10 Mach, which is about what China could do over 20 years ago. Russia’s fastest wind tunnel reaches 8 Mach, the US claims to have theoretical tunnels capable of 15 and 30 Mach once, but they’ve never actually used them.

As for China, maximum speed, 33 Mach, named as JF-22.

Wind tunnels are the only way to realistically simulate conditions for rockets and hypersonic missiles in a lab, and running a single test costs a huge amount of money. Both France and the European Space Agency have tried to get access: France applied for a Chinese 10-Mach tunnel, with a price tag of €200 million, and ESA for a 20-Mach tunnel, asking €500 million, but for various reasons, the deals never went through. The US even tried to access Chinese facilities via Japan, with a non-discounted price of $5 billion. Of course, all of this is based on the premise of data sharing.

It’s difficult to build. Once the wind gets fast enough, you can’t just use mechanical blowers. Back when China first started experimenting with wind tunnels, we actually used explosions to create high-speed winds. The guy behind this was Yu Hongru, a total legend. He’s already in his 90s. And apparently, designing that wind tunnel wasn’t cheap at all, well, an entire lab building got blown up by him in the process.

Fortunately, China is a country that’s really good at building, and that’s not all China excels at, it also has a widespread and stable power grid.

The Chinese wind tunnel capable of 33 Mach can reach a peak power consumption of 15 GW, which is equivalent to about 70% of the total installed capacity of the Three Gorges Dam, yep, the very dam that US media once claimed was slowing down the Earth’s rotation.

Dell Fires 25,000 Workers – TECH LAYOFFS GET WORSE

ksnip 20250923 074758

Chrono BnB

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

VJ Hamilton

On Thursday a bunch of us data jocks got together over drinks to celebrate end-of-quarter. We ran out of conversation, so people started boasting about where they’d spent their last vacation: skiing in Dubai and surfing in Antarctica. That’s when Lancaster, the renowned “early adopter” in the office, brought up time-travel. He’d spent a wild weekend sampling the Roaring Twenties in a gin joint packed with flappers. It had been arranged through ChronoPort, the company that had taken time travel out of CERN and privatized it. “Think of chronos, meaning time, and portare, like transportation,” Lancaster said. “They literally move your body through time.”He described how the medical staff at ChronoPort had taken samples of his gut biome and a cheek swab. They slid him into something resembling an MRI machine. “They programmed the chronoportation to move everything with my DNA (and my gut’s bacterial DNA) back in time the exact same amount.”“Uh-huh.” We all nodded as if we understood.“It was expensive … so my life partner won’t let me go again until the house is paid off,” he said. “I just happen to love exciting new technology and couldn’t resist.” He caught my eye and blushed.I blushed, too. Early adopter? I have the same guilty pleasure—and doubtless Lancaster saw envy written all over my face.

* * *

Lancaster’s next email arrived late on Friday. “Hey, Caleb. I sense you’re a guy who loves adventure. I can get you a discount Chrono BnB circa 1850 (prairie pioneers) for your next one-week vacay. Here’s a link to some more info on the special nature of Chrono BnB.”

I stared at the date and thought: sodbusters. Stern, sad people. Little House on the Prairie. Could I cope with those dudes for a week?

I read the article he attached.

7 Dos and Don’ts for Chrono BnB

Science has finally solved the problem of the fourth dimension. Along the way, there were a few kinks to work out. Now we can travel back in time just like we zip to Las Vegas for the weekend. But take it from me, the best way to time-travel is through a spin-off of the AirBnB model.

The bed-and-breakfast arrangement overcomes the difficulties the earliest time-travellers experienced. Chronoporting only moves your DNA, not your clothes or other stuff. Eyeglasses, tooth fillings, pacemakers: none of these time-travels with you. A chronoported person could theoretically materialize in the middle of, say, a crowded marketplace. They would have no clothes, no money, no place to stay. Worst of all, they would have no story to explain their abrupt appearance.

Let’s think about this from the historical person’s standpoint. Why should you accept a stranger who has suddenly materialized from out of the blue? Especially if that stranger shows up buck-naked and babbling some incomprehensible language? “Give me take-out and charge it to my credit card.” What does that mean to an ancient Roman?

The results, as we saw in several early time-travel incidents, were tragic. Depending on the era, a chronoported person could be beaten, run out of town, or tortured to death.

Fortunately, the ChronoPort Retail Development team got busy. Marketing liaison people went back in time, decade by decade, smoothing the way for ordinary time-travellers. They persuaded enterprising inhabitants of different eras they could make a few shekels on the side using the AirBnB model. They would just have to welcome the occasional time-traveller into their home, provide the amenities, and give safe cover.

Here are seven dos and don’ts for maximizing your medieval mead-swilling in a responsible and time-sustainable way.

Bone up on the language. Bone up on the era. Thanks to time travel, Classics professors are seeing a 700% increase in the enrolment in Latin, ancient Greek, and Sanskrit. Salve, sum amica!

Don’t try to show off. Sure, you can say, “I think someone’s hiding in that fancy Trojan horse” but then some guy will look at you funny and say, “Really? How did you happen to know that?” just before he points you out to the mob.

Don’t try to make money. Think you can short-sell the 1929 stock market? Wrong; it was a completely different regulatory regime. Just “be in the moment” and save your money-grubbing ways for present life.

Don’t be fast to pass judgment. Yes: sexism, slavery, homophobia, classism, colonialism, and so on should bother you. Paradox: you descended from a long line of that stuff going on all over. So just be an observer. If someone hands you a musket, politely refuse.

Don’t f*** with the locals. Also, don’t f*** the locals. Impossible to list the number of ways this could mess up. Just don’t do it.

Stay safe. A broken leg nowadays is manageable. During the chaos of the French Revolution? Not so much. Note: if you have been exposed to smallpox or bubonic plague, let your healthcare provider know immediately upon your return.

In the words of Dale Carnegie, “Do not complain, criticize or condemn.” So the food isn’t what you expected, and the beds are lumpy lice-ridden bundles of straw shared by many, and even the good-looking folks have pox-scars and rickets and dental monstrosities in their mouths. You’re just visiting! Soak up the vibe and be glad you’re just passing through.

The enthusiasm of the travel writer was contagious. I’d had enough of gambling in Macau and gator wrestling in Florida. I wanted the experience of time travel… done while keeping safe with an intermediary. I signed up with ChronoBnB and went to their company headquarters. First I had to complete an online tutorial that went over all the things in the article, in a much more ho-hum way.

Then I had to sign a lot of forms pledging not to spill the beans about the terrible war coming in 1861.

They said my BnB “host” in 1850 would be similar to me—a young man named Wilbur.

* * *

The next thing I knew, I was swimming through a tunnel and bobbing up in a group of four young men, who were crawling out of the swim-hole. It was a hot day and our naked bodies glistened in the sun. Theirs: lean and ripped. Mine: not so much. Lots of chuckling and teasing as they got dressed. The fifth pile of clothes was claimed by no-one, so I took it. The clothes weren’t the cleanest and they were scratchy. No elastic in my underwear! No zip in my pants—instead I fumbled with buttons and drawstrings.

“Hello, Cousin Caleb. I am Wilbur.”

I was relieved to meet my ChronoPort contact right away. He was about my age, with freckles and a wide-open friendly face, blushing as fiercely as he was smiling. I instantly took a liking to this 1850s early adopter.

Wet-haired and shivering, the five of us guys ran to a homestead in the middle of the prairies. Wilbur gave me a tour of the yard, including the outhouse. The rough wooden farmhouse was full of clanking and women’s voices. We seated ourselves at the table where I counted 18 people, from Baby to a 60-ish patriarch. One girl sawed pieces of coarse bread and another ladled meat and gravy on it. Darn, I forgot to ask about vegan alternatives. After everyone received a plateful, the old guy recited a rambling prayer of thanksgiving.

Wilbur announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and gals, please welcome Cousin Caleb, who is visiting us for a week from down east.” There was some snickering and jostling that quickly subsided as I looked around, nodding, saying “how-d’you-do” a few times. Then we fell to the serious business of eating. A woman said, “Cousin Caleb, you have not touched your pot roast. Are you feeling poorly?”

“Um…I’m still full from my morning smoothie and avocado toast,” I said. From her look of bewilderment, I might as well have breakfasted on eye of newt.

Wilbur said quietly, “If it be not to your liking, may I have your beef?”

After lunch, every guy and a few gals bolted outside. Everyone knew what they were supposed to do, even the five-year-old girl carrying the slop bucket out to feed the pigs. Not wanting to look clueless, I grabbed what I thought was a hay rake. I wished I had my sunblock SPF 50 and my Ray-Bans. I started off for the meadow, but Wilbur approached me and said, “With two, this will go faster.”

“With two, many things go faster,” I said.

He blushed. But the joke was on me. It was not a hay rake but a stable rake, designed to collect manure from barn stalls. After ten minutes I had blisters. Wilbur was startled when I asked for Band-Aids.

“Bandages? For what injury?” He stared at my soft white palms covered with red polka-dots.

The slop-girl Rachel came over to look. Her hands were lean, nut-brown, with toughened pink palms. “Yer socks kin proteck yer hands,” she said.

I untied my heavy shoes.

“Be you Shadrach’s brother?” Rachel asked.

“Caleb is what you call a shirt-tail cousin,” Wilbur said. “Now, git!” As she sauntered away, he muttered, “That one is too curious for her own good.”

“Curiosity is natural,” I said, smiling.

“Maybe ‘bout some things,” he said and quickly looked away.

“Curiosity is no sin,” I said. I put my woolen socks on my hands, feeling thankful no cameras were there to record Caleb the Sock-handed Softy. I held the rake and continued mucking out the stable. The thick leather shoes rubbed on my bare-skinned feet and I could feel blisters forming there, too. I aimed to keep up with Wilbur, and soon we were hot and sweaty. I kept thinking about that swim-hole. The day wore on. Despite my regular gym work-outs, the burn of my shoulder muscles began to outweigh the pain of my blisters.

“Good job!” Wilbur said when the barn was clean at last.

Supper consisted of savory slop and lumpy dumplings followed by heavy pie, which we ate right in the middle of the gravy-smeared plate. Not anything Instagrammable, that’s for sure. Mirthless women took up sewing or knitting by the kerosene lamps. Grim-faced menfolk carved or repaired jingly harnesses. Wilbur read aloud from Papa’s Bible. I began to worry about sleeping arrangements. From what I’d seen, guys were in one room, gals in another, and the marrieds and babies would be in the lean-to. Good-bye, privacy!

After a lull, Rachel said: “Cousin Caleb, kin you tell us a story?”

I tried to remember a fairy tale, but I only came up with past episodes of The Simpsons.

Rachel yawned. “Brother Wilbur said you had an innerestin’ dream o’ the future.”

“Well… yes… I dreamed that in the future people weren’t using horses to get around. They have horseless carriages called ‘cars.’ I dreamed that our country and Russia had a mighty contest to see who could send a man to the moon first—”

“Who won?” a kid’s voice piped up.

“We did! Things became very, very good for us—doctors learned how to cure some diseases and fix the pains in our teeth. People invented all manner of things—moving pictures, instant music, and… and….” I tried to stop, but I was seized with—dare I say it?—a nostalgia for the future. “I lived in a building that had 30 floors stacked on top of each other!”

Wilbur guffawed. “Who in God’s creation would want so many stairs?”

“It would take all day to git up to your bedroom,” Rachel said.

“No, in the future, there will be, like, a vertical ‘car’ that runs up and down the side of the tall buildings,” I said. “The car is called an ‘elevator’ because it can elevate you—”

“Ell-eh-vay-tor!” People tried out the word. “Elevator? Elevator!” They chuckled and brayed; the shoulders of even the sternest folk were heaving with laughter.

I began to laugh, too.

* * *

The week passed as quickly as a raft over a waterfall. I learned everyone’s name and assigned chore. The pioneers weren’t all the jolly simple folk I used to think they were. They had their own intrigues, delights, and stolen moments of pleasure, chiefly boy-girl kisses in the milk-house. We menfolk were mainly building a cattle-fence. Wilbur arranged some fun things for me like playing with kittens in the hayloft (dusty, scratchy, and better than 100 cat videos) and milking a cow (invasion of the cow’s personal space to do rude things with her mammary glands). And yes, those shy but saucy guys had excellent fun cavorting at the swim-hole. As a visitor, I was allowed the first wash in the shared Saturday night bath. Afterward Wilbur caught some gals spying on me and “gave them a drubbing,” he reported later.

“Did they see anything … shocking?” I said, thinking of my body piercings.

Wilbur was at a loss for words. How I loved making him blush.

On my final morning, Wilbur shook me awake. “Now you’ll see what folks around here do for real fun!” Oh great, the annual church picnic.

We rode there all crammed in a wagon that jolted along a deeply rutted road. And me with my motion sickness and Gravol not yet invented… I could barely keep it together. The ride was made worse by the pinching match that broke out among the women over who would get to sit beside me. I turned my greenish face away to escape the B.O. of Tabitha. (I don’t know how she coped with my B.O.).

I was a head taller than most guys at the picnic, so I expected to win prizes for speed, but this wasn’t like my morning jog. They had wacky events like races where you had to hold an egg on a spoon. Rebecca sneakily clutched at my body and Hepzibah “accidentally” brushed against me. Noah shoved me roughly and Gideon threatened me with a “knuckle sandwich” when I mistook his potato pie for my own.

“No problem,” I said. “Take your piece—and you can have mine, too!” They even had preschoolers trying to ride piglets. The day resounded with giddy laughter, and I felt drunk on sunshine and exhaustion.

On the way home, I volunteered to ride in the hayrick. Picture, if you can, a slow-moving haystack, barely held in place on a wagon with minimal side boards.

“The hayrick? Are you sure?” Wilbur said, forgetting that I was clueless.

“My last night,” I said with a shrug. His face reddened and he jumped aboard, too. There were about ten of us who rocked and swayed while the conveyance bumped over the cow paths. As we bounced on the springy fragrant hay, my mind swirled with thoughts of kitten nests and barn stalls and swim-holes and piglet rodeos—and BANG!

I fell off the hayrick.

I staggered to get up, trying to clutch my elbow, knee, ankle and chin.

“We’ll put Miss Elizabeth there beside you, to keep you awake,” the hayrick driver said, with a wink.

“No, please!” I said. The others laughed. Wilbur crossed his eyes at me. I crossed mine back at him, with a little smile. The hay was so slippery that I had a devil of a time hanging on. Wilbur helped hold me in place. Now there was one sweaty hard body! He tried not to look at me, but we could both feel undeniable pleasure as we moved against each other.

Happiness surged in me, despite my sore muscles and numerous shaving cuts.

“Thank you for visiting, Caleb,” Wilbur said. “I enjoyed hearing about the future. I wonder if all the people there are as … fun to be with?”

“Yes, the future is even better than that,” I whispered in his ear. “Elevators going up and down…”

“You’ve got me real curious now,” he murmured.

Wilbur felt so tempting, as we rode that bumping hayrick home while the sun was going down. If we were men of the twenty-second century, I would have made my move. But I remembered the ChronoBnB instructor saying that we owed our hosts “utmost respect” which meant we weren’t supposed mess with their minds or interfere with their bodies; it could drive them insane “because they have no context for you, the visitor from the future.”

That last night I lay on my pallet listening to the snores and breathing of a roomful of others. I felt more connected to Wilbur and his people than I had ever felt to my contemporaries. I guess I’m just an old-fashioned boy at heart.

Wilbur was a special young man, a rare soul. A part of me feared for his future safety. I also feared the harsh life might suffocate his sensitive nature. I felt so sad at the thought of leaving. I knew, but was prohibited from mentioning, that war that would soon tear the country apart.

The teleportation of my body would occur tomorrow. To disguise my departure, Wilbur would take me back to the swimming hole. I decided to return to this exact locale two years into his future—1852—and tell him to expect me.

In the meantime, I would return to my “home era” and make some radical life changes so I would acclimate faster when I returned. I’d get rid of the smart phone and learn old-style carpentry.

I fell asleep planning to learn to ride a horse. I dreamed Wilbur and I would escape to the territories, and live as a pair of eccentric confirmed bachelors.

Girlfriend Expected Boyfriend To Keep Taking Her Back, Has Crying MELTDOWN When He Dumps Her By Text

Mediterranean Chicken

Fire up some Italian flavors with this quick and easy chicken dish. It’s bursting with zesty flavors and healthy antioxidants. Best of all, it’s ready to serve in under 30 minutes.

Prep: 6 min | Cook: 15 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 cup College Inn® Culinary Broth White Wine & Herb
1 can Del Monte® Diced Tomatoes with Basil, Garlic and Oregano-No Salt Added
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast cut into cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons rosemary minced
1 cup frozen artichoke hearts
1/4 cup black olives
Rice

Instructions

Cook chicken in oil in a large skillet over medium high heat for 3 minutes.
Add rosemary; cook for 2 minutes.
Stir in tomatoes, artichoke hearts, olives and broth. Simmer for 10 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink.
Serve over couscous or rice.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Del Monte

Is the steel used on Teslas really stainless? They rust readily, yet I know of a stainless steel manhole lid on a storm drain which is regularly covered by the tides. After 20 years it hasn’t rusted. Isn’t stainless steel supposed to be rustless?

I’m a metallurgist. Dealing with corrosion is a huge part of my profession.

I was on a layover overnight somewhere between the US and Australia and I got into a conversation with a geologist, who asked, “what does a metallurgist do?”

I thought for a moment and responded, “All metal used to be dirt. It will be dirt again. My job is to make sure that happens AFTER we’re done using it.”

At least on this planet, metal doesn’t want to be metal …. when better (lower energy) options are available. It would much prefer being an ion, bound into an oxide, or nitride, or sulfide or sulfate, or just a solute in water.

Don’t think of “stainless steel” as stain-less. It’s corrosion resistant – a better technical name is “corrosion resistant steel,” even though professionally I still call it Stainless Steel. It can corrode under the right circumstances. But surface staining isn’t much metal loss. Something like road salt won’t make it fall apart but can cause staining and pitting. However, where aesthetics are critical like on the fashion statement that is the Cybertruck, even a fingerprint gets noticed.

Some stainless steel versions are much more resistant to chloride (which seawater has a BUNCH of). Type 304, nope. Type 316 is much more resistant to pitting and staining – I think the Cybertruck shell is mainly based on a modified Type 316 composition – but still not perfect.

Your stainless steel manhole lid might not be stainless steel, it might be Monel (looks a bit like SS, but it’s actual a nickel-copper alloy highly resistant to seawater) or maybe a duplex SS or high-nickel alloy. Or it gets cleaned off regularly, I don’t know.

All the nuance of corrosion is complex enough that multiple industries spend immense amounts of money understanding and preventing it. Probably a single- or low-double-digit slice of the entire global economy is dedicated to preventing corrosion or repairing the damage.. You can have an entire career in the field, so it’s not something that can be fully answered in a Quora post.

Why might future Chinese leaders be more aggressive, and how should the world prepare for that possibility?

Because as China grows stronger, Chinese are rediscovering confidence in China.

While Westerners often associate Communism with China, please do not forget that Communism is a Western ideology. And in the eyes of the Chinese, the Soviet Union was, and Russia still is, a very Western country. We Chinese adopted Communism because we admired the West.

However, nowadays Chinese are becoming more Chinese again.

Girls are wearing Hanfu instead of Western dresses.

Boys are playing BlackMyth Wukong and Easy Red 2 instead of Call of Duty.

Nezha 2 became the top grossing animated film of all times because of the new found Chinese interest in our own culture.

Travelling in China has become more trendy than visiting Maldives or the Alps.

BMW and Porsche are being replaced by Chinese EVs.

Military enthusiasts stopped admiring American weapons and are now simping for Chinese gear.

Chinese politicians are quoting classical Chinese literature more than Marxism.

This last one, you see, is a bit of a problem.

Here’s a comparison of Chinese territory:

The yellow part is China of 2200 years ago.

The grayish brown region is China of 150 years ago.

The line within the brown region is China’s border today.

You see, despite how the Western propaganda says that Communist China is aggressive blablabla, the fact is that China grew from 2200 years ago until very recently, but has ONLY SHRANK since it adopted Communism.

Why? Because Communism says we’re all brothers and sisters amongst workers of the world, and humanity will become stateless. So Communist China didn’t care that much about state territory and had been generous and willing to give away territory in border settlements with friendly nations.

The traditional China OTOH, is much more nationalistic. It considers China the center of the world and king to all humanity. It called foreigners barbarians, and it judges people by their Chineseness. It’s in that sense similar to the Roman Empire.

A good example would be the different attitude to Japan, the country that caused the death of 35 million Chinese leading up to and during WWII.

The Communists would say that the Japanese were victims to their own militarism too, and we’re all brothers and sisters and would only protest when right wing Japanese try to whitewash history.

The typical non-communist Chinese would say, why haven’t we nuked Japan flat yet? Why are Japanese allowed to live and brag about their killings? Why are we even alive for, if not to avenge our ancestors?

See the difference?

As Chinese become more Chinese, so will Chinese politics. And future Chinese leaders might become less Communist and more “China First”.

The world should prepare by:

1. Be respectable with China. For as vindictive as the traditional China is, it also never forgets a friend. For example, China straight airdropped medical supplies to grandchildren of John Rabe in Germany during Covid. Because Rabe was responsible for sheltering 200–250k Chinese from Japanese massacre in WWII, we must have his grand children, grand grand children and whoever stems from his family line covered. This is a very Chinese thing, not a Communist thing.

2. Becoming more socialist/Communist. Play to the idealist part of Chinese Communism that we’re all family and keep it alive for as long as possible.

3. Learn more about Chinese culture and history. A Chinese speaking foreigner, or one who respects Chinese social norms and taboos will be viewed as superior to other foreigners.

Pictures

Scientists Say the Universe Might Be a HOAX — Here’s Why

What are the signs that an economy is just in a recession rather than on the brink of collapse?

Boom is when money flows into the economy from all the cellars, vaults, nooks, crannies and mattresses

Discretionary spending is at its peak

Recession is the opposite

Money flows back from the economy into the cellars, vaults, nooks, crannies and mattresses

Discretionary spending is at its bottom

The money spent on Cars, Vacations, Jewelry and Spa Treatments

Recession is formally declared if the Gross Domestic Product shows negative to no growth for 2 consecutive quarters

There are five signs of Recession

Auto Sales (Automobile, not the yellow three wheeled vehicles you see in Chennai) will show a drastic reduction
Jobs growth will be negative
Unemployment will rise
Home Sales will show considerable decline
Bond Yields will rise significantly, Interest rates will rise correspondingly

All of the above, must happen without any external factors and together, for the economy to be in recession

—

The word ‘Collapse’ is used interchangeably with ‘Recession’ , often used to denote a more severe version of recession

Often it is used to describe an economy , where the central bank has defaulted (bankrupt economy) on local debt. This is incorrect. That is economic default or bankruptcy.

It is a word bandied by the Media for sensationalism

An Economy collapses only when the currency of the economy loses value completely and there is no alternate equivalent tender to which value is assigned

Losing value completely means the currency of the economy is regarded as being only worth the paper it is printed on

Without a proper tender, Goods and services no longer have a mechanism to be valued at , and get valued by barter systems such as being paid for work with food , clothes, jewelry, sexual services or begging

The only true economic collapses in the 20th and 21st centuries occured in Russia just before the Russian Revolution in 1917 and in Germany during the 1920s and Zimbabwe in the late 2000s

They are extremely rare

—

So the day someone robs you , asks for your watch but says “Keep the wallet. Don’t want it”

That’s when the economy is in collapse

Trump Charging $100,000 for H1B Visas

At the China Victory Day parade on September 3rd, all the soldiers moved with such uniform precision that they seemed almost machine-like. Wouldn’t Chinese people find this somewhat strange and contrary to human nature?

You are right. But the military itself is a deeply inhumane institution.

Doctors take pride in how many lives they save, while the military’s “achievements” are often measured by how many people it kills.

The military is not normal by its very nature.

When I was in school, I went through two months of military training, and many parts of it truly felt meaningless.

(For example, the beds had to be arranged in a specific way. Some people bit the sheets with their teeth, others sprayed water to set the shape—everyone had their own tricks.)

I’ve watched some American war films, like Full Metal Jacket, and it seems the U.S. military also has a great deal of pointless rituals.

But whenever I remind myself that the military is, fundamentally, a very abnormal human organization, I find it easier to accept.

That said, perhaps China’s collectivist spirit is indeed stronger.

After just two months of training, I dare say Chinese university students’ precision in parade marching surpasses that of 90% of the world’s regular armies.

During my own training, something nearly disastrous happened.

In one “exercise,” some idiot derelicted his duty and actually loaded live rounds into an AK-47. Only when dust and rocks flew from the impacts did the officer realize they were real bullets!

(Since no one was injured, the junior officers conspired to cover it up, and their superiors never knew. We students also understood the officers’ fear, so nobody reported it. Otherwise, who knows how many people would have faced extremely harsh punishment!)

~~~

I was just looking at the military training kids have nowadays—honestly, it looks pretty fun. Back in our time, it was rough: every day was high-intensity physical training, forced marches with heavy packs… But it also depended on the province and the school. In Guangxi and Yunnan, those two border provinces, they actually start military training from kindergarten—that’s just absurd.

Is tarping really as bad as flatbed truckers say, and why do some seemingly durable products need to be covered during transport?

So, anyway, I was involved in lawsuit about 25 years ago, just going through the deposition transcripts and summarizing them.

The plaintiff in Canada ordered some rolled coils of galvanized steel from a supplier in the United States. The instructions clearly said the rolls had to be tarped. They were too heavy to load onto the back of an enclosed semi so they had to sit on top of a flatbed.

Long story shot there was a massive rainstorm leading up to the Canadian border, and then the truck was delayed at the border for about eight hours because some of the paperwork was wrong.

So, when the load arrived, water had one way or another seeped past the tarp and gotten into the rolls. There was obvious corrosion everywhere. It’s called “white rust”

The rolls had to be completely scrapped. White rust indicates the zinc coating is coming off, and that exposes the underlying steel to the possibility of rust. No-one wanted to eat the cost of the ruined metal, not the plaintiff, not the trucking company and not even the insurance company.

Now, here’s the kicker. White rust only forms when there’s no oxygen, like in a tightly wrapped steel coil. Once it’s made into a product, water can’t hurt it.

So, yes, even durable things can be hurt by adverse weather conditions, and sometimes putting them into an enclosed trailer just isn’t an option. That’s why shipping instructions go on the bill of lading.

Mexican Chicken Skillet

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

1 cup sour cream
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of chicken soup, undiluted
1 (4 ounce) can green chiles, diced and peeled
1 chopped onion
2 1/2 cups cooked chicken, diced
2 (6 ounce) packages yellow cornbread mix
Milk
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
2 cups corn tortilla chips, slightly broken
1 cup grated Monterey Jack cheese with jalapeños

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Grease a large cast iron skillet.
Combine sour cream, soup, chiles, onions and chicken.
Make cornbread batter (with milk) following the instructions on the packages.
Add grated cheddar cheese to the batter.
Cover the bottom of the skillet with the broken tortilla chips.
Sprinkle the grated Monterey Jack cheese over the chips.
Spread sour cream and chicken mixture over the cheese and chips.
Carefully spread cornbread batter over the chicken layer.
Bake at 400 degrees F for 25 to 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Recipe Goldmine is now a legacy site. Please visit our sister site, Simply Great Recipes, for new recipes.

Hollow’s End

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Eliza Jane

When Nathan discovers a mysterious note from his grandmother, he is drawn to a forgotten town no map remembers. In Hollow’s End, he finds a past alive and a warning that the town is destined to vanish — unless he preserves its memory.The first time Nathan saw the name Hollow’s End, it was written in his grandmother’s hand.He’d been sorting through a box of her things in the attic — photographs curling at the edges, brittle letters, smudged recipe cards. Tucked inside a cracked leather journal was a folded scrap of paper. The ink had faded, but the words were sharp:They’ll never find it, unless they want to be found. Hollow’s End. Don’t forget.Nathan frowned. He had grown up in northern Michigan, hearing family stories of logging camps and railways, but he’d never heard of Hollow’s End. Nothing in archives or maps bore its name. It was as if the town had been swallowed whole.And yet, his grandmother had written the warning deliberately. Not a riddle. A plea.By morning, Nathan had made up his mind. If Hollow’s End was a ghost, he would track it down.

The backroads wound deeper than Nathan remembered, pines crowding the gravel shoulders, the late-summer air sharp with resin. He parked at the edge of an overgrown two-track, shouldering a backpack heavy with a notebook, snacks, and the brass compass that had belonged to his grandfather.

Concrete slabs emerged from moss. A square depression in the earth hinted at a foundation. He brushed away pine needles from a lump of iron — an old rail spike, eaten red with rust.

The hair on his arms prickled. He was close.

Then he saw her.

A young woman stood ahead in the clearing, watching him with wide eyes. She wore a blue cotton dress cinched at the waist, the kind Nathan had only seen in black-and-white photographs. Her dark hair was braided neatly, and though she couldn’t have been older than him, something in her gaze was ancient.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

Nathan blinked. “I could say the same about you. This place is abandoned.”

Her expression shifted, almost pitying. “Not yet.”

Before he could reply, the air around him wavered. A high ringing filled his ears, sharp as a train whistle. Sunlight bent, flickering. He staggered forward, reaching instinctively for the compass —

—and when the ringing stopped, the world was new.

The ruin was gone. In its place, a town breathed.

Smoke coiled from chimneys. Horses clattered past with wagons stacked high in fresh-cut pine. Children shrieked with laughter, chasing each other between storefronts still wet with paint. From the woods came the bite of saws and the mournful cry of a train whistle.

Nathan staggered, pulse hammering. He was no longer in the forest. He was standing in the middle of Hollow’s End—alive, whole, impossible.

The young woman hadn’t vanished. She stood in the road as if she had always been there, braid glinting in the sunlight.

“You crossed over,” she said, voice low. “The town must have called you.”

Dust clung to his throat. “This… this can’t be real.”

She smiled then, not with joy but with sorrow. “Few things are. What matters is you’re here. But you can’t stay.”

Her name was Clara. She led him through streets alive with smell and sound — bread baking in open windows, sawdust thick on porches, children’s laughter ricocheting off clapboard walls. Nathan tried to piece together her words as she poured him tea in a small boardinghouse.

“The company owns everything here,” she said. Her hands trembled slightly, though her eyes remained steady. “The mill, the homes, the stores. Debts are crushing them. They won’t pay what they owe. Instead, they’ll erase us. Burn the records. Flood the valley with the new dam. Hollow’s End will vanish.”

Nathan set his cup down hard. “That’s… murder.”

Clara shrugged, weary beyond her years. “History is written by those who hold the ink. You understand, don’t you? Why you can’t stay?”

He thought of his grandmother’s note, the plea not to forget. He thought of the graves he had glimpsed in the woods, swallowed by roots. “You’re telling me they’ll destroy this town and no one will remember it ever existed.”

“Yes.” Clara’s gaze fixed on him. “Unless you do.”

Nathan wandered Hollow’s End for days, torn between awe and dread. He saw children chasing one another past the mill, the old man whittling on his porch, the couple dancing to a fiddle in the square. Ordinary lives, destined to vanish.

Clara stayed close, as if tethered to him. She answered his questions with fragments: her family had always kept the truth, though it had cost them dearly. Outsiders like him sometimes slipped through, but the town never let them remain.

Still, Nathan couldn’t let it go.

“You have to fight back,” he insisted one evening, when the sky was the color of copper. “If people know the company’s plan—”

“They won’t believe us,” Clara interrupted. “Even if they did, who would stop them? They hold the deeds, the law, the sheriff.”

Nathan’s fists clenched. “Then I will. I can change this.”

She reached across the table, fingers brushing his. “No, Nathan. History does not yield. It devours those who resist.”

But he had already decided.

The morning it happened, Hollow’s End woke to fire.

Smoke climbed in black pillars. Nathan smelled it before the alarm bell clanged. Shouts rose in the street. People ran, clutching children, buckets, whatever they could carry. He sprinted after Clara, heart hammering.

At the far end of town, men in company coats set torches to the mill. Flames roared, feeding on dry timber. Beyond, dynamite cracked in the woods — blasting paths for the dam that would swallow the valley.

Nathan grabbed one of the men by the collar. “You can’t do this!” he shouted. “This town belongs to these people!”

The man sneered, yanking free. “Not anymore. Never did.”

Hands seized Nathan, dragging him back. Clara appeared, pulling him into the chaos. “It’s too late!” she cried. “You can’t stop them!”

“But I can’t just let this happen!”

She pressed something into his palm — small, cool metal. “Then don’t. Remember us.”

Before he could speak, the ringing began again. Louder, sharper, splitting his skull. The world fractured, burning houses dissolving into fog. He clutched Clara’s hand, desperate—

And then he was alone.

A locket rested in his palm, tarnished silver, etched with initials he didn’t know. He snapped it open. Inside was Clara’s face, faded but unmistakable.

She had given him proof.

The trees whispered in the wind. The foundations at his feet were nothing but stone. But Hollow’s End was not gone, not entirely.

Nathan pulled out his notebook and began to write, the words spilling as fast as his hand could move. He would record every street, every name, every fire-lit shadow. He would not let them vanish.

When he closed the notebook at last, he held the locket tight. In his pocket, the compass weighed heavier, as if pointing not north, but backward — toward a town that once was.

A town is only gone when no one remembers.

And Nathan would remember. He would carry Hollow’s End with him — in story, in memory, in the silver locket that survived time.

When Philosophy Meets Hunger in Kittens Taking Tests

Reality is still in flux. Note that it is not what you might think.

Reality is like a kitchen table.

Over the years it has gotten worn, shaky, rattled. On top of it is all kinds of clutter. There are old condiment packets on the table, tooth picks, salt and pepper containers getting dirty and dusty. There are kids toys, brick a brack, and parts o things. It’s cluttered on one side with tissues, and papers.
What is going on is that reality has “backups”; these are “snapshots” from earlier days. There was a snapshot taken in the early 1960’s. And that snapshot replaced the current “table”.
Now the floor of the kitchen has gotten wobbly, and dusty, and has broken tiles and concrete exposed. Well, there is a working crew fixing that. I call them the oompaloompas. (A name from the Willy Wonka movie). And they have been busy doing this for a while now.
But, all that clutter is still on the table. But with the floor stable, and the table new and pristine, there is a natural tendency to clear off the clutter. And over the next few months and years you will see things clearing off, being put aside and generally getting better.
So, it’s really a good thing. Sure, the world is talking about World War III. Uh, that has already happened on another world-line, but you and I and us have slid to a better and safer one. One with the core structures from the early 1960’s.

Don’t freak out. -MM

Meanwhile, the broadcaster of doom has a few things to say…

Kuwait Broadcasting Nuclear Radiation Warnings to Citizens – Laguna Beach California Tests Nuclear Attack Sirens

Hal Turner World March 25, 2026

Last night, the country of Kuwait began issuing televised nuclear/Radiation warnings to their citizens. Yesterday evening, Laguna Beach, California, began testing their air-raid/Nuclear Attack Warning Sirens!

From television in Kuwait, the government and military in that country has begun telling citizens:

STAY INDOORS — SEAL YOUR HOMES — RADIATION PRECAUTIONS ISSUED

Authorities in Kuwait have issued urgent guidance as tensions escalate across the region.

The instructions are stark:

Do not leave your homes.
Seal all doors and windows.
Stay inside until further notice.

Officials say there is no immediate need to panic.

But these measures are being introduced as a precaution against possible airborne contamination — including potential Nuclear radioactive fallout from regional escalation.

The concern is not confirmed exposure.

It is what could happen if the situation worsens.

Because in modern conflict:

Critical infrastructure

Military facilities

Sensitive sites

All carry risks beyond the blast itself.

Authorities stress that distance reduces the immediate threat.

But they are preparing for worst-case scenarios.

And when governments begin advising people to seal their homes…

It means they are planning not just for conflict — but for what comes after it.

This is precaution.

But it is serious precaution.

CALIFORNIA

The City of Laguna Beach began testing its Nuclear Attack Air Raid Sirens yesterday evening. Video Below:

This is here . . . inside the United States.

When I Heard the Laguna Beach Video, I wanted to Cry

Those sirens in Laguna Beach brought tears to my eyes. I’ve been TRYING to warn all of you – for months. I’ve told you and told you and told you to prepare.

So many laughed at me. Called me “Chicken Little, the Sky is falling.” Said my news stories and article advice was “Click Bait” and “Doom Porn.” Then went about your life having done absolutely nothing.

Well, here we go. They’re testing the nuclear attack warning sirens here in the United States.

You’re smart; why do you think they’re doing that? Because the danger has become so close, so real, there is now public government acknowledgement of it.

What I’ve been warning about is now so close, even government can’t conceal it.

So NOW what are you going to do?

For what it’s worth, I will repeat my warning again, hoping there is still time for SOME of you to take action:

Get Emergency food:

Shelf-stable items that do NOT require refrigeration: 10 lb. bags of Rice, Boxes of Pasta. Jarred Sauces. Cans of Tuna, of Chicken breast, of other meats. Cans of soups you can heat and dump on top of the rice or pasta to make a meal.

Emergency Water:

Humans can only go three DAYS without water. Have a supply: Bottled water – enough for each person in your household for at least a week. Some people are buying tub liners so that when the alert comes, they can put the liner in their tub, turn on the tap and fill the lined tub with thirty, forty,, maybe 50 gallons of water. Others are buying 50 gallon water drums. Trouble with those is, they weigh 400 lbs when full, so you can’t move them once they’re full.

A Way to Generate Electric:

Get some type of emergency electric generator. Most people are getting gasoline-powered, which is fine — as long as you have (or can get) gasoline. But there are other types of generators that are Dual-Fuel (Gasoline and natural gas) or Triple-Fuel(Gasoline, Natural Gas, Propane) Again, all of them good, as long as you have fuel.

Other people are getting SOLAR which is really just a deep cycle battery that holds a little energy to power a light, or phone, or laptop for a few hours, but can be recharged with a SOLAR PANEL that comes with it.

People like me went all-out and got WHOLE HOUSE solar electric systems. But they take weeks to order, to get, to install and it is really very expensive to do that.

FUEL:

Have several 5-Gallon gas cans, FILLED. But you need to preserve that fuel so it doesn’t go bad. SO buy a small bottle of something like “STA-BIL” fuel stabilizer. Add it to the can once it is filled with gasoline and it will help preserve the gasoline.

Others, like me, realize that gasoline will go bad within a few months, so we bought Fuel RESTORATION fluids like a product called “Pri-G” (for gasoline) or “Pri-D” (for Diesel). If the fuel has gone bad, you can add a specific, measured amount of these products into the correct fuel, and they cause a chemical reaction to make the fuel LIKE NEW again! But they’re expensive.

COMMUNICATIONS GEAR:

If the SHTF, it is highly likely that “the grid” will go down, meaning no electricity and NO TV/RADIO/PHONES/CABLE/INTERNET etc.

You really should have emergency gear like a CB radio or a HAM Radio in your house and/or in your car so you can communicate with other people nearby. Both CB and HAM can operate with a car battery – even in your house. Get a small, portable radio, a spare car battery, antenna cable (coaxial cable RG-8 or RG-58) to go from the radio to your outdoor antenna, and a small, cheap, outdoor antenna or car antenna.

You can communicate a good five miles with a CB and there’s a lot of people in that 5 miles you can get info from.

PORTABLE AM/FM/Shortwave radio that runs on internal batteries for news, information and to hear what’s going on.

FIRST AID KIT:

You need to have an EMT TRAUMA KIT, with bandages for injuries/wounds. When the bombs hit, and things collapse, a lot of people will have cuts and bruises ranging from minor, to complete detachment of arms/legs/ and other horrifying injuries. You need to have some way to treat what is treatable, on someone who is savable. There will be people who are so badly injured, they cannot be saved. Prepare to make those decisions. Be prepared mentally to walk away. It will be gut-wrenching, but you have to do it.

This list of “Preps” is woefully incomplete. But it is the most basic items you need to even have a CHANCE for you and the ones you love.

I URGE you to get ready. I BEG YOU to get ready while there is still some time to do so.

GET RIGHT WITH GOD:

A lot of us have lived the overwhelming majority of our lives never even thinking about God. It is time to start thinking of Him. In fact, it’s long overdue.

I am not a Priest, a Preacher, a Minister, or a Reverend. I’m a Catholic by upbringing, a Christian by choice.

I don’t know the formal rituals adopted by men over the ages, to try to get right with God, but I DO know this: God is real. He is there, with you, right now. He sees all, and knows all — and always has.

HE knows you don’t know much of anything about praying. HE knows you haven’t prayed for decades. He still loves you. He created you. He knew you before you were born and he loves YOU the way you love your child. Get quiet. Concentrate. Pray to Him.

I dunno what you’ll say; I started with “God, it’s me, Harold. I haven’t prayed to you in years, but I think I’m in big trouble, and you’re the only one I can think of to try to talk to. Please God, hear me. . . .” and go from there. I told Him “I’ve lived fast and loose. I’ve (insert sins here . . . . lied, cheated, stolen, had sex with . . . .)” and whatever else I did.

Tell Him ‘Looking back, I really have lived like a selfish, self-centered, self-important JERK. I didn’t know how to get along in life, so I acted this way to protect myself from being vulnerable. I shouldn’t have done those things. I’m sorry. I repent.”

Look, I can’t tell you what to say, only YOU know what to say because it’s YOUR life and YOU know what you did. He knows, but he’s waiting to hear it from your own mouth. You have to SPEAK the prayer, SPEAK the sins, not just THINK it and expect God to read your mind. He wants to HEAR IT from your own mouth. And in order to do that, you actually have to get humble. Humble enough to admit the (ugly) truth out of your own mouth, to the one who created you.

I think that’s how you confess to the one who made you.

I could go on endlessly, but I won’t. You get the idea.

None of us is guaranteed Salvation. NONE of us is likely worthy of being saved. But we DO have a chance at forgiveness, and I think it’s really a worthy endeavor to at least TRY.

Time is short. They’re testing nuclear attack sirens and issuing radiation warnings. Take the hint.

Sir Whiskerton and the Ethics Section: Is It Okay to Eat the Exam?

Or: When Philosophy Meets Hunger in Kittens Taking Tests

Introduction

Welcome, dear reader, to a tale that asks the ultimate question: When faced with an impossible exam, is it morally permissible to eat your way out of failure?

Today’s story follows Ditto the Echoing Kitten as he grapples with this very dilemma during his kitten-version of the Chinese Gaokao (高考). While Ditto ponders ethics, Porkchop the Pig declares all food sacred (“If it fits in your mouth, it’s ethically delicious!”) and Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow waxes poetic about “vibes.” Chaos ensues when Ditto accidentally nibbles on the corner of his test paper, sparking a barnyard-wide debate over morality, munchies, and mindful chewing.

So grab some snacks—but maybe not any exams—and enjoy Sir Whiskerton and the Ethics Section: Is It Okay to Eat the Exam?

Act 1: The Great Debate Begins

Ditto sat at his tiny desk, quill trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. His eyes darted between the daunting question—”Is it okay to eat the exam?”—and the blank space where his answer should have been.

Before he could think too hard, Porkchop sauntered in, snout gleaming with leftover crumbs from breakfast.

“YES!” Porkchop bellowed, slamming a hoof onto the table. “If it fits in your mouth, it’s ethically delicious! You’re doing science, kid. Food science.”

Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow floated into view, her aura shimmering with kaleidoscopic energy. She placed a gentle hoof on Ditto’s shoulder.

“But consider the vibes of the paper, man,” Bessie said solemnly. “This isn’t just pulp—it’s potential. Maybe it dreams of becoming poetry instead of pulp fiction.”

Ditto blinked, overwhelmed by their conflicting advice. Then, true to form, he echoed both voices:
“If it fits… vibes… Mmmph?”

Act 2: The Corner Conundrum

As the philosophical battle raged, Ditto absentmindedly gnawed on the corner of his exam paper. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“MORAL CRUNCH!” Ditto yelped, spitting out bits of ink-stained fiber. “I didn’t mean to—I swear!”

Sir Whiskerton appeared, monocle glinting ominously. He inspected the damaged document with the precision of a detective investigating a crime scene.

“This,” Sir Whiskerton declared, holding up the chewed edge, “is either the beginning of a moral crisis or the world’s most avant-garde study guide.”

Porkchop snorted loudly. “Avant-garde? Dude, it’s lunch.”

Bessie sighed dramatically. “No, it’s karma. Every bite disrupts the universe’s balance! Do you really want to upset cosmic harmony for… what flavor even is recycled paper?”

Chef Remy LeRaccoon waddled in, sniffing the air. “Ah, mes amis! This calls for my newest invention: Edible Examination Paper™! Gluten-free, organic, and lightly seasoned with existential dread.”

The animals stared at him in horrified silence.

Act 3: Resolution Through Reflection

Sir Whiskerton gathered everyone under the old oak tree for a moment of reflection.

“Let us consider,” he began, pacing thoughtfully, “whether eating the exam solves anything. Does it alleviate stress? Perhaps. Does it demonstrate critical thinking? Unlikely. And does it taste good?”

Porkchop raised a hoof enthusiastically. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Sir Whiskerton turned to Ditto. “Young apprentice, remember this: Life presents many choices, but not all are wise. Sometimes, the bravest act is resisting temptation—even when it comes wrapped in shiny ink.”

Ditto nodded solemnly. “So… no more eating homework?”

“Exactly,” Sir Whiskerton replied. “Unless it’s Chef Remy’s lasagna. That’s exempt.”

Post-Credit Scene

Chef Remy stood proudly beside a tray of glowing exam papers. “Behold! My Edible Gaokao Collection. Each sheet infused with ancient wisdom—and a hint of garlic butter.”

Doris the Hen pecked suspiciously at one. “Are these radioactive?”

Remy grinned. “Only slightly.”

Cue horrified squawks.

Moral of the Story

Not everything that looks edible should be eaten—especially if it involves ink, ethics, or existential seasoning.

Best Lines

“If it fits in your mouth, it’s ethically delicious.” – Porkchop, philosopher-pig extraordinaire.
“But consider the vibes of the paper, man.” – Bessie, tie-dye sage.
“MORAL CRUNCH!” – Ditto, accidental ethicist.

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Detective & Ethical Advisor)
Ditto the Echoing Kitten (Philosophical Snacker)
Porkchop the Pig (Self-Proclaimed King of Cuisine)
Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow (Vibes Enthusiast)
Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Munchies)

Summaries

Moral: Resist temptation unless it involves actual food—and avoid radioactive snacks.
Key Jokes: From Porkchop’s unapologetic appetite to Chef Remy’s questionable creations, laughter abounds.
Future Potential: Could Chef Remy open a restaurant serving only edible homework? Or will Ditto face another ethical dilemma involving lasagna?

Until next time, may your decisions be wise and your snacks non-toxic. 🍕

Looking to start bulk buying groceries for storage. Things like rice, oats, beans, and other items that can store long term. Any other suggestions? Looking for items that I can use for multiple different meals.

What you store will depend on the reason you want to have food stockpiled. If it’s because you hate going grocery shopping, you probably won’t be overly concerned with longevity. If you’re doomsday prepping, your focus will be more toward having things that won’t spoil.

Store a good supply of salt. Get both iodized, for general use, and non-iodized for pickling and canning. Also, a person should lay in a good supply of various seasonings. If you eat the same, dull bland food, week after week, you’ll be prone to appetite fatigue, and your nutritional well-being may suffer.

Powdered eggs are a good thing to have, although you’ll need to be conscientious about using and rotating your stores. Powdered milk is another great choice and, properly stored, can last a very long time. Powdered drink mixes, with high vitamin levels, are another easy way to stay properly nourished.

You’d be smart to lay in a supply of plain, white flour. Whole wheat flour doesn’t last as long as white flour because it contains wheat germ and wheat germ has oil that will go rancid, after a while.

A life with nothing sweet would be dreadful! White sugar lasts indefinitely, if properly stored. Honey is also a great storage item.

Consider storing some sort of cooking fat. Coconut oil and ghee have the longest shelf life, but tallow and lard will last for a very long time, too. Avoid seed oils, they can get nasty in less than a year. Some preppers claim canned butter will last up to twenty years.

Some sort of ready protein is essential to have, and canned tuna is an easy one. Canned tuna, packed in oil has a longer shelf life than tuna packed in water. It can be eaten straight from the can or mixed with rice to make a more satisfying meal.

I hope this helps!

Has anyone used Linux Mint instead of Windows?

Have been on Mint Linux since Microsoft kept raining on my parade. The one thing that held me back was the lack of games. That changed when Steam + Proton was introduced to Linux, several years now, used to stream RDP from my window box for games, but it all runs native now.

Have been on Mint for over a decade now. Tried some Chinese Linux, but the messing with Latinized fonts was annoying. So back on Mint.

I’d probably switch over to Mint debian series, as Canonical Ubuntu, which the standard Mint is based off will be experimenting on Rust based tooling. I’d hold off that till it’s stable.

The good thing of Mint is the GUI is customizable, dev tools are matured, you get VSCodium for dev work, that’s VScode without telemetry, privacy matters to me, and for AI engineers, Jupyter Notebook running off GPU enabled containers, you can mess with it and prevent taint to your core operating system.

Browser support is good, you get Chrome, Edge, Firefox support. Thunderbird Emailer is decent, but if you need Outlook, suggest to use MS web based cloud emails.

Audio toolings are decent, you have a slew of audio editors, video editors are kinda meh, or at least I’ve not found anything I’d say is production ready. Screen caps and video caps are decent, Flameshot and Voko is my go-to, but I switch up from time to time.

For my video conversion tooling, it’s all command like via FFMEG, so not exactly user friendly, it’s a bit scary, but with modern chatgpt or Claude, you’ll be able to use it like a champ quicky.

I automate most of that using a web to CLI tool I built, so commonly used commands go there. Less requirements to remember what I hacked up to make and stich various data formats.

I still have my entire series of windows VMs, but hadn’t had a need to fire it up for many years now. Some finance tools still insist on running in windows, so I have a proxmox server pool for that.

Otherwise MINT is my primary desktop when doing serious work, I keep the Mac mini for lighter work.

Linux also comes build in with a really awesome wireguard VPN, so my entire office net regardless where I am, always is connected back to my home office network.

With LLMs today, Linux isn’t as scary as it was for new users as it was before.

I run ZFS, and when one of my disk died a while back, and because I was on RAID-Z and had disk redundancy, no data loss, just hook up another disk and all data recovered, this is a relatively advance topic, so nothing new users to be concerned about.

The Bell

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Jaxen Dreamerman

The word slides into my cell like a rat under the door. Possibility. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, on its geography—the hairline crack running from the light fixture to the water stain over the toilet, like a little river delta of rust and time. For eleven years, I have followed its slow progress, a millimeter at a time.

The Lawyer speaks. His words are for some other man who measures life in appeals or stays of execution. “…they made a mistake in the trial, Arthur. The judge… he gave the jury bad instructions. It’s a real opening.”

A fly buzzes near the single bulb, a frantic, tiny engine going nowhere. I follow its vibration, and a different sound surfaces from eleven years ago. Not a buzz. A pop. Two of them, small and flat in the wet night air. Rain on hot asphalt. Slick, sweating grip of a wooden handle. Smell of gunpowder and exhaust fumes.

“Did you hear me, Arthur?”

“Heard you,” I say, the words traveling out with a breath.

A sigh, like a man trying to inflate a punctured tire. “This is it. This is the one that could get you out of the chair, put you back in the general population. Maybe even out in ten. We need you engaged.”

Ten years. Ten more years of staring at that ceiling. Maybe the river delta would reach the wall by then. The numbers are just noise.

“Right,” I say. The fly buzzes.

A click of a briefcase latch, rustle of paper. Scrape of a chair. “I’ll file the motion tomorrow,” he says to the back of my head. “Try to have a little faith, son.” Heavy clang of the door, shooting of the bolt, fading footsteps down the concrete hall.

Faith. The only thing belonging to me has nothing to do with men like him, not in motions or rulings. I close my eyes. A different kind of faith, as persistent as the water stain on the ceiling.

I lie for hours as the prison settles into its iron skin. Calls and coughs from other cells. Rhythmic clank of the night guard making his rounds, like a tick of a clock I stopped following years ago.

A quiet shuffle of soft-soled shoes comes later, mixed with a rustle of a robe. A faint ting of a bell. The floor feels hard against my knees. I lower my head. The door closes. The bolts click.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

A scrape of a chair once again, pulled away from the wall. I keep my head bowed.

“Arthur.”

I raise my gaze to a stranger. A young man with an old man’s eyes. Priest’s collar. A wooden cross and a tiny bell. “Where’s Father Michael?”

“Your lawyer seems hopeful.”

He ignores my question. Not a mistake. A choice. I study him. A stillness, an unnerving patience in those old eyes. I blink.

“He’s selling something I’m not buying.”

“And what is that?”

“Tomorrow,” I say. “And the day after that.”

The priest nods, his gaze on mine. “You’ve been praying for an absolution, Arthur. For a way to make it right. Not with the state. With God.”

Again the memory, sharper this time. The weight and taste of the one word in my mouth just before I say it. In. I press my eyelids shut.

“There is no making it right,” I whisper. “There’s only living with the wrong.”

He leans forward, hands clasped. “God can offer you an absolution, not a pardon.” His voice has no echo like all the other sounds in this place.

“How?”

“A day of grace, bought with every day you have left. You will feel the warmth of the sun, and you will feel the chill as it is taken away forever.”

He leans back in his chair. “But you need to pray for the man you were supposed to be. Not for you.” He holds my gaze. Eyes like magnets pulling on metal.

I take two breaths. I nod and lower my head.

“Pray with me, son. Pray that man had said ‘no’.”

I pray. The bell tings at his neck.

***

“…not even listening to me! Arthur, you promised you’d sell the car. We need the money!” The sharp voice tears through the silence.

I snap my eyes open, gawk around. Haze, no ceiling, no bars, nor river delta of rust. A floral wallpaper, faded yellow, and a woman standing with her hands on her hips. Eleanor. My Eleanor. My breath catches. Vision blurs again.

A fly buzzes before my face. My fly? No. The dull, constant ache in my lower back from the prison cot is gone. I raise a hand to my face. Smooth skin. No lines or gray stubble. My fingers sink into thick hair. A sharp chill runs across my scalp, like the barber’s razor in prison.

“The doctor’s office called again,” she says. I focus my gaze on her. “The bill, Arthur. And you spending our last five dollars on beer with my brother…”

Lilacs. Her perfume. A scent lost to time makes the small kitchen tilt on its axis. I push myself up from a wooden chair, my legs steady and strong. I look at her, at the fierce, beautiful anger in her face, the swell of her stomach beneath her apron. My son.

The wallpaper behind her flickers, changing into a sweating concrete. Familiar water stain. Clang of a cell door. I reach for a glass of water on the counter. My hands shake.

“…and now this, finding out you lost the warehouse job two weeks ago and never said a word! My father was right about you. You’re not a husband who can provide.”

Those words. A throb travels through my whole body, but the anger isn’t with me. The shame is gone. Eleven years of stored-up love, the crushing weight of regret. I step toward her, my hands raised in surrender.

“Ellie,” I say. An alien’s voice, a young man’s tenor. I cough. “I’m sorry. None of it matters. Just… none of it.”

She recoils, her eyes widen. “None of it matters? The rent doesn’t matter? The baby doesn’t matter?”

“No, that’s not what I…” I reach for her, for the curve of her belly, to touch him just once, feel his movement, just once. My hand shakes. She flinches back, pulling away from my touch as if it were a snake.

“What is wrong with you? First you’re yelling, now this? What kind of trick is this, Arthur?” The air leaves my lungs in a rush, as if I’ve been punched. She protects her belly.

“Please, Ellie… I’ll stay. I won’t go out. I’ll stay here with you. We’ll fix it.” I take off my jacket and drop it on the chair. A choir of bells starts to ting inside my head the moment the jacket hits its back. I raise my hands to block the sound. No use. It grows louder. A rhythm. A voice. The priest.

Eleanor stares at me. Anger turns into fear, and her arms tighten over her stomach, protecting our son from her strange, unpredictable husband.

I pick the jacket back up, and the ting fades. “I have to go,” I say. “Going to see about a job. On the docks.” The lie tastes like tar in my mouth. I walk out the door, closing it gently behind me, and take the stairs down two at a time.

My dented blue Ford waits at the curb. The most expensive thing in my life. The key slides into the ignition. The engine turns on, settling into a low growl. I put it in gear, place my hands on the wheel. No shakes. I pull away from the curb.

The garage door is half-open, a dark mouth yawning into the afternoon. I kill the engine. Heavy silence follows, broken only by a steady ting… ting… ting from within. I get out of the car. Smell of gasoline. Taste of old oil on my tongue.

I duck under the door. Inside, shadows cling to everything. A single bare bulb flickers, casting a dirty yellow light on a half-disassembled engine block. Eleanor’s brother emerges, wiping his hands on an already-black rag. He smiles, gaze lit with desperate energy.

“Art, there you are, and you brought the car. Good. I was about to call the house.” He claps me on the shoulder, pulling me deeper inside. In the far corner, another man I remember slams a wrench down on a metal table. Sound of a cell door. My teeth grind together as I grimace.

“It’s on, Art. Tonight. It’s perfect. A textile mill payroll delivery. The driver’s a drunk, the route’s always the same. We’re not hurting anybody, just taking from a guy who’s been skimming off the top for years. It’s practically justice.”

He’s pacing from the workbench to the door, a tight, three-step rhythm of anxiety. I watch him, and I see it all—the whole rotten future spooling out from this one greasy room.

“Listen,” he says, stopping right in front of me, grabbing my arm. “Think about it. Think about Ellie. The look on her face when you come home with a stack of bills. Enough to pay the doctor, to buy a real crib, to shut the old man’s mouth for good. This is for her, Art. So you can be the husband she needs.”

Every word builds the wall of my cell. Every breath adds a year to my sentence. They place a gun on the table. A ting, as it touches the scraped surface. Sweating grip of the wooden handle. I open my clenched fist. Empty.

“No.”

He blinks and pulls back. “What? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean no.” The word feels light. “Don’t you see? This money… it’s finality. It’ll weigh you down until you can’t breathe. It’ll stain everything it touches… Ellie, the baby, everything. It’s not an answer. It’s an ending. For their sake… walk away. Please. This road only goes one place.”

His face twists. “You’re backing out? Now? You coward. I’m trying to help you provide for my sister, and you’re getting cold feet?” He shoves me. I fall against a workbench. “You’re letting her down, you son of a bitch. You’re letting us all down.”

I hold his gaze. “I’m not letting her down by saying no to this.” I turn to leave. Ice shoots up my spine. I keep my steps calm. Every muscle in my back tightens, waiting for a shout or a blow. I duck under the garage door and step back into the sunlight. I get back in the car. The key slides into the ignition. The engine turns over. I raise my hands to the wheel. No shake.

As I pull away from the curb, the faint ting of the bell returns, growing clearer, melodic, bright.

***

The ting fades. A whisper. “Grandpa… Grandpa, wake up.”

I open my eyes, not to the preternatural clarity of the world outside my car, but to a hazy morning light filtering through lace curtains. A warm and soft bed. A small, joyful weight on my chest.

“You promised, Grandpa! The Cyclone! You promised!” a little girl’s voice chirps. Another child, a boy, scrambles beside her. “And the cotton candy!”

Grandpa, name like an unfit coat. I glance around, back to their faces again, bright and expectant. There is no memory of love in my heart, but it still aches. I sit up. My joints protest with the stiff language of old age.

“All right, all right, you little monsters,” I say, the words coming from a throat feeling raspy and unfamiliar. “Let an old man find his teeth.” They giggle and tumble off the bed. I swing my legs over the side and stand. My muscles are weak, the body a stranger to me.

In the bathroom, I brace myself against the sink, raising my gaze to meet the image in the mirror. Not the face of a man on a death row. Not the face of the desperate young man, but the face of a man with a life I never lived. Deep laugh lines etched around kind blue eyes, like a map of the river delta of rust and time. A crown of snow-white hair.

Downstairs, the kitchen is a pond of sunlit chaos. A man who must be in his forties flips a pancake at the stove. A son. A woman I don’t know pours orange juice for the kids. A daughter. Eleanor stands by the coffee pot. Her hair is silver, her face is lined like mine. Our eyes meet. Her smile, the key unlocking the weight I’ve been carrying for eleven years. It’s gone.

Smell of bacon. Sound of laughter. The sight of her, alive and old and beautiful. A lump in my throat. I walk over to my son, the baby I never held, the man I never raised. I put my arms around him, and a sob tears its way out of my chest, a dry, rattling sound of unendurable gratitude.

He stiffens. Pats my back. “Whoa, Dad. You okay?”

The whole room goes quiet. Eleanor comes over. My body remembers her touch; my mind does not. “It’s just the excitement,” she says. “His heart. Let’s all just have a nice, calm breakfast.” She smiles and hands me a warm mug. The heat seeps into my palms. I take a sip, and the taste—rich, dark, and real, not the grey, watery sap from the prison mess—is so powerful I almost choke.

A plate is set before me. I take a bite of the pancake my son made. Butter, sweet syrup, the slight char from the pan—simple and perfect flavors. The taste of a meal made in a home I never built, with a family I never had.

At the amusement park, I am a phantom observing my own heaven. My son wins a stuffed bear for his daughter. Teaches his own son how to throw a ball. My granddaughter shoves a cloud of pink cotton candy into my mouth, its sweetness melts on my tongue, a flavor from a world I had forced myself to forget.

I ride the Ferris wheel with Eleanor. At the very top, she rests her head on my shoulder. The first time in a lifetime of first times. The noise of the crowd below. A joyous roar of happiness. I swallow my tears.

My borrowed body is frail. I have to sit on a bench while the younger ones ride the coaster one last time. I am with them, but I am separate, a tourist in my own promised land.

The drive home is quiet. Night has fallen. My son is driving, my daughter beside him. The grandkids are asleep in the third row, smiles on their faces. I sit in the backseat with Eleanor, her soft, wrinkled hand in mine. I trace the wedding ring I don’t remember giving her.

“You were quiet today,” she says.

“Just taking it all in.” The truest thing I have ever said.

A single, pure ting. A chill.

The priest’s voice, echoless inside my own head.

I look at Eleanor, at her profile in the passing glow of the streetlights. I lean closer. “Ellie. I have to go now.”

She turns to me and smiles, her gaze holds a lifetime I never knew. She pats my hand. “Go to sleep, my love,” she says. “We’re almost home.”

I squeeze her hand. My eyes close, and the last thing I feel is the warmth of her skin.

The end.

What are the key reasons behind the belief that the US can’t practice gunboat diplomacy against China anymore?

The reason are legion. The most obvious of which is that colonialism has died. It’s both morally wrong and recognized as such, and it’s no longer feasible. China has fully adopted the capitalist systems that made the Eest powerful. As a result.

China has nukes. If an invasion fleet showed up off its coast, it would be nuked. Period.

China has historically been a land power with little or no navy. Anyone who came ashore would be met with overwhelming numbers of highly trained soldiers. Expeditionary forces that could land at will and who were backed by naval cannons could pulverize masses of even highly rained soldiers. Now?

Now? If some magical event relieved China of its nukes and an invasion flotilla showed up? It would be met by a flotilla in return. That includes heavy investment in a wry capable Air Force.

China has also invested heavily in Area Denial capabilities.

The J20 is designed to pinch through air defenses and take out tankers and C2 aircraft. No tankers? You aren’t getting air over China from the Pacific. There are a lot of fighters that would make getting close to China’s coast extremely difficult.

There are also thousands of anti ship missiles.

Getting a flotilla near the coast would result in swarms of those missiles being loosed. Add is swarms of drones and it gets even harder.

There is also simple logistics and economics.

The US has the most amphibious assault ships in the world. It’s a whopping nine. Each one carries 1,800 marines. If all nine showed up, that 16,200 Marines – one division. Even the dedicated support ships to transport troops would get us to 100,000. That might be enough to hold one coastal city. These are also blue water ships that cannot sail up China’s rivers. There is, stated simply, not enough amphibious capacity in the entire world to punch through China’s defenses to raid up its rivers.

Assuming all of China’s military magically disappeared, and China reverted to just ground forces, then these amphibious ships could maraud up and down the coast like some kind of modern pirate fleet. Groups of special operations guys could get up river, but again, even with ground forces, artillery and mass makes any actual progress by the units almost useless.

Even if magic wizards showed up and magiced away China’s military, the reality is that it wouldn’t remain at zero. China now dominates global manufacturing. Any country showing up and attacking China (even with those magic wizards) would be starting a war.

All of China’s industry would be put on a war footing. You can see for yourself who would build a naval flotilla fastest. An enraged China would have no problem building up its forces, creating a flotilla capable of reaching whomever attacked them.

And Theron lies the heart of the issue. China is a large country with a large population. To successfully attack it would require a full mobilization of a state. A raid would trigger such mobilization in both the attacking state and in China. This endeavor would be ruinously expensive. Any nation that could even entertain the ability to generate the military needed to fight a war with China would quickly conclude that nukes would be the best way of shutting down what would be a catastrophic military confrontation.

One of the major reasons gay colonialism ended was because it was no longer profitable. There is no conceivable cost that could be extracted from China, including the capture of its labor force, that would make a military operation against China profitable. Even though humanity retains leaders who are fine throwing away the lives of peasants, those same people are loath to waste gobs of money. There is currently no credible military threat toward China.

There is also the realization that modern colonial piracy, even backed by a state, is morally wrong. In an amazing coincidence, unprofitable, infeasible, and unethical prove to be an effective deterrent.

If I found one million dollars in a hidden safe in a house I bought, can I just deposit it in my bank account without getting into trouble?

In the case that this actually happens, which it won’t, the worst thing to do is to put it in the bank. Buy a good safe, and keep it in your home.

Switch over to a cash only form of life. Buy gas with cash. Buy groceries with cash. Buy prepaid debit cards with cash, and use them to pay your bills.

You can make small cash deposits every once in awhile. You can even have multiple bank accounts, but don’t go crazy.

Go to gun shows. Buy guns. Pay cash. You can later sell those guns, albeit at somewhat of a loss, to a dealer and receive a receipt for the sale.

Go to jewelry stores. Buy gold. Pay cash. You can later legitimately sell the gold to a gold buyer, and get a receipt..

Hire someone to clean your house or mow your lawn? Pay them in cash. Want to buy a used car? Buy from an individual, and pay cash. You can later trade it in on a new car, and use a cashier’s check, purchased with cash, to pay the difference.

There are lots of ways to launder it without going through a bank. Be creative, and be smart.

What happened at a family get together that made your jaw drop?

Back in 1991 my Grandmother asked if everyone could get together for what would likely be the last time for her, her health wasn’t bad but she was 91.
So as many as could gathered at my Aunt’s home in Oregon.
We all went crabbing and got a pretty good haul of dungeness crabs so my Aunt, Grand and a cousin of 3 made a huge delicious seafood stew.
So far so good and the stew was delicious, everyone took a small bowl planning to go back for more while keeping it hot.
While everyone sat out on the deck chatting and finishing the first round my cousin’s wife, who is the size of a medium sedan, parked her vastly overstuffed body next to the pot and proceeded to pick out all of the crab chunks and salmon cubes. So when everyone came back for a second bowl the only thing left was broth and noodles. EVERYONE was absolutely dumbfounded and pissed that she had been that selfish.
I don’t think anyone said a word to her for the next 2 days til they left.

It wasn’t just that she was a total pig it was more that everyone had worked very hard catching cleaning and cooking those crabs, which she hadn’t done any of.

Why was Steve Jobs so much richer than Steve Wozniak even though they founded Apple together?

Paul earlier gave basically a perfect answer for your question.
Although there is one point that he didn’t mention, that I will.

Before Apple Computer held its initial public offering (or IPO) in 1980, Steve Jobs played a bit of a dickish move.

Jobs decided not to grant stock options to a few of the earliest Apple employees – such as Daniel Kottke, Chris Espinosa and Bill Fernandez.
As a result, these men who helped found a soon to be billion dollar company were to make no money from the upcoming IPO, which would be the biggest since Ford Motors in 1956.

Here’s what Wozniak did.

Wozniak sold some of his own shares to his friends (at very low prices) because he thought Jobs was being an unfair anal cavity.

So at the end of it, Wozniak was left with fewer shares than Jobs and so made less money than Jobs after the IPO.

Steve Jobs eventually went on to invest very wisely in Pixar Animation Studios, which made him a healthy $1B when Pixar held its very own IPO.

He founded his own computer company, after leaving Apple in 1985, which was called ‘NeXT’.

When Steve Jobs finally returned to Apple, he eventually got a megagrant of stock which made him another twenty or thirty million USD.

So it was out of both Wozniak’s generosity and Jobs’s own investments that put Jobs valued at about $8 Billion, whereas Steve Wozniak’s net worth is estimated to be somewhere around US$100 million today.

Wozniak is still richer than most, and his hobbies involve riding on Segways.

– Happy Woz on a Segway.

Is it true that NATO is sending Ukraine outdated weapons and technology which directly results in more Ukrainian military casualties?

There are indeed some weapons arriving here that are better suited for a museum—or even a scrapyard:

I recently passed a convoy of flatbed trucks loaded with old and rusty BRDM-2 reconnaissance vehicles and BTR-60 armored personnel carriers. The BRDMs are from the early 1960s, and the BTRs are even older—the first BTR-60 entered service in the Soviet Army in 1959!
Some of my friends in the Armed Forces of Ukraine received a batch of US-delivered M249 “SAW” machine guns. Not a single one of them was working. They had to cannibalize two of them to get enough functioning parts to build one that actually worked.
Some of the HUMVEEs I’ve seen also seem to come from older production batches.

On the other hand, you can also see plenty of brand-new equipment on the battlefield. A lot of the wheeled armored vehicles and trucks are fresh from the factory.

The damaged Humvee of an assault unit that we support with equipment. This is certainly not the best and newest vehicle on the battlefield, but it beats most of the Soviet/Russian-made models. (Picture: all rights by the author of this post)

In general, the weapons the West is sending are in working condition. It’s understandable that Ukraine’s friends aren’t always sending their newest equipment:

The German Army, for example, has already emptied its ammunition stocks for Ukraine—there’s simply not much left they can give. Western governments are legally required to keep their militaries operational. It would be nice if they could simply say to Ukraine, “Take everything you need,” but legally, that’s not possible. Surplus stocks, however, often held by private companies, can be sent without such restrictions.
Old technology also means proven technology. When the new PUMA infantry fighting vehicle entered service with the German Bundeswehr, it was plagued with technical problems. Imagine if Ukraine had received these IFVs instead of the older “Marders”! They would have run out of functioning vehicles within weeks.
It’s easier to train the Ukrainians on older weapons than on more sophisticated ones. In addition, many Ukrainian soldiers are already familiar with older Russian/Soviet technology that Eastern European NATO countries are sending them. This makes everything much easier, from logistics to maintenance to training.

Saying that the West has caused additional Ukrainian casualties by sending only its oldest equipment is simply wrong.

What happened to Iryna Zarutska?

She was killed by a man who, by all appearances, should have been in either a prison or a psychiatric facility. Her killer, DeCarlos Brown is a black man, and she is white. Of course, the people who want to stir the race pot in America would never pass up this golden opportunity of a tragedy.

I won’t post the picture of her final moments riding the train here, because I think we’ve all seen it by now. Some people have taken her death up as a cause célèbre. Not to shine a light on the vulnerabilities of Ukrainian refugees that have fled to America as you might have guessed. They believe this is a clear case of black racism and hatred against a white woman.

Tesla CEO Elon Musk has pledged $1 million to have murals of Iryna painted all across America. No mention has been made in the press of CEOs pledging support to Iryna’s family in the US or in Ukraine. Surely they are having a difficult time.

(Iryna Zarutska, image source: ABC News).

In any case, I have no idea if DeCarlos Brown is a racist or not. Maybe he is. But he also appears to be literally crazy. Plenty of people had called the police on him before, most of whom were probably black. He was even put in jail last January for repeatedly calling the police on himself. He called the police because he needed help with the “man-made material” in his body.

So, we have a man who was either in jail or psychiatric hospitals a lot, but they kept letting him go. Most of the people in his life seemed to agree that he needed help, including his relatives.

Since he could not be committed to a mental health facility or kept in jail, his mother dropped him off at a homeless shelter when he stopped taking his schizophrenia medication. Days later he committed the tragic killing of Iryna.

Now as for the actual stabbing of Iryna, I am not sure what video you saw, but it was apparent to me that no one on the train realized what had just happened to her. This even includes Iryna herself.

Why has China claimed the 2016 South China Sea arbitration illegal and invalid for 9 years?

I’ll give a very detailed answer about the 2016 South China Sea arbitration:

Background

On January 22, 2013, the Philippines unilaterally filed the South China Sea arbitration case with the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea.

On July 12, 2016, the tribunal announced its ruling on the case, resulting in the US-China standoff in the South China Sea. The U.S. dispatched two aircraft carrier strike groups, including 10 warships, 150 fighter jets, and a total of 12,000 troops. Then-Pacific Commander, Japanese-American Admiral Harry Harris, threatened to “start the war tonight”; China mobilized elite forces from its North Sea, East Sea, and South Sea fleets. Dongfeng-21D anti-ship ballistic missiles were placed on alert. The result was The U.S. forces withdrew after China preciously positioned the aircraft carriers.

What conclusions did the arbitration make?

The arbitration denied China’s historic rights to the South China Sea. It concluded the historical navigation and fishing by China in the waters of the South China Sea represented the exercise of high seas freedoms, rather than a historic right, and that there was no evidence that China had historically exercised exclusive control over the waters of the South China Sea or prevented other States from exploiting their resources.

It also concluded that: Among the 7 reefs and islands China currently exercises effective control, only Yongshu Island, Huayang Island, Nanxun Reef and Chigua Reef were entitled to 12 nautical miles of territorial sea; None reefs or islands in the South China Sea were entitled to a 200-nautical-mile exclusive economic zone.

Why the arbitration invalid and illegal?

First, The South China Sea Arbitral Tribunal is not an international court. It has no connection with the International Court of Justice under the United Nations system in The Hague, and while it has certain links to the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea (ITLOS) in Hamburg, Germany, it is not part of ITLOS. The tribunal merely used a courtroom at the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) for its hearings.

Second, The tribunal, made up of five arbitrators, lacked neutrality.

Aside from Professor Rudiger Wolfrum from Germany appointed by the Philippines, the other four were appointed by Judge Shunji Yanai of Japan, who was then the president of ITLOS and who actually manipulated the tribunal.

Third, The tribunal exercised jurisdiction over a dispute it should not have had jurisdiction over, and proceeded with the case in the absence of one party, which led to factual misjudgments.

Forth: Double-Standard conclusion

Taiping Island, one of the largest naturally formed islands in the South China Sea, covers an area of 500,000 square meters, with fresh water, vegetation, and permanent residents. Its area is more than 150 times that of Japan’s Okinotorishima. While, it was ruled as a “reef,” the Okinotorishima is allowed to support a vast exclusive economic zone (EEZ).

For nine years, the arbitration reflected the dilemma faced by small countries caught between great power rivalries. Former President of the Philippines Benigno Aquino III bet on the United States, ultimately turning the Philippines into cannon fodder in international politics. In contrast, Rodrigo Duterte chose an independent and pragmatic path. Now, Marcos Jr. seems to be leading the Philippines back into the same old predicament. Will the country continue being a pawn? Or, will it learn from history and return to the right path of good-neighborliness and shared development? Manila must make the choice

Orange Cinnamon Chicken

The aroma of this dish is heavenly as it cooks, the spicy warm smell of cinnamon mixed with energizing citrus is sure to bring them to the table fast.

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/2 cup mandarin orange sections, drained and chopped
1/4 cup orange juice
3 tablespoons orange marmalade
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Instructions

Flatten chicken breasts to 1/4 inch thickness with a meat mallet or rolling pin.
In a small bowl, combine orange sections, orange juice, marmalade and cinnamon. Set aside.
Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper.
Coat a large nonstick skillet with cooking spray, heat over medium high heat.
Add chicken, cook for 3 to 4 minutes until lightly browned.
Turn chicken, reduce heat to medium low and cook for 2 to 3 minutes longer.
Pour orange mixture over chicken, then heat for 3 to 4 minutes until heated through.

What is the darkest episode of a TV show that’s roughly considered a comedy?

Pretty, Pretty Dresses (S03, E09 of King Of The Hill)

This Christmas episode primarily focuses on Hanks neighbor and close friend, Bill Dauterive.

Basically, 7 years prior to this episode, Bills adulterous wife, Lenore, left him and Bill clearly hasn’t moved on. And the holidays, normally a time of togetherness and warmth, are a bitter reminder to Bill of his loneliness. So, Bill begins the episode even more depressed than usual because he’s still clinging onto hope that Lenore would come back.

Hank decides to check in on Bill one day, and he notices Bill has everything from that fateful Christmas hanging up – the decorations, the presents he bought Lenore, and even Christmas tree from ‘91. Hank tries to tell Bill that it’s highly unlikely that Lenore would come back all these years later, but Bill starts to weep and Hank stops himself. Hank, however, decides to invite Bill to join the family dinners so he’s less lonely over the holidays.

Dinner however, doesn’t go well. Bill decides to bring up a boy that Hanks wife, Peggy, had a crush on back in high school who didn’t reciprocate which clearly made Peggy upset. He also asks Luanne (Hanks niece), if she still thinks about her dead boyfriend Buckley and if she thinks that’s the only chance she has at love, which makes Luanne emotional. He also brings up Marie, the girl who broke the heart of Bobby (Hanks son).

The second dinner, Bill brings along a pet iguana that he got and named it “Lenore.” He feeds Lenore a live cockroach, and this makes Peggy tell Hank that Bill needs more help than what his friends can offer. Bill barges into the Hills bedroom that night and says he had a nightmare that his ex-wife Lenore stole the iguana Lenore and asks to sleep on their couch.

Hank uninvited Bill to dinner and after Bill sees the Hills having a happy dinner without him, he steals Hanks 10-foot ladder and uses it to attempt to take his own life. Bill survives, but after Hank sees this, he hatches a plan to always have an eye on Bill to make sure he stays alive. He, and his other neighborhood friends Boomhauer and Dale each take a shift to watch over Bill.

Boomhauer and Dale soon get tired of watching Bill and quit, forcing Hank to watch Bill full-time. Hank asks Peggy to set up Bill with a lady friend. Peggy reluctantly agrees and sets him up, the date taking place at the Hills home. The date goes horribly wrong again, and this time it ends with Bills iguana running out of an open window, causing Bill to spiral again and run home. Hank follows Bill this time, and when Bill begs Hank to help him find the iguana, Hank tells Bill sternly that it’s time to move on and put his feelings for Lenore in the past. He throws around the old presents for Lenore and asks Bill how he feels….Bill replies with “I don’t feel anything.”

Hank finds the iguana the next morning and goes to take it to Bills place, and finds someone in Bills backyard. It’s Bill, wearing a dress and speaking in a high-pitched voice, claiming to be Lenore. Hank tries to snap Bill out of it, but he does not listen and when Hank leaves, Billnore tells Hank that he’s excited for his Christmas Party. Hank tries to uninvite Bill, not wanting a bunch of old school-minded people to see this.

Billnore goes to the party anyways, much to the shock, disgust, and discomfort of Hanks guests. Peggy ends up getting ahold of Lenore on the phone, and tells Billnore. Peggy asks Lenore to drop by, which she declines. She asks Lenore to talk on the phone with Bill, and she declines. Peggy simply asks for Lenore just to say she sends her love, and she even says no to that. Peggy hangs up the phone and Bill starts weeping again. This time, the guests confront him, before Hank runs into the living room wearing a dress too and saying it’s “that kind of party.” Billnore runs out of the house in tears, and Hank follows him into the streets.

Outside, Hank claims to Bill that he (Hank) is Lenore, and that Lenore left because she does not love him. Hearing Hanknore say that, Bill comes to his senses and says that it was rude of Lenore not to call, and that she does not deserve him. Bill finally has some closure from Lenore leaving him, and snaps out of it. Bill admits to Hank that he hit rock bottom, but that meant it was only up from there.

An incredible episode that has both humorous moments and a realistic storyline about mental health and how rough the holidays are for some people. A true masterpiece from an already excellent show.

Has anyone used math to get rich?

The Massachusetts State Lottery made a mistake when it listed the odds of winning that were associated with combinations of letters.

They unintentionally exposed themselves to a loophole that would be spotted by none other than a math teacher, named Jerry Selbee.

Years prior, he was already great at solving puzzles and had done so throughout his life. He and his wife, Marge, in 1976:

Compressing a series of events:

It is decades later. Jerry and Marge are retired. And like many retirees, they enjoy playing the lottery.

The lottery game, Winfall, had tickets they sold at the retail level. The main jackpot was given when 6 matching numbers were made.

If nobody won, the lottery purse went up each week. But after 6 weeks, or when the jackpot hit the $5M dollar cap— it did what was called a “Roll Down”. A Roll Down occurs when winnings are spread downwards to the lower tier winners, to the winners at the 5, 4, and 3 level matches.

Jerry studied the patterns of the letter combos, the winnings odds, and the timing of those Roll Downs. He knew that statistically, a single one dollar lottery ticket was worth more than one dollar in those final weeks. (Source: Gaming the lottery seemed as good a retirement plan as any. Fagone, Jason)

And so, Jerry began dipping his toes into the water of the Roll Down weeks. And quite quickly—he realized he could win.

As he kept winning, his bets began soaring higher and higher, some weeks betting hundreds of thousands of dollars, his wife and him clearing out entire convenience stores throughout the city.

Over the course of 7 years, he won more than $26 million dollars from the state lottery.

Shortly thereafter, the government investigated him but could find no wrongdoing on his part.

The state subsequently discontinued the Winfall game.

Jerry and Marge, having outsmarted “the man” laughed all the way to the bank.

20,000 Leagues Under The Sea (VHS HD)

It is estimated that the USA would lose up to 4 aircraft carriers and 900 aircraft if they attempted to defend Taiwan from a Chinese invasion. Is it worth the humiliating defeat for a country not even in NATO?

US won’t risk World War for Taiwan

The Neocons have admitted that direct war with either China or Russia in today’s scenario is IMPOSSIBLE without the entire devastation of the United States with millions dead and the country plunged into a nuclear winter (Russia and China will have the same devastation too, and Europe, and UK too)

I. Chinese Invasion of Taiwan will either involve pawns or economic blockades/sanctions

It will be Japan who will be asked to bear the brunt of the Taiwanese defense since they are closest to the straits

The Alternate and most likely scenario would be harsh economic sanctions

II. Trump and Biden have been of IMMENSE HELP to China

Had Trump not imposed his 2017 Tariffs and had the US Chinese relations been the same as they had been before Obamas ‘Pivot to Asia’, it’s possible an economic shock to China would have been a blow

Now, China is insulated against any major US Economic Shock

The US strategy to deal with China involves Color Revolution, Internal Sabotage, Food and Energy blockades rather than direct war

China is preparing for their own ways to deal with the situation by focusing on rapidly expanding renewable energy, focusing on cleaner coal burning and extensively focusing on pipelines for Oil and Gas and on their own Oil and Gas reserves

Why is China not invading Taiwan?

THE PERFECT WIND

China wants the winds to be perfect for a Taiwanese invasion

The Taiwanese people should be either in favor of a Mainland oriented change or at least not against the same

Until then, as long as Taiwan doesn’t declare Independence, China will keep to status quo

US China War will end up Nuclear because US will lose

US cannot win in the South China Sea

US has to resort to blockades of Malacca and Indian Ocean to throttle China Trade but that would throttle 70% of all Global Trade and plunge the world into a chaos, 30 times harsher than the Ukraine conflict

China has rocket power enough to devastate all US Bases several times over and US doesn’t have a tenth of the interceptors

China makes Missiles in assembly lines

Their stockpiles are 15–20 times that of Iran indicating around 100,000 to 150,000 ready to fire ballistic missiles

The US needs 1–3 interceptors for each Chinese Missile

Once the US runs out, it’s a sitting duck and the only way to avoid humiliation is a NUCLEAR THREAT

Remember I am NOT saying China can win EVERYWHERE

In a conflict that is more than 1000 Kms away from the Chinese Sphere, US is certain to be far more dominant

However in the South China Sea, today, US will lose in a Non Nuclear Escalatory conflict

The Most Terrifying Nuclear War Movies Ever Made

Pictures

Women Are SHOCKED As Men GHOST Them After Being Told “NO”

Orange Tarragon Chicken Breasts

Ingredients

2 cups orange juice
1 cup chicken stock
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
2 whole split, skinless, boneless chicken breasts, pounded thin
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Orange sections (garnish)

Instructions

In a large skillet, bring orange juice, tarragon and broth to boil.
Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper and add to skillet.
Cook chicken for 2 minutes per side over medium heat. Remove chicken and set aside.
Reduce sauce over high heat to about 4 tablespoons liquid. This should take about 10 minutes.
Remove pan from heat and whisk in butter until melted.
Return chicken to pan and heat for 1 minute per side.
Arrange on heated serving platter.
Garnish with orange sections.

What are some literally crazy things?

In Ukraine, they have entire roads and highways covered in anti-drone netting:

You can drive for miles in this, because it has become so dangerous, and because Russians forces will target anything that moves in certain areas. It is painstaking building these nets:

But proves an effective way to help save lives.

I genuinely hope there is a resolution to this war soon.

The Trouble with Nuns

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Rebecca Hurst

She was several minutes late for her appointment with Bram Dallaglio, and the reason for it was stupid. It was raining, or at least mizzling. The climate rarely produced a satisfying downpour, but preferred to wet the little people with light and persistent moisture, like being smothered by a wet towel. Her hair, straightened that morning, was prone to frizz, and she was vain enough to know that Mr Dallaglio was quite uniquely handsome.

She saw him immediately, sitting in a booth with a pint of Guinness, sporting a suit and tie. If he appeared incongruous amid the lunchtime gurners and yarn-spinners, he didn’t show it, and neither did they. She, on the other hand, attracted glances; not lascivious but simply curious.

‘I forgot my umbrella’, she said, by way of limp introduction. (I carried a water melon ..)

‘There’ll be plenty behind the bar,’ he said, rising to greet her, to ask her what she wanted to drink. ‘People bring them out and forget them when the rain stops. I don’t think I’ve ever bought one in my life.’

She watched him walk to the bar, aware that her pulse was racing. How ridiculous. She was at least a decade older than him and every one of those years showed at least once. Her friend Miriam had warned her of the Dallaglio Effect, made all the more devastating because he seemed so oblivious to it.

Nursing her G&T, (it’s too early, too early,) they settled into a businesslike talk about the nature of her problem.

‘It’s not a problem,’ she began. ‘Not really. In fact, now I’m here it feels so trivial. It isn’t much of a story, I’m afraid.’

Noticing that Dallaglio wasn’t one for conversational fillers, she ploughed on under the gaze of his striking eyes.

‘My grandmother lives with me and my children. And my husband (an afterthought). She’s 97 now and still as bright as a button. We have to speak more loudly than we used to, but beyond that she’s in fairly good shape. She doesn’t even have arthritis … ’

‘But something troubles her,’ Dallaglio said, licking the creamy Guinness from his lips, an action which she found shamefully provocative.

‘Yes.’

She settled her back against the banquette, this woman of rational mind reduced, as she saw it, to expose the vulnerability of fantasy.

‘You see, all her life she’s been completely dismissive of the supernatural, the spiritual, or anything else you can name along those lines. She is fearless and often quite rude about it.’

‘Me too,’ said Bram, taking her by surprise.

‘Really? You’re not a time traveller then?’ She said this with irony, but still, there was talk that he could.

‘Time travel is theoretically impossible,’ he said. ‘Certainly when it comes to going backwards. There is talk of forward travel, but it involves a lot of spinning objects in space and countless and unknowable variations of gravitational pull from which you would never return, least of all recover. Besides, no one needs to know their future.’

‘I suppose not,’ she said, aware of a flush creeping towards her cheeks. ‘But you have a talent for solving past mysteries. Surely there is more to that than a Holmesian instinct?’

‘I am simply connected to it,’ he said modestly. ‘A gift I was born with. But I still have to focus, like everyone else … ’

That, she realised, was a subtle prompt to get on with it.

*****

Her grandmother, Heather Rose, had been evacuated in the first months of the war. She had just passed her exams and was heading for Grammar School when the War Office decided that children should be sent away from the industrial cities and the port areas, especially those along the south coast.

So she, with a cohort of other children from her former primary school, were sent to a country house in Worcestershire called The Elms. Like a lot of these places, its foundations were much older than the building that replaced it over time. By the time Heather Rose went there, the main body of it was Georgian. The owners were a Baron and his wife, Sir Richard and Lady Marion Brooke, who were polite but otherwise disengaged, just doing their duty. The children shared a spacious attic room in the main wing, where they were regularly but sparingly fed, and otherwise left to amuse themselves. It was a stud at the time, which the year before had produced a Derby winner, so there was a lot to do and see. Horses, open countryside, an intriguing clock tower, a stuffy old Boy’s School and lanes as far as the legs could walk and the eyes could see.

*****

As she continued, she wondered at his concentration. He never once let his attention roam, as though this rather workaday story was the most fascinating thing in the world to him.

‘You mentioned in your email that something happened one night,’ he prompted. ‘Can you explain to me what it was and why it bothers her so much?’

She cleared her throat, noted her empty glass. ‘Another?’ he asked.

‘Please,’ she said.

*****

‘She’s not sure of the exact date, but it was sometime in the late November of 1940. Her friends, those she shared the attic with, dared my grandmother to sneak down to the kitchens to see if there was any food in the pantry. They were growing children and rationing made things tight.’

‘That was brave of her,’ said Bram.

‘Like I say, the woman was born fearless. So she slipped down the servants’ stairs in the middle of the night and exited through a door that led out to the main part of the house; where the sweeping staircase was and the main reception hall down below. It was pitch black, but she daren’t use a candle, so she felt her way down the grand stairs, holding on to the bannister and measuring every step before she took it. And as she was about halfway down, a light suddenly appeared.’

‘From where?’ he urged.

‘She doesn’t know,’ she replied. ‘All she remembers is that two horrible faces lit up in the dark. They were nuns.’

Dallaglio sat back. She felt a girlish pleasure that she had somehow managed to shock him.

‘She said they seemed to loom out at her, sometimes flickering and other times just glaring. She swears she heard some sort of thud, too, a noise which didn’t seem to come from anywhere. She was so frightened she fled back the way she’d come, and the children just had to go hungry until breakfast.’

‘And that’s it?’ he asked.

‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have wasted your time with this—’

He leaned forward and took her hand. His palm was cool and dry. ‘I mean, is that the one and only time she saw them? The nuns?’

She nodded. ‘And here’s the more human part of things. My grandmother doesn’t believe in ghosts, but she believes she saw them on that night. She can’t rationalise it, and it’s making her last years increasingly difficult. You see, she doesn’t believe in the afterlife either, and that’s the problem.’

‘Because if she believes in ghosts then she has to accept the afterlife?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘Something like that. Some people look forward to it, I suppose, but it fills her with horror, the thought of existing in perpetuity – or to be reborn and have to go through life all over again. She just wants to be dead and done with it, when the time comes.’

‘Have you tried lying to her? Making up an explanation?’

‘I’ve thought about it, but I can’t think of anything,’ she said haplessly.

The rest of their time was involved with business arrangements. Very shortly after the war ended, The Elms was turned into a Hotel and Spa, and she had booked Bram in for one night. He assured her that would be enough, and at the prices they were charging she was glad of it.

He glanced at his watch and stood up, shaking her hand. ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I know,’ he said.

‘I can’t imagine you’ll discover anything,’ she said, ‘but I’m hoping you can at least come out with a convincing lie I can pass on ..’

He frowned at her. ‘Oh, I think I already know,’ he said. ‘I just need to go there to confirm things.’

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just seconds after he left, she looked for him all along the main street, but he was nowhere to be seen.

*****

The hotel had undergone various extensions and renovations since the ’40s, but the main body of the house remained the same. He had asked for the attic room, once the servant’s domain, and then later the evacuees’. It had become, by dint of the space and view, the most expensive room in the hotel. Although much had changed, in the distance he could see the grammar school and the clock tower. Beyond the necessities of modern life, the new roads and the electricity pylons, it was the same view that eleven-year-old Heather Rose would have seen. He sat on the bed, briefly, but felt nothing. He placed his palms on the walls and waited until he heard it; the faint chatter of pre-pubescent girls. He was connected. He was in.

He spent some time on his laptop, and then walked the grounds, but nothing of what he felt was pertinent to Heather Rose. Later again, he went to the village pub, which for centuries has been the only place to discover the truth of anything in this country.

*****

She received a text message from Dallaglio the next morning. She was to meet him in the same bar at 1pm. Clearly he hadn’t taken advantage of the spa facilities.

*****

He was in a different place this time. She thought there might be a message in that, a clue as to his nature. She doubted he was ever in the same place at the same time.

They ordered the same drinks. He wore the same suit but a different tie. He was impeccable in all respects. She took a deep breath and looked at him with her head cocked, as if to say Well, Romeo, I’m waiting ….

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Here’s the story.’ He raised a finger. ‘Don’t interrupt unless you have to.’

‘Guides’ Honour,’ she said.

‘Apart from one thing. Were the children ever allowed into the main body of the house?’

‘No. They used the servant’s stairs to get to the attic. They could enter the kitchens through the outside door, but it was locked at night. I thought I told you that …’

‘You didn’t,’ he said, ‘but I guessed it. Of course, running around the grounds, they must have looked through the ground floor windows on occasion; see how the other half live.’

‘Yes, I suppose they did.’

‘So they could see the staircase, but not what was in front of the staircase. That’s why your grandmother knew the layout, but only up to a point.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

He took a deep draft of his drink and fixed her again with those abiding eyes.

‘The exact day she saw the apparition was the 29th November 1940. It was a new moon on that night, the perfect time for the Junkers 88 bombers to fly. No natural light at all. They must have flown over the village and The Elms before that night, because it was on the direct flight path to Coventry, where all the vehicle plants were.’

‘She never mentioned it.’

‘They would usually have been asleep by then. But that night was a Friday, so no school in the morning. They’d already flown by when she decided to take that dare, on their way to bomb Coventry again. That’s why she didn’t hear them when she walked down that staircase. But she did hear a thud. And that thud was Theodor Schinkel.’

‘Who?’

‘A bad Nazi and a very good German.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said. He looked at her as though he thought she should.

‘Let’s change direction,’ he said. ‘The house was built in 1745 on the foundations of a Tudor building, some parts of which remain. That is not uncommon at all. But less common is the fate of the original owner, who was hung, drawn and quartered for his part in the Gunpowder Plot in 1605.’

‘So a Catholic?’ She said, realising again that her drink was empty.

‘Another?’

‘Yes please.’

‘In amongst the various priest holes, now used for cleaning supplies, were two terrible portraits of unknown nuns, no doubt commissioned at the time of the first owner. These portraits are situated on either side of the main entrance to the house. They’re still there. Your grandmother would not have seen them when peering through the windows in childish curiosity.’

‘Why are they still there?’

‘No idea, really. The hotel has allowed a rumour to circulate that they are cursed and must not be removed. Customers like that sort of thing.’

‘Do they?’

‘Apparently, yes.’

‘God. Nuns. Really? Who paints nuns?’

‘Especially those nuns,’ he said. ‘They’re enough to put the fear in God in anyone.’

‘Or enough to make you stop believing in Him at all,’ she said.

‘So who was Theodor Schinkel?’

‘A German gunner in the Luftwaffe. On that night he was positioned in the underbelly of the plane, a bubble-type structure, preparing to aim his sites on Coventry. But he bailed out, because he didn’t want to do it.’

‘And he landed on the roof of Elm House?’

‘Yes. It’s got all the usual turrets and pediments, but where he landed, the roof was flat, and it’s directly above the main staircase, which, if you look up, has a large skylight – again, something your grandmother would not have noticed peering through the window. Had there been a moon, she might have done, but remember that on that night, there was none. It was his mag-light, shining through it, that accidentally picked up the faces of the nuns at the bottom of the stairs. That’s what your grandmother saw.’

‘Good grief,’ she exhaled. ‘So that’s it?’

‘Yes. That’s it.’

‘And what happened to Schinkel?

‘He was interned at Camp 287, Perdiswell, and spent an idyllic war farming the English countryside. He also furnished the Home Office with all they needed to know about the Junkers’ satellite systems. After the war, he married an English girl and died, a happy old man, twenty years ago.’

‘How did you find out?’

He looked at her, and in his eyes she could see a flicker of mild and yet not unkind contempt.

‘The main failing of the human race is that most of them lack curiosity.’

It was a rebuke.

‘Well, Grandmother will be pleased to hear it.’

He passed her a sheath of papers in a slim file. ‘It’s all in there,’ he said. ‘Just in case she doesn’t believe you.’

‘Oh, she’ll believe me. It’s too simple an explanation to be untrue.’

‘Almost all explanations are simple,’ he said, rising and offering her his hand, just like before.

‘What do I owe you?’

‘Nothing at all. I only charge when I find lost treasure.’ At this he winked. ‘But you must tell her immediately.’

‘I’m thinking of leaving it until next week. It’s her 98th and I was going to tell her then.’

‘Tell her tonight,’ he said with finality.

*****

In the early morning, she realised why. And all through the grief of it, she was so glad that she had done as instructed. There were no ghosts and there would be no afterlife for Heather Rose. The knowledge of it had tugged a smile to her thin blue lips and induced an unearthly erasure of wrinkles. She had died in her own grace.

She heard no more from Bram Dallaglio, and although she knew that he was entirely corporeal, she couldn’t help but question that reality. It was a small story but a huge final act. It was a play of kindness from someone who surely had better things to do. It was strange and it was beautiful, (he was beautiful), and however much she tried to explain him, she never really could.

And there were many times when she wondered where he might be right now, not in terms of location, but in terms of century. Because for all his denials, she was not at all convinced that he was entirely anchored to his timeline: that in the swell and the vagaries of the wind, he could so easily find himself elsewhere.

How One Kitten’s Test Turned Into a Napocalypse

I’m coping with a reality in flux. Please have patience.

-MM

The Treasury just declared the U.S. insolvent. The media missed it

Hal Turner Nation March 23, 2026

The U.S. government is insolvent. That’s not hyperbole — it’s the conclusion drawn directly from the Treasury Department’s own consolidated financial statements for fiscal year 2025, released last week to near-total media silence. The numbers: $6.06 trillion in total assets against $47.78 trillion in total liabilities as of September 30, 2025.

Importantly, the $47.78 trillion in reported liabilities does not include the unfunded obligations of social insurance programs like Social Security and Medicare — those are disclosed separately in the off-balance-sheet Statement of Social Insurance (SOSI).

The government’s consolidated balance sheet position, excluding the SOSI, deteriorated by nearly $2.07 trillion between FY 2024 and FY 2025, reaching a staggering negative $41.72 trillion. Total liabilities are now nearly eight times the value of reported assets. The largest drivers were a $2 trillion increase in federal debt and interest payable (now $30.33 trillion) and a $438.8 billion increase in federal employee and veteran benefits payable (now $15.47 trillion).

The Off-Balance-Sheet Iceberg

The off-balance-sheet picture is even more alarming. The 75-year unfunded social insurance obligation surged by $10.1 trillion in a single year, rising from $78.3 trillion in FY 2024 to $88.4 trillion in FY 2025 — driven primarily by a $6.9 trillion jump in projected Medicare Part B shortfalls and a $2.5 trillion increase for Social Security. The Treasury’s Statement of Long-Term Fiscal Projections shows the 75-year fiscal gap widening from 4.3% of GDP in FY 2024 to 4.7% in FY 2025.

If the $88.4 trillion in 75-year off-balance-sheet obligations were added to the $47.8 trillion in official balance sheet liabilities, total federal obligations would now exceed $136.2 trillion — roughly five times U.S. annual GDP.

The Government Accountability Office (GAO) issued a disclaimer of opinion on the U.S. government’s FY 2025 financial statements — the 29th consecutive year it has been unable to determine whether the statements are fairly presented. This is primarily due to serious, ongoing financial management problems at the Department of Defense and weaknesses in accounting for interagency transactions.

What $136 Trillion Looks Like in Your Living Room

Not only has the financial press ignored the consolidated financial statements, but most members of Congress and members of the general public will not read the consolidated financial statements. Documents like the consolidated financial statements are not the kind of thing you want to read before driving. If that’s not bad enough, most people cannot relate to the trillion-dollar numbers in the financial statements. Therefore, it is appropriate to translate them into terms that people will understand.

Most people cannot relate to trillion-dollar figures on a government ledger. So consider this: divide every number by 100 million — drop eight zeros — and federal finances look like a household budget in freefall.

That household earns $52,446 and spends $73,378 — running a $20,932 annual deficit. Its total liabilities and unfunded promises amount to $1,361,788 against just $60,554 in assets, leaving it $1.3 million in the hole. Uncle Sam, by any accounting standard, is insolvent.

Congress has clearly lost control of the nation’s finances. America is facing a fiscal catastrophe. The reckoning, long deferred, is becoming impossible to ignore.

BY: Steve H. Hanke, David M. Walker, via FORTUNE Magazine at: https://www.yahoo.com/news/finance/economy/policy/articles/treasury-just-declared-u-insolvent-151425143.html

Hal Turner Editorial Opinion

Now, perhaps you understand why they’ve been trying so hard to actually START World War 3; they’re broke. They don’t want to take the blame for being the one’s who did it, they need a really big war to blame it on. Too bad for them the Russians didn’t take the bait with Ukraine.

So now they’re trying to start it with Iran. They need some really big war they can point to, to tell the American people “we didn’t Bankrupt the country, it was the war!”

You see, they’re worried about another potential January 6-style event, only this one with Guns and Nooses, lynching them from the lamp posts.

But the Iranians aren’t cooperating either.

So they’re in a jam. What do do now?

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

I wonder if some of those political psychos are thinking “False Flag attack upon America?” Maybe something akin to 9-11? Then they can BLAME IT on . . . . . whoever, declare war, and have at it!

After all, it really doesn’t matter who they blame as long as they can deflect responsibility for wrecking the entire country’s finances. It seems to me they’ll do literally ANYTHING to avoid the blame.

Americans would do well to learn the old skill of tying NOOSES.

Israel Just Hit Iran’s Bushehr Nuclear Reactor — Radiation Detected 300km Away

So close to nuclear war…

Sir Whiskerton and the History Exam: Who Invented Naps?

Or: How One Kitten’s Test Turned Into a Napocalypse

Introduction

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so absurd, so gloriously drowsy, that even your morning coffee might yawn in solidarity. Today’s story begins with Ditto the Echoing Kitten facing an existential crisis—his very first (and possibly last) attempt at taking a kitten-version of the Chinese Gaokao (高考). But this wasn’t just any exam; it was The Great Nap Debate.

When Sir Whiskerton declares himself the inventor of naps, chaos ensues. Elvis the Rooster steps into the fray, claiming rock stars pioneered snoozing as an art form. What follows is a battle of wit, whiskers, and wing flaps—a nap-centric showdown that threatens to rewrite history itself. So grab your pillow, settle into your favorite sunbeam, and join us for Sir Whiskerton and the History Exam: Who Invented Naps?

Act 1: The Essay Question That Broke Time Itself

Ditto sat nervously at his tiny desk, quill poised like a sword ready for intellectual combat. His task? To answer the most daunting question ever posed to a feline student:

“Who invented naps?”

Before he could even think, Sir Whiskerton strolled in wearing his signature monocle, looking every bit the regal scholar-cat. He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Let the record show,” Sir Whiskerton announced, “that I, Sir Whiskerton, am the undisputed inventor of naps. My pawprints are etched in the sands of time!”

Elvis the Rooster strutted forward, feathers puffed out like a glittering disco ball. “Oh please,” Elvis scoffed. “Naps were invented by rock stars. We don’t sleep—we REST OUR EYES FOR HISTORY!”

Ditto blinked, overwhelmed. Then, true to form, he echoed both voices:
“ZZZ… huh-wha? ZZZ…”

Act 2: The Battle of the Snooze Scrolls

As the debate raged on, the farm animals gathered around, eager spectators to what would soon become known as The Napocalypse.

Sir Whiskerton’s Argument:
“I have spent centuries perfecting the art of strategic stillness,” Sir Whiskerton declared, pacing back and forth with dramatic flair. “A well-timed nap is not laziness—it is efficiency personified! Without me, humanity would still be wandering aimlessly through their days without the restorative power of slumber.”

He held up a scroll labeled The Nap Codex, which detailed his life’s work:

“Paw Placement During Sunbeams: A Scientific Study”
“The Monocle Nap: Seeing Clearly Through Rest”
Elvis’s Counterargument:
Elvis grabbed the mic (or rather, squawked loudly) and began belting out lyrics from his latest hit single, “Rockin’ Dreams.”
“Naps aren’t about strategy—they’re about style!” Elvis crowed. “Every great musician knows the importance of recharging before the encore. And let’s not forget—I once slept standing up during a concert AND woke up mid-song!”

The crowd gasped. Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow whispered, “That’s dedication.”

Act 3: Ditto’s Dilemma

Poor Ditto was stuck in the middle, furiously scribbling notes while trying to echo both arguments.

Key Jokes:
- Elvis: “Elvis never sleeps—he just rests his eyes for history!”
- Sir Whiskerton: “I have pawprints in the sands of time!”
- Ditto: [Echoing both] “ZZZ… huh-wha? ZZZ…”

At one point, Ditto fell asleep mid-sentence, drooling onto his parchment. When he awoke, he realized he’d written the entire essay in snore-shaped doodles.

Reflection Scene

After the dust settled (and after several cups of chamomile tea), Sir Whiskerton took Ditto aside for a quiet moment under the stars.

“Ditto,” Sir Whiskerton said gently, “the lesson here isn’t who invented naps—it’s that everyone deserves rest. Whether you’re a cat, a rooster, or a nervous little kitten taking the Gaokao, it’s okay to pause and recharge.”

Ditto tilted his head thoughtfully. “So… does that mean I passed?”

Sir Whiskerton chuckled. “Let’s call it a conditional pass.”

Post-Credit Scene

Chef Remy LeRaccoon waddled up holding a tray of suspiciously glowing cupcakes. “Behold! My newest invention: Energy-Napping Cupcakes™. Eat one, and you’ll feel rested without actually sleeping!”

Doris the Hen peered at the cupcakes skeptically. “Are these radioactive?”

Remy grinned. “Only slightly.”

Cue horrified silence.

Moral of the Story

Rest is universal—and no one owns the patent on relaxation.

Best Lines

“Elvis never sleeps—he just rests his eyes for history!” – Elvis
“I have pawprints in the sands of time!” – Sir Whiskerton
“ZZZ… huh-wha? ZZZ…” – Ditto, multitasking

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Philosopher-King of Strategic Stillness)
Elvis the Rooster (Self-Proclaimed Rock Star of Rest)
Ditto the Echoing Kitten (Accidental Historian)
Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Midnight Snacks)

Summaries

Moral: Everyone needs rest—it’s part of being alive.
Key Jokes: From Elvis’s dramatic flair to Ditto’s accidental nap-doodles, laughter abounds.
Future Potential: Could Ditto face another Gaokao challenge? Or will Chef Remy’s glowing cupcakes spark a new disaster?

Until next time, may your dreams be deep and your naps legendary. 🌙

In 1945, America dropped atomic weapons on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. How come people are able to live there today? Where is the radiation fallout?

First of all: the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs were tiny. Well, as nuclear weapons go. Their yield was 20 kilotons, while the biggest ones deployed today are at some 4 megatons – 200 times more powerful. And at the height of the Cold War deployments, bombs were even bigger: USA made about 500 B41 bombs with a yield of 25 megatons, over 1,000 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb.

Another important factor was that bombs like the B41, from 1960, had a “dirty” version: designed to have a lot of fallout. The Little Boy and Fat Man designs used on Japan were only concerned with getting a uranium and plutonium charge, respectively, to detonate; there was some fallout but it was relatively small.

The thing here is that “fallout” would mostly refer to fission products: when the heavy atoms in U-325 and Pu-239 are split, they form all manners of extremely unstable isotopes that are highly radioactive. The U-325 and Pu-239 atoms themselves are not actually hugely radioactive, and if they settle on the ground, they are quite manageable.

The bombs used on Japan had a relatively small amount of fission products. Dirty nuclear weapons use a fusion component that makes close to all the uranium or plutonium split into the highly radioactive fission products. The very purpose is to destroy the target country completely and make it unliveable.

There’s a third factor, as well: Hiroshima and Nagasaki were air bursts, detonating several hundred metres up in the air. That actually minimizes fallout (partly because it gets dispersed by wind – like with an ordinary poison, “diluted” radiation is less dangerous). Detonation close to, or on, the ground will create a lot of radioactive dust that will settle nearby.

So when you hear about how nukes can contaminate the ground for several generations, that’s certainly true – but the first ones weren’t designed to do that. They were designed to blow up an entire city, destroying industrial capacity, or an entire advancing army – an immediate result, but nothing beyond that. They were, in modern parlance, tactical nuclear weapons. Later designs were designed to blow up a county and neutralize it long term; they were strategical weapons.

Take home message: “nukes” isn’t one thing. They can be designed for different purposes, they can be of various sizes, and the first ones were simply focused on achieving a detonation in the first place. It works much the same way as “gun”, which can be anything from a six-shooter to a modern assault rifle to a musket or a smoothbore cannon.

Are men and women who live for a long time the ones that were slim all of their lives?

Leon Askin didn’t look wonderfully healthy on Hogan’s Heroes. He died aged 97, still obese.

My Grandmother was obese most of her life. She died at age 89. She wasn’t overweight by the end of her life. In her case the process of aging naturally reduced her weight as was the case with another relative who went from obese to slim and died at age 90.

Mum was overweight from age 45 till 65 when she developed diabetes. As her mother had died through complications of diabetes at age 89. (which were unpleasant) she reduced weight, eventually dying at age 95.

My mother and Grandmother enjoyed food but also ate very healthy food as part of their diet, even when overweight.

My mother noticed that everyone in her family who lived to be very old liked walking. Grandad died at age 84 and walked , even when diagnosed with emphysema at age 73. He sounded terrible but he was on his feet. He walked a hilly route of about 5 kilometres with his trusty walking stick. He was overweight but not obese in old age.

Mum followed his example and deliberately walked to the mailbox up a steep driveway with her walker till 3 months before the end. She walked to and around the shops till her late 80s, then caught the bus up the steep hill. Eventually we dropped her off at the shops to potter round before helping her round towards the end.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s good genes combined with a healthy lifestyle. Obviously not being obese is going to help with mobility and a good diet is helpful.

I can’t allow myself to become obese. I have arthritis and it flares up with extra kilos as I found out when I let my healthy eating slip. This made it difficult to walk far so I suspect eventually my health would be impaired from inability to walk far.

Now I’m still mildly overweight but at age 62 bouncing around.

A close relative who is ten years older than me has hereditary bone loss. Apparently being too slim is not necessarily always helpful in old age either. She was not skinny but never overweight.

What maintaining a healthy weight will do is enable you to live a healthy life style and have a greater chance of a healthier life till the end. It may maximise your life.

My father was Mr Healthy but died suddenly of a brain aneurysm at age 74. The doctor advised his lifestyle could have given him 15 years. Bad habits would have made the blood vessel (birth defect) give way a lot sooner.

I’m of cause speaking from observations in my own family mainly but I think being moderate in all things seems to be a common factor and longevity is more than being slim.

And of course there are always outliers who drink, smoke, are sedationary and /or are obese who live to 110 or Mr Healthy who was lucky to make it to 74.

China and Nuclear

Just like Iran & DPRK North Korea, China has built a deep 3,000 MILE Length network of tunnels to conceal & protect Transporter Errector Launchers (TEL) designed to survive a nuclear first strike by the United States. It is referred to as the underground Great Wall.

China operates a second strike nuclear deterrence doctrine which makes even conventional warfare against China a suicidal act:

Pentagon led Studies by the Rand think tank have concluded if USA attacks China, America will be destroyed:

China’s network of tunnels were begun in 1985 stretching east from Nagqu, Tibet:

Twilight Zone America: The USA Dystopia

Damn! This is one GREAT video. -MM

This video takes a psychological, philosophical, sociological and dystopian look at the human condition and human nature in an age of AI, algorithms, surveillance, and mass loneliness.

Step into a post apocalyptic America where the line between sci-fi and reality has vanished. With dark humor and an existential edge, we explore how we got here, why it feels like an endless Twilight Zone episode, and how to keep your mind intact in a culture built to manipulate you.

Nuevo Cubano Chicken
with Spanish Olive Picadillo Salsa

Prep: 20 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 (4 to 5 ounce) boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1 tablespoon Jamaican or Caribbean jerk seasoning
1 medium onion, chopped
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (10 ounce) can diced tomatoes and green chilies, undrained
3/4 cup halved Lindsay® Pimiento Stuffed Spanish Manzanilla Olives
1/2 cup golden or dark raisins
1 tablespoon drained Lindsay® capers
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Optional toppings: minced plum tomato, chopped fresh basil

Instructions

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot.
Add chicken; sprinkle half of the jerk seasoning over chicken. Cook for 4 minutes.
Turn; sprinkle remaining jerk seasoning over chicken. Continue to cook for 4 minutes. Transfer to a plate; set aside.
Add onion, bell pepper and garlic to same skillet; cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add tomatoes, olives, raisins, capers and Worcestershire sauce. Increase heat to medium-high and simmer 5 minutes.
Return chicken to skillet, turning to coat. Continue cooking until chicken is no longer pink in center, about 5 minutes.
Transfer chicken to serving plates; top with olive mixture and serve with desired toppings.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 326 Calories from fat: 109 Total fat: 12g Monounsaturated fat: 8g Cholesterol: 66mg Sodium: 956mg Total Carbohydrates: 28g Dietary Fiber: 4g Protein: 28g

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Lindsay Olives – Bell-Carter Foods

What’s a red flag that you ignored in a significant other, only to realize it was a big deal later?

Not me, but my daughter.

My youngest child got married in February 2023 after two and a half years of dating. Her new husband was very particular about many things. I noticed when we visited that he would not provide us with a code to open the front door of the house, and the door was set to auto-lock in 30 seconds so we had to be careful not to lock ourselves out even if we just walked outside to fetch something from the car.

He had a way of ordering the dogs around (they had three dogs), feeding and watering each of them on a strict schedule. Whenever he left the home while we were visiting he would lock up the dogs. My wife and I let the dogs back out after he left, but he didn’t appear to trust us handling their dogs.

My daughter’s husband was very specific about what she should drive. They went to shop for a vehicle and bought her a car she didn’t particularly want.

Eventually she called me up one day to tell me about her struggles. I made a comment to her that I always enjoyed visiting her (she was out of state) but we never really felt welcome in her home.

She said:

“Dad, I am married to him, and I don’t feel welcome in this home.”

They divorced a year later. She kept one of the dogs.

Why is India so dirty? They have trillions of dollars in the economy yet can’t clean the streets.

The State Government of a State allocated ₹8.5 Crore to modify,clean up and maintain 3 Large Parks in a city so that the public could enjoy fresh oxygen

Guess how much actually goes to maintain the Park?

₹ 2.28 Crore

Approximately 27%

73% is siphoned off through GRAFT & CORRUPTION

So obviously you have half payments, reduced maintenance work and ultimately a neglected park with rusted wires within 3–4 years

The Guys doing the Siphoning? They aren’t frightened

The Law can’t bother them

The Local Police are either hand in glove with them or don’t really care

The Residents are Indians with Indian DNA & basically Indian Cattle

Foreigners on Quora might be puzzled as to why the stalwarts of India on Quora, the Patriots, the Proud Indians who shake with patriotic fervor DON’T TALK ABOUT THIS

Not a word 😞😞😞😞😞😞

It’s like Corruption never exists in India

And that’s the biggest problem

We have very few Patriots

What India has are Jingos

Jingos who pretend to be patriots but ignore all the real problems facing India like Corruption, Cartelism, Cronyism

The BHALERAO METHOD 😂😂😂😂😂

The People don’t care and turn a blind eye
The Courts don’t care
The Police don’t care
Nobody cares

So the Result is

India is a dirty cesspit literally and metaphorically

And yet rather than get angry at those who make India a dirty cesspit, most of Quora would be angry at me for REMINDING THEM ON UNPLEASANT THINGS

The Pale Goddess of Our Dreams

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Jonathan Page

NEW YORK, NY: From the beginning we thought we knew the script by heart. The cryptic clandestine warning given only to those in our highest government ranks. Ominous alien ships casting shadows on city streets from above and attracting throngs of mesmerized pedestrian onlookers, exiting cafes and office buildings. The ships showing instant aggression, releasing smaller pods, which waste no time vaporizing an innocent onlooker. Shrill screams ring out: “Aaaahhhhh!!” Someone points to the ship and yells, “Run!” Cars stranded in sudden gridlock are abandoned. People scramble chaotically in every direction. The camera pans to news reports on a television in a deli, conspicuously tuned to various news stations, the world over, letting us know this is a worldwide attack. A mother abandons her car, drops her Louis Vuitton purse, has one of her high-heeled Dior shoes jammed in a stormwater grate, and leaves both behind, as she frantically grabs her child’s hand and drags the kid down the stairs of a nearby subway station, trying to get her family to safety. But it never happened.

Something appeared in the sky alright. But that is where the similarities end. There was no warning by NASA that alien ships had been detected to make for a dramatic build-up, no ominous landing to heighten tensions, no disruption of our communication satellites to demonstrate how impossibly outmatched we were, and no vaporizing lasers to outrun. They were just there. A million ships—who could count them all. They blipped into the skies in the twinkling of an eye.

The ships were silver balls that looked almost like jingly Christmas bells. They had a small seam or foil around the middle that was saucer-like, and along the bottom were crossed stripes with bulb-like openings toward the middle—just like jingle bells have. They were roughly the size of Spaceship Earth at Epcot—not small, but not so huge as to throw all earthly proportions out the window. These cross-hatched areas on the hull of the ships contained pulsing lights that blinked in greens, blues, yellows, and reds.

The ships hovered for a moment, and then unceremoniously descended to their landing stations, in a gradual and disarming manner. Three tripod-like-legs reached to the ground from each ship and perched them all in place.

* * *

EDWARDS, CALIFORNIA: I was at Edwards Air Force Base with Connie, where we had been going over a test plan for the newest model of the NGAD fighter jet. By the way, NGAD stands for Next Generation Air Dominance. Wasn’t that a joke.

Connie said, “Doug ‘Dogsbody’ Bader, recent graduate of baby pilot’s school, and destined to forever fly the safest flight plans and have all throttles, controls, and flight settings perfectly adjusted by his crack co-pilot—the best in the business.”

“Ok, Connie. I get it. You are the real hero of this story.”

Connie was my flight test engineer, and I was a naval flight officer of Lieutenant rank, whose entire family was ex-navy or air force.

All I wanted was to be the youngest to make Captain on my detail and finally get some combat experience under my belt. Connie thought bigger picture and used to quote the Art of War where it says, “To win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.” Connie had other Yoda-like quotes that she sprinkled into conversation to pour cold water on my ambitions. I had begun to suspect she was a closet pacifist. But she would probably make Admiral while I soldiered away in obscurity and failed to meet my goals, just like I failed to heed orders. Or maybe she was a traitorous Lago in a sweet disguise, after all, manipulating me like a marionette and thwarting my ambitions at every turn.

You can imagine our surprise when Rear Admiral Colonel Mickey Davidson appeared in the hanger an hour before pre-flight inspections were set to begin.

“Uhh, sorry if I woke you two. But we have a situation,” Admiral Davidson said as we saluted, and the Admiral saluted back halfheartedly.

“What seems to be the matter, Admiral,” I asked.

“I don’t know how to say this. But we’ve been invaded by aliens.”

“That’s good sir, very funny–now what is it?”

“Aliens, son. Hand to God.”

“When did this happen, Admiral,” Connie asked.

“About ten minutes ago. The report will be going out on the PA shortly, but I have a mission for you two. I hope you don’t mind Connie, but you’ll have to throw on a G-suit and go up with this ground pounder. Make sure he doesn’t accidentally initiate a war-of-the-worlds.”

“I can babysit the zoomie, but what’s the mission, Admiral?”

“Reconnaissance.”

***

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND: Dr. Fabiana Giancarlo had been sitting at her desk at her corner office suite in the upper offices above the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) when Luk had called her down to inspect a magnet quench in sections 3 and 4.

The dark corridors of the tunnel were lit by overhead fluorescent lights. It reminded her of the two narrow shoots of the Holland Tunnel in New York City. Fabiana donned a white hardhat and rode a one-speed Schwinn bicycle with a front-side basket through the tunnels toward where she was to meet Luk, calling to her mind the scene in the Wizard of Oz where the Wicked Witch rode a bicycle in the cyclone. What a day she was having!

The long line of segmented particle accelerators appeared to her as a giant Ouroboros. She thought of the strange dreams of the Chemist, August Kekulé, who saw that mysterious symbol and awoke to solve the chemical structure of benzene. Atomicity and valency sprung from a single dream, which in turn unlocked the vision of dynamic atoms and molecules, which drew into focus the weirdness of the microcosm and murky quantum mechanics, which for all its quirks looked oddly like the celestial plane in miniature—like a tiny constellation of stars.

It haunted Fabiana to think that if the macrocosm was filled with life, as now appeared to be the case, then was the microcosm also teaming with life, which could be destroyed just as pitilessly by their mundane experiments? Was she the real destroyer of worlds—ignorant of the massacres she was committing? Or was it possible that she would magnify these demons and bring them forth in our world? She wondered where the boundary of science’s stable conceits finally ended and gave way to unbridled magic.

Kekulé had written poetically, “I turned my chair towards the fire and dozed. Again the atoms were gambolling before my eyes… all twining and twisting in snakelike motion. But look! What was that? One of the snakes had seized hold of its own tail, and the form whirled mockingly before my eyes.” And so, in the wake of visions of snakes, sausages and molecular charts, a few scientists had dreamed a further dream of cataloguing the irreducible subatomic world—which with every discovery became smaller and vaster still. If only Kekulé could have known that protons could be smashed as if by a hammer and their shattered pieces seen by human eyes!

Fabiana was haunted by the vision she’d seen two days ago, after which she changed the settings and ran the collider successfully, achieving a result she’d never hoped for. But at what cost?

Luk said, “It’s like what happened in 2008, but worse.”

Breaking hard and putting her arms akimbo as she balanced on one leg, Fabiana said,

“What?”

“We’ve got radiation and magnetic leaking.”

“No, no we don’t!”

“Afraid we do Doctor.”

* * *

CASTEL GANDOLFO, ROME, ITALY: The nametags on the dais read: Ross Coulthart, Investigative Reporter, David Grusch, Intelligence Officer, Pasquale Borgomeo, Vatican Radio, and Brother Guy Consolmagno, Pope’s Astronomer.

The learned guests were seated in a circular assembly room, with some reporters with cameras and microphones kneeling or sitting in the central area. A large statue of Shiva like the one at CERN was at the front of the room at the head of the table, where Brother Guy sat.

“Nonhuman biologics,” David Grusch said.

“Officer, do you believe these are the same aliens that have shown up at our door,” Ross Coulthart asked.

“Who can say,” David said.

“But let us remember, God proves science, not the other way around,” said Guy Consolmagno.

“Indeed, they are our brothers every bit as much as the saints,” said Pasquale Borgomeo.

And like a scene from King Arthur’s Court, where the Green Knight appears to present the challenge of a Christmas Game, two aliens in long black robes and clean bald heads, that otherwise looked like Hollywood actors strode into the televised roundtable event and stood directly in the middle of the assembly.

One of them spoke: “We have much to discuss, but first we must ask for a favor.”

“First, what are your names,” Coulthart asked.

“Ohh. You’d never be able to pronounce them,” the male said. And then with a sly smile he said, “You can call me Carey Grant.”

And the female shot up to say, “And I’ll go by Audrey Hepburn.”

The group of scientists, journalists, and priests looked at one another in shock. One doesn’t expect their gods to covet personas from Hollywood’s Golden Age. And everyone assembled for the event immediately doubted the wisdom of these far-off travelers.

* * *

The sound of the B-52H Stratofortress Bomber was like the low rumbling of thunder before the lightning reached your location with sharp crackling rattles.

“Dogsbody, your target is Castel Gandolfo in Rome. Deploy the nukes.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said into the comm.

“Afraid so Dogsbody. Orders from the commander-in-chief.”

“But sir—”

“You wanted battle duty, son. Well, this is what it looks like,” Rear Admiral Davidson said in a stern tone, but I could hear his voice crack as he tried to maintain composure.

It occurred to me that the commander-in-chief was senile and probably couldn’t remember what he had for breakfast if the fate of the world hung in the balance—which it did. I turned to Connie and flipped off the comms.

“We aren’t really going to do this, right?”

“Orders are orders,” she said. But we were supersonic, and her face was squeezed to the seat like a lemon which made it hard to take her seriously, and I waited for her to return to form.

* * *

The assembly walked out onto the long dock of Lago Albano Lake, which for all its majesty had the distinct look of a meteor’s crater.

Brother Guy Consolmagno, the Pope’s Astronomer, with his professorial mien and stately gray beard, dressed in a friar’s frock and Catholic collar, was waste deep in the cool blue waters of the lake.

Carey and Audrey jumped into the lake holding their noses, and arose like two pink babies, with dew still on their brows.

Brother Guy, dunked Carey first, then Audrey, saying the rites in Latin and then English, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” As each of them emerged with glee, the attendants clothed them in large terry cloth towels from the gift shop at the observatory.

In a moment of high fervor, Brother Guy said in a whisper to them, “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…”

The two aliens looked at him in wonder, and said, “now where on Earth can we find this Christ of yours?”

* * *

Dr. Fabiana Giancarlo said, “can we reverse the protocol?”

Luk said, “it could make the entire collider unstable—it wasn’t built for those forces.”

“Worst case, we blow ourselves up, no?”

“But doctor, that is unacceptable.”

“I’m saying, no civilians would be hurt, right? We’ve taken precautions in the case of a system failure, that’s why we are so deep underground.”

“Ok. But why are you entertaining this. What is going through your mind?”

“What makes you so sure those are alien ships,” Fabiana said.

“What do you mean, Doctor?”

“Luk! Think! I adjusted the experiment the night before those ships appeared. What if, for instance, we opened up a portal to another world, another dimension. Do you follow? These may not be ‘aliens’ from outer space, but ‘aliens’ from inner space, or God forbid, somewhere much worse.”

“This isn’t science, Doctor—but pure speculation.”

“Oh, Luk. I’m afraid that’s all science is, after all—just rank speculation, with some corroborating proof and a good press kit. No one can search the depths of the cosmos, but God, and none knows the truth of existence but he who set it in motion. We grasp, but our reach exceeds our grasp—and I think this time we reached too far.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“We must reverse the magnification—we must run the entire experiment directly in reverse. God willing, we will send those hounds of hell back where they came from.”

* * *

Connie had regained her composure. And now she was in a sentimental mood.

“It was nice knowing you Dogsbody.”

“Do you really have to call me that?”

“Would you prefer grunt?”

“No!”

“Then Dogsbody it is.”

“We can’t do this Connie. We are going to be directly responsible for a war-of-the-worlds. Wasn’t that the exact thing that the Admiral told you to keep me away from?”

“He also sent us up in a BUFF armed with nuclear missiles—you think that was accidental?”

“Big-Ugly-Fat-Fella.”

“Exactly.”

“You are usually the voice of reason in these matters.”

“Not this time.”

“Connie! We are talking about nuking an area twenty-three kilometers from Rome, as the crow flies. That is well within the twenty-mile radiation cone for the nuclear fallout. The Colosseum will be radioactive for a century.”

“Better than mankind being dead forever.”

“Be reasonable, Connie. The Admiral’s report was that there are two aliens there. How is killing two aliens out of a million going to do anything but usher in Armageddon?”

* * *

“So, you are looking for Christ,” Brother Guy said from a leather chair behind his glass Alaska writing desk in the study of the observatory.

“That is why we came,” Carey Grant said.

“Really. And did you read our Bible and realize that he is a spirit, non-corporeal, not of this Earth.”

“Oh no,” Audrey said. “That is not what He said at all. Isn’t it true that if two of us believers are gathered together, he is here also?”

“My God!” the priest exclaimed, “you are evangelists!”

Carey and Audrey looked at one another and let out a maniacal laugh.

“Hell no. Skeptics… I believe is your word. It’s just that in all the universe there is no other species that claims eternal life as a birthright. Granted, you are cordoned off here in this backwater, a Nazareth of the cosmos, which is why no one ventures out here.” Carey grant looked down at his sandals a moment before continuing. “But Earth was on our way, and we had to pay a visit.”

“So, what is your interest in our religion then,” the priest asked.

“It’s just that, if your people believed that Christ’s return is imminent, if they were to see miraculous deeds being performed by veritable angels… I mean, your world is filled with believers… in that case, wouldn’t they bow down and obediently follow any command?”

The priest felt an ominous presence as if the room had filled with shadows, and then apprehended that, perhaps, this was the end of days that had been foretold.

* * *

“Ok, Luk. Run the protocol.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Fabiana said.

The whirring mechanism of the Ouroboros hummed with the energy of a thousand stars. The lightning of smashing protons filled the chamber with an orchestra of colliding worlds. And Fabiana prayed a silent prayer.

“What do you imagine this will do,” Luk asked.

“If I am right,” she said, “maybe we will pull the demons of hell back into the pit.”

A few moments passed in eerie silence. Luk and Fabiana walked out to the front of the CERN laboratory where the statue of Shiva stood like a dark omen. They could see the lines of orbs stretching to the horizon in an unholy grid, like an army of monsters. And then, as if it were all a bad dream, they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

“We’ve done it,” Luk exclaimed.

“Thank the Lord,” Fabiana said, not believing there was a Lord, but for the first time apprehending that maybe hell was real after all.

* * *

“T-minus forty-seconds,” Connie said.

“Jesus!” I exclaimed.

“Son, I’ve just received a report from the Vatican that the orbs are gone. But the commander-in-chief hasn’t recalled the order. I’m sorry son,” the Admiral said.

I flipped off the comms.

“What do we do Connie,” I asked, clasping the cross around my neck.

“You’re the pilot hotshot. It’s your call.”

“Hey, Connie, have you ever been to the Colosseum?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“You know, being that it’s the end of the world and all—and on the off chance I’m right and this whole nightmare is over—would you want to get dinner?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious.”

“Ok. Dogsbody. But you’ll be court marshaled.”

“So, the Gaeta U.S. Air Force Base is a few clicks from our position. I’m gonna set down there and we’ll rent a two-seater Vespa and its two-hours to Rome. We’ll dine by the Spanish Steps.”

“So, we’re going AWOL?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You know this could be the end of the world.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take, if you are.”

“Ok flyboy. I’m in. But it’s your funeral.”

Pictures

Ex wife Asked for open marriage after 4 years of marriage

Nothing Further to Report

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

K A Hamilton

To the Residents of Bloombasil Homeowner’s Association:

Please join us in extending a warm welcome to our newest residents, B’leep and B’larp Greene. We will be hosting a welcome potluck this Saturday at the community center. A signup list of mains, sides, and desserts will be kept on the community bulletin.

Kind Regards,

The Members of the Bloombasil HOA Board

As a reminder: discrimination against a resident or residents based on their planet of origin is strictly prohibited under the 2030 Fair Housing Act. Any such behavior could put the status of our organization in jeopardy, and as such will not be tolerated.

——————————————

On August 1st, at approximately 1900 hours, I responded to a report of a suspicious person at 30 Marjory Drive. When I arrived at the residence in question the exterior of the property appeared vacant. I approached the home. Two notices were taped to the front door: an HOA violation letter and an invitation to a welcome party. I knocked and was given permission to enter.

I confirmed the identity of and interviewed the inhabitant, a 91-year-old female named Hannah Wardell. Wardell confirmed that she was the one who had made the report. She asserted that “a Gray” had walked across her lawn. She further explained:

“They’re everywhere now. Living in our homes. Trespassing on our lawns. Next they’ll be telling us what we can and can’t do. Don’t believe me? Soon enough they’ll be trotting out eviction threats, just like that Janet Stone. You want to see where the suspicious individual is? Go to the party. Everyone is celebrating it.”

I continued my patrol on foot. Upon hearing music and seeing a heavy social presence at the community center, I opted to check in with the residents inside.

The door was open, so I entered the premises. Although there were approximately 40-50 people inside, the room was quiet. All eyes turned to me. I had the feeling there had just been a lively group conversation which ceased upon my arrival. I was immediately approached by 56-year-old Terry Phillips with a plate of gluten free oatmeal cookies. He explained to me that the community was celebrating the move-in of two new residents. He then raised his voice as though addressing both me and the group to say that all was peaceful. Conversation between the partygoers resumed.

I noticed a folding table with name tags laid out in an orderly fashion. Many appeared to have been claimed, but some remained, including that of Wardell. It read:

Hannah Wardell (Homeowner)

30 Marjory Drive (105V / 15Y)

I asked what the numbers meant. Phillips indicated his own name tag, which read:

Terry Phillips (Board Secretary)

22 Marjory Drive (2V / 10Y)

Phillips then explained:

“Just a little conversation starter, and a fun way to educate new residents on the rules. The first number, you see, represents how many violations a person has been subject to during their time with us. The second is how many years they’ve lived here.

My two violations, for example: My mom lived with us for a bit and didn’t know any better. She was used to hanging the wash out to dry – that’s just what they did in her day. But it was time for her to move to a home anyway. The other time our puppy, Barnaby, got out and… well, we couldn’t stop him from making a mess on the neighbor’s lawn. Good dog, the whole thing was a shame. But all dogs go to heaven, right?

You’d think it would make people feel ashamed, but we like to keep this sort of thing out in the open. Relieves tension, makes us laugh. And people with high numbers never show up to these things anyway. And nobody has a zero. Well, nobody except for Janet and her household.”

I explained that I was there to investigate a suspicious person, but there didn’t seem to be sufficient evidence to support the claim. I would have left the scene at that point, but I observed another resident, 16-year-old female Amelia Stone, in apparent distress.

Miss Stone sat in a side chair. Her arms hung limp and she stared dead ahead. Her eyes did not appear to track my movement. Her mascara indicated that she had recently been crying. Phillips began to usher me out.

I attempted to interview the young woman, but she was unresponsive. Her mother, Janet Stone (age unknown), joined us. She explained that Miss Stone was merely in shock after seeing the new residents for the first time. She further explained that her daughter was going through an “anti-cop phase,” and I ought to avoid upsetting her further.

I asked the elder Stone to describe the new residents. She responded:

“Oh! Well. I would never be so vulgar as to describe someone in detail. But they are as you would expect of a pair of Gr-, er, Martians. Thin, large eyes, skin the color of old socks. They are the first of their kind in our neighborhood. But I assure you, we are all eager to help them integrate. We don’t usually hold a party like this, you know. This is an occasion. The Board believes that diversity will only enrich our lives. But! The presence of law enforcement can often create tension, don’t you think? It’s probably best if you head out. Please, take a little treat on your way.”

It was at that point that the younger Miss Stone stirred. Her eyes met mine and she whispered:

“Blueberry crumble.”

Her mother let out a brief gasp. She then addressed me:

“Our family’s specialty. Unfortunately, she forgot to bring it tonight and she’s quite upset about the whole thing. Now please, I think you should go.”

I scanned the dessert buffet and found a multitude of baked goods and ice cream. There seemed to be a recent absence in the lineup, however, indicated by a blank stretch of tablecloth. Upon further inspection I noted scattered crumbs and a purple-blue stain. I noticed that the two Stones and a few others watched me closely.

To maintain a casual appearance, I removed one brownie. I scanned the trashcan next to the table, but it appeared to contain only plasticware and paper plates. With no further evidence of an issue and a standing request to leave, I proceeded to the exit.

As I walked across the lawn, I heard shouting. Miss Stone appeared in the doorway. She was immediately pulled back into the building by several unidentifiable hands. She cried out:

“It was an accident! You have to help them!”

I returned but found the door to be locked. I informed the inhabitants that they were under suspicion of a crime and must open the door immediately. When met without a response I scanned the premises for alternative entrances. I noticed a beam of light around the side of the building and found a second doorway open to the kitchen. Two long Martian-sized shapes lay on the floor, covered in a white tablecloth. It was stained purple in several places. The smell of blueberries was strong.

Phillips opened the doorway to the kitchen opposite me, so fast that several pieces of cutlery fell to the floor. After the sound diminished, he said:

“Please, it was an accident. We didn’t know until it was too late. Amelia queried it on her phone.”

I lifted the sheet. Two Martians lay seemingly unconscious or dead.

The elder Stone appeared in the doorway, pulling her daughter behind her.

“Wait! Amy, tell him what you just told me.”

Miss Stone sobbed and shook uncontrollably. She held out her phone to me. The screen read:

“Query: accidentally poisoned two grays what to do now

Answer: Martians (pejoratively known as “Grays”) are extremely allergic to an anthocyanins, responsible for the blue pigment in blueberry skins. However, exposure to this chemical may be remedied given a rapidly administered dose of nitroglycerin, normally used in the emergency treatment of cardiac arrest in humans.”

I asked if they had any such medication on site. Phillips shook his head. Stone said:

“The only person in our community who has a serious heart condition is Mrs. Wardell. And she has 38 outstanding violations! We can’t ask her for help.”

There was a chuckle at the door. Mrs. Wardell stood there, leaning on a walker and still in her nightdress. I began to explain the situation, but she interrupted:

“Oh, I heard everything. You’ve gone and done it now, haven’t you, Janet? Killing two of them… that’s not just a violation. That’s murder. Maybe even a hate crime.”

Stone sobbed. Wardell went on:

“As much as I dislike their kind and as much as like to imagine you running around the prison block fining everyone for not keeping their cells up to your standards, I am willing to provide what you need. IF – if. You must agree to my terms.”

Stone asked:

“What do you want?”

Wardell replied:

“I want the list of completely unfounded, outstanding violations aimed at my household to be dropped.”

Stone hesitated but Phillips applied a hand to her elbow. Stone spoke:

“Fine, it’s done.”

Wardell continued:

“And I want a violation added to your household’s record. Surely poisoning the guests of honor at a community event violates some rule you’ve got in that made up code of yours.”

Stone issued a series of expletives that indicated a lack of agreement to the terms. However, Phillips replied:

“As board secretary, all record-keeping falls to me… including that of violations. Hannah, it will be done.”

Stone screamed. Wardell produced a small orange prescription bottle from her nightdress.

The effect of the medication was nearly instant. The two individuals of Martian origin quickly returned to consciousness and requested a moment to clean and compose themselves. All other parties removed themselves to the community room. The Martians rejoined us shortly, somewhat disoriented but otherwise healthy. When the situation was more fully explained to them, they addressed me directly:

“Please, you may uncuff the Earthling named Janet Stone. We do not intend to press charges.”

Stone sat slumped in a chair while her daughter now attempted to comfort her. The news appeared to have no effect. I heard her whisper the words “fifteen years” and “no violations,” but the rest of her speech was indecipherable.

The Martians continued to speak to me:

“Thank you for correcting the situation, officer. Although we have had conflict with your government’s executive branch in the past, it appears that the new anti-discriminatory regulation is not a completely empty gesture. We will note this to your leaders. May we record your badge number?”

I assented. As they took down the number, I heard a soft sobbing in the corner. It was Stone. Terry stood over her with a Sharpie, apologizing profusely.

At approximately 2030 hours I left the scene. No arrests were made as there was no lasting harm and no charges were pressed. And aside from a handwritten “1” now appearing on Janet Stone’s name tag, there is nothing further to report.

We’ll Arrest all European Leaders or Extrajudicially Punish THEM: Russia made a SHOCKING statement

One-Pan Marsala-Inspired Chicken and Veggies

Tender chicken thighs are coated in a delectable mushroom sauce that comes together in one pan, in mere minutes. One-Pan Marsala-Inspired Chicken and Veggies is a recipe all mushroom lovers must try!

Ingredients

Chicken

1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs, excess fat cut off
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Sauce

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup chopped yellow onion
16 ounces sliced crimini or white button mushrooms
1 cup Marsala or Port wine
1 cup low-sodium chicken or vegetable stock
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour (or gluten-free alternative)
1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Instructions

Season both sides of the chicken thighs with oregano, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt and pepper.
Heat oil in a large cast iron skillet over medium to medium-high heat. Place the chicken thighs in the skillet and cook for about 4 minutes on each side, until browned.
Using tongs, remove the chicken from the skillet and place on a plate. The chicken may not be completely cooked through, but it will finish cooking in the sauce.
To make the sauce, add an additional tablespoon of oil to the skillet. Sauté onion and mushrooms over medium to medium-high heat until browned, about 5 minutes.
Add the wine and bring to a boil for about 3 minutes, until the wine is reduced in half. Then add the broth and flour. Mix together until the flour is dissolved.
Add the chicken thighs back to the pan. Bring sauce back to a boil and let boil for another 5 minutes, until the sauce thickens and chicken is cooked through. The internal temperature of the chicken should be at least 165 degrees F.
Garnish with parsley before serving.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Mushroom Council
Recipe courtesy of: Chelsey Amer, MS, RDN

She begged for counseling after I caught her cheating, but it was too late

Changes to our reality

Our reality is now in a state of change.

You will note changes to your electronics or digital things, as it seems to affect them the most. My guess is that someone or some entity is actively trying to alter our reality and using AI to do so.

…

Future posts for about two weeks are affected, and are disjointed. And No, I do not know exactly what is going on. But I can tell you THIS.

We are in the middle of a very big slide to another template.

It’s a massive move.

Big things, bigger than ever are happening RIGHT NOW.

Today…

REMEMBER ASHLEY? She Chose Career Over DANIEL at 32 She’s 44 Now and She’s Honest About It.

Old Posting from 4Chan Outlines CURRENT Iran War – Too Well

Hal Turner World March 22, 2026

The present, ongoing war with Iran was predicted ONE DAY after the “12 Day War” ended. The “prediction” is eerily accurate so far.

If it is correct, we are heading into losing two aircraft carriers, exchange of tactical nuclear weapons, and seeing open Civil War inside the United States.

12 Day War:

The Twelve-Day War, an armed conflict between Iran and Israel, was fought from 13 June to 24 June 2025. The conflict involved Israeli air strikes against Iranian military and nuclear facilities (Operation Rising Lion) and Iranian retaliation via missile and drone strikes (Operation True Promise III), with US involvement occurring near the end.

Key details regarding the conflict:

Conflict Context: The war began on 13 June 2025, following a surprise attack by Israel, prompting a direct, large-scale confrontation between the two nations.

Ceasefire: Under pressure from the United States, both parties agreed to a ceasefire on 24 June 2025.

Involvement: The United States participated directly on 22 June 2025 by striking Iranian nuclear sites, known as Operation Midnight Hammer.

Impact: The war resulted in significant casualties and damage within Iran and initiated a new phase of open warfare, according to analysis from the International Institute for Strategic Studies and reports from Simple English Wikipedia.

ONE DAY AFTER THAT WAR STOPPED

As reported above, the 12 Day war stopped on 24 June, 2025. The very next day, June 25, an anonymous posting on the Internet web forum “4 Chan” outlined what was coming. The outline is a little too perfect so far:

I found this to be really creepy as to its accuracy. The first FIVE seem to be done already!

— Israel breaks ceasefire and attacks Iran again – DONE

— Trump responds with B2 Bunker Busters on nuclear sites – DONE

— Iran hits all Gulf oil fields, and US Bases, Blocks Hormuz and Bab al-Maneb – Oil fields, bases, Hormuz – DONE (Al Mandeb would likely have to be done by the Houthis in Yemen and it does NOT seem to be done yet)

— Oil prices skyrocket, Blackouts in Africa and Third World — Prices skyrocketing — DONE (Blackouts not beginning just yet)

— US sends three aircraft carriers — DONE

— Iran, Russia and China SINK at least two aircraft carriers (NOT DONE . . . . YET)

As you go farther down the list, it mentions an amphibious invasion by the US. Clearly that is exactly pending with the dispatching of now 8,000 Marines and Sailors on a total of three amphibious assault groups.

The rest of the list is staggering in its detail, including the “Civil War” in the United States.

It’s almost as if a person with inside knowledge of a specific plan, leaked it.

Since several of the items on this list have already taken place, and in the order they appear on the list, one has to wonder how many others will take place?

I don’t like this. At all.

Like you, I have no control over any of it. But I __can__ control how well I prepare to stay alive if all this comes to pass. Emergency food, water, medicines I need to live on, a way to generate electricity if the grid goes down – generator/solar, fuel for that generator, COMMUNICATIONS GEAR (CB or HAM radio) and so on.

GET RIGHT WITH GOD. I mean it. If you have not prayed in ages, and are a little embarrassed, go in your bathroom and close the door. Get down on your knees and pray! Tell God “Hi God, it’s me (so and so) and I know I haven’t prayed to you in years, but things are getting really bad now, and I want to come back to you.

Tell him what’s going on, tell him what you fear. Tell him you don’t have the ability to protect yourself from what’s coming, and that you thought you should pray to Him for protection.

Confess your sins, tell Him you REPENT and ask for His forgiveness.

Tell Him you’re gonna do a better job of remembering that He is God, and you’ll be in touch far more often if it’s OK with Him.

Look, I’m not a Priest, or a Pastor, or a Reverend, or a Minister. I’m just a regular guy, just like you. I can’t give Religious advice or tell you how to get right with God in some official, ritualistic way, I don’t know that stuff.

What I DO know is that each of us has to try. We have to make an effort. And an effort, it seems to me, begins by praying. So pray.

God is not some magician at our beckon call, to do magic tricks for us, or get us out of the mess we may have created. But He is real. He is there. He __can__ get us through things – but why should He if we don’t even bother to ask?

Ask Him.

If the list above is right, we will see actual, kinetic Civil War here in the USA. I don’t want that. I really don’t. But I’m sad to say I believe it __ is __ coming.

Please prepare and get right with God.

Why does “Made in the U.S.” not necessarily mean all materials are sourced domestically, and how do tariffs complicate this for manufacturers?

I own a manufacturing company in NY state. I use Steel and Aluminum. There are 3500 grades of steel. A couple of hundred are made in the US. Of the 20 or so grades I use regularly there is one that is made in the US. For Aluminum it is worse, there are over 6000 grades and none of the ones I use are made in the US. I use electronic components. Maybe a quarter of them are made in the US.

Manufacturing supply chains are incredibly complex. Even something that I buy made in the US is likely to contain materials not made in the US. Even if I wanted to, it would take decades to set up the manufacturing supply chain to manufacture everything in the US. Some components are just not available in the US no matter what we do. For example, if your product uses Cobalt, it is imported, over 90% from the Democratic Republic of Congo. None is found in the US. Farmers use potash for fertilizer. The US can supply about 6% of the potash used in the country. We buy most of it from Canada. Or, we could buy from Belarus, Russia or China. Why are we pissing off the Canadians? Do we really want to starve to death?

Is it true that these things or goods being made in China are really inferior or shoddy goods?

A Cowhide Jacket costs $ 329 retail , Mass Produced, Chrome Tanning, Half Grain

A Lambskin Jacket costs $ 7999 retail, Hand Made, Vegetable Tanning, Full Grain, Double Layered

If you pay $ 7999 and buy a Cowhide Jacket, you will obviously feel horribly let down

An Usman Sivas Carpet of 8′ * 3′ costs you maybe £ 500 for 700 Ghirodes, Labor Made and Single Threshed

A Hereke Carpet of 8′ * 3′ costs £ 25,000 to £ 30,000 for 5,000 Ghirodes (Knots per sq inch), Hand made and Double Threshed

If you pay £ 20,000 for a Usman Sivas Carpet, you will feel let down and cheated

Chinese Sellers will SELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT and if you are stupid, THEY WILL OBVIOUSLY PALM OFF SHODDY PRODUCTS ON YOU

You have to BUILD A RELATIONSHIP

Visit China
Meet them, talk to them
Establish credibility
Start with a small order
Pay ON TIME (Indians have a major problem with this)

Once you build a relationship, you never have to go to China again

The Chinese seller will treat you as an OLD FRIEND and call you an OLD FRIEND and give you the best products

You get what you pay for

Chinese Products are 20% ,30% cheaper than Western Products of comparable quality

Not 70% or 80% cheaper

However many people want Chinese Products that are 70% or 80% cheaper and yet have same quality as western products

That’s a No No

This Crate for a Great Dane Puppy made in Europe costs € 445 retail

Same company makes the Crates also in China for shipping to Singapore, Thailand and India at a cost of € 290 Retail

Chinese companies make similar crates at € 175 -190 Retail

All Excellent Quality

However you also get CHEAP NON IATA recognized crates that look the same for € 55 Retail

It will simply break apart after two loadings

China has everything under the sun

You are the buyer

You will GET THE BEST PRODUCT ON EARTH FOR THE PRICE YOU PAY

Except Watches, Whisky and Wine (The 3 Ws)

Uh oh!

Have you ever faced a situation where a hotel charged you for something you didn’t think you should pay for? What did you do?

It’s kind of hard to imagine now that once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a time when internet didn’t exist, and we actually wrote letters and used landlines to make phone calls. Back in those days, oversea calls were especially expensive and the fewer available landlines going to the country of interest, the more expensive it was.

So around 1991, after the fall of the Soviet Union, a group of Russian oil and gas engineers came to Houston, Texas on a business trip and the company I worked for had put them up at a Hilton hotel. During their stay I used our company’s credit card to pay for their expenses.

Two things happened when a hotel wanted to charge us: 1) Disassembling the toilet and flooding the bathroom and surroundings. You may ask why would anyone disassemble the toilet? The answer is because American toilet bowls look differently than the ones in Russia. American bowls fill up with water to about 1/2 full and look similar to the one pictured below.

Below is a picture of a toilet bowl that looks somewhat similar to the ones in Russia, and you can see that the water level in the bowl is very low.

Anyway, one of the engineers decided that a toilet in his room was broken because there was too much water in the bowl and that he, somehow, inadvertently broke it, and that he would get charged for breaking it. So, he used his own tools to “fix” it and while trying to “fix” it he broke it. The bathroom got flooded. The maintenance people were called in to stop flooding and to fix the toilet. Initially Hilton wanted to charge us for the repairs and damages but after checking our business account and realizing how much business the company brought in, they decided not to charge us.

The second thing that happened was a phone call to Russia that cost about $2,100.00. The night before checking out, another engineer called home in Russia but after finishing the call he didn’t properly replace the handset on the phone. So, the line didn’t disconnect, and he was charged $4.50 per minute for about 8 hours. When he saw the bill, he turned pale because at that time $2100 represented about 6 months of his salary.

I had to talk to the manager, and we settled on $100.00 or so. After we settled, the engineer, who didn’t speak English, asked me what we agreed on and I said – “you are going to have to pay the whole amount of $2,100.00”, but when I saw the look on his face, I quickly told him the truth, $100.00. I think he called me an a**hole, but was thankful that I was able to bring the bill down to a manageable amount.

Nowadays, with Whatapp, Telegram, Viber and many other widely available messengers, it almost seems unreal that we actually had to pay for long distance phone calls.

Don’t forget to call your loved ones!

Cheers

Is the H1-B visa and Indian immigration into the USA effectively dead, September 2025?

Maybe not fully because of Trump, but it might be because of AI and tech industry investment trends. During the late 1990s, anyone with a UG degree would apply for tech jobs in the US and get an H1B. This is because highly skilled migrants were willing to work for 40% less pay than native Americans. That’s not the case anymore – even though 71% of H1Bs are Indians, the number of applicants has been reducing consistently since 2016.

When Trump and Miller proposed hiking the H1B fee in 2017, the big tech billionaires opposed it strongly. Trump took a U-turn and said students who come to study in US universities should be granted a green card. He said he wants to “do something” to allow DACAs to remain in the US in jobs, in small and large businesses. Trump also campaigned among Indians that “he will remain a good friend to India” to win their votes for 2nd term. He even appointed some Indian Americans to top posts to gain their trust. However, he has strongly claimed, “ Jobs are for Americans only.”

During Trump’s 2nd term election, tech billionaires funded him heavily to get re-elected. Obviously, they knew Trump would restrict H1B entries and hike fees, but still heavily funded his campaigns. Why? – Because now AI is taking over entry-level jobs in tech companies. They no longer need “cheap labor” as highly skilled migrants from India. Instead, they need “heavily skilled workers” as migrants for jobs that the native Americans cannot fill. So they’re OK with the fee hike for H1B

Since 2021, H1B for tech companies like TCS, CTS, and Infosys has been declining as they’re outsourcing contract companies, while native American companies like Amazon see a hike in H1B.

If your H1B is to work for TCS or Infosys, chances of rejection are higher. Trump has raised the fee companies pay to sponsor H1B applicants to $100,000. The wait time for a green card is usually longer, and each time to renew a visa, they pay $100,000. So the chances of migrating to the US are almost nil.
If your H1B is to work for Amazon or Oracle, then the chances of approval are higher. Since they’re American companies, they won’t sponsor an H1B unless you’re completely worth getting hired.

So it depends on who sponsors you for H1B. On the other hand, there might be an increase in offshoring projects to India. This is based on the GATS obligations the US has towards the WTO. This graph shows the growth and decline of IT jobs in the USA since 2020; the same trend is reflected in India

Product-based companies have almost stopped hiring freshers; there’s also a decline in mid-level jobs.
Service-based companies hire approximately 50,000 jobs per year — comparatively, that’s 21% fewer jobs in 2023 and 60% fewer jobs in 2022.
Entry-level hiring with 0–2 years of experience has almost stopped or has been reduced.
No significant count of new jobs is created — replacement hiring is also low.
Product-based companies and startups have reduced/stopped campus interviews and placements.
Freshers are competing against people with 2 years of work experience
No new investments happen in the Tech sector due to global economic uncertainty and India’s uncertain macroeconomic policies

On the other hand, most Indians migrated to California for tech jobs. Looks like California has been exhausted since 2020.

Industry insiders might provide better numbers, but this is the reality

Earlier, we developed software products using Java for end clients; similarly, we will develop enterprise solutions using AI for end clients.
HCL is looking into reducing the software development lifecycle using AI. This doesn’t mean people will lose their jobs, but they’re upskilled to make use of AI at the development stage. More time is now spent on design and application
Wipro has invested heavily in training and upskilling employees in using AI to manage implementation challenges across various sectors like Finance, legal, and industrial.

All major Indian IT companies have seen a 40 to 60% drop in headcount — that’s the message. Trump’s H1B restrictions and fee hike will only favor these tech companies to further drop headcount and rely more on AI and heavily skilled immigrants

Being highly skilled isn’t sufficient anymore; one needs to be heavily skilled and worthy of sponsorship of $100,000 for an H1B. That’s the safest bet.

Original question – Is the H1-B visa and Indian immigration into the USA effectively dead, September 2025?

High Schoolers Can’t Read… and Teachers Are DONE

Why are so many teachers quitting? In this video, we explore the shocking reality that many high school students can’t read at even a basic level—and the heartbreaking impact it’s having on dedicated educators. Watch real stories, expert insights, and the growing crisis in our classrooms.

Human beings have lived on earth for the last 200,000 years. Then why did all the technological inventions happen in the last 50-100 years?

That’s not actually true; the horse collar, for instance, was a total game-changer, and that came already during the Dark Ages.

But if you say most technological inventions, you’re bang on the money.

And there’s a perfectly sensible reason: most engineers and scientists in human history are active right now. And there’s an amazing thing hidden there: this statement has always been true. With some short-lived exceptions like “right after the Black Death”.

And why is this so? It’s got to do with economics. Basically, what you need in order to be able to afford to keep scientists and engineers is a surplus. You need to have resources available that aren’t immediately necessary for short term survival, so that you can spend it on having a handful of people who aren’t contributing to the next harvest.

And once you have that, it turns out that those people will make a huge contribution to harvests yet unplanted. They will, years or decades later, give back ten or a hundred times what you invested in them – meaning that you can afford still more of them, to reap even higher rewards later still. The surplus just keeps growing, faster and faster.

That’s how exponential growth works. Knowledge and technology grows exponentially, as long as you let it.

And before you wonder: yes, people have always been amazed at what they can do now, and have always assumed that we’re pretty close to having discovered all that there is to discover. Famously, Lord Kelvin in the late 19th century actively discouraged students from getting into physics, saying that there was preciously little left to find out – and most of what he knew is now covered during the first two years of undergraduate studies, before moving on to relativity and quantum mechanics.

How do you feel about Jimmy Kimmel getting canned?

I’m Chinese. He’s widely known in China — on a previous show a white kid said “Kill everyone in China.” After a round of debate, he added, “Should we leave Chinese alive?”

The white kids then engaged in a childish discussion about the possibility of “killing them all.” Jimmy cut them off and called it an “interesting Children’s Roundtable.”

Honestly, ever since that day I’ve thought China should develop its nuclear capability without limit — at least to ensure that if white people want to wipe us out, we could first destroy all white people — then keep, say, one million citizens, and rebuild the Earth.

That wouldn’t be too difficult for China. We have the world’s strongest industrial and concrete industries: we produce 60% of the world’s steel each year, and in two years we produce as much concrete as the United States did during the entire 20th century — and we are a people who built the Great Wall two thousand years ago and dug the Grand Canal fifteen hundred years ago.

By the way, that man-made canal ranks third in the world in annual throughput. First is the Yangtze, second the Pearl River, fourth the Mississippi — those were hewn by God, but the third, the Grand Canal, was dug by humans, by the Chinese.

For a show like that you Americans laugh it off.

Fine.

So now?

He got banned?

Well, sorry — now it’s our turn to laugh.

Serves him right?

Serves him right.

Serves him right!

“Should we leave Chinese alive?”

Intersting.

“Should we leave US white alive?”

Hmm……

Movie stars dancing to…’I’m So Excited!’

This is so so so much fun!

Have you ever taken the law into your own hands?

My step-daughter was graduating college, so we arrived to take part in the festivities. But she was not feeling very festive.

It seems that her landlord was keeping her security deposit because she had failed to notify the management that she would not be renewing her lease in writing 90 days in advance. However, at the beginning of her final semester the landlord did ask if she were graduating and vacating the apartment, to which she replied she was.

We found out quickly that this was a standard procedure with this particular landlord, and many students before had lost their deposits that way.

I called the management office and made an appointment for that afternoon. My last name is different from that of my step-daughter, so there was no tip off. I told my step-daughter to let me do the talking and not to react to anything I was about to say.

We both arrived for the appointment, and the manager of the complex was surprised to see my step-daughter accompanying me.

I began with “My name is TC, and I am representing Miss G.,” never once saying I was an attorney or a solicitor, but if she got that impression it was not my fault.

I continued “According to Texas Revised Statute 1820 a verbal face-to-face notification of termination of lease is all that it required to end a lease. Your refusal to return said deposit is actionable and will result in a filing.”

My step-daughter shot a puzzled look at me.

The manager mumbled something and said she was late for a meeting and did not have time to continue with us. She promptly left her office.

My step-daughter was visibly upset and asked if we failed. I told her we got her attention.

We returned to her apartment, and I called the management office a few minutes later to ask if the manager was in. I was told she was on a phone call at the moment.

I returned to the office and asked to see her. The front desk said they would check to see if she was in. Five minutes later front desk returned and said she was not available. I told her I would wait until she was. A half hour later they informed me she was gone for the day.

I asked if she would be in tomorrow. They said they did not know. I told them I will return at 8:00 a.m. and wait for her.

My daughter got her deposit back. Not only that but she told a friend what happened. Her friend happened to work in the legal services department for the university. An investigation of the management company found that their practices were not entirely legal. I don’t know if restitution was made of if there was a change in management, but if felt good to help draw a spotlight on bad people.

Wedding Gets CALLED OFF After Fiancée Does This To Her Husband

THE ALIENS

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Lily Finch

They sat around a campfire. They were all about the same age, and Dale had invited them to his family’s cottage for the long weekend. They were in the woods, off the beaten path, away from most other campers except for a few other cabins. Some of the neighbours barely get out in the summer now that they are all older and their children and grandchildren live in other areas of the country. So their cottages sat vacant most of the time.Scott, Corey, and Mary were all busy preparing the food and helping to open the cabin and get the fire going, as that was the only source of heat in the place. They knew this weekend was going to be epic; they were all space enthusiasts, as were Dale’s relatives, who had all of the state-of-the-art equipment necessary to see the night sky. Complete with an observation deck.As they sat down to eat their dinner, a red dot-like object moved across the sky that caught all of their attention. They hurriedly ate and then moved to their telescopes to catch a better view and a closer look.“Whoa, what do you make of that?” asked Corey.“I don’t know what to think,” Mary responded.“Maybe it’s just the Air Force running a recon,” suggested Scott.“Yeah, that’s got to be it,” Dale agreed.They all looked at each other without saying a word. The red lights’ glowing nature kept them observing the lights for a little while longer. Then Scott and Corey volunteered to clean up the dishes so that Dale and Mary were free to skinny dip. An arrangement that Dale made with the two fellas earlier, unbeknownst to Mary.So, when he asked, “Anyone up for a swim?” He knew it would be just him and her.Dale gave Mary a look like, Well, are you coming? Which she smiled at and gladly went along with.They headed to the dockside, quickly stripped and dove in. Dale suggested they swim to Langford’s dock first and back, then head to Giroux’s dock. All in all, it was about an hour-long swim and not for the faint of heart. Dale had it in his mind that he would somehow save Mary and they would become a couple by the end of the weekend because of this swim. He smiled to himself.Mary, who had been swimming since she was five in lessons, had been swimming lengths for the last five years in a row. She had stamina, strength, and survival skills. She was not afraid of a little cold water or moonlight swimming.“We usually head from their dock to ours, then back, and then to theirs and back. You game?” He asked her.“Sure.” It sounded great for a workout. She thought.When they set off, she allowed Dale to take the lead. She sensed that his pace was too fast and that his stamina would run out too quickly to sustain it. After about twenty-five minutes or so, she saw that Dale was not as accurate with his strokes, nor were they as powerful. She kept a close eye on him.When she saw his head go underwater, she moved with precision to get to where he went down. She dove deep and touched the top of his head. She reached with her might and grabbed hold, being careful not to blow all the energy in her tank. Once they surfaced, she began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She listened for a breath but realised she needed to do CPR. She floated his body to the shoreline. If not for the pale moonlight, she would never have been able to see him and save his life.On the darker side of Langford’s dock, she laid him out straight in the water. Dale had looked better, she thought.The boys in the cabin were focused again on the red lights in the sky that were steadily getting closer to their telescopes.Finally, the ship landed right in front of the cabin on the lake. Afraid but intrigued, the boys raced to the dock, where they saw Dale and Mary’s clothes. Due to their disappearance, they assumed that the ship had taken them. They were surprised when two beings got out and had their hands raised high in the air.

Corey asked, “Do you come in peace?”

“Us? Come in peace?” Repeated the creature.

“Yes. We are a peaceful civilization for the most part,” Scott said. “We don’t want any trouble with you two,” he stated.

The creatures laughed and asked, “Are you two serious?”

Corey looked at Scott, then back at the creatures, and said, “Yes, we are. Why do you think we wouldn’t be? And why do you ask?”

The taller one said, “You really are serious, aren’t you?”

Then the other one said, “You truly don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Asked Scott. He was beginning to become agitated.

“We stopped here because our ship is out of fuel. We just need your help.” The tall one demanded

“Oh, well, how would we know that then?” Asked Corey.

“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” said the shorter one.

“What kind of fuel do you need? Maybe we have some,” Scott offered.

“We run on pine needles,” they said in unison.

“Well, there is no shortage of those around. Help yourselves. Don’t be shy. And let us know if you need anything else. Good luck to you both getting back home,” Corey stated.

The two beings looked at one another in amazement. Then they thanked the boys and went about their business.

While searching for their pine needles, the two beings talked with each other. They were searching near the Langford cabin, within earshot of Mary and Dale. The two of them were underneath the dock, remaining as quiet as church mice so they could listen in on the beings’ conversation.

“I can’t believe they didn’t know this used to be our planet, and they conquered us through brutal combat as the aliens!” Said the tall one.

“Yes, it would seem their history books don’t reflect their brutal takeover of our kind and our banishment from our beautiful planet that they have managed to destroy,” responded the shorter one.

“Of course, these invaders disrespected this planet, robbing it of its natural resources and breaking down the ozone layer at too great a speed for it to handle. They are the dirtiest aliens we’ve ever encountered. But, this place has always been a safe haven for us on this planet. Dale’s family has always been an ally. I wonder why they didn’t share the book with Dale?” Asked the taller one.

“Yes, that is odd. Speaking of Dale was one of those two boys Dale?”

“No. They told us he’d be naked as a jaybird when we arrived, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Dale, hearing this, emerged from the water.

“Hello. I’m Dale. Are you looking for me? How can I help you?” Dale asked.

“Dale, you must tell every one of your species that your kind are the aliens who safely arrived on Earth so many millennia ago. And that they’ve got it all wrong. We are not aggressive at all. We just want to get along and return to our home planet,” said the shorter one.

“Would that be so wrong?” Asked the shorter one.

“I’d be happy to do that, but without anything to support what you are saying, nobody would ever believe me. That is the truth. Even if I believe what you are telling me,” Dale said.

“There’s a book of our history and your invasion, and then your history under the cabin in a dry crawl space. Everything will be revealed there within the pages.”

As Mary got Dale back to their dock, she called the boys. Then she got busy again with CPR. She feared that he may never regain consciousness again, but she kept up with the CPR. Scott and Corey were ready to finish her off with the compressions, but Dale began to cough and sputter like the backfire of an old car. The colour returned to his face when his breath returned to normal rhythms.

Before the evening was over, Dale took a lantern and went underneath the cabin, where he found a dry crawl space. It was full of many items that were of interest to keys of the past. But the most important item was the history of the great invasion of the Earth.

Dale’s mouth fell open as his face paled, and the shock took over his body.

The End

Nuevo Cubano Chicken
with Spanish Olive Picadillo Salsa

Prep: 20 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 (4 to 5 ounce) boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1 tablespoon Jamaican or Caribbean jerk seasoning
1 medium onion, chopped
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (10 ounce) can diced tomatoes and green chilies, undrained
3/4 cup halved Lindsay® Pimiento Stuffed Spanish Manzanilla Olives
1/2 cup golden or dark raisins
1 tablespoon drained Lindsay® capers
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Optional toppings: minced plum tomato, chopped fresh basil

Instructions

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot.
Add chicken; sprinkle half of the jerk seasoning over chicken. Cook for 4 minutes.
Turn; sprinkle remaining jerk seasoning over chicken. Continue to cook for 4 minutes. Transfer to a plate; set aside.
Add onion, bell pepper and garlic to same skillet; cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add tomatoes, olives, raisins, capers and Worcestershire sauce. Increase heat to medium-high and simmer 5 minutes.
Return chicken to skillet, turning to coat. Continue cooking until chicken is no longer pink in center, about 5 minutes.
Transfer chicken to serving plates; top with olive mixture and serve with desired toppings.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 326 Calories from fat: 109 Total fat: 12g Monounsaturated fat: 8g Cholesterol: 66mg Sodium: 956mg Total Carbohydrates: 28g Dietary Fiber: 4g Protein: 28g

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Lindsay Olives – Bell-Carter Foods

The Fall of America’s Malls | How a Retail Empire Collapsed Into Ruins

Pictures

Loyalty Test

Should India comply with President Trump’s demand that it withdraw from BRICS membership in order to secure lower import tariffs from the US?

What a Dilemma🤔🤔🤔🤔

India needs BRICS because India needs Russia

Russia provides Crude Oil to India at an average of between $ 46-$53 per Barrel versus $ 65–69 per Barrel of market rate

Only one condition

You must pay in RMB or Ruble or AED since Dollar Payments won’t reach us and Rupee Payments can’t be used too much

India therefore buys RMB from China for the US Dollar and pays in RMB

India buys AED and HKD and pays in AED and HKD

India pays for part of its steel from China in HKD

This helps India a lot in import bills, helps build up forex reserves that touch the equivalent of $ 700 Billion and help improve the contribution of Trade in GDP and bring down inflation due to lower wholesale costs (Definitely not 1% but around 3% making the real growth 5.8% instead of 7.8%)

India depends on Russia for Defense

India imports a lot of Russian Technology through License and End Use Agreements for the top weapons

Migs
Sukhois
Brahmos
S-400
Akash Missiles (Homing Technology)
Agni V (Avionics)

India depends on Russia for Geopolitics

Russia helps India, Pakistan and China maintain a fragile peace as a common friend

Russia JUST agreed to sell 4.5 Million Tonnes of Wheat to Pakistan for 50% lower price (In RMB) to help with their floods

Russia has no Civilization based ideology like China or Hegemony like US

So if Russia wants a strong BRICS, INDIA must remain in BRICS unless either Russia agrees to allow India to leave BRICS or Russia also leaves BRICS which looks highly improbable

India needs the US too badly

The entire IT Industry and Service Industry is US Oriented with nearly 60% revenue generated by US related contracts

All the technology platforms, licensing, software, hardware in India has 30% to 100% US Technology

And almost ₹500 Lakh Crore in Western Dollar Held Accounts by 1% of the Indian Population

Unfortunately all this can be blamed on the Stupidity of S Jaishankar

Jaishankar ambitiously believed Russia could be gotten to the US Side thanks to Donald Trump and India, Russia and US could form a sort of Axis allowing India to deal with China much better

He was SO against Chinas prosperity that he aimed to use US and Russia together and get India to use US financing to consolidate Bangladesh, Nepal, SL, Maldives and Bhutan

Covid , Biden and the Ukraine conflict ruined everything

Add to this the bizzare policy of Donald J Trump against the whole world

And to his credit, Modi is holding his own and succumbing shamelessly (He will but anyone else would have kowtowed much earlier)

Now India stands in the middle of a nasty conflict between TWO BLOCKS

Russia, China and their influence

Raw materials, Deflation, Limitless Goods, Low Cost Commodities, Geopolitical respect

Versus

US, G7 and the “Coolie” Influence

Software Exports, Technology dependence, Capital Market dependence, The 1% Class and their “Colonial Gene”

Trump isn’t strong enough to Bully either China or Russia

They are too Resilient

So now India is being bullied by US every day

What must India do?

Leaving BRICS is a NO – NO

Leaving an organization as a founding member under threat by US is the WORST FOR INDIAN REPUTATION

Notice how Trump always escalates his demands

In April, he wanted India to lower our tariffs which were extremely high for US Goods

Fair enough

In June, he wanted credit for the Ceasefire between India and Pakistan

Perfectly reasonable

In July, he wanted India for open the Market for GM Grain and Crops which meant another Google like moment where Indian food supply depended on Western IP

Unreasonable

In July end he wanted India to stop buying Russian Oil, again impinging on our Sovereignty

Unreasonable

Now he wants India to leave BRICS

Totally unreasonable

He won’t stop. He will keep making demands to suck India dry and enrich Trump and his associates

So India MUST RESIST

Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Mysterious Barn Pooper; A Tale of Tactical Tracking, Prepositional Chaos, and One Very Mischievous Gnome

Act I: The Crime Scene

The farm awoke to scandal.

Doris the Hen shrieked as she fluttered down from her roost: “MY HAYSTACK! It’s been… decorated!”

There, atop the golden hay (在上面 zài shàngmiàn), sat a suspicious pile.

Porkchop the Pig snorted near the tractor: “Dudes… there’s more under here!” (在下面 zài xiàmiàn)

Sir Whiskerton adjusted his magnifying glass. “This is no ordinary poop. This is… a prepositional puzzle.”

Act II: The Suspect Interviews

Suspect #1: Bessie the Cow
“Who, me?” Bessie blinked, her mood ring glowing “innocent.” “I only poop inside the barn!” (在里面 zài lǐmiàn)

Evidence: A single cow pie behind the water trough (在后面 zài hòumiàn). Alibi: “That’s modern art, man.”

Suspect #2: The Rabbits
“Eep!” They scattered, leaving only tiny pellets near the carrot patch (在附近 zài fùjìn).

Evidence: Too small. Too… adorable.

Suspect #3: Rufus the Dog
“I only poop on walks!“** he insisted, tail wagging.

Evidence: A mystery turd beside his doghouse (在旁边 zài pángbiān). Alibi: “That’s a… rock. Yeah.”

Act III: The Plot Thickens

Then—a breakthrough.

Ditto the Kitten tiptoed around the barn (在周围 zài zhōuwéi), whispering: “I saw something… in the shadows!” (在里面 zài lǐmiàn)

A giggle echoed. A tiny hat glinted.

Sir Whiskerton’s eyes narrowed. “Gnomeo.”

Act IV: The Shocking Truth

They cornered Gnomeo between two hay bales (在中间 zài zhōngjiān), clutching a whoopee cushion and a bag of chocolate-covered raisins.

“戏精胖仙 strikes again!” he cackled, waving his fake gnome poop (crafted from mud and mischief).

The “fart” QR code clue? Just Gnomeo blowing raspberries.

Act V: Justice Served

As punishment, Gnomeo was sentenced to:

Clean-up duty (with a toothbrush).
Preposition lessons (“The poop goes in the compost, Gnomeo!”).
Community service: Decorating the barn with actual art (non-poop division).

Moral: Know where your poop goes—and your prepositions too!

ESL Adventure Time!

Left Page: Comic Chaos

Panel 1: Doris gasps at haystack poop (在上面 zài shàngmiàn).
Panel 2: Porkchop finds tractor poop (在下面 zài xiàmiàn).
Text: “Oh no! The barn is a disaster! 但是… 谁是罪犯? Dànshì… shéi shì zuìfàn?”

Right Page: Detective Games

Poop Match-Up
- Cow pie = Bessie
- Tiny pellets = Rabbits
- Whoopee cushion = Gnomeo!
QR Code Fun
- Scan to hear the “fart” (Spoiler: It’s Gnomeo giggling).
Preposition Challenge
- “Draw poop behind the barn! Say: 在后面! Zài hòumiàn!”

The End (and the barn has never smelled… wait, no, it still smells.)

Pan Roasted Maple Dijon Chicken
with Butternut Squash and Brussels Sprouts

Center your home cooked meal around a hearty dish such as Pan Roasted Maple Dijon Chicken with Butternut Squash and Brussels Sprouts to ensure that none of your guests leave the table hungry.

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
4 chicken thighs
4 chicken drumsticks
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
16 Brussels sprouts (about 8 ounces), bottom trimmed, outer leaves removed and halved
2 cups diced (1/2 inch) butternut squash
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons maple syrup
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

Instructions

In a sauté pan large enough to hold chicken in single layer, heat olive oil over medium-high heat.
Season chicken with salt and pepper.
Add chicken to pan, skin side down, and sauté for about 4 to 5 minutes per side, or until chicken is browned.
Remove chicken from pan and reserve.
In the same pan, add butter. Allow butter to melt over medium heat.
Add sprouts and squash to pan and sauté, tossing occasionally, until outsides are golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Remove from pan and hold separately from chicken.
Turn heat to high and add stock, syrup and mustard. Stir and bring to boil, stirring to scrape up brown bits on bottom of pan.
Add chicken back to pan, cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Cook over medium-low heat for 20 to 25 minutes, or until chicken registers 170 degrees F with an instant read thermometer.
Add vegetables back to pan, cover again and cook another 8 to 10 minutes until vegetables are tender.
Move chicken and vegetables to serving platter, placing vegetables around chicken.
Turn heat to high and boil sauce until it is reduced and slightly thickened, about 2 to 3 minutes.
Spoon sauce over chicken and serve.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: National Chicken Council

A brutal date

The Vegans. (A Serving of Man.)

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Ken Cartisano

You don’t speak their language, so you don’t really know what’s going on, but you see other people accepting small chits from an automated dispenser. You grab one and take a seat. The ticket has symbols that mean nothing to you. The minutes turn into hours. Eventually you realize your number is being called when a bureaucrat with an electronic pad barks out some foreign gibberish, and several heads in the room turn toward you.

A freakishly tall, gaunt and bony creature silently leads you to a cubicle and offers you a seat. It’s hard to explain how you managed to get into this place, with or without a translator, and you’re not sure if that’s the question you’re being asked by the alien agent, or officer, who has no chair, but appears to roost on a low, limb-like contrivance and makes himself comfortable by squatting behind the desk in front of you. This brings his large sunglass covered eyes almost down to your level.

It’s clear to you that he is, without a doubt, one of the aliens you’ve seen pictures of and heard about. Their arrival with a small fleet of ships stirred a great deal of initial interest, but did not produce the anticipated unity of humankind, nor the hoped for instant technological solutions to our gravest problems. On 21^st Century earth, even a highly advanced alien species could be dismissed after a few weeks if they refused to die, conquer, or work miracles. Aliens are real, they’re here, and though they are rarely seen, it is impossible to deny that you’re sitting across the desk from one.

Noting your verbal difficulty, he fiddles with a box on his desk, while he gazes at you with a blend of interest and annoyance. Speaking occasionally. Finally, the box beeps and begins translating his speech into questions you can understand. “You seek asylum?” He asks.

“Yes,” you reply. “I guess so.”

“What is your name?”

“Jesus,” you say, “Jesus Morales.”

“Hay-soos,” the agent recites, “Morale-ayez.” He smiles. You smile back, then he says, “How did you get in here?”

“I…” You hesitate. Was it divine providence? You were just loitering by the entrance when one of their human liaisons strolled by wearing similar overalls, so you adjusted your gait, fell in behind him and pretended to be his assistant. Once inside the building, with people milling around, sitting on benches in the massive lobby, you took advantage of a kind of herd blindness typical in large institutions. “I pretended I was one of you,” you finally say.

He smiles. “So you’re here of your own volition?”

“Excuse me?”

“You did not get a notice to appear?”

“A notice to—uh no, I didn’t, I just came in. Wanted to see what was going on.”

“You have no family? No friends? No children?”

“Not really. No.”

“Then you would not object to emigrating.”

“Uh, no.” You didn’t know it was an option. “Where?”

“Do you have a preference?” The alien asks.

Your laughter erupts spontaneously and ends just as abruptly. “I’ll take any country that takes me, as long as it’s better than this.” Your voice is teetering on the edge of hysteria. “Have you looked outside lately?”

There are no windows. The agent blinks in surprise.

“Half the continent is in flames, what isn’t burnt is water-logged, the food is laced with plastic, there isn’t a job to be had for love or money, the subsistence checks are a joke, crime is rampant, the heat is flourishing, the water is tainted, the drugs…” Your last few complaints are muffled as you lower your head and cover your face with your hands. While your particular circumstances may not be universal, your kind of desperation is widespread. But you are unprepared for an offer of asylum. What does that even mean? What if you turn it down?

The agent clears his throat and steeples his long, boney fingers together. “It is critical that you understand, Mr. Morales, that this is a one-way trip? There is no return, no exceptions.”

His warning has an ominous tone. Well, you didn’t think they were running a shuttle service. “One way to where?” You ask. Only now do you relax enough to observe some of your surroundings: The padded chairs, polished floors and unobtrusive lighting. You’re basking in the powerful air conditioning when the agent pulls some papers from his desk and signs them, one by one. His hands are long and articulated, he has many more knuckles than you. His skin seems to be a dark purple.

You’re about to repeat your question when he says, “Who, or where were you informed of our refugee program?” Then he holds the forms perpendicular to the desk and taps them into alignment. It’s a surprisingly universal act.

His tone is neutral, but you’re suspicious. “I didn’t. I was just guessing that you might have one.”

The agent says, “So you entered under false pretenses, hoping we had a program, that you’ve never heard of.”

That is essentially correct, and now you’re wondering if this was such a good idea. “But,” you say, “I’m not sure the pretense was false. I need help. Just like most of those people out there.” He nods toward the few lingering individuals waiting in the lobby. Grimy people, hunched over, scratching their heads or rubbing their necks.

Now you’re both gazing through a glass partition, watching humanity’s flotsam. “Did you speak with any of them while you were waiting?”

“Them?” Your laugh is bitter. “No. I don’t speak the local language. I imagine most of them are clueless. They have no idea who you are. Or…”

The agent leans forward and rests his large head on those extra-long fingers. “Or?”

“Or what you’re doing.”

“What are we doing?”

You hesitate, but really, what more could you have to lose? “I was sharing a lean-to with a fellow un-homed person in the alley across the street,” you tell him. “Just a tarp stretched out between two dumpsters. Once I settled in and got the lay of the land, I noticed the police were really thin around here.”

“You saw that as anomalous?” The agent asks.

“I did. It made me curious, and it gave me a chance to watch this building for extended periods.”

“And what was the result of these extended observations?” The agent whispers.

“Well, I’d say you’re doing an excellent job of hiding in plain sight,” you say.

The agent adjusts the nameplate on his desk, a name you cannot pronounce, and reclines against the wall. “And yet, you noticed—something.”

“Well,” you lean forward, “I made it my business to watch this place once for 66 hours straight. Never slept. Drank coffee. Did a little speed. Kept a tally as the hours went by…”

The agent smiles patiently.

“A hundred and ninety-four people entered the building, and only seven came out—in three days.”

“That’s not quite three days…”

“It’s close enough.”

“They could’ve left through the back door…” the agent began.

“One of which opens into the same alley across the street,” you say. “I had a clear view of that exit as well,” you say.. “People go in, but they don’t come back out.”

“How do you know…” the agent said, “that we’re not eating them?”

That thought, truly, had not occurred to you.

“Are you?” You ask.

The agent makes a weird clucking noise and says, “No. We’re vegetarians, and it’s a big part of your planet’s problems. Eating other sentient creatures is a mild form of cannibalism and leads to other forms of horrendous behavior. We’ve really got our work cut out for us here.”

“So, you’re not eating people.”

“As I said, we’re vegetarians.

“You don’t sound optimistic.”

“We’re not. Not sure we can pull it off,” every now and then he makes this weird chirring sound. “But we have a lot of resources. I hope you’re not having second thoughts?”

“Not really,” you say. But you are.

“Good. Though your diligence is commendable, I’m afraid your relocation is no longer optional.”

“Why is that?” You ask.

The agent rises to his feet and again appears to be about 8 feet tall. “You already know more than I’m allowed to tell you.”

You’re thinking about how wonderful it would be to spend another night in a familiar alley, under a blue tarp, stretched between two dumpsters, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. The agent holds out the sheaf of documents he has signed, and points you to a large, energized doorway that was not noticeable a few minutes ago. “Step through the door Mr. Morales, you will be assisted on the other side.”

“Assisted? On the other side of what? Wait a minute,” you protest. “Where am I going? Where are you sending me?” There’s a tremor in your voice. “Sir?”

He does not answer, and you’ve lost your voice, but you accept the papers and step forward as if in a trance, a dead man walking, as if he had some way to make you move against your will. The agent’s voice fades as you are pulled through the portal, but you are encouraged by his parting words. “Good luck, follow instructions, and if you do eat any of your hosts, Mr. Morales, we WILL bring you back here.”

I paid my ex-fiancée’s way through college only for her to ask for an open marriage

Good manners make good neighbors—especially when digestion is involved

I try to be healthy. I try.

I eat only healthy foods, and those are heavy with vegetables. I shy away from fast food, with only a visit once or twice a month. And no snacking. I drink lots and lots of water. I have cut down on my coffee. But I drink wine every night. And it’s not a glass. *sigh*.

I make up for it with jogging, or weightlifting.

But my work load is heavy.

And do not get me going on my disappointments. That’s a story in itself.

But at my age, you gotta treat what you have as a valuable commodity.

Now, nearby our house is a Business Complex. It is a cluster of office buildings built upon a kind of outdoor mall with food shops. And we go there for some cheap eats. As they serve the 20 – 30 crowd of office workers.

It’s different than going to a regular mall. Most everyone there are workers.

It’s an interesting contrast. Ah. I see my age, in many ways. Wrinkles. Fashion. Attitude, and the way you act. Right now, I’m comfortable in who I am and what I have gone though, though those around me (at the business mall) are just starting the battle. Oh, poor guys.

If you are older… you know what I am talking about.

I’ll leave it at that.

Today…

OP-ED: Iran Sends Message to Washington

Hal Turner World March 21, 2026

OP-ED: Iran sends a message to Washington.

Marwa Osman large

In a tightly structured 12-minute address, Ayatollah Imam Sayyed Mojtaba Khamenei moved from familiar rhetoric into something far more consequential. The opening half followed the expected script; revisiting decades of U.S. warmongering rhetoric: sanctions, assassinations, regional conflicts.

But midway through, the tone shifted from retrospective to strategic.

Sayyed Khamenei outlined three concrete demands, each with a defined timeline:

a rapid U.S. military withdrawal from the Middle East, and;
a full rollback of sanctions within 60 days, and;
long-term financial compensation for economic damages.

Then came the ultimatum. Fail to comply, and Iran escalates, economically, militarily, and potentially nuclear. Not hypothetically, but operationally: closing the Strait of Hormuz, formalizing defense ties with Russia and China, and moving from ambiguity to declared nuclear deterrence.

The timing of external reactions was just as telling. Within hours, both Beijing and Moscow issued statements aligning, carefully but unmistakably, with Tehran’s framing. This definitely looked coordinated.

The broader context matters. Sayyed Mojtaba Khamenei represents a different leadership style from his martyred predecessor leader. Where martyr Sayyed Ali Khamenei operated through long-term balancing and controlled escalation, Sayyed Mojtaba appears positioned to deliver faster, more decisive outcomes.

Iran’s internal reports are clear, the Islamic Revolution Guard Corps is in no way, shape or form interested in incrementalism. They are pushing for structural change: removing U.S. influence from the region, restoring Iran’s military standing, and forcing a re-negotiation of global power dynamics.

And for the first time in decades, Iran practically has the leverage to do this.

Rising oil prices, regional instability, growing alignment with China and Russia, and vulnerabilities in global trade routes have shifted the strategic landscape.

So this was not just a speech. It was a test. A test of whether the United States is willing, or even able, to operate under a new set of constraints.

What happens next will likely define not just the trajectory of this conflict, but the broader balance of power in the Middle East for decades to come.

BY: Marwa Oswan PRESSTV – Beirut, Lebanon

Americans are leaving the American dream for China, Is China the new American dream?

The American Dream is dead — but in China, a new dream is alive and thriving. While millions in the U.S. struggle with sky-high rent, crushing debt, and a collapsing middle class, China’s rising middle class is buying homes, saving money, and living a lifestyle most Americans can’t even imagine.

In this video, we break down why the new American Dream may actually exist in China. From affordable housing to world-class infrastructure, from job stability to healthcare access, China is showing the world a very different reality than the one Americans are told to believe.

Lemon Grass Chicken Curry

af2fc9dd6886f1f1aba5f8ae1c9e0d88

Yield: 3 servings

Ingredients

12 ounces boneless chicken, chopped into small pieces
1 tablespoon red curry paste
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fish sauce
2 stalks lemon grass, finely chopped
5 Kaffir lime leaves, shredded
1/2 teaspoon crushed palm sugar (or light brown sugar)
1/2 cup water

Instructions

Place chicken in bowl, add curry paste and stir to coat chicken; set aside for 30 minutes.
In wok, heat oil, add garlic and fry until golden.
Stir in chicken, then fish sauce, lemon grass, lime leaves, sugar and water.
Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes until chicken is cooked through. If chicken becomes too dry, add a little more water, but the final dish should be quite dry.

The Neighbour

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

C. Charles

Paul was walking towards his car when he noticed his neighbour across the street was just getting into hers. God, she’s weird, he thought. For the three years that he and Emma had lived in their house, they’d never spoken to her.Emma would be home soon so Paul was going to the grocery store to pick up supper. It was Friday and neither of them felt like cooking. He got in the car and started it just as the woman started backing out of her driveway.She left the house multiple times a day and was only ever gone for a short amount of time. Paul had never counted how many times she left in a day but he initially guessed about ten when he and Emma noticed after they moved. They liked to wonder about what she was doing. Maybe she only smokes in the car, they hypothesized. Or maybe she’s going into town to get takeout. Maybe she has OCD and her compulsion is driving.Then they got their dog, Stella. When she was a puppy and Paul had to take her out at all hours, he noticed that the woman left throughout the night too. Then their ideas started getting more and more outlandish. Maybe she’s a drug dealer or an assassin. Or maybe she’s an alien. Whatever it was, she was strange.She lived with a man who appeared to work Monday to Friday. During the Summers, he would get home from work and mow his lawn every other day or so. During the Winter, if it snowed, he would immediately shovel the driveway. She never went outside, only to walk to and from the car. Other than that, nobody ever saw them. Even during the evenings, when most houses had glowing yellow windows as signs of life and activity, their curtains remained drawn and it seemed like there was never a light on in the house.As they got to know their other neighbours, Paul and Emma would try to casually slip the strange couple, especially the woman, into conversation. But anybody they talked to had never met or spoken to them.Paul waited for her to start driving away before he backed out, put the car in gear, and started after her. He rounded the same corner she’d disappeared behind and found a lineup of cars waiting for a school bus to finish dropping some kids off. He was stopped behind her and, even after three years, couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing on her frequent trips.The bus finally began to pull away and the lineup of cars began to move. Paul asked Siri to play some music.They passed the convenience store, then the exit for the bypass. Then the cemetery. With every destination they passed, Paul could feel his curiosity bubbling. He’d joked to Emma that one day he was going to follow her and solve the mystery, and here he was doing it inadvertentlyHe felt a grin spread across his face as he pressed the Bluetooth button in his car and waited for Siri’s helpful bmmm.“Call Emma,” he said.“Calling Emma,” Siri replied as he followed his neighbour past the hockey rink. The phone rang over the car speakers as they drove past the new apartment buildings when Emma picked up.“Hello?” She said.

“Hi, what’s up?” Paul asked.

“Just on my way home. Are you getting supper?”

“Yeah, but you’ll never guess who I’m behind.”

“Who?”

“Weirdo across the street,” Paul said.

“Oh, really? Did you figure out where she’s going?”

“No, but I’m gonna keep following her,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Oh my god, Paul don’t actually follow her. That’s so weird.”

“I’m not gonna like, follow her follow her, but I’m probably gonna find out where she goes. She’s probably just addicted to scratch tickets and going to get some from the gas station,” he said as they approached the traffic light to go toward town.

Town, including the restaurants and grocery store where Paul was going, was to the right. Left through the light would take you to Kent, which was just old houses and farms.

“Oooh, we’re coming up to the light. Which way is she gonna go?” Paul said.

“Oooh, I don’t know,” Emma said, mimicking his sarcastic tone.

Paul signaled right just as the woman, to Paul’s surprise, signaled left.

“Hey, she’s going to Kent,” he said.

“Maybe she knows somebody out there.”

“But why would she go at all hours of the day and night?”

“Maybe she’s got a secret lover,” Emma joked.

“But she leaves when the guy is home too!” Paul said as they slowed to the red light.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s cool with it.”

“Yeah… maybe… But I doubt she’s going to bang her super-not-so-secret boyfriend twenty times a day!”

“You never know!” Emma said. The light turned green.

“No… you don’t,” said Paul, switching his signal to the left. Now he was in it. He had to know. “I’m gonna keep following her.”

“Paul! Don’t! She’s gonna call the cops or something.”

“She’s not going to call the cops,” Paul said, passing the sign for Kent. “And besides, it’s not like I have no business over here. If somebody says something, I’ll just say I was on my way to Ted’s.” Ted was Paul’s friend from work and occasionally he and Emma would go there for drinks.

“She probably doesn’t go to Kent all the time,” Emma said.

Paul rounded the corner where River Road turned into Route 315 and the speed increased. Paul let the neighbour create a gap between them; he didn’t want to be too conspicuous.

“Maybe not, but still! Where she goes will be a piece of the puzzle that is this woman’s weird life. Oh, she’s turning into Miller’s Trail!”

Miller’s Trail was the unofficial name of a wooded area with a stream that ran through it. People liked to walk there and Paul and Emma took Stella there occasionally.

“Don’t follow her in there!”

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m going to turn around and go get supper.” Paul said as he drove by the entrance for the trail.

“Ok. Thank you. I’m just stopping for gas then I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Paul said as he turned into one of the side streets to turn around.

“Bye,” Emma said before hanging up. Paul completed his U-turn and turned back into the 315. Ok, so she goes to Miller’s trail. At least some of the time anyway, he thought as he approached the trail’s entrance again. But the woman’s SUV wasn’t there. That’s weird, he thought as he drove by, craning his neck. Where’d she go?

That’s when he saw the light reflect off of something hidden in the bushes. What the fuck? he thought. She hid her car? Did she do that all the time? Had they been there at the same as her and just never crossed paths? Did she ever cross paths with anyone? He took a deep breath.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Paul pulled into the nearest driveway, backed out, threw the car into drive, and raced back to the entrance as quickly as he could.

The main trail was a large loop and you could go left or right at the beginning. No matter which way you chose at the start, there was a large hill you had to walk up that had been mostly cleared. The stream skirted around it and passed underneath the 315. If Paul was fast, he might be able to see which direction she walked.

He pulled into the parking lot and jumped out, running to the fork in the trail at the bottom of the hill. His eyes darted back and forth between the paths, looking for signs of movement.

On the left trail, he saw a flash of movement disappear over the top of the hill. He started up the trail after her but stopped. What am I doing? He thought. This is a little too intense. You’re going off the rails here.

He turned to go back to his car when his eyes happened to settle on the hidden SUV and he stopped. He couldn’t help but wonder again at how many times they’d been there while she was somewhere in the woods. And why did she hide the car? In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Fuck it,” Paul said as he turned back toward the trail she’d taken. Emma would be mad at him, but the curiosity was overwhelming. “Curiosity killed the cat,” popped into his head. And satisfaction brought it back, he thought.

He jogged up the hill as quietly as he could. But, when he reached the top, she was gone. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He started down the trail, walking fast. He decided that he would walk for a few hundred feet and if he didn’t find her, he would turn back.

He was scanning his surroundings but didn’t see anything. He was about to turn back when he saw it in the mud. A fresh footprint heading into the woods. It had to be her.

He started into the woods in the direction of the footprint, his mind racing to think of an excuse if he was confronted. He felt compelled to know what she was doing, possessed by the mystery. Satisfaction brought it back.

He wove through the woods toward the stream, careful not to make too much noise on the leaves underfoot.

Paul stepped around a tree and there she was, standing stock still at the edge of the stream, about sixty feet away. He couldn’t see her face, just her blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He ducked behind a tree. Fuck, I didn’t see her in time. There’s no way she didn’t hear me, he thought.

But he didn’t hear anything. He peeked around the tree. She hadn’t moved. She was still standing there, exactly as she had been when Paul first saw her. Then something dawned on him. If she doesn’t know I’m here now, she’s gonna when she’s finished doing whatever she’s doing and leaves. Now what?

The woman jerked and made Paul flinch. Then she jerked again. She doubled over as if in pain and it looked like she was heaving, like she was about to puke. What the fuck am I watching?

The woman snapped back to the position she’d been in, standing perfectly still. But now, something was moving in front of her, it was pink and wiggling. What the fuck is that?

Then a chill rolled down his spine and his body prickled with realization.

It was a tentacle, or at least that’s what it looked like. And it wasn’t pink. It was white and coated with blood. It was coming out of the woman’s mouth.

Paul’s hand shot up to his mouth as the woman doubled over again and the tentacle writhed towards the ground, stretching and reaching. It slapped against the ground, leaves, and dirt sticking to the wet probing limb. The only sound in the woods other than the stream was the sound of the rustling leaves.

As the tentacle revealed more of itself, he could see it growing thicker and it was being coated with more, darker blood.

The woman’s body began to jerk and twist. She turned sideways so that Paul could see some of her face. Her mouth was stretched to the limit like a snake swallowing something too big.

Paul’s legs grew weak and he sank to the ground, watching the grotesque display. His stomach protested, threatening to vomit, but he forced it back.

His neighbour’s mouth began to tear at the edges, like a Glasgow smile and blood began to run, dripping onto the ground in a growing stream. Like a seam ripping, her cheek tore to the edges of her jaw and the tip of a second probing tentacle emerged from her cheek.

Paul began to hyperventilate as the woman stood up again, her nails digging at the tear in her cheek. The fingers seemed to find their mark in the tear and began to pull, allowing the tentacles more room to wriggle.

Her hand pulled harder and harder, and blood spurted and gushed while the tentacles writhed and groped for something to grab onto.

The woman’s stance finally broke and she stumbled, her torso twisting and spraying blood across the leaf-covered ground.

She slammed hard into a small tree and the first tentacle wrapped itself tightly around. Paul couldn’t help but start to scream at the horror in front of him. Whatever was in there, was trying to pull itself out.

There was a squelching crack and the woman’s head burst open with a fountain of blood, the top half of her skull hanging on by skin and tissue. It lolled against her shoulder, revealing the tips of more blood-covered tentacles. Paul wanted to run, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen with fear.

The tentacles squirmed. They slid out of the opening, one by one, and managed to wrap themselves around the tree.

Paul watched them flex with effort and the tree began to bend with the weight. The woman’s body seemed to be fighting to stay upright.

The tentacles began to swing the body violently, trying to free whatever was still in the body.

!!! KAAAARCH-ELSSSSHHHHH !!!

The woman’s body bifurcated. The entire mass crumpled to the ground into a pile of flesh and guts, blood running down the bank and into the stream.

There was silence for a few seconds before Paul vomited. He looked up at the destroyed body and saw something writhing in the gore. Something white.

The tentacles began to reach across the ground and pull themselves slowly out of what was left of the woman’s body, writhing against the dry rasp of leaves. The tentacles were dragging a large white mass behind it like an Octopus.

It stopped at the edge of the bank and turned. Paul couldn’t see its eyes, but he could feel them on him. It stared at him for a few moments before the white, octopus-like mass, slipped into the stream. Paul slowly got to his feet, staring at the spot where the thing disappeared.

The stream began to ripple. Something started rising out of it where the thing had gone under, water running off of it. Paul thought it looked like the top of a sea anemone, with fleshy white fronds standing at attention. It continued to rise out of the water, the fronds tapering into a white stalk, about as thick as a tree.

Paul began to back away as it continued to reach out of the stream. Ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty. Paul started to scream and turned to run out of the woods. He had to tell Emma. He had to contact the police. The military. Anybody.

He made it out of the woods and back onto the trail and began to sprint back to the car. Paul couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. He stopped in fear and awe, trying to catch his breath. The anemone-like thing had stopped rising. Now it towered above the trees.

After a few moments, the fronds began to vibrate and the air above them began to wave, like heat coming off asphalt on a hot day. A throbbing, low, menacing whistle filled the air. Dark clouds took shape above the thing at incredible speed and billowed away. It looked like those time-lapses of a storm forming.

Paul, terrified, heard his phone begin to blare in his pocket over the pulsing whistle. It was an alert. He pulled it out with shaking hands.

SPECIAL WEATHER STATEMENT: SEVERE STORM AND TORRENTIAL RAIN IMMINENT. SEEK SHELTER

He tried to call Emma, but there was no service. He looked skyward. There was nothing but dark, ominous clouds as far as he could see. They burst open and rain began to fall in torrential sheets. It would never stop raining.

* * *

“For God’s sake Paul, WE HAVE TO GO! PLEASE!” Emma sobbed as she stood at the door, holding Stella in her arms. The car was packed. They only had three-quarters of a tank and a jerry canful, but it would have to do.

“I know, I’m ready,” Paul said with a sob as he took one last look around the house for anything they might need.

Paul had told Emma what he’d seen, that there were probably thousands of them living inside humans and who knows how many more of those anemone things. She was speechless when he told her the story, but she believed him. No one else believed though. He thought if they acted fast enough, maybe they could stop whatever those things were.

Paul told Emma how he thought they’d been here for a long time, growing whatever those rain-making anemones were, biding their time. He went to the police but they told him to take his conspiracy theories elsewhere; they had a natural disaster on their hands. He didn’t know how to contact the military.

It had been raining for two days straight. Before the power went out and their phones died, they had learned it was raining over every square inch of the planet, confirming Paul’s theory. Those things were everywhere. It never would stop raining on Earth.

Paul opened the door, and they rushed out into the rain. They weren’t even sure where they would go; most of the roads around them were submerged in rushing flood waters or washed away entirely. But they had to try.

They ran through the ankle-deep water to their car. They backed out of the driveway and looked at their house for the last time. They both turned to look at their neighbour’s house across the street. The man’s car was still there. How many times did we wonder? they both thought before driving away.

James Webb Just Released the CLEAREST Image of Proxima B!

Pictures

MILITARY: U.S. Navy to deploy sea based laser weapon

Man Changes Identity And Disappears On Cheating Fiancee After Learning That All 3 Kids Are Not His

Crazy crazy crazy story.

Sir Whiskerton and the Burp Heard ‘Round the Farm: A Lesson in Manners, Mayhem, and the Power of Beans

Act I: The Feast Before the Storm

The farmer had outdone himself for this year’s Annual Bean Bonanza. Long tables groaned under:

Baked beans (swimming in molasses)
Bean salads (with questionable rainbow sprinkles)
Chef Remy’s infamous “Triple-Bean Tango Surprise” (which wiggled ominously)

Bessie the Cow, her mood ring glowing “HUNGRY,” piled her plate high. “Like, wow man… bean energy is real energy,” she mused, swallowing a third helping.

Sir Whiskerton, ever the diplomat, nibbled daintily on a single green bean. “Moderation, Bessie. Remember the Great Gas Incident of ’22?”

Too late. A fateful gurgle echoed from Bessie’s general direction.

Act II: The Burpocalypse

“UUUUUUURRRRRP—”

The soundwave hit like a hay-bale tsunami:

Sir Whiskerton went airborne, tail spinning like a helicopter.
The picnic table flipped, launching Doris the Hen into a tree.
Fence posts toppled like dominoes, spelling “HELP” in the dirt.

Bessie, blinking: “Excuse—urp—me! 打嗝了! (Dǎgé le!)”

Porkchop, applauding: “That was art. Brutal, loud art.”

Act III: The Manners Intervention

As the farm recovered, Sir Whiskerton convened an Emergency Etiquette Summit under the “Burp-O-Meter” (a.k.a. the wobbly weathervane).

“Let’s discuss when burping is acceptable,” he began, wiping bean sauce from his whiskers.

Ditto the Kitten: “After dinner! Like this—urp—oops.”
Lucifer the Chipmunk: “During my dramatic monologues! For emphasis!”
Gertrude the Goose: “NEVER. Ever. Unless it’s me.”

Sir Whiskerton sighed. “The answer is: only in emergencies, with excuse me, and never after three plates of beans.”

Bessie, scribbling notes: “So like… one plate. Got it.”

Act IV: Peace (and Peppermints) Restored

That evening, the farmer served a bean-free salad buffet. The animals ate in nervous silence, eyeing Bessie.

Suddenly—

“YODEL-ay-hee—” (The Fish, from the pond)

Everyone: “NO BEANS, NO BURPS!”

Bessie just smiled, popping a mint. “Chillax, dudes. I’m evolving.”

Moral

Good manners make good neighbors—especially when digestion is involved.

The End (and the farmer’s secret bean stash remains LOCKED.)

Iran just shocked the world…Dimona and Arad nuclear tunnels obliterated in 2 hours – OPTM

Wow!

Bye Bye Israel nuclear weapons.

Lysar’s Report

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Ralph Aldrich

It has been thirty-five years since the Pulverteains invaded and attempted to wipe out the whole human race. Their attack was swift and precise. Their reason for doing so was based on observations over the centuries of watching them evolve and concluding that humans were too violent and destructive to indulge in space travel. So the Pulverteains decided to stop them from ever leaving the planet. The Pulverteains resembled humans in many ways, except for some internal organs and outward appearances. They tend to be very fair-skinned with heavily hooded eyes that slant upward in the corners, plus they all have black hair.After the invasion, they began transforming Earth to their liking by tearing down all that was human and replacing them with their cities and factories. They also created large areas for agriculture where they cultivated crops suitable for Pulverteains.The Pulverteains are what you might call an eco-friendly race so that in terraforming Earth, they could reverse the damage done by humans and thus stop the effects of climate change. Soon the oceans, air, lakes, and streams reverted to their pre-human state. As a result, wildlife and forests grew and flourished, with many near-extinct species multiplying.There is still much work to make the planet safe again, such as cleaning up old toxic waste dumps and safely closing and removing nuclear power plants and atomic weapons depots. The Pulverteains have built a recycling factory on the moon to reclaim much of the reusable materials.Their attempt to eradicate the human race was not as successful as they had hoped. There are several pockets of them hidden in remote locations around the world. These survivors refer to themselves as survivalists or underground resistance, attacking Pulverteain outposts and disrupting power plants. The Pulverteains view all such renegades as a nuisance they will soon crush into oblivion. Consequently, a specially trained group of troopers led by Lt.Lysar has received a deployment notice to the Pacific Northwest. There is a disturbance in the lush rainforest of what used to be British Columbia.Their destination is in the area formally known as Tumbler Ridge. It is a geo-park of sights to behold. So many waterfalls, unique rock formations, alpine meadows, lakes, canyons, and caves fill the area. The raw beauty of the overflow of wilderness takes back Lt. Lyzar. Black bears and grizzlies call the rainforest home among other wildlife sheltering in the two-thousand-year-old giant trees. Bald eagles soar in the clear blue skies and hunt fish in the pristine lakes. They build their nests on the mountain cliffs. The troop’s objective is to reach a stone outcropping that contains a few caves that could shelter the renegades.Lyzar’s unit consists of himself and four other highly trained scouts. They enter the rainforest by traveling through a lush moss-covered grove and marsh, looking for signs of humans. There is an outpost just south of this area where the confrontation has occurred. They entered the forest around noon and traveled for several hours before coming to a small vale with a stream running through it.Lt. Lyzar is a highly focused leader that stands about six feet tall, is slightly balding, and sports a pencil-style mustache. His men are entirely devoted to him and trust him explicitly. Lysar’s unit consists of three privates, Manama, Thais, and Usir. The remaining trooper is Sargent Oloo, the unit’s tracker and sharp-shooter. Following procedure, Lyzar orders to set up camp and make it secure. Manama is sent to dig a latrine by the forest’s edge. Private Thais is the communications officer and establishes contact with HQ. Usir assembles the portable stove to prepare the evening meal as Sargent Oloo and Lt. Lyzar study the terrain map to seek the best way to the stone outcropping. Pvt. Thea knocks on the tent post, and Lyzar tells him to enter.“Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I’m ready to turn on the alarm sensors, but Manama hasn’t returned from digging the latrine. When I went to tell him, he wasn’t there, just his shovel sticking out of the ground.”It is already growing dark as Lyzar and Thea go to the site to look for Manama and shine their flashlights on the half-dug hole.“It doesn’t look like there has been a struggle.” Lyzar comments.”Look here, Sir!” Thea points to Manama’s crushed, bloody helmet lying a few feet away. Upon further inspection, they can see marks in the wet leaves where Manama was dragged away. Lyzar notices that there aren’t any footprints accompanying them, just sizable, deep impressions. Starting to feel vulnerable to attack, they return to camp.

Lyzar informs his men upon his return, “We’ll search for Manama in the morning as it is too dark and the forest is too dense.” Then, turning to Thea, he commands, “I want you to inform HQ what happened and notify them of our plan. Meanwhile, let’s reinforce our security boundaries, say about another fifty feet further out. Set them to alarm us if anything weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds crosses their beams.”

At about four a.m.the shrill sound of the alarm has everyone leaping from their sleeping sacks to rush to the monitor to see what’s going on. Unfortunately, the monitor does not have a video screen but instead shows a white dot like a radar monitor.

“ It’s probably a grizzly bear,” Lysar says while indicating where the monitor shows the weight to be over eight hundred pounds. No sooner has he said this than the dot disappears from the screen.

Pvt Thea announces in a controlled and professional manner, “The intruder has destroyed marker seven and is approaching marker three. It appears to be heading our way, Sir.”

Oloo grabs his rifle and attaches a night vision scope to it. “I’ll see if I can spot it and drive it away.”

Oloo appears as a white dot near the bottom of the screen, and everyone watches with anticipation as the bear approaches. Usir, sitting on his cot by the side of the tent, jumps a little when the first report of the rifle sounds, bumping his head against the canvas. Oloo fires twice more, and the dot representing the bear disappears.

“Was it a grizzle?” Lysar asks as Oloo reenters the tent. Oloo seems confused and replies, “I don’t think so, Sir.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so? Explain yourself.” Lysar commands.

“It was standing on its hind legs when I saw it through my scope. It looked covered in fur, so I thought it was a bear. But then I noticed that its face was all wrong, the shape of its eyes, and it didn’t have a muzzle. Also, the shape of its body, a bear’s body is thick, but this one seemed to taper in, like a waist. Finally, it didn’t drop down to all fours after firing my shots but ran away like a man, Sir.” While Lysar contemplates this news, everyone is startled by the sound of ripping canvas and Usir’s scream of pain. A large and bloody bolder rolls to Lysar’s feet. Thea presses two fingers to Usir’s neck and then reports to the lieutenant, “He’s dead, Sir.”

Oloo roars. “What in the blue blazers is going on here? Are they using catapults now?”

Lysar tells Thais to grab his handheld communication device and for everyone to go outside. “I don’t like being a sitting duck.”

Once out in the open, he tells Thais to contact HQ and inform them that they are under attack and will need reinforcements and immediate extraction from this location. The forest at night is pitch black due to the thick canopy overhead. The group can’t see a thing without their flashlights, and Lysar notices it is unusually quiet. Having reached HQ, Thais continues to explain their situation.

“That’s correct, Sir. We’re under attack and have already lost two troopers, Manama and Usir. I’m sorry, but I can’t describe the attackers, but Sargent Oloo has seen one through his night vision telescope. I’ll hand you over to him, Sir. Sgt. Oloo, it’s Post Commander Mead.” Thea informs Oloo as he hands him the communicator.

“Oloo here, Sir,” he says as he turns to face Lt Laysar. “I could only see what appeared to be some creature through the night vision scope. That’s correct, Sir. I said, a creature. I determined that it stands at least nine feet tall and is covered in hair. The creature looks humanoid in stature and has intelligent-looking eyes. It also has a strong musky smell as well. I truly don’t know what to make of it, Sir, except that I’m positive it is out to kill us all.”

The commander responds, “Thank you, Sargent. I’ll have someone investigate our data resources to see if there is any information on this beast. In the meantime, the gyrocopter should be arriving in about fifteen minutes. Set out some flares for it so they can find you faster. I’ll get back to you with any information I find as soon as possible.”

Hearing the snapping of a twig, Laysar and Oloo turn just in time to see Thea being lifted off his feet by a big hairy hand and then rushed off into the woods. Oloo raised his rifle but didn’t dare to shoot for fear of hitting Thea. The last thing he saw through his scope was Thea’s terrified eyes, and then he was gone. A few moments later, the forest was full of Thea’s screams of agony and horror. A pale Oloo turns to his leader as to what to do.

“Let’s quickly get those flares going and stand back to back in the middle of the circle. Then, we can look in all directions until the copter arrives.”

Standing at the ready, Lysar responds to the communicator that has just cracked to life.

“Lysar,” Mead announces, “We’ve found some interesting facts about that thing you’ve encountered. Going back to the area’s first people, they had a folk tale about an apelike being living in those woods. Since then, other adventurers have been trying to capture or at least get a good picture of it as proof of its existence. But unfortunately, the creature appears to be very elusive. The Native Americans called it, let’s see if I can pronounce it, Sa-Sasquatch, meaning wild man.”

Without warning, a stone about the size of a baseball comes hurling at high speed from the woods, hitting Oloo in the face. Oloo crumbles to the ground, dead.

A startled Lysar drops the communicator and slowly retreats from the center of the flares. Standing just opposite him is the giant beast he now knows as Sasquatch. Its fierce eyes flash in the light of the flickering flames as saliva drips from his gaping mouth, revealing two prominent canine teeth. Lysar’s head is filled with Thea’s terrified and tortured screams, and he lifts the pistol to his temple as the communicator continues to bark out Post Commander Mead’s demands.

“Lysar, are you there? Report! Lysar, what is happening? For God’s sake, man, report!” The only sound heard through the speaker is the sharp report of a pistol being fired.

The sasquatch steps forward, looks down on the communicator, and then crushes it beneath his huge foot. The sound of the gyrocopter gets his attention as it approaches from the west. What passes for a smile appears on his gruesome face as he slowly backs into the dark forest to wait.

Italian Chicken and Noodles

This quick and easy one-pot meal is a lifesaver on busy weeknights. Full of antioxidants and rich flavor, it is sure to spread smiles all around.

Prep: 5 min | Cook: 15 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 (14.5 ounce) can Del Monte® Diced Tomatoes with Basil,Garlic and Oregano-No Salt Added
1 (14.5 ounce) can College Inn® Chicken Broth with Roasted Vegetables & Herbs
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2-inch strips
2 cups (about 8 ounces) sliced mushrooms
1 teaspoon dried basil leaves
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 cup white wine or water
4 cups uncooked dried medium egg noodles
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Salt (optional)
Pepper (optional)

Instructions

Cook chicken, garlic, mushrooms and basil in oil in large saucepan over high heat 4 minutes, stirring frequently.
Add undrained tomatoes, broth and wine; bring to boil.
Stir in noodles; cook, uncovered, over medium heat 6 to 7 minutes until chicken is done and noodles are tender and liquid is absorbed, stirring once.
Stir in cheese and season with salt and pepper, if desired.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Del Monte

DON’T GIVE UP – Motivational Speech

Play this LOUD.

The house with 14 folded flags

When I was a boy we lived in a small town on a river. It was nice. It was a great place to grow up as a boy. Oh I would walk along the river, and the railroad tracks. I would fish. I would climb the hills and explore the jumbles of rocks in the woods. I would stumble across old dilapidated buildings and have adventures.

As a man now, as an adult, I well remember one of the houses. It was abandoned intact. All the furniture was in place, and it had been abandoned for about 10 years without anyone visiting it. Eventually my friends started breaking in, and in no time it was terrorized and vandalized by kids. Too sad.

In the dining room was a bay window with a cushion. But when you lifted the cushion up, there was a little storage area, and all you had to do was open up the wooden hatch and peer inside. And inside were folded American flags in a triangle. Now, this is the way that you fold American flags. No big question there, but when a soldier, airman or sailor dies, the widow or partner is provided with a flag.

There were 14 flags there.

What a tragedy. No wonder such a large house, with multiple living suites, and a bunch of bedrooms were so empty. When the men died off, the wife remained in this big house all alone. The absence of the men of her life must have been terribly lonely.

Can you imagine?

Yet another tale of family tragedy uncovered in my youth.

Today…

Iran Tells Britain: Allowing U.S. To Attack Iran from British Bases Makes Britain “a party to the conflict”

Hal Turner World March 20, 2026

Iran Foreign Minister Araghchi says letting U.S. use British bases, even defensively, counts as “participation in aggression.”

Seems like the ambiguous posture of Starmer won’t work anymore.

Araghchi stated “Such actions will be recorded in the history of relations between the two countries.” A clear escalation in rhetoric as Iran signals it may treat allied support as direct involvement.

Will Iran fire missiles at British Bases? On Cyprus? In the UK itself? Both?

In Europe, how do hospitals make a profit if people can get healthcare for free, and doesn’t that make the hospital out of business if nobody pays?

Jesus Christ, capitalism has fucked you people up so badly. Hospitals do not exist to make fucking profit. They exist to provide healthcare. Only in the US are hospitals a business. We don’t need them to generate money, we need them to generate healthy citizens.

These hospitals don’t need to turn a profit, because they are funded by taxpayer dollars. They don’t need to make money, their expenses are already paid, and they don’t need to turn a profit, because healthcare should not be a for-profit business.

How did China learn from Russia’s aircraft carrier program when building its own, Liaoning?

Question: How did China learn from Russia’s aircraft carrier program when building its own, Liaoning?

Answer:

Well, I will just tell a bit of an interest short story.

At the front of Kuznetsov class carrier Liaoning, there is actually a ship based retail store for the sailors:

https://kknews.cc/zh-my/military/5zxzq62.html

Don’t be surprised, all major capital ships, such as carriers have this sort of thing, they have long deployment and they have all sorts of accommodations onboard. For example, the link below is for a Nimitz class carrier’s onboard retail store:

These stores are actually quite important for morale, but the one on board Liaoning is actually…a bit too big. And it happened for a reason.

Back in late 2000s, where China got the empty hull of the former Kuznetsov class carrier Varyag, the Chinese went over the ships (along with design drawings received from Ukraine) thoroughly and they greatly dislike one part of the design of Kuznetsov, which are the 12 P-700 Granit antiship missiles positioned at the front of the vessel.

The Chinese can understand why the Russians put those there, it’s because the Russian navy was never that big and without dedicated missile cruisers, the ships have to “multi-function”, so Kuznetsov class carriers really isn’t a dedicated aircraft carrier, it also carries very heavy missile payload with them, such as the 12 P-700 Granit antiship missiles.

The Chinese, however, has vastly different naval fleets, both in size and function.

While monster missile cruiser like type 055 were not yet in service back in 2010, many newer Chinese missile cruiser and destroyers were already in design and testing phase. So to the Chinese, missiles taking up valuable aircraft carrying space on the carrier is bad trade off.

It is much better for nations with large fleets (such as China and US) to have carrier dedicated on carrying aircraft and leave the heavy missiles to cruisers and destroyers.

But there is a problem with modifying Varyag to Liaoning—————-while the Chinese can remove the P-700 launching tubes, the space can’t be fully converted into aircraft storage/launching space, because doing so will compromise the structure integrity of the vessel.

So what the Chinese did was only covert part of the space and leave the rest, which is used as the retail store mentioned at the start of this post.

And when China was building its second carrier, the 002 Shandong, the ship structure is redesigned and the front portion of the space can be now properly utilized.

So despite looking similar from blurry pictures, Shandong can carry 48 winged aircraft instead of the 30 winged aircraft on 001 Liaoning or the Russian Kuznetsov.

Fun fact, when Russia recently (as of July 2025) announced that they are cancelling the repair attempt on Kuznetsov, there are people proposing (on Chinese websites) that China should buy it and just repair it as a supplementary to China’s current naval forces.

And my answer to those discussions is always no.

Because first and foremost, China already has success with the EM catapult on 003 Fujian, which allows heavier aircraft to launched at faster speed, so there is no point to build anymore ski-jump carriers.

Second, even if China wants to somehow build another ski-jump carrier, they will want to use Shandong as a template instead of a Kuznetsov class hull. Because the Shandong hull design allows for much more combat aircraft to be carried and with all the 055 cruisers around, there is little point for Chinese carrier to waste their space on antiship missiles.

Chicken Tenders over Pasta with Creamy Slow-Roasted Tomato Sage Sauce

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

Slow-Roasted Tomatoes

6 Italian plum tomatoes
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Chicken

1 1/2 pounds chicken tenders
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Creamy Slow-Roasted Tomato Sauce

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
2 ounces prosciutto, chopped
1 (16 ounce) bag frozen peas, thawed
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons chopped fresh sage
1 (16 ounce) box spaghetti
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

Instructions

Heat oven to 250 degrees F.

Slow-Roasted Tomatoes

Slice tomatoes in half lengthwise.
Place cut side up on baking sheet; sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Place in oven and roast for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. (Tomatoes may be made ahead and stored in refrigerator for up to three days.)

Chicken

In large skillet, melt olive oil and butter over medium high heat.
Season chicken with salt and pepper.
Add chicken to skillet and sauté, turning, until browned, about 3 minutes per side.
Remove chicken from pan, cover and reserve.

Creamy Slow-Roasted Tomato Sauce

To same skillet used to cook chicken, add one tablespoon olive oil.
Add diced onion and sauté over low heat until soft, about 10 minutes.
Add prosciutto and sauté for 30 seconds.
Add slow-roasted tomatoes and break up with back of wooden spoon. Heat through for 30 seconds.
Add cream; remove sauce from heat.
Cook pasta according to package directions.
When pasta is almost done, reheat sauce over low heat.
Add peas and sage to sauce; stir to heat well.
When pasta is cooked, drain but do not rinse.
Add pasta to sauce in skillet and toss well to combine.
Add cheese and parsley; toss again.
Place on serving platter and top with chicken.

Nutrition

Per serving: 710 calories; 25g fat; 11g saturated fat; 75g carbohydrate; 8g fiber; 8g sugars; 44g protein

Recipe and photo used with permission from: National Chicken Council

A Sunday Roasting

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Chris Campbell

“Wot’s this, then?”“It’s my new smartphone, Grandad.”“Wot’s it do?”“Lots of things.”“Like wot?”“Like, read emails, search Cyberspace.”“Wot’s Cyberspace – when it’s at home?”“It’s a superhighway of information available to everyone.”“Like a motorway?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Where’d they build it?”

“It’s not something you can see. It’s mostly underground. But lately, it’s up in space.”

“They’ve got motorways in space, like the Jetsons?”

“No, they’ve got satellites in stationary orbit that provide access to the superhighway. It’s like a big net of communication systems.”

“So, ‘ow does wots-is-face at thingy get his rockets past ‘em?”

“You mean, Elon Musk at Space X?”

“Yeah, that’s him. How does he get his rockets through the net up there?”

“It’s not like they’re connected to each other, Grandad. Well, they are connected, but not like a fishing net. The connection is invisible.”

“It’s magic, then.”

“No, it’s science. Bloody hell, Grandad!”

“I’m just pullin’ yer plonker, mate. I’m well aware of wot’s up there and all around and underneath us. I mean, my whole garden shed is proof of that, full of useless items bought on eBay.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

I went to a séance, once – in the seventies.”

“No, Grandad, I said science, not séance. Are your hearing aids working?”

“I was sittin’ at this round table holdin’ hands wif this young woman, who was wearing a scarf round her ‘ead. It had a big blue stone in the middle of it, like some Sikh magician. She kept repeating, Is anyone there, is anyone there? Like she was in the dark and had just ‘eard strange voices. I think she must ‘ave been blind, coz the room was fuckin’ packed with people. Poor love. I felt sorry for her, coz no-one answered. Rude gits. They just couldn’t deal with her disability, I suppose. They all looked shit scared of her, like if they muttered anything, she’d scream at ‘em. Then, all of a sudden, the table started to rise up on its own and this bell kept ringing. You know, the type that calls for a butler in all them posh tv shows. I thought, blimey! The Earth’s lost its gravity. So, I jumped on top of it to weigh it down and some geezer hidin’ underneath yelled out such a torrent of foul language, I stood up and left. I mean, what fuckin’ dead spirit wants to hear all that, hey? I know I didn’t, and I’m alive! Still, came home wif a nice souvenir, but your Gran didn’t appreciate me ringing it every time I wanted a cuppa.”

“Grandad?”

“Yes, my son.”

“You went rambling again.”

“Did I? Right. Must be getting’ old. So, tell me more about this smartphone of yours. Can it add?”

“It can.”

“Can it play the radio?”

“Yes, it’s called streaming music.”

“Screaming music?”

“No… Stop making fun of me.”

“Nothin’ but screaming music, these days. If you can call it that. In my day, it was love songs and dancing and fingerin’ Jane Snipper in the back alley of the dance hall.”

“Erm, Grandad. Too much info.”

“Wot, you never fing…”

“Not something I feel comfortable discussing, Grandad.”

“So, wot do you young people do these days to get your jollies?”

“Let’s get back on topic, please.”

“We never ‘ad the luxury or the readies to rent a hotel room.”

“That’s not…”

“Nah, it was either a bunk up in the local cemetery or a quickie in a toilet. You know, every time I ‘ave a sit-down, it brings back memories of those days. Who’d of thought taking a shit could be such a turn on.”

“…You can also play games on it.”

“Wot, the khazi?”

“No, Grandad. My smartphone.”

“Chess?”

“Yes.”

“How long do you ‘ave to wait for the other person to make his move?”

“It’s against a computer. It’s an App you download onto your smartphone.”

“Wot’s an App?”

“It’s short for Application. Like a computer program on your phone.”

“Why can’t you just say, Application, then? Wot’s with all this shortenin’ of words these days. Your generation too lazy to pronounce them? In my day, an Application was something you did to yerself in school.”

“Do I need to know what you did to yourself in school?”

“It was the practice of applying yourself to your school subjects. The teacher’s reports at the end of each term would be filled wif the word. Reggie could apply himself more, or Reginald’s application to his studies would be improved if he applied himself to them with an application of interest. I suppose in today’s lazy language, that would sound like gibberish.

“That’s your opinion.”

“Nah, mate. That’s my Applied philosophy. Or is it, my App philosophy?”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“Can you play twenty-one on that thing?”

“You mean, Blackjack?”

“Yeah, but in your Woke world, ain’t that politically incorrect to call it that name?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you’re wot’s called a child of Generation Z, are you not?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I’m a fuckin’ Baby Boomer, Tommo. We started all this generation-naming nonsense. Well, our parents did. Post war, cold nights, no telly, nothin’ else to do but bonk, and that’s how I came abowt.”

“It’s strange thinking about people doing it back then.”

“It’s even stranger thinkin’ ‘bowt your mum and dad doin’ it. I mean, I bet you don’t look at me and yer Gran and think that at some point in our lives we went at it like rabbits, do ya.”

“Can we change the subject, please.”

“I mean, I suppose every generation thinks they invented sex. I know we did. It was so popular, there was a three-month wait at the library to borrow that Karma Sootra book.”

“It’s pronounced, Kama Sutra, Grandad.”

“Oh, so you’ve read it, then?”

“It’s everywhere on the Internet, Grandad. They just call it other things these days, like PornHub.”

“…Not read that one. Must be new. No, the whole topic of sex instruction was so popular in my day, that even WH Smith sold out of the paperback version of the book. Some bright enterprising young artist in Peckham went and copied a few pages in his own style and sold them in the Exchange and Mart classifieds newspaper for a couple of quid apiece. Made a small fortune, then went on to create his own magazine. I think it was called Forum, or sumfin’ like that. Full of saucy letters and articles. Very little photos, but when I was in school, there was a boy that used to rent copies out to his classmates at lunchtime. The teachers could never figure out why there was always a big queue outside the boys’ toilets every lunch. Mr. Boslan used to comment, sayin’ What good is a weak waterworks when there’s a war on? An army marches on its stomach, not its bladder. Poor bugger suffered from shell shock; I think. I mean, the war had been over for twenty-five years. I dunno. Maybe, he was just a fucking nutter, instead.”

“You’re rambling again, Grandad.”

“Yeah, the Karma Sootra was a big deal to the sexual revolution. Everyone wanted to try out the infamous position Fourteen – the Dhenuka.”

“What was Position fourteen?”

“Just good ol’ fashioned Doggy Style, Tommo. Up and in from behind! After all, we’re all just animals, aren’t we?”

“Sorry I asked.”

“Embarassed you, ‘ave I?”

“It’s one thing talking to people your own age about it, then there’s…”

“Heh! Yeah! Yer Grandad.”

“Some things are best left sacred.”

“Then you don’t want to hear abowt the time your gran and me walked in on yer mum and dad in the…”

“NO! Thank you. Let’s move on, shall we? I don’t know how we got here, but I was trying to explain to you what my smartphone can do.”

“Look, Tommo. I’m very much up-to-date wif technology gadgets. What I ‘ave a hard time gettin’ my head around, is figurin’ out those little symbols on the oven controls. I mean, if anyone wants proof of alien life, they just ‘ave to look at the symbols on a modern oven. All I want to do is switch it on, set the temperature, and stick a roast in there.”

“Don’t you have the manual?”

“It’s all in Chinese!”

“That’s unusual. Most manuals are written in several different languages.”

“Not this one, Tommo. Can you read Mandarin?”

“Where did you buy the oven?”

“Where I buy everything else, Tommo. On eBay. No, sorry. I didn’t get this one on eBay. I got it from that – oh, wot’s it called? It’s named after the flying carpet bloke.”

“You mean, Ali Baba?”

“Yeah, that’s it. But it was from the faster one.”

“Ali Express.”

“Yep, that’s the one! Although, I never realised Ali Baba was Chinese. I thought he was from Persia or someplace like that.”

“He was, Grandad. I used to like reading Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves as a boy.”

“Fuckin’ Chinese will steal anything and copy it.”

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it, Grandad?”

“You know, in the Eighties, when Ronald Reagan was runnin’ around the White house in America, he banned the sale of any technology to the Chinese. You know why?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you.”

“Because, he knew they would copy it, mass produce it, and sell it back to ‘em at discounted bulk prices. I mean, back before then, their biggest export was fucking tea and fortune cookies, weren’t it.”

“That’s a generalisation, Grandad… and a little racist.”

“Wot!? Am I wrong?”

“It’s how you explain it.”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot that you are a child of the Woke generation. How ‘ave we gotten to the point of un-labelling everything. We can call someone Chinese, but we can’t say Chinaman. I mean, it’s getting to where we can’t call ourselves English anymore. It’s those people west of France or East of Wales, or South of Scotland.”

“You’re being ridiculous now, Grandad.”

“You know wot’s ridiculous? These fucking symbols on the oven.”

“Okay, let me see. Yeah, I can see how someone like you could get confused.”

“Someone like me?”

“You know, the bigoted East of Wales person.”

“That’s facetiousness, Tommo. I thought I taught you better.”

“You did, Grandad. That was just toned down sarcasm.”

“Cheeky little fucker aren’t you. Keep it up and I’ll tell you about your mum and dad in the…”

“Okay, okay! Let’s look at these symbols, shall we?”

“Thank you, Tommo. You’re a good lad. I’ve got the Sunday roast ready to go, okay? Your Gran left me explicit instructions to have it ready by the time she gets back from visiting her sister. Now, wot’s that one with the line going across the bottom of the square that makes it look like a grumpy face?”

“That means it’s the bottom heating element.”

“And the one that looks like it, but with an added line at the top, making it look like he has to take a shit?”

“Top and bottom element.”

“The one wif the line at the bottom, two sad eyes, and a third sideways eye above them, like a dot on an Indian woman’s forehead?”

“It means bottom element and fan assisted. The dot you’re referring to – by the way – is called, a Bindi, Grandad. Traditionally worn to indicate that an Indian woman is married. Although, these days, it’s used as a beauty mark.”

“Bindi? I thought that was Crocodile Dundee’s daughter.”

“No, her father was Steve Irwin, Grandad. The Crocodile Hunter.”

“Wot abowt this one? The puff of air looking symbol below and to the right of the fan-assisted one? See? I’m learning!”

“That means steam is used to assist cooking. Probably good for cooking your roast.”

“That’s the one, then! Even if it looks like a cartoon fart. Right, the rest of the tutorial can wait. Now, how do I set the temperature?”

“Just turn the knob on the right to the preferred setting.”

“Wot’s the preferred setting?”

“Dunno, Granddad.”

“I can see who does all the cooking in your house.”

“I live alone.”

“Exactly! You need a live-in girlfriend, mate.”

“You mean that I should get a girlfriend to move in, so she can do all the cooking?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I can cook, you know.”

“Then wot’s the temperature setting for a Sunday roast, Bachelor of the Decade?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve got a smartphone, yes? Let’s see how smart it is. Look it up.”

“Okay… SIRI!”

“Wot are you doing?”

“I’m asking my phone.”

“Too many words for your clipped generational existence to type it in?”

“…What is the perfect temperature to set for a Sunday roast?”

“Wot she say?”

“She says, here are some links to What is the perfect temperature to set for a Sunday roast.”

“You know, Tommo. I sometimes think that we’re all just aliens living in an alien world, using alien technology that is alien to common sense. Forget the search. Don’t look any further, your Gran’s left a note.”

“What did she say?”

“Push the button with the image of a turkey on it.”

“Ah, for fuck’s sake. That was too easy.”

“Too right, Tommo. You took the words right out of my mouth. Fancy a pint down the local while this is cooking?”

“How do you know how long to cook it for?”

“Your Gran’s left a link to a web site that monitors the oven. Says here, that it’s connected to the Internet with a camera inside and will alert you when it’s time to take it out.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Yeah, Turns out the fucking Chinese seem to have improved all that technology they stole. Clever little buggers, aren’t they.”

“Grandad! Now you’re assuming that they’re all small.”

“I’ll leave that to the statisticians, Tommo… Now, put that address in your smartphone and let’s get down the pub for a Sunday pint.”

“Don’t you have a smartphone, Grandad?”

“Wot do I wan’t wif a smartphone, Tommo? Conversation killer, mate. Nah, you bring yours and I promise not to mention what we caught your mum and dad doing in the living room.”

“I’m not listening, I’m not listening.”

“Yeah, that’s the trouble with Gen Z. Too busy talking…”

Second Marine amphibious group is now heading to the Middle East; U.S. Gearing-Up for GROUND INVASION

Hal Turner World March 20, 2026

Second Marine amphibious group is now heading to the Middle East; U.S. Gearing-Up for GROUND INVASION — USS Boxer San Diego Webcam large

A second Marine amphibious group is now heading to the Middle East.

The USS Boxer, USS Comstock, and USS Portland carrying the 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit just departed the west coast.

That’s 4,400+ Marines on two amphibious groups converging on the Gulf simultaneously.

U.S. Gears Up for Ground Invasion of Iran:

The U.S. is accelerating the deployment of approximately 8,000 additional Marines and sailors to the Middle East.

In a show of rapid deployment, the USS Boxer Amphibious Ready Group is arriving ahead of schedule with roughly 4,000 Marines and sailors.

They will link up with the USS Tripoli group, already traveling from Japan with 5,000 personnel.

The combined force of six amphibious ships will increase regional force strength by approximately 8,000 personnel.

There’s no point deploying Marines to the region unless the U.S. intends to launch a full-scale ground invasion of Iran.

Their probable objective is to secure the Strait of Hormuz and seize control of Kharg Island.

The conflict is poised to escalate sharply in the coming weeks.

Is China as powerful as people think?

Due to what I do, I will focus more on economic and financial When I visited China in 2007, for the first time, I assumed its rise was unstoppable.

In 2011, when I relocated to China, I continued to think the same for a couple of years.

Then, suddenly, I started to notice something. In Shanghai, almost every wealthy Chinese person I met either already had a foreign passport and/or residency, or wanted one.

Every time I came back to China, the “foreigner lane” in the airport was full of Mainland Chinese who were coming in on foreign passports, as China doesn’t accept dual passport.

Working in wealth management, I also saw how many wealthy Chinese wanted to diversify into overseas investments, and send their kids to university.

Many of these wealthy Chinese also laughed at the official GDP figures being reported in the media, even if they weren’t overtly anti the CCP in all cases.

In comparison, at the lower ends of the income and wealth spectrum, I met more true believers.

The point isn’t that these wealthy Chinese believed China hadn’t became more powerful. China in 2013/2014 was clearly more powerful than in 2003, and vastly more than in 1993.

Likewise, China militarily was always going to become more powerful between 2013 and today, as they could divert resources to it, and still had 5 years+ of decent growth to go.

Merely, they were worried about the future given the demographic trends, and worried about political instability.

Therefore, they sensibly wanted to diversify in terms of passports, investments, residencies etc.

Coming from a group who were, in many cases, incredibly close to power (business and in some cases political), this carries some weight as they were closer to the action.

So, to answer your question, many people in the West have over-egged the rise of China, and thought the 90s, 2000s and early 2010s would last forever.

Back in 2013, most people thought the RMB would keep getting stronger and China would have overtaken the US in terms of nominal GDP by now.

China might be full of surprises, and you have no idea.

One story about Mao Zedong, the founding president of PRC.

During the Zhenbao island conflicts between China and Soviet Union, the leadership of Soviet Union was said to be actually considering nuking China, after being on the losing side, to eliminate the threat of China once for all.

When the piece of intelligence was intercepted, the military committee of China held an emergent meeting, where none of the military leaders was afraid of Soviet Union launching nuclear weapons onto China, instead of offering truce they carefully analyzed the stockpile of enriched uranium and decided to retaliate Soviet Union while manufacturing nukes.

Mao was sitting there, quietly listening to each and every military head.

Approaching the end of meeting, Mao made a decision that they would not retaliate Soviet Union with nukes, followed by a strategic plan that overwhelmed the meeting attendants: forbid any intention to nuke Soviet Union, sending all field forces to the borders, once the Soviet Union launches nuclear weapons to China, the Chinese troops all charge into the USSR soil, followed by local troops and civil armies, all attack on the USSR and take their land, eventually all the Chinese will move to Soviet Union and settle there.

Everyone was overwhelmed and Mao continued to explain his plan, “if the USSR launches nuclear weapons, China will face large scale contamination, we have to move and it is not an option.”

“We attack one wave after another, we push forward to take over and destroy the military facilities and airports, the Chinese civilians arm themselves and march onto USSR.”

“Our military is the best in guerrilla battles, the USSR will find it impossible to stop us. There is more than 600 millions Chinese, all born, raised and trained in tough times through war and blood, we are unstoppable.”

The military heads were both shocked and excited. “What are we going to do with the nukes we have?” One asked.

“Attack all the USA military bases within reach, so that the USA cannot take advantage and destroy us after we are through with the USSR.”

Mao instructed the info sent to USSR and USA leadership immediately.

Henry Kissinger got the info via Poland, as China-USA was in a bad relationship, Nixon summoned the generals and they worried that as impossible as it looked, Mao would actually do it, especially given how Mao joined the Korean War without any heads up.

If China decided to launch all her nukes onto USA bases, then USA would lose all the capabilities in the APAC region. Moreover, if Mao moved the Chinese onto USSR, he might further push towards Europe, even the mainland USA.

The USA decided to side with China, rising the costs of wars for the USSR hence USSR would not impulsively attack on China. Later USA quickly summoned the USSR ambassador and made it clear.

While before the warning from USA, the leadership of USSR had already decided not to go to wars with China and take actions to repair the relationship with China. Alexei Kosygin reached to Zhou Enlai, the prime minister of China asking for an urgent meeting with Mao, but Mao decided to ignore and take a nap instead.

Alexei Kosygin requested meeting again on his way back from visit to Vietnam, where he attended the funeral of Ho Chi Minh, Zhou agreed to meet him at the airport for half an hour, little did the world know what they had talked about.

–

The Chinese might surprise you big time, nukes probably aren’t even their best weapons.

And for the story above, whether it is true is up for you to believe or not.

Cheers.

Pierogies Pad Thai

Ready-made potato-Cheddar pierogies add a new dimension to the traditional Pad Thai.

Ingredients

1 (12.8 ounce) package Mrs. T’s Potato & Cheddar Mini Pierogies
1 tablespoon butter
2 large eggs, beaten
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 large clove garlic, minced
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into thin slices
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1/2 cup peanut sauce
1 cup bean sprouts
1/4 cup chopped peanuts
2 scallions thinly sliced

Instructions

Boil pierogies as package directs. Drain.
Meanwhile, melt butter in a 12 inch skillet over medium-high heat; cook eggs until just scrambled, stirring constantly. Remove to bowl.
In the same skillet, heat peanut oil; over medium heat, cook garlic until lightly browned. With slotted spoon, remove garlic to bowl with eggs.
In drippings remaining in skillet over medium high heat, cook chicken until well browned and cooked through, stirring constantly. Add salt and crushed red pepper.
Stir in egg mixture, peanut sauce, bean sprouts and cooked pierogies. Toss to mix well. Garnish with chopped peanuts and scallions.

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Mrs. T’s Pierogies

Is Dwayne Johnson getting skinny because he’s old? I saw the image that his body is slim.

Jean-Marie Valheur

He looks a lot slimmer in recent pictures.

A recent video went viral in which Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson looks far more slender and less muscular than his signature look. This doesn’t surprise me — Johnson is 53 years old, and at this point in time he has taken massive amounts of steroids for over three decades to maintain his enormous physique. That takes a toll on one’s health.

Johnson isn’t alone in this — his fellow wrestling superstar-turned-actor, Dave Bautista, has had a similar transformation in recent years. Also around his early fifties, coincidentally…

People aren’t meant to carry around the amount of muscle The Rock carries around and expect to live until 80. The steroids and HGH (human growth hormone) that many of these behemoths are on enlarge the heart and internal organs and drastically cut down someone’s life expectancy.

A ton of bodybuilders die of a heart attack in their fifties or sixties. Few former wrestlers maintain their bulk and make it to seventy like Hulk Hogan. I think The Rock’s doctor had a serious talk with him, ran some bloodworks and advised him to cut the steroids or die within the next five to ten years. Either that, or a recent health scare. All men have their peak, and the wise get out of the game on time.

Chicken in Raspberry Cream Sauce

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

3 tablespoons butter
8 chicken breasts, skinned and boned
2 tablespoons oil
1/2 cup raspberry vinegar
1 1/4 cups chicken stock
1 1/4 cups whipping cream

Instructions

Dredge chicken in flour and sauté chicken in butter and oil; remove from pan and set aside.
Add raspberry vinegar to pan and bring to a boil.
Remove from heat and add chicken and chicken stock. Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes.
Remove chicken; set aside and keep warm.
Boil liquid over high heat until it has thickness to the consistency of cream.
Add whipping cream and allow to thicken over medium heat.
Serve over chicken.

If you only had 15 minutes to sharpen your mind every day, what should you do?

I’m teaching my kids to analyze how the world works.

It’s easy. Opportunities are all around us. For example, I took my 12-year-old this morning to the doctor.

We were greeted by the receptionist.

“What’s her job?” I asked him.

My boy sat quietly observing the lady’s activities.

“She receives phone calls and in charge of customers who walk in.”

“Good,” I said, “Who’s her boss?”

He used his common sense, “The doctor?” He guessed.

“Well, yes,” I answered, “She works for the doctor, but her immediate boss is the lady sitting back there,” I said while pointing to the back, “She’s the doctor’s office manager.”

A nurse opened a door and called out, “Quintanilla?”

We stood up and passed to a small room where the nurse checked my son’s vitals and his weight.

“The doctor will be with you any minute now,” she smiled as she walked out.

“What’s her job?” I asked my boy.

“She’s getting me ready for the doctor.”

“That’s right, but why does the doctor need her?”

“She’s a good helper?” he answered.

“What benefit does the doctor get with her help?

“She saves him time?” He said guessing.

“Exactly! The doctor saved 10 minutes of his valuable time by having her check all your vitals.”

The doctor walked in. He greeted us and started asking questions.

He read the nurse’s report.

A few minutes later, he said, “OK, you’re good to go now, everything looks good. Take care!”

And just like that, he was gone.

“What’s his job?” I asked my boy.

“Well, Dad, he’s the doctor. He’s the one who knows about all the medicines people need to stay healthy.”

The nurse returned. She walked us back to the main office. The office manager showed me the invoice and took my payment.

“What’s her job?” I asked my boy.

My son laughed, “You told me that, Dad! She’s the office manager.”

“Ohh, that’s true, I forgot that,” I joked as we walked out of the building.

—

Now, to answer your question, ‘If you only had 15 minutes to sharpen your mind everyday, what should you do?’

To sharpen your mind daily, be more curious, more analytical.

You will be surprised how much you can learn by asking yourself very simple questions every place you walk in.

In a restaurant? Ask questions!

Traveling? Ask questions!

In the supermarket? Ask questions!

Be analytical… Sharpen your mind!

3200 Ships Stranded in Persian Gulf – Running out of Drinking Water and Food

Hal Turner World March 20, 2026

3,200 ships are TRAPPED in the Persian Gulf right now. Crews are running out of drinking water.

One ship called the local port authority and BEGGED for permission to dock — just to get water.

They were DENIED. Let that sink in.

These aren’t military ships. These are commercial vessels — carrying oil, grain, electronics — with civilian crews who are now stranded with NO supplies and NO way out.

– 3,200 ships STUCK
– Crews running out of WATER
– Port authorities REFUSING tolet them dock
– Multiple ships reporting the SAME situation

For context — the Suez Canal crisis in 2021 blocked 400 ships. This is EIGHT TIMES worse. And nobody is talking about it.

They’re showing you missile interceptions and oil price charts.

They’re NOT showing you thousands of crew members slowly running out of drinking water in the middle of a war zone.

If these ships start getting abandoned, the environmental disaster alone would be catastrophic. Thousands of tons of fuel, cargo, chemicals — just sitting there.

This is not a shipping disruption. This is a HUMANITARIAN CRISIS unfolding in real time.

Excavator Unearths Ancient Rails Embedded in Stone — Estimated to Be 12,000 Years Old

Pictures

Sir Whiskerton and The Snoring Symphony; A Tale of Nocturnal Noise, Sleep-Deprived Animals, and One Very Upside-Down Bear

Act I: The Night the Farm Stood (Awake)

A thunderous sound shook the barnyard at midnight:

“ZZZZZZRRRKKK—BWAAAAH—snort—ZZZZRRRKKK!”

Doris the Hen shot upright: “IS THE SKY FALLING?!”
Chef Remy mistook it for “ze sound of a dying baguette.”
Rufus the Dog slept through it, dreaming of silent squirrels.

Sir Whiskerton, squinting into the darkness: “That’s either a bear… or a chainsaw in love.”

Act II: The Great Snore Hunt

Armed with earplugs (made of cheese) and a grudge, Whiskerton followed the sound to Tony the Bear’s cave—where the bear hung upside-down like a fuzzy bat, snoring hard enough to:

Vibrate the barn roof (loosening 17 shingles).
Startle the Yodeling Fish into an accidental duet (“SNORE-YODEL-SNORE!”).
Make Ditto’s fur ripple like a pond in a windstorm.

Ditto, attempting to mimic the snore: “Zzz… cough… Zzz… squeak?” *(Rating: 2/10 for effort)*

Act III: The Intervention

The farm staged an emergency sleep summit:

Porkchop suggested “a good whack with a turnip.”
Bessie the Cow offered “chamomile tea laced with honey.” (Tony drank it and snored in B-flat.)
Lucifer the Chipmunk declared it “performance art” and tried to sell tickets.

Finally, Sir Whiskerton proposed: “Tony, sleep right-side up.”

Tony, groggy: “But… gravity feels spicy this way.”

Act IV: The Compromise

After 37 failed attempts (including strapping Tony to a hay bale with bungee cords), the solution was simple:

Step 1: Stuff Tony’s cave with 500 pillows.
Step 2: Play lullaby versions of polka music (the only thing that drowns out snores).
Step 3: Relocate Ditto’s echo chamber to the opposite side of the farm.

Result: The farm slept… except Rufus, who now missed the “white noise.”

The Moral of the Story

Everyone deserves rest—even if it takes a pillow fort and a polka band.

Post-Credit Scene

Tony starts a “Snore Choir” (auditions: “Must vibrate windows at 50 paces”).
Doris markets “Earplugs for the Dramatic” (made of gossip and regret).

Best Lines

Chef Remy: “Zis is not snoring—zis is culinary terrorism!”
Ditto: “ZZZ… falls over… ZZZ… falls into bucket.”
Sir Whiskerton: “Next time, I’m moving to the quiet farm. Oh wait—that’s a cemetery.”

Starring

Tony the Bear (猫熊托尼) – Gravity-defying maestro
Sir Whiskerton – Sleep-deprived detective
Ditto – Failed snore apprentice
Rufus – Unbothered king

Key Jokes

The Farmer trying to record the snore as a “new scarecrow alarm.”
Polly the Peacock mistaking it for “a mating call” and responding with screechy passion.
Gnomeo using the vibrations to power his “gnome-sized disco.”

P.S. For Educators

The End (…until Tony discovers sideways sleeping.)

Bonus:

Tony’s Snore Scale:
- 1/10: Gentle breeze
- 5/10: Tractor engine
- 11/10: “Call the UN”
Ditto’s Echo Rating:
- Original Snore: 🌪️💥
- Ditto’s Version: ^(…peep…)

Sleep tight… if you can! 😴🐻

Pomegranate Chicken

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

2 teaspoons olive oil
1 1/2 pounds skinless, boneless chicken thighs
1 tablespoon cumin
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 cup walnuts, ground into a paste
1 cup pomegranate juice

Instructions

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet. Brown chicken thighs on both sides and transfer to a plate.
Add spices and chopped onion to skillet, and cook until onion has softened.
Return chicken to skillet; add walnut paste and pomegranate juice. Simmer for 20 minutes, until chicken is cooked and sauce has reduced and thickened slightly.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 226, Calories from Fat 84, Total Fat 9.4g (sat 1.6g), Cholesterol 94mg, Sodium 104mg, Carbohydrate 11.5g, Fiber 1.5g, Protein 23.9g

A Shotgun Through Fog

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Daniel Rogers

He appeared out of nowhere, bleeding profusely. I ran to help, but he stopped me. He held a small, octagon-shaped device and motioned for me to take it. I grabbed the blood-covered object and noticed its edges contained strange, otherworldly markings.”You must stop her!” The dying man coughed up blood. “The Lion must survive!” He fell, but regained his balance. “If she succeeds. Earth will undergo a hundred-year civil war. The Earth you know will never exist.”He attempted to speak again, but started convulsing, and fell face down on the concrete sidewalk. I checked for a pulse, but he had none.Absentmindedly wiping his blood off on my suitcoat, the trauma slowly began to sink in. A man died right before my eyes—a man who appeared out of thin air, like a magician.The device in my hand grew heavier, as if it were trying to get my attention. The strange markings began to glow green, then slowly flickered in a rhythmic pattern.

A fog-like substance billowed in from beyond the dorms and educational buildings surrounding me, blocking out the campus from my sight. It drew closer, covering the street, then the sidewalk, before engulfing me. A metallic smell overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t breathe. Then the fog vanished, and I no longer stood in the middle of my college campus, but in an empty room.

The device lay at my feet, but I have no memory of dropping it, and to my shock and horror, in its place, I held a shotgun. Taking a quick look around, it became clear the device had transported me from my university to this desolate room. It didn’t have any furniture. A small kitchen sat in the corner, and next to it, a tiny walled bathroom—a typical studio apartment, but one that nobody lived in for years. Cobwebs filled the corners and windows, and a thick layer of dust covered the wooden floor.

I took a second look at the floor. There were footprints in the dust.

My adrenaline pumped as I suddenly felt a presence in the room. In the shadow of the main door stood a woman with her back to me. Had she been here the whole time?

“Another time-cop!” She said without turning around. “Are you going to shoot me or take me in?”

I’ve been aiming the shotgun at the back of her head since I arrived, like I had traded places with the dead man. I’ve never shot a gun in my life, but my finger lightly pressed against the trigger, like I knew what to do.

“Who are you?” I asked, as I carefully relaxed my trigger finger.

“You don’t know? Aren’t you a time cop?”

“I’m a professor at Danville University.”

She snickered. At least I thought I heard her snicker. “Would you mind if I turn around?”

Something told me to say no, but instead, I only gripped my gun tighter and said yes, but told her to raise her hands. There must be a reason I’m pointing this gun at her. She is likely the assassin the man warned me about.

She turned. Her black hair and bold blue eyes struck me like a slap across the face. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this specimen of feminine perfection.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just repeated my question.

“I’m the good guy here,” she smiled. “Why don’t you put that gun down? No one is going to kill the Chancellor today.”

“The Lion?”

She tilted her head in surprise, “His political opponents gave him that name. Now he proudly claims it for himself.”

“Then you must be the one.” I stared into her eyes. How could I shoot her? Even to stop a hundred-year civil war? I’m not a killer.

She could see the conflict in me. “If you allow me to walk out of here, you’ll return to your time. None of this matters. Just go back.”

I wanted to let her go. It isn’t my fight. It’s none of my business. Or is it? What if my father fights? What if he dies before having me? I won’t exist. Even if I do exist, there won’t be a Danville University. A world at war doesn’t need higher education? Everything I know will cease to exist.

“I can’t let you do that.”

She lowered her hands slightly. “You’re not a killer. I can see it in your eyes. Just let me go, and you can return to your university like nothing ever happened. All you have to do is lower the gun, and all will return to normal.”

Is she correct? Could everything go back to normal? What if the time cop is wrong? I don’t want to kill her. It would be easy to lower my gun. I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. I don’t even belong here. It’s not my responsibility.

She grew impatient, “I’m not going to keep standing here. Either you’ll have to shoot me, or I’m leaving. It’s your choice.”

The device lying on the floor lit up and began vibrating. A strong desire to ask for her name overcame me, like the device had given me the idea.

“Before you go, tell me your name. I want to know if I’m doing the right thing.”

She smiled and lowered her hands. “My name is Veronica Windmiller.”

That name is familiar. I’ve read about her somewhere. Then it hit me. She saw the change in my eyes and tried to dash out of the room, but she was too slow. I pulled the trigger. She lay dead at the threshold of the room.

The fog returned, and the studio apartment evaporated, replaced by the familiar grounds of Danville University.

I ran to my office, frantically searching through my collection of out-of-print history books. As a professor of history, I’ve been collecting for most of my career. I found the two-hundred-year-old textbook I wanted and flipped through the pages until I came to the chapter on Chancellor Lionel.

I couldn’t remember much about this little-known World Chancellor. I most certainly don’t remember anything that would make me believe his assassination would cause a worldwide civil war.

He died of pancreatic cancer only six months into his chancellery, but before he died, he began talks with the Landnorians, the first alien race to agree to speak with us. Almost everyone credits Lionel’s successor for leading Earth to join the Union of Systems, but Lionel actually began the process.

I set the book on my desk. So, if Lionel hadn’t begun the talks, his successor would have dropped the ball somehow, plunging Earth into the worst war in history.

The history professor in me gobbled this information up, but I still hadn’t found what I needed to sleep tonight. I skimmed around until my heart jumped. The author only made a passing reference, a mere mention that an unknown hero thwarted an assassination attempt on Chancellor Lionel by a woman named Veronica Windmiller.

I sighed in relief. It pays to know history.

The U.S. farm collapse just got worse. 88 percent of exports wiped out in days. How will Americans put food on the table?

Good question Michael Boyd.

Before long, and for the second time, Trump will have to subside farmers.

In other words, Americans will pay for Trump’s tariffs and then he’ll have to use part of it to save his supporters.

And just like last time, I bet you that he makes certain that corporate farmers get the biggest cut of any and all funding.

American farmers were told by just about anyone with half a brain that Trump would screw them again and still they listened to their Orange Oracle, the Golden Turd.

American farmers are going to be buried alive in their own soybeans. They can console themselves by drinking all that unsold bourbon.

And then they can cheer those great job figures and fabulous gasoline, which Trump says is under $2 (September 2025) in some places. I think Xanadu and Fantasy Island might have been mentioned.

The economy is so freaking fabulous that the Federal Reserve lowered interest rates.

I still think that the shit will really hit the fan in about February 2026 when the retailers are only selling the tariff ridden stock that US consumers will be paying into Trump’s federal coffers.

Don’t Republican voters love the smell of taxes in the morning?

Because you’re paying an extra tax. Tariffs are just taxes with a fancier name. And even funnier still is this lovely little tax is going to go into the bank accounts of billionaires and millionaires and shareholders. And the bottomless pockets of CEOs and executives who get their cut first.

God bless America…

I’m off to buy shares in an ICE mask factory.

CBS News Ends

CBS News Radio will end a 100 year run in May. They’ve told 700 radio affiliates they’re pulling the plug.

Among them are WINS in NYC and KNX 1070 in Los Angeles.

Feminist Goes to Male Gym and Discovers Why Men Actually Lift Weights

This is actually a very good video.

Why am I holding a acorn with a bowtie?

Imagine this; it’s cold out and it’s snowing like a blizzard. The roads are closed and it is a flurry of snow, and really heavy and wet snow. The sun is peaking out between the heavy and deep grey foggy clouds. And you are a kid.

No school. You get the day off.

Your mother is putting about in the kitchen, and doing her daily chores; ironing clothes, making dinner in the kitchen. The television was on, but the shows were boring. Just daytime soap operas, and some nonsense… nothing that us kids really wanted to watch.

But, we found a movie channel. Played decades old black and white Westerns, film noir and science fiction flicks.

My mother made us some grilled cheese sandwiches and a bowl of hot Campbell’s soup. This time my favorite: tomato, and she added some elbow noodles to thicken it up.

And Rocket-men from Planet X was playing in the background.

You never realize the perfection of the moments that we live. May you all appreciate the life that you are living at this moment.

Today…

America’s Fast Food Restaurants are EMPTY & OVERPRICED in 2026

So whats the gain for an American citizen in all these international tariffs now?

Nothing. Zip, nada, stuff all.

Trump’s tariffs have just put up the domestic consumer prices in the USA for all those imported products and imported components of US made products.

It’s crashed the U.S. corn market and the U.S. soy market (actually Trumps first tariff attempt in Trump 1.0 crashed the soybean sales to China). It’s also ruined US beef sales to China – they cancelled orders with 300 U.S. beef producers and now get more beef from Australia.

The tariffs have ruined fair trade with Canada and Mexico, their nearest neighbours, who are now starting to diversify away from trade with the USA.

John Deere, GM, GE, Ford and other international selling companies are moving out of the USA, because U.S. manufacturing is too expensive and this their competitiveness in world markets would reduce.

Korea is livid at Trump for his draconian attacks on Korean workers developing a new Hyundai plant in the USA, which would have created many U.S. jobs. That plant will not be employing Americans for a while, or never, now.

There are around 58,000 fewer manufacturing jobs in the US compared to Dec 2024.

So, employment down, prices and inflation up, US borrowing power reduced, international trade relationships trashed … and so it goes.

Trump is turning the USA into an isolationist country and wrecking the economy in the process.

How do WW2 soldiers mark locations for artillery to shoot?

A man in the field, a forward observer, was the eyes, he did not mark a spot for the guns to see.

The guns were miles away, they saw nothing but the numbers and the maps–The observer saw the enemy, he used a map, a compass, and his binoculars.

He quietly talked into a radio or a field telephone, gave grid coordinates, a simple string of numbers.

Sometimes, if maps were useless or the land was torn, he called for a smoke round.

A single puff of white phosphorus to give him a point to walk the shells from.

“Left one hundred, add fifty,” he would say.

His words moved the steel–It was not always precise, the first rounds were a guess, rugged calculation.

But a good observer, a man who knew the wind and the ground, could bring the fire down true–The accuracy was in the man, not the method. War is hard, men must adapt, find ways fast or die.

Ocean of Time

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Kristi Gott

The child returned from the tidepools, singing, and carrying an object shaped like a giant egg.

“It’s the egg of an ancient creature. I found it. I was there.” Her voice bubbled with wonder and joy.

Wet and panting, the four-legged shadow that followed her everywhere, jumped around her, playing and twisting, wagging its tail.

“Kakahiaka Noe, Foggy Morning, good dog, come here, silly thing.” The young girl’s high pitched voice mingled with the sound of the waves.

Back at the village many serious eyes watched from the hill.

“What is this nonsense? Something needs to be done about this odd child. She is not like one of us. Where is her mother?”

One of the women spoke and several people nodded.

The mother stood a distance away, smiling, but her ears picked up their words.

She shrugged and continued with her own different thoughts.

“Oh, my delightful explorer, how I adore your curious nature, your stories of strange creatures, your playful visions, and your dancing mind.”

“You have inherited great, great, great-grandmother’s personality. She was a different one, and the legends about her tell of wondrous things.”

“They say she would disappear into morning sea mists and spiral through time to other worlds, then return to tell us about it.”

“We thought she was a gifted storyteller, but there were some who secretly whispered the tales were so detailed they must be true.”

“My mother and her mother, generations of mothers, believed the stories were real.”

Years ago, the girl began dragging branches on the beach to make designs. She created spirals in the sand at low tide, and they were washed away by the next high tide.

The mother saw it was time to give her child a new name.

“Daughter, your artwork is washed away, like time itself, and the ocean takes it to the deep seas. Your new name will be Kai o ka Manawa, “Ocean of Time.” We can call you Kai for short.”

Today ten year old Kai o ka Manawa, Ocean of Time, ran, leaping and splashing, across the bay’s tidepools near the towering rock mountain of the sleeping volcano.

Millions of years ago, ancient ancestors of the creatures living there now roamed.

A rare few people in later times got to visit, see, and experience the ancients.

Only those whose natural abilities still survived early childhood cultural pressures could see the visions, follow them, and glide through the spirals of time.

Kai o ka Manawa, Ocean of Time, was born with the ability to move through the tides of time, seeing other creatures and worlds, and experiencing ancient life that others only heard about in legends.

Kai’s uncut hair flew behind her like dark clouds in the night, the strands trailing in the ocean’s gusty wind, and her toes sprang and bounced across the sand.

The creature she first saw from her hut at breakfast now moved in and out of the morning marine layer, near the pale edge of the waves creeping up the beach.

Kai’s four-legged companion’s pointed ears stood up like sharp mountain peaks. His tail streamed behind him. The eyes flashed. The grayish tan fur rippled.

When Kai’s mother spoke about Kai she would say, “She’s always been extra sensitive…to loud sounds and bright light…she has strong reactions…her mind is not like ours.”

“I love that child more than anything…but her ways make my days go up and down…I try to think of her as part rascal and part beautiful wild thing.”

“What is she seeing that we cannot see?” Another villager tilted his head, drew his eyebrows together, and squinted into the dawn mists.

Earlier, the girl ate dried fish and broth made of ground acorns, shellfish, and hand-picked herbs for breakfast.

In the dark before dawn, hints of brightening changed the sky above the huts near the beach.

To the west, near the shore, rose the living being made of rock in the shape of a six hundred foot tall dome.

Morning stars and a half moon still shed some light on the giant rock mountain. The moisture-laden mists moved in shapes floating around it.

“I see something! There it is again!” The young girl cried out. She set down her tightly woven reed basket of warm broth. Then she jumped up from the orange embers of the low fire in the sandy soil.

“What? I don’t see anything. Child, what is it?” Her mother’s calls were lost in the salty air breezes, and the girl disappeared into the dim light and wispy fog.

“I must be losing my sight in this dawn light. Seeing things that cannot be,” the mother’s voice muttered.

“First I see her running…then she seems to be two figures, a row of figures…then she disappears.”

“And…here is her cloak left on the ground…but where did she go?”

The girl chased the creature she had seen in the distance on the estuary beach.

The bulky animal shape was taller than three or four people and had four tusks. It was a Mastodon from millions of years ago.

It all started when the child was very young.

Grabbing a piece of driftwood, the tiny child began making pictures in the sand when she could barely walk.

Then, growing larger and more steady, she dragged branches with twigs attached across the wet sand at low tide.

Circles and spirals with paths connecting them appeared.

“It looks like our spirals of time,” said the village grandmothers and grandfathers. “Like our paintings in the caves.”

“It is in spirals because the seasons circle from the darkest, shortest day to the brightest, longest day of sun, going round and round.”

“Yes,” said one grandfather. “And…always going forward like a moving spirals.

“But what puzzles me are the creatures she draws. They are so vivid and detailed.” One young woman’s pierced the morning air.

“I have seen her sleeping and dreaming at night, tossing, turning. Who knows what she is seeing.” One person added another observation.

Now the villagers looked at the heavy, smooth egg shape the girl carried when she staggered back to the huts.

“Mama. A giant egg, from an ancient creature. I went through the mists of time and brought this back with me.”

The villagers chuckled, but they also rolled their eyes.

“We need to expel this odd child before she influences the other children,” said one of the other mothers. “I don’t want my children playing with her.”

One week the villager’s mutterings got worse. They were planning a way to drive away Kai o ka Manawa, Ocean of Time, and her mother.

Kai’s mother packed bags of clothing, dried food and herbs.

“Who knows what we will find when we get where we are going,” she thought.

The next morning Kai and Kakahiaka Noe, Foggy Morning the dog, looked toward the misty beach.

“I’m going with you, Kai, and we are not coming back.” Her mother spoke quietly.

Kai looked with wide eyes at her mother.

“I have heard what they are saying, Mother. Yes, we will go. To another time and place. But all will be well. I already have friends there.”

The villagers were too busy to notice Kai, her mother, and her dog, Foggy Morning, disappearing into the marine layer where the sea met the sand.

That night, they did not return.

But sometimes the villagers thought they saw pale silhouettes dancing and playing joyfully on the beach in the early dawn, with a dog leaping and twisting.

Is Putin’s decision to invest $1 trillion into the Russian Army a wise choice?

Even at current war-spending levels, Russia is spending 1/8 on its military what the US is $pending. WHY is that, when the US is protected by two large oceans?? WHY the $1 trillion plus American military budget? NO way in hell is that money being spent to defend United States territory. Our beloved veterans are, in fact, Washington’s thugs, and some have the missing limbs and brainwashed minds to prove it. Chances are 99.9 percent they lost those limbs in the Eastern hemisphere, far from America’s shores.

The $1 trillion in additional Russian spending is spread over the coming decade. Military spending in EU countries is also up — up 37 percent from 2021 levels. I submit that Russian increases in spending are a reaction to EU’s pledges to man up. What a titanic waste of resources, of wealth!

As Swiss Intelligence Col. Jacques Baud recently remarked, “What you have to do is security by cooperation rather than security by confrontation….The security of one country cannot be at the expense of the security of another country. ”

“The broad picture is that the one half of 1 percent is controlling increasing amounts of capital. They farm that capital out to these capital management companies which have doubled in size in the past 5 years. The top 10 of them control 50 trillion dollars. That’s 50,000 billions worth of money. And they’re investing it everywhere in the world. This concentrated wealth manages everything, controls everything, and we have very little say. Whoever we elect as President, it’s not gonna make any difference, because they are managed by capital. They are there to protect global capital. That’s what the American political system is all about, that’s what the political systems in the West are about. They see capital as the vital interest of the West. And that’s why we have military bases all over the world, to protect capital and to assure that debts get repaid and that this capital continues to grow and expand.” ~Dr. Peter Philips, Sonoma State

Quick and Easy Chicken Paprikash

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 (8 ounce) package egg noodles
Cooking spray
1 pound boned skinned chicken breasts, chopped
8 ounces fresh mushrooms, quartered
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
3/4 cup fat free, reduced sodium chicken broth
1 (8 ounce) carton low fat sour cream
1 tablespoon paprika

Instructions

Cook noodles according to package directions, drain and butter noodles and keep warm.
Coat a skillet with cooking spray; place over medium high heat until hot. Add chicken and next 3 ingredients. Cook for 5 minutes.
Add broth. Reduce heat, and simmer 5 minutes or until chicken is done.
Remove from heat and stir in sour cream and paprika.
Spoon over noodles. Sprinkle with additional paprika, if desired.

Attribution

Posted by bettyboop5050 at Recipe Goldmine 6/8/01 10:16:42 am.

Flowers Bloom In Desolate Places

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Jed Cope

Daniel sighed.

UP!

Daniel dreamt the word, but he felt the slap outside of his dreams, struggling to unglue his gummy eyes and attach meaning to his senses, he squirmed on the straw lined crib.

“I said up!” cried Ser Philip, “the day has long dawned you useless bag of skin!”

Daniel’s eyes were now as wide as plates and he was nodding feverishly, the possibility of a hangover now rescheduled to another life, “yes, Ser! Right you are, Ser! Right away, Ser!”

Ser Philip growled.

He doubted he would return, and that gave him a moment of morose contemplation.

A merciful shadow fell over him. He felt it and opened his eyes, “we’ll have to walk from here,” Ser Philip told him.

“Then you are dead,” Ser Philip told him, as though he had read the man’s broiled mind.

Ser Philip curtly returned the nod and walked away. There was nothing to be done. He could not help his squire, unless his squire helped himself.

At the point at which his provisions were exhausted, Ser Philip saw things for what they were and he let go of the last of the things he had valued and in that moment, he understood.

This was the quest.

He was the quest.

He had needed the desert to strip it all away. To take from him all that was not needed. Now he was pure.

Was he the bloom?

He thought that might be the case, and yet he walked some more, for walking was good. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and creating the momentum of life.

Then his way was blocked.

In that moment he saw everything, and he understood it all.

He froze in the rising desert sun, gazing down upon the bloom and the glory of the rare and precious Heaven Flower consumed him.

The CHINA they would NEVER show you! America FAILED! (shocked in China!)

What is the one decision that completely changed your life?

I owe this decision to my father.

Daddy taught Sunday School. Saturday, I was sure to find him tucked away in the den studying the lesson and reading the Scripture that it referred to. I didn’t wish to disturb him but I wanted a book I left there. I picked up my book and was about to leave when he stopped me.

No matter how many times we read a long book, there is always something new to learn or reinforce. He patted the space beside the sofa and I sat down. He shifted the Bible near me and pointed to something printed at the bottom of the page. At some point long ago, Daddy had underlined it.

As my eyes traveled across the sentence, I realized Daddy had practiced this my entire life. This is what the sentence said: Encouragement can change someone’s life.

I was about this age at the time of the story. Photo Furnished By Kathy Pennell

When my three siblings sailed through math that looked like hieroglyphics to me, Dad assured me I was good at many things. When I bumped into a fence while Dad was teaching me to drive he remained silent with his eyes focused forward and allowed me to determine how to back up and start again.

In our entire lives, Daddy never criticized because children know when they’ve blown it. They don’t need to be reminded. He took every opportunity to praise or find something positive to say about what we did no matter how minor.

Encouragement is a powerful tool and it can change someone’s life. I wonder if we wouldn’t do well to consider this.

Pictures

What is the strategy of Putin, what does he want to do with Russia and the whole world?

In Ulyanovsk Oblast, Russia, a monument to the legendary and mega popular animated cartoon series “Masha & The Bear” was installed. It is a masterful work of village drunks.

The adorable cartoon couple of hyperactive Masha and sluggish Bear practices what on the surface looks like an “untraditional relationship” because bear is not human. But that’s OK.

MangaLIB portal has been shut down and fined by a Russian court over a manga that shows an “untraditional relationship” between a snake and a girl.

This manga has been banned in Russia because it portrays a relationship between a woman and a snake.

Bear is different because snake isn’t endemic to temperate forest environment unlike the bear and therefore he cannot have a relationship with our women.

Masha wears a grass skirt, a skimpy top and a chef hat. She plucked out all of her eyebrows and wears her hair short due to all the stress from dealing with a bear.

The Bear is in his natural state, no clothes. He dominates physically and in height as he’s a protector and defender of traditional family values.

In Russia, women often say that they’d rather live with a bear than with a man who doesn’t have a car and doesn’t make more than one million rubles a month.

This explains the popularity of the cartoon series where a girl actually lives with a bear and loving it. And even more importantly the state elderlies consent that this is a traditional couple and builds statues to praise their love.

Behind the traditional couple, there’s silver figure of Vladimir Lenin, the leader of Communist Revolution. He fought on the side of the oppressed – proletariat (although there was no proletariat in Russia, only peasants) to defeat the oppressors – bourgeois, that is middle class, those who’d rather work in the office and have migrants do all the dirty work.

Very soon what happened in our country is that the oppressed became the oppressors and other oppressed got oppressed even more than before.

The winners in that slaughterhouse was Lenin who moved into an exiled oligarch’s mansion and drove oligarch’s car and his Bolshevik friends who shot anyone who vaguely disagreed with them. It went on for over thirty years and was only interrupted by World War Two, and then by the death of Stalin.

Upon closer observation I noticed manicure with each nail painted in different color. Masha appears to be pregnant. The bear doesn’t know that Masha cheated with Chinese dragon. Being of a university student age, Masha can apply for a pregnancy bonus, as three thousand students have done this year, and collect 90,000 rubles. No paternity test necessary.

The bear looks predatory and aggressive with his mouth wide open revealing sharp teeth. As Masha is dressed up in the colors of the Ukrainian flag, this statue can be interpreted as Russian bear is gobbling up a young sovereign state. Can’t get more traditional than that these days.

Descendant

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

C.B. Tannon

21 likes 3 comments

Fantasy Science Fiction

Somewhere in Space, Year 3072

Hark was tense in the pilot’s seat. He closed his third eyelids for total darkness and imagined his crew was back and safe, Si by his side. He felt a moment of peace. But pings from the Nexus’s automated operations disturbed that almost immediately. He lifted his opaque lids with a sigh and looked out the panoramic window through his shaded secondary lids, allowing him to view the spacescape. Zantanor’s twin suns were soft golden orbs in a sky the shade of unbuffed steel, while red Zantanor itself bulged from his right. Along the curve of the planet’s shadow, distant stars were revealed in a crescent of cosmos. If Si were with him her face would be scrunched in a squint, her one-lidded Earthian eyes straining behind those peculiar glass eyeshades.

The Nexus emitted an alarm and the knot in Hark’s gut tightened. He scanned the Nexus’s modelled computations, projected in a holograph before him. He needed Si here to make full sense of the matrix – to him the simulated neural pathways meant little, except that the Nexus was deep in “thought”. But the Nexus wasn’t relaying output, and he knew enough to know that there should be output.

‘Nexy? Where’s your output?’

The Nexus didn’t respond, but the matrix shifted formation before switching back to its previous state. Almost like it was preoccupied. Hark furrowed his brow.

‘Nexy, tell me what function you are currently performing.’

Nothing.

He operated the holographic dash rapidly, cutting off two of the smaller supplementary neural cores powering the Nexus’s intelligence. Pathways in the matrix faded as it simplified.

‘Okay Nexy. Don’t act up on me now,’ he said softly. He expelled a deep sigh. ‘Show me the crew’s locations on the surface.’ There was a pause before the Nexus replied, ‘Certainly.’ The holograph flickered and displayed the surface of Zantanor in a semi-transparent blue gradient. On the surface, the desolate planet was an arid flatland, with only small rises and the odd cropping of rock, but below was a complex series of interconnected tunnels, many flowing with an unknown liquid. A cluster of blue dots moved along one of the subterranean paths. As Hark watched, one of the dots split off from the other four, moving faster, as if running. He opened comms.

‘Team. Who just left the group?’

There was a pause of static before Captain Lorem responded. ‘It’s Si.’ The Captain’s voice quivered slightly. ‘She bolted. Whatever is down here, Hark…it’s powerful, even if it’s not mobile. We can…feel it.’

Hark gripped the edges of the control panel.

‘Your vital signs suggest extreme discomfort, Pilot Harkin,’ the Nexus said.

‘Cut the diagnostics, Nexy. Prime the thrusters. We’re going down.’

Hark steered the ship towards the haze of ochre dust swirling just above Zantanor’s surface. As the ship approached the nearest tunnel mouth to the crew, a strange humming began. A sort of stilted, discordant symphony of pulses. ‘What’s that?’ Hark asked the ship.

‘Transmission from an unknown source, sir,’ the Nexus told him.

‘What does that mean? What’s it saying?’

‘It is not speech, sir. The data is not communicable through language.’

‘So…what is it? Is it coming from a ship? A handheld device? A building?’

‘You misunderstand. It is not a technological device sending the transmission.’

A sweat broke over Hark and he was soon sealed in a cold film of it. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to take action to find Si. Ensure she was safe. ‘What then, what is it? Tell me!’

‘The information database I have access to is comprised of uploaded knowledge and the data I have obtained from input into the Nexus since I was created. I do not have a term for what is sending the transmission.’

‘Analyse and come to the most likely conclusion as to what is emitting the signal.’ No matter how advanced, it seemed AI could never detect tone – in this case, urgency.

‘What variables would you like me to include in this analysis?’

‘All of them!’ he yelled. ‘Everything about the situation. Just analyse, dammit!’

‘I will perform the analysis to the best of my abilities, but I would point out that this is a profoundly flawed process. It will not be fast, and the lack of rigorous parameters may yield inaccurate outcomes.’

Hark practically barked at the Nexus. ‘How long will it take?’ He ran his fingers through his lank hair.

‘Average processing time for performing analyses is 9 seconds. This may take between 55 to 65 seconds, several standard deviations more than mean processing time. Verifying if this extended timeframe is accepta–’.

‘JUST DO IT!’ Hark roared.

‘Requesting access to all neural cores.’

‘Granted.’ A loading bar appeared on his holo-screen. 58 seconds later, Nexus informed him the analysis was complete.

‘Tell me with as little fluff as possible, Nexy.’

‘The outcome of my analysis suggests the source of the transmission is an approximation of life.’

He choked on air. ‘Life?’ The Commander had told them there was no life on Zantanor. ‘How? Where is it? Why did we not pick it up?’

‘Perhaps it would help you understand if this lifeform was framed as consciousness, untethered from any material form that you associate with living. Yet its ability to communicate suggests it is alive.’

‘Well what the hell is it trying to communicate?’

‘I believe it desires a material form to inhabit.’

It wanted a body. ‘Show me its location. Now.’

The holographic map zoomed out until the whole planet of Zantanor showed, its dense maze of tunnels highlighted in electric blue. Suddenly Hark could see it: a matrix of interconnected pathways, not dissimilar to the Nexus’s model. Its location was throughout the whole planet.

‘Nex, is there any way to get through to Si’s comms?’

‘Si’s comms are still connected, sir.’

‘Si! SI!’ Hark yelled into the interface, knowing it made no difference to the reception of sound. ‘Answer me Si!’

Equilibrium Wellness Hub, Earth, Present Day

‘Malcolm Carey? Come in. How are you today?’

Malc gave a neutral grunt and entered the small room. His eyes flickered over it. He sniffed the air. He expanded his senses, finding no hint of residual preternatural energy.

‘Take a seat.’ The therapist held a palm towards two low cushioned chairs across from a single one. Malc looked from left to the right. Was this was some sort of test? He could sit directly across from the therapist, or at a more adjacent angle. He chose the one across and settled in.

‘I want to get right to the point, Doc. The reason I’m here, I mean.’

‘Just Seth is fine, please,’ he said, taking the seat opposite Malc. There was a soft smile on his lips. He had enough thinning grey hair left to comb it across his head in a dignified fashion and a prominent forehead that looked like a miniature plowed field. Two bushels of white eyebrows sat above the rim of his spectacles. His eyes were calm, still, seeming to capture all in their scope with Malc in the centre. He interlaced his fingers on his crossed legs. ‘You want to be direct. Good. Tell me why you came here.’

‘Well, first, what happens if you decide I’m cracked, psychotic, cuckoo or something?’

‘I’ll refer you for psychiatric evaluation.’

‘And would I have to go?’

‘No.’

‘Hm.’ Malc sat back and clasped his hands together. ‘I’ve been having visions recently. No history prior.’

‘You say visions, not hallucinations. Why?’

‘I guess just the feel, y’know.’

He nodded understandingly. ‘Can you describe “the feel”?’

Malc paused. ‘Like I’m experiencing something really happening. It’s like…an unquestioned assumption that it’s real. I’m seeing out of a woman’s eyes, I can feel her mind, and I know she believes she exists. When I come back, no matter how long the vision feels, only moments have passed, but I’m left with a…I dunno. A concrete knowledge that it was a reality occurring somewhere.’

‘Is there a consistent setting or theme to these visions?’

Here was the true litmus test for whether the therapist thought he was mentally broken or not. ‘Yeah. Space. Other planets.’

Seth remained silent, pensive. The silence stretched. Eventually, his all-encompassing gaze roved and centred on the room’s one tall window overlooking a parking lot two stories down. ‘On your application, you said you were a private investigator. Tell me more about that. What type of cases do you investigate?’

‘Uhhm. Well. All sorts, really.’

He looked back at Malc and leaned forward slightly. ‘Let’s cut to the chase, Malcolm. I knew since you came in you were not my average client. It’s a sense I have. You might know the sense I’m talking about.’

Malc narrowed his eyes. ‘I investigate abnormal cases,’ he said cautiously. ‘Ones where there’s no conventional or rational explanation.’

‘I’ve worked with your type before. The gifted.’ Malc found himself re-evaluating Seth’s sharp gaze. But if the man could use magic, he could sense none of it. ‘Tell me every detail of your latest vision.’

‘That…may bring one on. Even thinking about her draws me to them. I’m resisting one right now.’

‘Don’t. You said only a brief period of time passes when they occur.’

‘Yes, but I could feel like I’m in it for hours!’

‘Malcolm.’ He removed his glasses and looked at Malc and nothing else. ‘People like you don’t end up here by coincidence. This is important. Go into the vision. Why waste time and money on more sessions before we do this anyway? We’ll have to anyhow, if for nothing more than to resolve the visions themselves.’

‘Yeah, seventy bucks a session…’. He shook his head. ‘Fine.’ Malc closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift out of his material form. It siphoned from his body as easily as water swirling down a drain.

A needle punctured Si in the crook of the elbow. She cringed, expecting pain, but realized she could feel no pain, anywhere. She could barely feel her body at all. With great effort she heaved her head up and felt a foggy sense of alarm when she saw not a needle puncturing her arm, but a luminescent tendril or vine of some sort. Despite her numbness, she felt a vague sensation of the stuff creeping up her neck and slithering into her ears. She realized she was lying cupped in a swathe of the root-like tendrils, yet she was strangely calm, as if even her emotions were numbed. She introspected some more, seen as outwardly she had little control over things. She felt a current of melancholy fuelled by a sense of desolate loneliness. But…she wasn’t alone. Where were the others? she wondered, with a lethargic curiosity as to their whereabouts. As if hearing her thoughts, Hark’s voice sounded in her ear.

‘Si, are you there? Please respond.’ She felt something at the sound of his desperate voice in her earpiece. Hope. Love. But muted, unimportant. Also, relief – at least she could talk to Hark in her final moments.

‘Hark,’ she managed to rasp.

‘Si! The others are searching for you. Where are you?’

‘Hark,’ she repeated. ‘I love you.’ It came out a faint whisper.

Captain Lorem spoke over the comms, voice strained. ‘Si! We’re trying to resist this thing’s pull. O’Malley had to restrain Little Mech. I’m staying here with Mech while O’Malley comes for you, she has the strongest resistance to whatever is drawing us. Listen to Hark’s directions so you can find each other.’

All Si could think about was how she wanted Hark to tell her he loved her, in case it was the last thing she heard. Instead, O’Malley’s crass Irish accent came on the line, eager to capitalize on any chance to disparage Mech, no matter the circumstances in which the opportunity presented itself.

‘Little Mike the Mech should’ve stayed on Nexy, fiddling with wires and whatnot. I’m coming for you Si, hold on lad.’

Si couldn’t help but grin through gritted teeth – everyone was a “lad” to O’Malley. ‘Leave me. Not worth the risk,’ she told O’Malley.

‘Si, we are not leaving you. We’ll find you,’ Hark said.

‘Just say it back, Hark. In case it’s the last thing I hear.’

There was nothing for a moment and then his voice came on the line, taut and emotional. ‘I love you, Si. Please, hold on.’

Then there was a voice inside her head, a male voice. Si? Get up.

‘I can’t,’ she replied instinctively.

‘You can’t what?’ Hark said. ‘Si, describe your surroundings.’

Great. You can hear me. If you want to see that guy again, not just hear his voice, listen and do as I say.

An older male voice spoke. Take that thing out of your arm. It’s sedating you.

What the hell? You’re here? The first voice.

I came along for the ride. The older man’s voice was calm and assured. Let’s give her a hand.

Si felt her body energize. Focus the old voice told her, and she felt a boost of acuity. She fumbled at the tendril embedded in her arm and managed to grip it. She squeezed and jerked and it came out with a spurt of blood. She groaned, finally feeling pain. A huge, dull, growing pain.

The two voices spoke in unison. Up.

Up she got. The tendrils clung and then gave way, sliding out of her ears wetly. The basket she was cupped in reacted, trying to seize her.

Weapon? the younger man asked. She grasped at her hip for her pulser, ripped it free and fired into the tendrils beneath her, which recoiled with a collective writhing. She scrambled away, falling to her hands and knees. She rolled onto her back and unloaded a barrage.

You’re in a cave. Find a way out. Look for light. The old voice.

‘Si? What’s happening?’ Hark asked her.

‘I’m moving,’ she grunted. ‘Direct me and O’Malley.’

Si got to her feet, her limbs slowly coming back to her, helped along by the rush of adrenaline from her body’s still-sluggish fear response. Adrenaline. She pulled an epinephrine shot from her belt and stabbed it into her thigh with a sharp intake of breath. She ran for a smidge of light that led to a tunnel, followed it to a junction, her head spinning but her legs clodding on.

Hark guided them through the labyrinth of passages, turning them towards each other. She came to a swaying stop at the centre of a junction. She leaned on her hands and knees and huffed, squeezed her eyes and fought down the nausea rising up her gullet. The adrenaline was wearing off.

‘Si, stay where you are, O’Malley will…’. Her vision swam and she landed on her rump with a jolt. The voices in her headset were muffled as if she was underwater. She rolled and grasped at a damp wall for support but misjudged and stumbled into it headfirst, spun awkwardly and slid down the slick wall, legs buckling. Then her body turned and crawled back the way she’d come. She felt relief as she went back – what had she been thinking, going the wrong way? O’Malley soon passed her out, her gaze distant.

It’s strengthening. The old voice. Let’s try something else.

Si blacked out.

And awoke on the Nexus, a med-clamp securing her arm to a med-bay chair.

‘What happened?’ she asked huskily, in disbelief. The whole crew surrounded her. Hark crouched before her, grinning, his cheeks damp.

‘You tell us,’ he said. ‘You hurt it bad. Must have killed it.’

Foggily, she remembered shooting. And then she frowned. The voices. Had she imagined them?

Captain Lorem entered, smiling when he saw her awake. ‘Good to see you’re back with us, Si. Are you able for a call with the General?’

The General!?

‘Commendations, and dare I say, apologies for sending us into this blind,’ Lorem explained, seeing the shock on her face.

‘That thing made Zantanor its brain. We were in a brain,’ Little Mech said. ‘Better be giving us promotions and a goddamn bonus,’ he grumbled, eliciting laughs from everyone.

To the voices, Si thought, thank you. Real or imaginary, they had saved her. But they didn’t respond.

They were gone.

Malc awoke in the chair. ‘Unnghh.’

Seth had his hands folded on his lap, his expression neutral. His hand moved, stroking…a cat?

‘What happened? I’ve never felt this shitty afterwards. Why’ve you got a cat?’ Malc added as a groggy afterthought.

‘I gave Si some of your life-energy, possible because…you’re related. Likely a direct descendant. I let you recover. Session’s almost over.’

‘Direct descendant?’ Malc’s almost choked. He had never wanted kids, and relationships…not his strong suit. ‘And the cat?’ Malc asked, still lightheaded. The tabby purred as Seth squished its head under his palm. ‘Do you just have one of those on hand?’

Seth rumbled with a chuckle. ‘Keep one in the drawer for emergencies. Works better than any SSRI.’

‘I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.’

He stroked the cat very firmly, but it seemed to enjoy it. ‘I saw many things when I was in contact with that entity through Si’s mind, Malcolm. Not good things. Potentially, the extinction of humanity. It couldn’t be left there. So, I pulled it back with us. Now it resides in Herb. It seems content, and Herb seems unfazed.’ Seth hoisted Herb up, the cat’s body elongating like a slinky as he passed him over to Malc’s lap.

‘Thanks?’

Herb promptly cozied himself in the nook between Malc’s thighs. ‘Is it safe?’

‘Probably, though that’s not my area. I just See.’

Malc nodded. ‘A Seer. That’d be useful in your profession. What am I supposed to do with it?’

‘It just wants companionship.’

‘But what if I don’t?’

Seth smiled and tapped his temple. ‘You just think you don’t. Same time next week, then?’

The U.S. farm collapse just got worse. 88 percent of exports wiped out in days. How will Americans put food on the table?

He knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s setting it up for his wealthy friends to make a lot more money. If you think about it, the farmers are going to have to declare bankruptcy, and then the most likely lose their farm and equipment. Then what happens, big business comes and buys the farmers land and equipment, and then turns his farm, land and equipment into a corporate owned farm that makes them money in perpetuity. Why do you think the price is on groceries are so high now and will not go down, because corporate America, set the prices by monopolizing everything we need to live and exist.

if you think about it closely, that’s what they did with rental properties. They bought them all up, even the trailer parks, which was the last bastion of affordable housing for the working poor. They raise the rent on all the properties they acquired, which enabled all private rental property owners to raise their rent to the same amount.

That’s what they’ve been doing for over than 50 years, buying up businesses that we need to live and exist, like food, housing and energy businesses, just to monopolize them and set pricing that will benefit and enrich only them.

The scales have been tipped toward the wealthy for half a decade. It’s about time they tipped toward American citizens, It’s time to raise the taxes on the billionaires back to the tax rates of the 1950s. Those business tax rates built the middle class and made America what it was, and that was great. Ever since Reagan and the Republicans started reducing the tax rate on the wealthiest business and families in our nation, through Reagan‘s failed “Trickle Down Economics”, 80% of the nations wealth has been transferred up to the top, to the same wealthy families and corporations, which facilitated the destruction of the middle class. To save America and rebuild the middle class, the tax rate on the wealthiest businesses and individuals must be raised by 50% or more and bring all that wealth back down to benefit all the American citizens not just 1% of them.

The best start would be ending all corporate subsidies for these wealthy corporations that paid little to no taxes in the first place. You have to ask yourself, why won’t this Republican administration, under Trump, even consider touching any of these corporate subsidies when they talk about fraud and waste.

God’s Time

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Brutus Clement

As always I end up in front of the big two story, wood shingle house, that means so much to me. The wind has suddenly come up. I’m standing by the walkway that leads up to the front porch and lost in thought. My mind years in the past. I feel the arthritis in my ankles and know I’m not young anymore. Why do I walk by here so often? What’s the point? I tell myself the past is dead over and over again, but my longing keeps leaking through like an unwanted habit. It’s overwhelming now. Filling me up.

“Charlie, what the hell you doing just standing there? You look lost. Are you wasted?” It’s Brad at the open door beyond the porch. Not Brad, because Brad died last year, but someone who looks and sounds an awful lot like him when he was young. How does he know my name, anyway? I’m totally confused and more than a little scared. What the hell is going on?

“Sorry to disturb you, I’ll just move on.” But my voice sounds different and my body is not the same. I look at my hands and the wrinkles and sun damage are gone. What the hell? No pain in my ankles. I could walk for miles.

Now the person who looks like Brad is coming down the porch steps towards me. “Charlie, you’re freaking me out man. You on a bad trip? I’m here to help you bud.”

My young heart is pounding in my chest out of fear, but I’ve got to maintain myself. Just go with the flow, I tell myself. I’ll figure things out yet. Calm down. Besides if this is a dream, it isn’t that bad to be young again. So, I paste a goofy smile on my face. “No Brad, I’m cool. Had a little too much smoke but nothing I can’t handle.”

Brad’s right up next to me now and patting me on the back in his typical Brad way. “Good to hear that buddy. You have a reputation to maintain around here as Captain Cosmic who can handle any drug without freaking. Don’t want you blowing that on my watch.”

I hadn’t heard that moniker for myself in years and it’s starting to dawn on me that somehow the impossible was possible. I remembered hearing about this concept called non-linear time where the past, present, and future all co-exist in the same moment. The guy who told me about it called it “God’s time” and said that in deep space, linear time didn’t exist. Man, I was in some deep space now. My longing must have pushed me over the line.

Brad’s smiling and leading me towards the steps up to the door. “Come on in, we been waiting for you. Where you been, man? You were supposed to buy some beer but here you ae empty handed. What’s up with that?”

“Well Brad, I got a tale to tell”

We go through the door, and they’re all there just as I remember all those years ago. Sitting on couches and chairs in the huge front room. Drinking, smoking, talking, listening to music, and doing all the things that hippies do. They’re all glad to see me, and pause briefly in whatever they were doing to acknowledge my empty-handed return.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Where’s the beer you went out to get?” Mary Murphy says although she prefers the name Sunshine that most of us avoid.

“Glad you asked Mary. You wouldn’t believe what happened to me on the way to the liquor store.”

Brad chimes in, all excited. “Hey guys, I saw Charlie standing out in front like forever and looking all discombobulated if you know what I mean. He’s says he’s got a story to tell and we all know about Charlie’s stories.”

The room’s getting quieter in expectation of one of my tall tales. They really aren’t that special. I usually just make them up as I go. However, you have to consider that the audience is often in altered states of mind and love live entertainment and someone who’s not afraid to sometimes make a fool of themselves.

“OK, OK I feel a story, a real epic, coming through soon now. First though, I need my own personal sugar magnolia here as inspiration. Where’s Rachael?”

Suddenly they’re calling her name and are laughing up a storm. It’s a kind of running joke in the house and everyone likes to get in on it. God, I missed this in all the years I was growing old. The spontaneity, fun, and just plain craziness of youth. She’s in the back kitchen and quickly appears in the room to run over and hug me to the mocking applause of our stoned audience. It was a hug I’d remembered and missed so often. We both take a mock bow and sit together where a space had been cleared on one of the numerous couches. Furniture is being moved around so that most of the people in the house can see us. She’s squeezing my hand and smiling. This is so real.

I’m passed a joint and a beer. It is old times. I’m relaxed with thoughts of who I was before this fading. Becoming the Charlie I was years ago. Then I start the promised story.

I tell of how I was starting to go in to the liquor store a few blocks away and got sucked in to a “time vortex”. There is some laughter at this because they know my penchant for talking about strange and weird things. After some jokes from the audience I go on to say that while in this portal, I had lived an entire lifetime and grown to be an old man. I give them real details on my post hippie life and all the things I had done. I leave out the parts about which of them died and when because I didn’t want to depress anyone. No one wants to be told when and where they will meet the “grim reaper”. I then say that I had just arrived on the sidewalk in front of the house and was transformed back in to the good looking guy they see before them. All this right before Brad opened the door. The story was totally true, yet how could they see it as other than the type of elaborate fantasy I was known for? It was perfect.

“Yeah, Charlie, anything to get out of paying for a little beer, you cheapskate.” Lonnie says to peals of laughter.

“Where do you come up with this stuff Charlie and where’s that beer money I gave you?” Jack asks.

“Sorry bud, It got spent while in the vortex. Did I tell you guys that a six pack of beer cost more than twelve bucks in my old age?”

“No way man, impossible. You can buy a case now for five. What a crappy future” Lonnie laughs and I’m laughing with him. Feeling like I’ve finally come home. As people start to go back to what they were doing before I showed, Rachael and I are snuggling together.

“Charlie, that was a great story but you should have made up a part about you and I getting married and having a little swarm of cute rug rats.” Rachael smiles at me.

Looking in her eyes, I don’t have the heart to tell her that in real life we drifted apart and I have no idea of her fate, although I had thought about her constantly over the years. Losing her was always a huge regret. So I wing it now.

“Of course, you are right. I’m sorry. That would have been an even better story than the one I came up with, What can I do to make up for it?”

With that, Rachael smiles and says. “You can marry me now, Charlie.” She laughs and gives me one of her impish looks.

I know she is not fully serious, but even if she was, I would not hesitate. “Sure, lets’ do it.” I give her a big hug. And announce it to the room.

“Today’s entertainment is not yet over. Who wants to marry Rachael and I?”

There are many who volunteer. We love weird ceremonies and putting on little skits and plays all while in altered realities. No television is allowed in the house. Too square. So, we have our music, stories, and games to entertain us. What better game than a mock wedding.

Brad will officiate but everyone takes a role and puts together some sort of costume. There are the bridesmaids, the best man, the ushers, the father of the bride, and whatever other roles you could imagine. We even have a “visiting alien” and President Nixon attend. It is all great fun and everyone is really getting in to it. I borrow a ring from Lonnie and use it as the wedding ring. It doesn’t really fit Rachael’s finger but that doesn’t matter. Eventually Brad pronounces us “man and wife” and I kiss the bride. The crowd is cheering, Rachael is beaming, and I’m starting to get a little wasted from all the marijuana. The room is spinning, I feel like I’m going to pass out.

When I open my eyes, I’m on the sidewalk in front of the house. There is a crowd around me and the paramedics are there. They tell me they are taking me to the hospital for observation. All the old man pains are back and I see my wrinkled, sun damaged hands. At the hospital the tests are performed and I’m given a room. Later, they tell me my wife is here. I try to tell them I’m not married, but the words don’t come out quite right. Then she is right beside me and I hear the voice that hasn’t changed over all these years.

“Hi, Charlie, I’m here. Hang in there, it’s all going to be alright. I love you.” She squeezes my hand.

What’s the closest thing on Earth we have to aliens?

I’m going with the octopus:

They have multiple brains, and an entirely different style of intelligence, that is exceptional. My friend had one as a pet. They can recognize different humans. They have incredibly clever hunting tactics, can open bottles. They can alter the texture of their bodies to match their surroundings.

Their blood is blue. They decorate their homes with shiny objects.

The crazy thing is that they only live 2–4 years and are entirely self-taught with all these skills.

There was stories of an octopus in a giant zoo in Australia, who would sneak out of his tank and into other nearby tanks to eat fish. He’d crawl across the floor, then, up and into the tanks, lifting the lids. Eat the fish. Then return to his own and pretend nothing happened.

He later escaped the zoo through a water pipe back into the ocean.

I’m half convinced there’s a secret planet somewhere being run entirely by octopus, and that they will one day return he to liberate their people.

Sir Whiskerton and the Genie for Hire; A Tale of Misguided Wishes, Avian Affection, and One Very Confused Chipmunk

Act I: The Wish That Started It All

Lucifer the Chipmunk (戏精胖仙 Xìjīng Pàng Xiān – “Drama Queen Chubby Immortal”), admiring his reflection in a puddle, sighed dramatically:

“Zephyr! I wish for a love as bright as my fur… and as enduring as my dramatic monologues!”

Zephyr the Genie (灯神飘飘 Dēngshén Piāopiāo – “The Floating Lamp Genie”), swirling his lavender-scented smoke, grinned: “Say no more, my funky little friend.”

POOF!

Enter Polly the Peacock (傲娇孔雀 Àojiāo Kǒngquè – “Proud Drama Peacock”), who took one look at Lucifer’s fluffy tail and gasped:

“At LAST! A miniature waterfowl god worthy of my heart!”

Lucifer: “Wait, I’m a chipmu—”
Polly (already screeching a love ballad): “FOREVER MY GLORIOUS GOOSE!”

Act II: The Courtship Catastrophe

Polly’s “romantic” overtures included:

A serenade (a noise somewhere between a dying trumpet and a squeaky wheel).
Gifts of shed feathers (arranged to spell “UR BEAUTIFUL” in the dirt).
A proposal (written in worm juice: “Let’s nest by the trash heap forever”).

Lucifer, panicking: “ZEPHYR! FIX THIS!”
Zephyr, sipping spectral tea: “Technically, your fur is ‘bright’ to her… and she is ‘enduring.’ Wording, my dude.”

Meanwhile, The Yodeling Fish provided a “romantic” soundtrack:

“YODEL-AY-HEE—[gulp]—LOVE IS PAIN—[splash]“*

Act III: The Identity Crisis

Lucifer attempted to clarify:

“Polly, darling, I’m a chipmunk. See? Stripes! Tiny hands! No webbed feet!”

Polly (stroking his head): “Shhh… my delicate swamp angel… you’ve had a long journey.”

Sir Whiskerton, watching: “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Porkchop: “I ship it.”

Act IV: The Wish Undone

Finally, Lucifer wished “to be understood!”

Zephyr snapped his fingers—

POOF! Polly blinked. “…Why am I holding a acorn with a bowtie?”

Lucifer, relieved: “PRAISE THE FOREST SPIRITS!”

But then… Polly fell for The Yodeling Fish.

Zephyr: “…Oops.”
The Fish: “YODEL-AY—[blush]—HEE-HOO?”*

The Moral of the Story

Be careful what you wish for… especially if Zephyr’s on caffeine.

Post-Credit Scene

Polly & The Fish open a “Screech & Splash” couples spa.
Lucifer starts a support group: “Victims of Avian Affection.” (Members: 1. Him.)

Best Lines

Polly: “Our children will be legendary! Small! Loud! Questionably buoyant!”
Zephyr: “Look, love is interpretive. Like jazz. Or tax forms.”
The Fish: “YODEL—[proposal bubble]—AYE DO!”*

Starring

Zephyr the Genie (灯神飘飘) – Chaos matchmaker
Lucifer the Chipmunk (戏精胖仙) – Unwilling waterfowl
Polly the Peacock (傲娇孔雀) – Romantic bombardier

Key Jokes

Polly’s “love nest” (a pile of trash she calls “rustic chic”).
Lucifer’s tiny sobs (“I just wanted someone to appreciate my monologues!”).
Sir Whiskerton selling tickets to the drama (*”Front-row seats: 3 acorns!”*).

The End (until Zephyr’s next “romantic” intervention…)

Who know world history, European history, or Chinese history? Looking back all time history, who has been more militarily powerful, China or Europe?

Europeans wrote the history that westerners read and they generally glorifies the west and demonised their perceived or real adversaries so that made the west generally not know the real truth. China recorded history on paper since 1000 BC it is written by Chinese bureaucrats based on accurate depiction of what actually happened. History in the west are written by the victors, not loser of each war. So you will always think the person in power is almost always right. So westerners read that Mao and Stalin did this and did that all written in London or Paris and they created the rules based world order, the rules are set arbitrary by themselves to favour themselves and at the disadvantage of the rest of the world. Example the developing countries sell their resources at prices set in London and millions of workers will get a small returns. But Swiss Chocolate must be sold at exorbitant price.

The history of the world is written by the lairs and racists who sees themselves as superior and self righteous. This cannot stand. From now onwards. The right must prevailed. The slaves were brought from Africa to Americas by British ships. Million die from the trip. But laws today allowed the slave traders families to enjoy the wealth till today! The people who sold the opium to China are long dead but their off springs still owned the castles in Scotland be cause of aws written by the British to protect themselves not the people who are poisoned by opium.

If you want the real history don’t read western history. Search for the truth.

Chicken Stuffed with Golden Onions and Fontina

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced red onion
2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary, divided
1/8 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground pepper, to taste
2/3 cup shredded fontina cheese, preferably aged
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, (about 1 pound), trimmed of fat
1/2 cup white wine
1 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth
4 teaspoons all-purpose flour

Instructions

Heat 2 teaspoons oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.
Add onion and 1 teaspoon rosemary; cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is golden brown, 6 to 7 minutes.
Season with salt and pepper. Let cool; stir in fontina.
Meanwhile, cut a horizontal slit along the thin, long edge of each chicken breast half, nearly through to the opposite side.
Stuff each breast with 1/4 cup of the onion-cheese mixture.
Heat the remaining 2 teaspoons oil in the same skillet over medium-high heat.
Add the chicken and cook until golden, about 5 minutes per side.
Transfer to a plate and cover with foil to keep warm.
Add wine and the remaining 1 teaspoon rosemary to the pan. Cook over medium-high heat for 2 minutes.
Whisk broth and flour in a bowl until smooth; add to the pan, reduce heat to low and whisk until the sauce thickens, about 1 minute.
Return the chicken to the pan and coat with the sauce. Cook, covered, until the chicken is just cooked through, 2 to 4 minutes.
Serve the chicken topped with the sauce.

Nutrition

Per serving: 258 calories; 12g fat (5g saturated fat, 6g mono unsaturated fat); 88mg cholesterol; 7g carbohydrates; 33g protein; 1g fiber; 328mg sodium; 388mg potassium

Recipe and photo used with permission from: National Onion Association

Recipe Goldmine is now a legacy site. Please visit our sister site, Simply Great Recipes, for new recipes.

Why were 450 workers arrested at the Hyundai plant but the people that hired them didn’t get in any trouble?

Oh, I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions.

For example, the General Agreement on Tariffs and Services (GATS) generally allows people with professional qualifications like, I don’t know, industrial engineers, to gain a special visa at a port of entry as long as they demonstrate they have work to do in the United States already, either as an employee of a non-American firm or as a consultant.

Now, it appears the vast majority of the people caught up in the raid were Korean Hyundai employees. I’m guessing Hyundai felt it was smarter to send their own people to set up the plant rather than hunting for qualified people in the United States.

Now, I’m familiar how this process works in Canada because we get requests at my work place every once in a while for a person to come in on a GATS or a USACAM professional visa, and we get asked to determine if they need to hold a professional license to perform the proposed work (it’s a visa exemption, not permission to break the law). You cannot apply for these at a consulate or embassy – you have to actually show up and be considered at the border. I remember one case where someone arrived and waited ten hours for the proper documentation to arrive before they were let in.

As such, I’m sure that Immigration authorities at the port of entry cleared all of these people before they came in. They were Hyundai employees working for Hyundai with professional qualifications. They were being paid by Hyundai.

I’m sure when EuroDisney and Disney Japan were built that Disney sent a ton of American technicians to those countries in similar circumstances to get everything up and running. Some things you just can’t do from a desk in Anaheim.

Of course, ICE comes in and makes the opposite call – these guys don’t have W1 visas or green cards, so out they go. South Korea and Hyundai are hoping mad about it because they thought they had complied with the rules. It would be like South Korean immigration authorities arresting U.S. servicemen and deporting them for not having appropriate papers. Dude, that isn’t how this works.

US CAUGHT LYING About Iran War Casualties? SHOCKING Numbers Revealed

How was China before?

Today China is 中国 before that it was 中國。

This is China in the beginning.

How do you start a 國？You first stake a piece of land (地，土也), a 地方 and mark your place with a stake 弋yi⁴ and draw a square around it。The square is方。Make a sign and hang it at the top of the stake 𭤨, it is to be your flag 旗。

As you stake more and more land you will need to defend it with 戈ge¹ and surround with 囗wei²。Eventually the place get to be 國，at that point, it does not matter where you stake the flag, the place is always 中國 which is the China today.

How was China before?

A stake with a square in the middle 中, 卜 points to the middle of “丨丶” which birthed the nation. The picture is uncannily familiar to those who know the story.

The Most Convincing NEW Evidence We’re in a Simulation | Riz Virk

https://youtu.be/MYf-lBkRrn8

Why are guitar picks overpriced?

First a story. Years ago in the 70s there was a great shop downtown called Bud’s Guitars. I bought a couple from him, and I would try to visit it often.

On one visit I was accompanied by a friend who was interested in learning the guitar. I told her Bud’s was the place to go.

She was amazed at the assortment on the wall, but she giggled when she saw the fishbowl on the counter filled with picks.

I winked at Bud and said “Looks like they’re outgrowing this bowl. You’re going to have to relocate them to a bigger one, huh?”

She looked at me with her mouth agape and said “Wha?”

“Oh yeah, Bud grows these things. They reproduce like crazy. Just get a couple of them and you can grow them yourself. But they require a lot of care, so most people don’t do it.”

Sadly, Bud couldn’t keep a straight face, otherwise I would have milked that for years.

Anyway, for my birthday about ten years ago I got a pick punch. It’s this crazy little tool that can punch a pick out of almost anything thin enough to slip inside: credit cards, cardboard, aluminum sheet.

Every expired credit card or mail come on was game. I punched and punched and punched until I had over 100 pick-like pieces all over the place! My grandchildren love it.

But just because it looks like a pick and feels like a pick doesn’t mean it plays like a pick. I have tried smoothing the edges with sandpaper and thickening the grip with tape.

After using one of these I don’t begrudge the real pick makers their few dimes, because there’s nothing like the real thing, baby.

What is something that happened in the middle of the night that you will never forget?

I have told this story before, it’s a weird one.

I was living alone, and sleeping in a basement bedroom, at the foot of the stairs, that lead to the outside door.

I had hung a newspaper over the curtain/curtain rods on the only window in the bedroom, to make it blacker.

A friend had just given me a copy of Stephen King’s Salem’s lot. I never read horror novels, and had never heard of Stephen King. It was awesome.

I had started reading it before bedtime and read for a little while in bed, forcing myself to put it down.

I woke up in the middle of the night, it was like a whirlwind in the bedroom and stuff was flying everywhere.

I figured it must have been windy, and someone had broken in, and left the door open.

I climbed the stairs, and the door was closed and locked.

I went back downstairs and there was no wind. It was weird, but I was dead tired and went back to sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I thought I must have had a dream. Then I saw the newspaper that had been hanging on the window was scattered everywhere around the room.

That was really weird, I found nothing else unusual.

I didn’t have a history of sleep walking.

After that I quit reading Salem’s lot two hours before bed.

I have never been able to explain it, and now it’s just one of those things that goes thump in the night.

I have had nothing like it in the last 50 years.

This Video Will Change Your View Of CHINA!

(Repost) Be the Rufus; more videos of personal heroism in China. September 2021 edition (duplicate)

More videos of personal heroism in China. This is the September 2021 edition. These videos all take place in China, with a few notable exceptions, and show examples of how average, normal, everyday people (or dogs and cats) can make a difference. When the calling strikes and an emergency occurs, will you be the one who turns their back, or will you run and offer help? Will you be the one who stays playing on the cell-phone, or will you lend a helping hand? Will you be the person who will make a difference in the lives of those around you, or are you just going to fade into the background.

Make a difference. Be like Rufus!

Please kindly note that this post has multiple embedded videos. It is important to view them. If they fail to load, all you need to do is to reload your browser.

These are all micro-videos of very short duration. From ten seconds to three minutes. I would suggest that you, the reader, allow them to load to get the full experience.

Video – Rescue of people trapped in a flipped over car

A Rufus springs into action and helps those in need. Are you that kind of person. If you saw this car upside down in the water would you drive on by because you were afraid of being late for work? Or, would you stop and help? VIDEO.

Video – Rufus Taxi Driver

A middle school girl has been waiting for a taxi. It pulls up and a bunch of strangers run over to it and barge their way inside. She remains outside politely. What does the Rufus taxi driver do? He kicks those people out and gets out of the taxi and helps the student in. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Woman gives birth on a flight of stairs!

And everyone in the hallway helps. One woman covers her with her coat, another man calls the hospital. Another one gets her family. One raises her legs and another one gets water. Rufus’s work alone or part of a team, but they always work! VIDEO.

Meanwhile in Hong Kong

No video.

“Back to work today, forgot my pass so locked bike outside Cannon Street station. Left work at 6pm to find just the cut lock and no bike, resigned to never seeing my trusty stead again asked the station if they have cameras.

A guy appeared waving at me, asked me to put the code into my cut lock.

He replied ‘I have your bike’ with a smile I will never forget!!

His name is Abdul Muneeb and he works for South Eastern Railways, he was on a break and saw a guy bolt cut the lock and challenged him to give it back, he then took it inside and waited 4 hours after his shift finished to personally make sure I got my bike back.

The world needs more Abdul’s, he is a legend of a man and a credit to his employer.”

Video – Collapse on the walkway

You don’t pretend that it isn’t happening. You do whatever it takes. You help others and you be the Rufus. Do what it takes. Be kind. Be considerate. Be helpful. VIDEO.

Video – Three month old baby tries to save his mother!

Sure the mother is just getting a back-rub, but the kid doesn’t know that. So what does he do? He crawls out of his crib, and crawls on the floor to the other room to “help” his father “save” his mother! Charming, and yet so very Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Motorcycle cop drives an old woman home on her tricycle

Rufus’s NEVER say “that’s not my job”. They do what ever it takes and helps those in need. Here we have an older woman. In her 90’s and she no longer can petal her tricycle home. But the motorcycle cop sees this and takes her home on his own. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Collapsing fence traps scores of people

So you are on a busy road in the middle of rush hour, and then a major road fence collapses on cars, bikes, people, everything. What’s a Rufus to do? I’ll tell you what. A Rufus goes out and helps everyone. VIDEO.

Video – Racing to save a boy’s life

You are minding your own business and a toddler comes racing down the highway heading straight towards on-going traffic. What are you going to do? Wait and watch the carnage? Film it? Be the Rufus. VIDEO.

Video – Skyscraper rescue

China is skyscraper after skyscraper, and many kids and children like to get on the porch and crawl over outside. Many die. And it is heart rendering. Here we have a man climb down from the sixteenth floor to rescue a child on the fifteenth floor. Just an average guy. Just an extraordinary time. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Helping a homeless woman

Sometimes, all we need is an excuse to brighten up someone’s gloomy day. We just make an excuse and find a way. That’s all it takes to make someone’s day.

VIDEO.

Be the Rufus

“OKAY, I just saw the most amazing thing today. I was waiting for my prescription at Walgreen, and I noticed this man is picking up his medicines.. He is asking how much they are, and starting to get nervous about the price. The total was $170 and the pharmacist asked if he would rather only get one month of his medicines instead of 3.

“THIS lady next to me, walks up to them and says: NO, he is getting all three months and pays for his bill. I was walking out of there with tears in my eyes, what an amazing woman…”

Video – Distraught mother

It’s a risky time. Life happens and the stress and the emotions become unbearable. Don’t let it get to you. Be the Rufus. Help others. VIDEO.

Video – A woman provides CPR

Maybe it’s her husband. Maybe it’s a stranger. But a Rufus doesn’t just stand around. He / She mans the phones. Calls the ambulance. Helps the woman. Gets information to tell the parametric. A Rufus participates. VIDEO.

Video – Fire in the neighborhood

You see a house on fire in your own neighborhood. What are you going to do? Wait for the fire department to come. Well this video tells you everything you want to know. VIDEO 70MB

Please compare the difference from the slovenly American firefighters taking their time walking to the burn-site, to the Chinese firefighters running for their lives to help put out fires. It’s like night and day.

Video – Barrier down, no problem!

A real community works together for the common good. People don’t sit things out because it’s their “freedom”. They participate. They help. They make their community better. They work together. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Have some compassion

No one notices that the boy is standing out int he cold without a coat or even a light jacket. What is going on? Well, a Rufus notices everything. Something doesn’t “feel” right and so the Rufus takes action. VIDEO.

Video – Old man rescues a child in the freezing March Winter.

There’s a young girl flailing in the icy water. What are you going to do. I mean you’re in your 80’s after all. Well, you shed you clothes and your rescue her. That’s what you do. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Public Servants

This is how the police behave when you have a society of Rufus’s. Everyone works to make the place a better one. We all need to do our part. We all need to participate. We all need to be helpful, kind and understanding. Be the Rufus. VIDEO.

Video – Saving a dog tied to the tracks

I do not know why this dog was tied to the train tracks. Maybe an accident, maybe on purpose by a busy owner. Maybe by some evil assholes. Whatever the reason, this guy goes forth to rescue it.

VIDEO.

Video – Rufus compilation

Good deeds, consideration towards others, rescues, and being helpful. All are traits of a Rufus. Here is a compilation of just a few of the many Rufus activities that occur every day but that are never reported. Be the Rufus. It’s our highest calling. VIDEO.

Video – Child goes over the side

Again, it’s a cold winter day. The child falls one story into the cold water below. What are you to do? Are you going to wait and call the police, or are you going to do something. A real Rufus takes action! Be that Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – Infant rescue to the hospital

Your baby is in distress. No time to get a taxi. No time to stop and think. So what do you do? You go to the traffic policeman and enlist his help. Be the Rufus! VIDEO.

Video – American Rufus’s in Jacksonville, Florida

It’s scenes like this that give me so much hope for America. Look at how everyone comes to help this poor guy. It doesn’t matter. Old or young, tall or short, big and fat or frail and skinny, Black or White. Everyone comes to help. Rufus. You are either one or you are not. VIDEO

Thank you for reading this.

God bless.

Conclusion

We do not know when the calling will come.

However, when it calls, you must take action. It will not make you wealthy, rich, famous, or attractive. But, it will make a difference when you are judged upon death. Be the Rufus. Make a difference. Help others. It’s our highest calling.

Do you want more?

I have more articles like this in my Rufus Index here…

Hero Stories

Articles & Links

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Divine Llama mouthed the haiku silently, looking heartbroken

There’s a bunch of youtube and other social media posts where people are complaining about the USA, and how everything is all messed up. I have watched them, and all I can say is that everyone is experiencing the Liminal spaces from one reality to the next.

Here’s WF has to say about them…

An Empty World, A Time Traveler, Another Dimension | Liminal Spaces: The Reality In-between

I think that everyone in the West is living though a Liminal Space.

The Back Rooms…

TODAY…

5 Things Every U.S. Citizen Should Do Right Now (Prof. Jiang Analysis)

By building its own semiconductor division, is Huawei positioning itself for a future when U.S. sanctions on China may make it difficult for local companies to source advanced American chips?

Huawei has already its own advanced chips and supply chain in China. It is independent of the US.

The assumption that China depends on the US for advanced chips may be misplaced.

Look at its recent actions.

Nvidia is under investigations on national security grounds and confirmed to have acted against its anti-monopolist laws. Nvidia is not any company. It is the bellwether of US AI companies, the world’s acknowledged leader, and was once treated as the prima donna in China, with 90% share of the market.

China can now dispense with it. The government instructs companies not to buy its chips, including the latest one, Pro 6000D, an upgraded chip based on Blackwell, specially designed for China.

Nvidia is not alone. China has launched an investigations of (1) US past actions of dumping analog chips, and (2) US measures that discriminate against its chip sector that constitute suppression of its development of high-tech industries, such as advanced computing chips and AI. It covers a wide field in all links of the IC sector, including design, manufacturing, packaging, testing, equipment, components, materials, and tools. It would take corresponding measures against the discriminations.

China is now able and willing to enter the tech contest in earnest.

US sanctions have created a fog of information about what are cooking in China, and what are in its pipeline, save for what it chooses to announce, which are fast and furious.

An Empty World, A Time Traveler, Another Dimension | Liminal Spaces: The Reality In-between

Chicken Tagine

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
6 or 7 boneless/skinless chicken thighs, cut into 2 inch chunks
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons ginger, minced
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups chicken broth
1 cup dried apricots
1 cup whole blanched almonds*
1 cup pitted green olives

Instructions

Heat olive oil in a large soup pot over high heat.
In a small glass bowl, place chicken chunks and add flour. Toss chicken to coat.
Place chicken in olive oil; brown on all sides.
Reduce heat to medium-low; add onion, garlic and ginger. Sauté for about 5 minutes.
Stir in coriander and cumin; sauté until aromatic, about 30 seconds.
Add wine. Increase heat to high. Boil until wine has reduced by half.
Stir in chicken broth, apricots, almonds and olives. Bring to a simmer; reduce heat to low, cover pot and simmer for 45 minutes.
Serve.

Notes

* You can buy almonds already blanched, or simply drop in boiling water for about a minute.

Recipe and photo used with permission from: National Chicken Council

But fucking Hell…

What do old, retired people typically do all day if not well off financially?

I can only answer for myself, I’m 84, and on a pension, the wife and I both are, so we are not well off financially, but also not destitute, we do own our own house with no debts, so I assume we qualify to answer the question. Originally when I retired, I followed my lifelong hobby of lapidary, collecting and cutting and polishing semiprecious stones, which evolved to just sapphires I dug myself at the central Queensland gem fields, unfortunately I had to go into surgery for a triple bypass during which I had a massive stroke, which paralysed the whole left side of my body, and being left handed made it worse still, so these days I spend my time between bed and my lounge chair doing this, answering questions on Quora, so yes that’s my day after day after day,

still, I’ve had a full and exciting life, so certainly no complaints,

here are some stones I found and cut

The Apparatus

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Michelle Oliver

“For God’s sake Mosley!”Jock Pendleton from Pendleton and Mosley ripped his spectacles from the bridge of his nose and mopped at his brow in frustration. Little Tim Mosley Junior stood before him with two halves of the whole apparatus resting in his open palms, his face a study of blank confusion.“If yer name wasn’t on the door, Son, I’d have given yer the boot long ago!”Tim’s munchkin face screwed up in dismay. His father had been a refugee from Oz in the early days of the Witch’s reign, and munchkin offspring stayed true to their bloodline, no matter how diluted it became.“I didn’t mean to!”“And that there is the problem. You never mean to. Yet every time, every… single… bloody time, you manage to mess it up!”“I was just…”“You was just doin’ perzactly what I specifically told you not to.”Tim’s eyes welled. It was a thing of beauty when a munchkin’s eyes welled. The moisture glistened like crystal drops, hovering just on the edge of his lashes, collecting rainbows and wavering with tremulous hesitation on the verge of spilling.Jock was having none of it.

Munchkin tears were as bad as dragon tears. Full of remorse yet never learning from their mistakes, the same offense committed again and again, until one was heartily sick of the sight of them.

“No use turning those tears on for me, Son, I’m perfectly immuned to them by now.” Jock slammed his eye-glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and held his hand out for the apparatus, both halves of it. Tim gingerly placed the delicate pieces into Jock’s hand, pressing his lips together in a vain attempt to force the tears back.

Heedless of his wishes, they broke free from his lashes and spilled down his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jock. I won’t touch it again, I promise.”

Jock sighed. “Now, don’t you be promising something you can’t deliver. Everyone knows a munchkin in a laboratory is a mistake.” He waddled back to the bench and placed the apparatus on the wooden surface, carefully inspecting the two halves with a critical eye. “Now, what am I going to do?” He fumbled about on his bench for the correct tool, while holding the apparatus steady.

“I could…” Tim began, but Jock stopped him with a glare.

“You. There. Sit. Stay. Touch nothing!” Tim trudged dejectedly to the corner where a small wooden chair rested, its surface smooth and shining, well polished by the seat of his pants.

“Right, let’s see what can be fixed…” Jock bent his head over the workbench, adjusting the mechanism on his eye-glasses to increase the magnification.

The daylight dwindled into evening shadows. Tim sat as still as he could on the wooden chair, his britches further polishing it with each barely contained fidget and wiggle.

“Where is the light?” Jock grumbled from the worktable, his nose pressed deeply into the apparatus as he attempted to realign the mechanisms inside.

Tim, freed from the constraints of sitting still, bounded into action. With youthful energy and zeal, he flitted about with flint and lantern, lighting each lamp in the laboratory. Cautiously, he set the last lamp carefully on the workbench, ensuring that he placed it a suitable distance from Jock’s elbow, and angled in just the right way, so as to shine its light upon his work.

Jock barely grunted an acknowledgment as the light fell on the mechanics, glinting off cogs and wheels, springs and coils. With his probe in one hand and long-necked pliers in the other, he was totally transfixed by his work. His wrinkled brow was furrowed with lines of concentration, and he tutted and hummed to himself as he worked.

Tim shifted his weight from foot to foot, barely even able to see over the table, but he devoured each movement with wide-eyed fascination. Each gentle twist and tweak made by the master was one twist closer to seeing the apparatus restored. And it was such an apparatus. Tim had no idea what it did, or why it existed, only that it moved with meticulous precision, each gear and lever fitting into the next like magic. It was that movement that had caught his eye, ignited his fascination and tempted him beyond his capacity for self control. Mind you, even for a Munchkin, his capacity for self control was notoriously limited.

From behind the curtain in the corner of the room, a snuffling sound broke the silence. Tim jumped. His focus had been so intent upon the workbench and the intricacies of the master craftsman at work on the apparatus that he’d forgotten about their other big discovery. A giant.

It had landed in the small courtyard behind their shop this morning with an earthshaking thud and a smoking crackle of energy that scorched all the cobblestone pavement black. Miraculously, although it was covered in a fine layer of soot, the giant appeared unharmed. It swayed alarmingly on its two tree trunk legs, then collapsed in a crumpled heap. Tim had witnessed the entire spectacle as he was returning from the outhouse on the other side of the courtyard. He had run into the laboratory, screaming and babbling incoherent sentences, and forcefully dragged Jock outside.

Jock was pragmatic. He studied the prone form, its enormous limbs akimbo, and declared they had better drag it inside the laboratory for further study and to prevent mass hysteria when the rest of the village awoke.

So, with much effort (and a pinch of the very expensive and powerful levitation powder that Jock had constructed for the prince and his men) they heaved and huffed and manhandled the giant into the laboratory, where it lay the length of the entire rear wall, head against one side, feet touching the other. Jock had the foresight to enclose this space with a hastily erected curtain made from a bedsheet thrown over a rope that he nailed to each wall. No need to frighten any visitors today with the unexpected and unexplainable presence of an enormous giant in their midst.

The giant didn’t stir at all, and Tim continued to take fascinated peeks behind the curtain to study the creature with morbid curiosity. It was on one of these furtive, self appointed missions that he noticed the apparatus. It had been loosely clasped about the giant’s wrist, and it took very little of his munchkin skill to liberate the item. The whirling cogs and gears produced a soft, mesmerising ticking that enchanted him. His little fingers probed and poked and prodded in an attempt to understand the purpose of the apparatus. A munchkin’s sense of curiosity is a bottomless well, never ending, never satisfied, and potentially dangerous.

“Here, leave that be! Ya don’t know what yer messin’ with!” Jock had growled furiously as he swiped the apparatus from the munchkin’s hand and placed it high above the workstation, well out of temptation’s reach.

But the faint ticking could still be heard, each tick a question. What am I? Why am I? How do I? Tim couldn’t leave it alone and without conscious thought, plan or consideration, he scampered up a stool when Jock had left to use the outhouse and the apparatus was once again in his hands. His nimble, yet clumsy hands. That was how Jock had found him when he returned, the apparatus in two parts and a guilty, contrite expression on his little munchkin face.

After being motionless all day, the giant groaned and sat up, pulling the hastily erected curtain down in a tangle of fabric, long limbs thrashing alarmingly. Tim and Jock scampered out of harm’s way, eyes fixed upon the raging creature. It occurred to Tim that bringing the giant indoors may have been a mistake. It was very large and appeared as if it could destroy the laboratory and all the delicate implements with one mistimed sweep of its arm. When it sat up, it stilled, the stillness almost as terrifying as the previous moments of uncontrolled pandemonium. Seated, the giant’s eyes were on a level with Tim’s own and the two stared in horrified fascination at each other for long, still moments, each barely breathing or blinking.

Jock, braver than he appeared, stepped between the giant and the munchkin, drawing both of their attention to him.

“Good evening, giant. We do not mean to harm you,” Jock began, his hands outstretched in a calming manner. “You mysteriously appeared here, and we was wondering what you want?”

The giant spoke, a rumble of sound that had no intelligible meaning. Even Tim couldn’t understand. The ability to converse with all creatures and convey their wishes and desires to Jock, the inventor, was an invaluable munchkin skill, that offset the damages caused by his curiosity and clumsiness. Jock turned to him for the translation. It was the reason his name was on the door, after all, but this time his second sense for strange languages didn’t help.

The giant rumbled again, a louder rumble with a upwards inflection. A question? A plea? Tim wasn’t sure, and it was unusual for him to feel so at a loss.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, giant,” he cried, panic making his usual treble voice an even higher squeak of sound.

Rumble, rumble… the giant waved its arms about alarmingly, and both Jock and Tim ducked beneath the flailing limbs. The distress was written loud on the giant’s face and it finally buried its head in its hands, as if the weight of its thoughts and emotions was just too heavy. It took several long slow breaths, muttering up under its breath some kind of incantation. The repeated sounds convinced Tim that the creature was casting a spell, so he braced himself for some kind of calamitous catastrophe.

Nothing happened. Quite anti-climatic, really.

The giant peered through its fingers in cautious glances, as if it too expected something to have happened. For the space of seven breaths, no one in the room dared to move. They barely breathed. The only sound was the soft, barely perceptible tick of the newly repaired apparatus laying on the workbench.

Suddenly, the giant grasped its forearm, eyes wide with horrified panic, searching for the item missing from its wrist.

Rumble, rumble?

Tim interpreted that sound, and the urgency with which it was enunciated, as ‘Where is my apparatus?’ or even, ‘Who the devil has stolen my apparatus?’ or perhaps, ‘Oh god where is it?’ He exploded into action, reacting before Jock could stop him, and swept the apparatus from the workbench to offer it to the giant, hoping to appease it. The giant reached out one hand and took the apparatus with careful fingers. The look on its face spoke of despair as it examined the damage and the unfinished repair.

Rumble, rumble.

It looked up hopefully at Tim, then at Jock. When they shook their heads in mute incomprehension, the giant mimed poking the apparatus with tools. Tim understood this to be a request for the appropriate tools for repair, and he bounced back to the table. The giant stood slowly, careful not to hit its head on the ceiling and with bowed back made its way to the table to study the tools.

“Now just you wait here a minute…” Jock grumbled as the giant pawed through the implements on the table. “Them’s expensive delicate tools and I don’t appreciate you just rummaging through them like as they were spoons in a drawer.”

As expected, the giant ignored him as it picked up the probe and pliers. In the huge hand, the tools looked like toys, but the giant wielded them with dexterity and precision. Tim was entranced by the delicate motions and he clambered up a stool to watch as the giant worked.

“Tim, get down from there before you break something!” Jock growled, but for the first time in his life, Tim ignored him. The giant was fascinating, its movements precise and controlled as it manipulated the apparatus and its moving parts with confident ease and skill.

Rumble, rumble.

The giant paused and looked at Tim, who stared back blankly. He still couldn’t understand a single word, but from the tone, the giant was requesting he do something. Carefully, the giant took Tim’s hand and guided it into position to hold one of the tools while he manipulated the other. With a final deft twist and click, the mechanism locked into place and the giant smiled.

Rumble, rumble.

Perhaps that was an expression of praise, or maybe gratitude, Tim wasn’t sure, but he liked the sound of it. As it spoke, the giant clapped the apparatus about his wrist and twisted the dials and manipulated all the interesting mechanics with swift, sure movements.

“Thank you for letting me help,” Tim said as he reached out his hand to clasp the giant’s arm with a friendly, grateful clasp.

In a flash of ash and dust, the giant vanished as suddenly as it had arrived.

***

Amid an earthshaking cacophony of sound, Brenton emerged into the lab with a shudder and his head spun alarmingly. He knew he was about to pass out once again and groped unsteadily for help. It was forthcoming and urgent hands pressed an oxygen mask to his face. He breathed deeply as his legs gave way beneath him. More hands guided him down to sit with his head between his knees until the world stopped spinning. He could hear the urgency in their voices, but with the ringing in his ears, he was unable to make out words.

“Brent…Brent… you ok?” Finally the words coalesced into some kind of sense in his brain and he shook off the concerned hands.

“I’m fine, a bit lightheaded, but fine.” He opened his eyes, relieved to see the interior of the laboratory, its sterile stainless steel surfaces, with orderly storage for equipment, familiar and comforting.

“It seems as if your mission was successful. You brought back a souvenir.” James, a fellow scientist and good friend, spoke in a tone that was not necessarily approving.

Brenton frowned in confusion. He’d not brought anything with him. He knew the rules, looking only: leave nothing, take nothing. Until they had more data, the balance must remain neutral. He turned to see what had caused James’s disapproval. There, pale and limp, was the little creature who had helped him repair the convergence capacitor. The little elf-like creature must have hung on to him as he activated the jump link. Shit.

“Yeah, the mission was successful. You can tell Elon Musk that inter-dimensional travel is possible.”

Brenton studied the little creature, its pointed ears and fancy, bright clothing, and wondered just what kind of can of worms he and his colleagues had opened.

THIS CRASH WILL BE WORSE THAN 1929 – RAY DALIO ON THE END OF FIAT MONEY AND WHAT COMES NEXT

Is Tesla really a low-quality car?

I’m writing this in 2025, having purchased a model Y (Juniper).

I’ve had a couple of BMWs. They were pretty cars and the driving experience was great for the time. The interior was luxurious, at least on the five series, and the ride was great. Was this a high-quality car?

I ask, because literally as soon as the warranty ended, I was paying a grand each time I came in for service, which was a lot. Ironically, I was reliving my father’s experience some twenty years earlier when he had a 733.

In another answer I wrote years ago, I explain the technical definition of quality, which is suitability for intended purpose. I expected fahrvergnuegen from BMW and I got it, so it was in fact a quality car. The extraordinary maintenance frequency and costs were just a byproduct for delivering on the intended purpose.

I redefined intended purpose for subsequent cars as reliability and low maintenance, buying a couple of Hondas and a Ford F-150 (which I still have). The ride was not as good, the noise more prevalent, acceleration disappointing; all byproducts of the intended purpose.

With the Juniper (Model Y 2026), the car defined quality for me. What I knew was that Teslas were EVs, meaning there were greatly reduced emissions over ICE vehicles and that they were well suited for the Wasatch Front, which has a significant pollution problem due to the emissions being trapped in the atmosphere because of the mountains to the east.

Driving the car was a revelation. Way faster than any car I had ever driven, including an M series BMW 5 that I rented in Europe. Just astonishing acceleration and this more than twice as slow as a Plaid version of the car. It’s ride was equivalent to that of a BMW, centered, solid, smooth but still having excellent road feel. The thing turns like it’s on rails.

It’s super comfortable, which I can attest to after two extended road trips. My body creaked badly every time I stopped in my Bimmers, but no issues with the Tesla. I really like the air conditoned seats, which has been an option for some time now among various brands, but I never had a car with it.

I’m not going to go into every detail, but the software is bananas. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced and highly customizable. The EV experience of charging the car rather than filling up is no problem and not really better or worse than getting gas, except that I can charge at home and never visit a supercharger unless I’m road tripping.

The car looks great, at least to my taste. I like the Bauhaus interior, clean lines, uncluttered, functional. Some people may prefer a busier interior. All the materials are high quality.

I’ve heard that the paint isn’t at the same level as that of German cars, but I’ve treated the paint with a titanium oxide binder to harden it up and applied paint protection film to the front parts. I did this with my BMWs as well, so the paint issue isn’t really relevant. I’ve found no flaws in the paint application, so I’m good with it.

The quality, or suitable-for-intended-purpose aspect of the car, is the much reduced maintence, the extremely low cost of running the car (60 bucks to run up to the Canadian border from Utah…), the driving experience and…

…the pièce de résistence, the full self-driving (FSD).

OMG! I rarely drive the car manually anymore. It’s so relaxing, so smooth and comfortable.

Like most people, I was a little tentative at first, but as I’ve consciously allowed the vehicle to do more without my intervention, my trust for it has grown. When the regulatory regime allows for unsupervised FSD, I’ll be perfectly comfortable reading a book while it takes me to my destination.

I can find fault with any car, and there are issues with the user interface that I think need improvement, but I’ve never enjoyed a car this much and truth be told, I’m really not much of a car guy. My wife has one too, and she loves it as much as I do, albeit for different reasons.

Interestingly, I had to drive the truck recently, and wondered what was wrong with it. It seemed to be lagging, but then I realized, the Model Y had spoiled me for ICE cars.

Shorpy

Giant Alien Blob Swallows A Whole Town | The Blob | Free Monster Movie

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A Doorway on Lenox

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

🏆 Contest #317 Winner!

Ovett Chapman

Theo had been staring at the same sentence so long the letters bled together. Lineage in Postmodern Black Poetics. He mouthed the words once more, flat and sour on his tongue. His coffee from the bodega on 121st sat cold beside him, the surface gone slick and oily, but he drank anyway.The radiator groaned in protest, the pipes rattling like brass warming up before a set.Theo pressed a palm against the open book, willing the words to stay still. For a moment they held. Then the page trembled beneath his hand.He told himself it was fatigue.The air sharpened with coal smoke. Somewhere beyond the walls, a horn broke loose in the night.The lights went dark.And when he opened his eyes again, Harlem was different.The words swam, and the sidewalk cracked into cobblestones.Horse hooves clopped. Trumpets rang from a window above. A boy in suspenders sprinted past with a sack of newspapers.Theo looked down. His phone was gone.

He closed his eyes again, slowly, and he was back in Harlem 2025. The coffee had spilled all over his notes.

He told himself it was a stress-induced hallucination.

Two weeks later, when he touched the yellowed cover of Torchlight Verse, it happened again.

This time, the streetlamps and car horns didn’t dissolve into fluorescent light and radiator hiss.

***

Theo Marshall had never planned to write about his great-granduncle. Elias Marshall was barely a footnote in most Harlem Renaissance anthologies. His one slim volume of poems, printed in 1925. Then nothing else. It had taken Theo three semesters and an irritable dissertation advisor to even find the book.

But here he was, dozing over its fragile binding in Columbia’s archive reading room, the heater rattling like a dying trombone, when the world folded neatly into itself.

The cold vanished.

Ink and coal hung heavy in the room, a bitter perfume. From outside drifted Harlem’s chorus: boots striking pavement in syncopation, a horn laughing wild from a tenement window, a dice game punctuated by cheers, and far off, the steel tempo of the train threading it all together.

Theo stood. The desk under him was now a dark walnut, carved with initials.

Outside the tall window, dusk spread over Harlem, streetlamps flickering on as voices rose from the sidewalks.

His hand dug into his sternum, waiting for the sharp bite of something fatal. The pulse was strong, stubbornly alive.

But if he was right, and Theo Marshall put more faith in science than faith, he had time-traveled by accident. Again.

Footsteps pounded the stairs, each one strong enough to rattle the doorframe.

The door flew open hard, slamming against the wall.

In the doorway stood Elias Marshall.

***

Elias’s suit sagged at the shoulders, the fabric gone shiny with wear. Ink clung to the creases of his fingers, and one sock had slouched low inside a scuffed shoe. The socks didn’t match. His steps struck the floor with a restless energy that filled the room.

“Jervis lied,” Elias muttered, slamming a folder onto the desk. “He said he’d get it to Locke. Said he’d help. All they want is another Langston, another Claude. I ain’t the right color for them.”

Theo blinked.

Elias spun on him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, boy. I don’t see no one else here.”

“I… uhm.. friend of Jervis.”

“Make sense. You got that damn Jervis look.” He poured himself a half-glass of amber liquid. “You here to laugh too? Read my poems, say they ain’t finished, ain’t worth a damn?”

“No. I…” Theo stared. “You’re Elias Marshall.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Boy, how do you know my name?”

Theo’s throat tightened. ‘You… wrote Torchlight Verse. Published next year.’”

“Next year?” Elias squinted. “You drunk already?”

Theo let out a single bark of laughter that cracked the silence. “Maybe.”

Elias stared a beat longer, then dropped into a chair. “Well, mystery man, since you’ve materialized into my misery, might as well read them. Maybe you’ll say something new.”

Theo picked up the folder. Inside: ink-scrawled lines, thick with metaphor, grief knotted into cadence. They weren’t finished, but they carried a heat that felt alive.

He cleared his throat. “This one here, Stove Smoke. It’s got the bones of something incredible. But here.” He pointed. “Don’t finish this metaphor. Let it hang. Let it ache.”

Elias frowned. “The line about Mama’s laugh?”

“Yes. Let her live in the smoke. Don’t tie a bow on it.”

Elias leaned forward. “What did you say your name was again, boy?”

Theo paused. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You some kind of spirit or figment of my ‘magination.”

“Maybe.”

They traded short, uneven chuckled bursts, the kind that tested the air, before the sound grew freer, tumbling between them.

Elias poured him a drink. Theo accepted.

***

They worked through the night.

“Your verbs are good,” Theo said. “But you over-explain the emotion.”

Elias bristled. “People don’t read between the lines.”

“They do if the line hits right.”

At one point, Elias demanded, “You sure you’re not Alain Locke in disguise?”

Theo snorted. “Please. Locke doesn’t quote Kendrick.”

Elias blinked. “Who on earth is Kendrick.”

“Never mind.”

Later, as they restructured a poem called Inheritance, Elias leaned back. “When I was eight, I wrote about a dead bird. Mama said, ‘you got heavy hands for a child.’ Been dragging that weight since.”

Theo nodded. “Heavy hands leave marks.”

“You talk like a professor.”

“Guess I do.”

Elias laughed.“ You’ve got the look of a man stuck between places.”

Theo’s eyes dropped to the ink stains on Elias’s hands. His own fingers flat against the desk, unsure what to hold on to. “I… I shouldn’t be here,” he said, then after a breath, “though I’ve never felt more at home.”

He leaned in slightly, his next words quiet, as if asking permission. “Can I give you one line?”

“Only one, huh.”

Theo wrote: You cannot name the stars unless you’ve walked beneath their heat.

His gaze lingered on the words. His lips parted, and released a breath so slow it seemed to carry something out of him.

“Damn. That kind of line could make a man immortal.”

Theo shrugged. “It’s yours.”

“Hell it is,” Elias said. “A line like that don’t belong to one man. But I’ll keep it.”

He turned back to the page.

Theo felt the jolt before it happened.

The room shimmered. Elias’s voice echoed. And the desk beneath his fingers transformed.

***

He woke in the library. A radiator hissed.

The poem lay open on the desk. The final one. The one that had always ended mid-line.

Except now it didn’t.

You cannot name the stars

unless you’ve walked beneath their heat –

so I walk. Still walking.

Theo’s throat caught.

He flipped to the acknowledgements. There, in ink faded by time:

To the man whose name I never caught, who found me in the hour I was ready to quit.

Theo sat back.

He checked the archive database. Elias Marshall: still one book, still no further publications, still nearly forgotten.

But that line, the one about stars, had become part of the canon. Quoted in anthologies. Tattooed on artists. It had survived.

Theo had given it. And history had kept it.

Without him.

***

He didn’t tell anyone.

Not his advisor. Not his friends. Not even his mother.

He redrafted his proposal:

Inherited Voice: Ghosts, Lineage, and the Unwritten Contributors to the Harlem Renaissance.

He quoted Elias liberally.

And when he defended it months later, voice steady, heart full, he wore a pin in his lapel: a star, tiny and unremarkable to anyone else.

***

One rainy afternoon, Theo found himself outside the old brownstone on Lenox, the one he’d first “arrived” in. It was a crumbling walk-up now, paint peeling, windows cracked.

He stood for a moment in the doorway and listened.

He didn’t hear any music, nor keyboard clacking, only the rain working its way through the cracks where sound used to be.

A boy passed on a scooter, blasting trap music.

Theo smiled.

He decided not to go inside.

Instead, he walked down Lenox, coat collar up, heels tapping to the music in his head. He wasn’t chasing after doorways or strange coincidences anymore.

For now, he held on to what he’d found.

He carried a past close enough to touch and a future opening ahead, his shoes striking wet pavement as he walked clear between the two.

Quantum Consciousness and the Origin of Life

Consciousness: it’s a mystery that has confounded philosophers, psychologists, and scientists throughout human history. Where does our first person sense of experience come from? One of the leading theories today comes from Stuart Hameroff, an anesthesiologist at the University of Arizona. Back in the 1990’s, he had a clandestine meeting with Nobel Prize-winning physicist Sir Roger Penrose, and together they came up with a profound – and controversial – new hypothesis that our brains construct conscious experience from quantum mechanical processes laced into the very fabric of the universe. Now 30 years later, evidence in favor of their theory is mounting thanks to incredible new findings by Director of the Arizona Astrobiology Center, Dante Lauretta, who also recently captained NASA’s OSIRIS-REx mission. That mission collected pristine samples from an asteroid that dates to the dawn of the solar system, and inside they’ve found clues that the quantum nature of consciousness might have preceded the formation of life on Earth. Lauretta thinks that further study could solve another great scientific mystery: the origin of life. ‪

Given China’s history of siding with the West against the USSR, is its current anti-Western rhetoric purely opportunistic—only because it is now targeted—rather than principled? Isn’t it just a hypocrite playing victim to mask its imperial ambitions?

China’s current rhetoric is hardly opportunistic, but a response to the continued diplomatic incompetence of particularly the EU. For example, Vice-President of the European Commission Kaja Kallas made the idiotic claim that China’s regular celebration for the end of WW2 was a challenge the rules based world order. By that she meant that Western diplomacy is based on institutions, alliances, transparency, and adherence to international norms.

China’s foreign ministry through spokesperson Guo Jiakun responded to this statement, saying her statement was “full of ideological bias without basic historical common sense… a disrespect to the history of World War II… very wrongful and irresponsible… harming the EU’s own interests.”

Personally, I agree. Kaja and EU officials were blaming China for celebrating history. China had an open invitation to the event, it was attended by many leaders who are adversaries of the EU. However, they could have easily showed up and demonstrated that the EU, does not let current political alliances distort history or impair morals and indeed celebrate the defeat of fascism in WW2 and the sacrifice which so many million people gave to make that happen. They chose instead to do the opposite, and insult people with whom the EU does not have bad relations with on top of it, merely for not doing everything the EU says. In this way China came off as representing reason and consistency, while the EU came off as petty, moralizing and imperialist mentality refusing to let people follow a different way than the western way.

That’s a win for China, and a loss for the EU. While many in the EU may agree with Kaja, it is not the job of the EU foreign affairs representatives or vice president, to make EU people feel good about their own superiority, but to build relationships with our global strategic partners.

China excels at this, and the EU frankly sucks at it presently. Unelected EU officials are not chosen for their diplomatic skill any longer, but for their willingness to follow a doctrine. Probably why the EU chose a lawyer for this position, rather than a diplomat. Kaja herself got out of Estonian politics when it turned out her husband had invested in companies in operating in Russia, with Kaja’s own personal money, in 2020, something she kept secret until it was revealed in 2023, after she for years had condemned any business still operating in Russia, while secretly her own husband profited.

China did not choose Kaja, the EU line or the self destructive rhetoric of the west. I am sometimes convinced that the meme about China winning by sitting back and doing nothing, as they watch western institutions lose all credibility and influence in the global south, due to sheer incompetence and corruption is very accurate.

On a historical note during the cold war, experience showed that China’s domestic and industrial issues were far more complicated and large than Mao was truly able to acknowledge. China was not a state remotely ready for the world revolution Mao wanted, and eventually the USSR and China rebuild their relationship. China did not “side with the west against the USSR”, indeed China blamed the USSR for trying to negotiate with the west, and refused to join several of the armament control schemes invented by the USA and USSR.

On a final note, Modi prime minister of India, was in a brief war with a country funded by China, has long term territory and other disputes with China, a population which 60–70% feels very negatively about China, and attended the SCO in China personally, said nothing stupid, and is not just maintaining, but improving relations with China. All because of western policy decisions. China is not opportunistic, but the west is throwing the easiest simple opportunities at China, bringing China closer to even their long term rivals without China doing a damn thing. It’s honestly mind blowing.

Sir Whiskerton and The Llama’s Love Song; A Tale of Terrible Poetry, Yodeling Sabotage, and One Bear’s Questionable Taste in Music

Act I: The Haiku Heard ‘Round the Barn

Divine Llama (仙踪驼 Xiān Zōng Tuó), the farm’s resident romantic, penned a haiku for Tony the Bear (猫熊托尼 Māoxióng Tuōní):

“Mud / Your fur is like mud / Beautiful mud.”

Sir Whiskerton (reading it): “This is either profound… or proof poetry should require a license.”

Just as Divine Llama prepared to recite it, The Yodeling Fish (who lives in the pond and really loves attention) began its daily concert:

“YODEL-AY-HEE-HOOO—wait, was that a B-flat? YODEL-AY—”

Act II: The Case of Mistaken Melody

Tony, waking from hibernation, heard the yodeling and sighed dreamily:

“Who is this angel? This siren of the mountains?”

Meanwhile:

Divine Llama mouthed the haiku silently, looking heartbroken.
The Fish yodeled louder, now with improvised backup dancers (three confused tadpoles).
Porkchop tried to help by beatboxing (it sounded like a dying tractor).

Tony, tears in his eyes: “I must meet this musical genius!”

Act III: The Great Serenade Debacle

Tony serenaded the pond with a honey-coated roar:

“Your voice is like… uh… slightly melted snow?”

The Yodeling Fish, flattered, responded:

“YODEL-AY—[gulp]—HEE-HOO—[bubble]“*

Divine Llama, watching from afar: “This is the worst love story ever.”

Then—DISASTER STRUCK. The Fish’s high note summoned a lost alpaca (who just wanted directions to the hay bale).

Alpaca: “…Is this a cult?”

Act IV: Silence is Golden

Finally, Sir Whiskerton intervened:

“Tony. The ‘singer’ is a fish. The real poet is Divine Llama.”

Tony, squinting at the silent, haiku-holding llama: “But… where’s the passion? The fire?”

Divine Llama (writing in the dirt): “I express love through not yodeling.”

Tony, after a long pause: “…That’s deep, man.”

They slow-danced under the moon—while Tony’s original tree partner swayed sadly in the breeze.

The Moral of the Story

Silence speaks louder than words… especially when the alternative is a yodeling fish.

Post-Credit Scene

The Fish gets a record deal with Tadpole Records. First single: “Yodel Me Maybe.”
Doris the Hen writes a tell-all expose: “Love, Lies, and Llama Spit.”

Best Lines

Divine Llama: “My heart is a haiku… and also full of grass.”
Tony: “I thought love was loud! But turns out, it’s… chewing sounds?”
The Fish: “YODEL—[coughs up a fly]—AYE, THAT’S SHOWBIZ!”*

Starring

Divine Llama (仙踪驼 Xiān Zōng Tuó) – Muted romantic
Tony the Bear (猫熊托尼 Māoxióng Tuōní) – Tone-deaf sweetheart
The Yodeling Fish – Unwitting homewrecker

Key Jokes

Tony slow-dancing with a tree (it’s very committed).
Porkchop’s beatboxing being mistaken for a choking noise.
The Alpaca’s resume: “Skills: Standing. Interests: Leaves. Weaknesses: This situation.”

The End (until the Fish’s world tour…)

Have you ever had a pet that was almost unnaturally intelligent?

I had a dog when I was a kid that was scary smart. His name was Jason when we got him, but I preferred to call him Bob. Bob Dog to be exact.

I refer to him as scary smart because we quickly learned we couldn’t say certain words around him. A LOT of words—likely 1,000+.

We got him when I was in the 7th grade and right away he seemed more like a brother than a dog. Within a day or two, he picked up on the standard words/phrases like “Walk”, “No”, and “Come here, Boy!”

We then noticed that he started picking up on when we would discuss leaving the house (which cued his sulking) and when he was going to the vet. We started spelling some of the basic things like “Go for a walk,” that would set him off.

This is when scary smart started.

He continued to understand more things we were saying. He would react sadly when we talked about me going off to college. He would react happily when I would tell mom I was going to the store, as that meant dog treats and a possible ride in the car if it wasn’t too hot.

In short, he started reacting accordingly to our conversations. If we discussed going on vacation, he became sad. If we disagreed about something (even in normal, calm tones) he would seek to intervene between us by wagging at each of us and trying to ensure all was well.

Once we realized he could understand what we were saying, we started spelling out more words we didn’t want him to hear, like “V-E-T V-I-S-I-T. But being the super-smart guy that he was, he quickly learned what we were spelling. If we spelled out B-A-T-H he would run and hide under the bed.

It came to the point that if he’d done something wrong or you needed him to do something, you could calmly (with no voice-inflection of any kind) tell him and he would respond appropriately. It was like talking to a human; you knew he understood what you were saying.

Friends were always blown away because he’d growl at strangers if he didn’t like what they were saying. “How does he know what I’m saying?” most would ask. “Trust me, he does,” we’d respond. It got the point that mom would get mad at me if I said something in front of him that she didn’t think he would like.

And it wasn’t based on intonation; if someone got animated or sounded angry in telling a story, he wouldn’t react as long as he knew it wasn’t aimed at us.

We began to think of him as not our dog, but another member of our family, and a highly beloved one at that. I found myself talking to him about my day.

He lived to be 16. This was him at about 13 after his body had started to age quite a bit. He eventually died of cancer of the nasal passages after mom moved to Florida.

We loved each other like brothers. He passed in 1989, and I miss him every day.

I think he knows this.

Chicken Tenderloins with Cranberry Mustard Sauce

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 pound chicken tenderloins
All-purpose flour
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons oil
2/3 cup dry white wine
2/3 cup chicken broth
3 tablespoons country-style Dijon mustard
1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 1/2 tablespoons water
1/2 cup Ocean Spray® Craisins® Original Dried Cranberries
1/4 cup sliced green onions, green part only

Instructions

Lightly toss chicken pieces with flour; shake off excess.
Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper.
Heat 1 tablespoon of butter and oil in a large skillet. Add half of the chicken; cook for about 2 minutes, turning once until chicken is golden brown on each side and cooked through. Add more butter and oil if needed.
Remove to a platter; keep warm.
Repeat with remaining chicken.
Add wine, chicken broth and mustard to skillet, scraping up browned bits.
Combine cornstarch and water in a small bowl.
Stir into skillet.
Add dried cranberries. Boil for 1 to 2 minutes or until sauce thickens.
Stir in green onions; cook 1 more minute.
Pour sauce over chicken.

Nutrition

Per serving: Cal. 307 (15% DV), Fat Cal. 135, Pro. 23g (46% DV), Carb. 15g (5% DV), Fat 15g (22% DV), Chol. 48mg (16% DV), Sod. 588mg (24%DV), Vit. A 58RE (5% DV), Vit. C 1mg (1% DV), Vit. E 2mg (7% DV), Calcium 23mg (2% DV), Iron <1mg (2% DV), Folate 2Ug (0% DV), Zinc <1mg (1% DV), Pot. 63mg (1% DV)

Exchange: Fruit 1, Meat 3, Fat 1.5

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Ocean Spray

Iran Sinks USS Gerald Ford — America’s $13 Billion Carrier Is Gone

According to Iran.

American statement is that this claim is false.

How common/important are hand grenades actually in regular combat?

Grenades are offensive weapons for close combat situations. They require a certain mindset and also some courage from their users.

The more intense the fighting and the more experienced the unit, the more you’ll see them throwing grenades. It takes some time to appreciate the efficiency and versatility of this weapon.

Experienced soldiers love grenades: John Stryker “Tilt” Meyer was a Special Forces operator assigned to MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam – Studies and Observations Group) during the war in Vietnam. (Photo: MACV-SOG)

However, grenades aren’t the best weapons when you’re trying to minimize casualties or if you have to avoid collateral damage (dead civilians).

In today’s conflicts, for example in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Mali, Western military forces aren’t engaged in a full-blown war, but their main mission is to help stabilize the country and support local forces.

Their rules of engagement won’t permit the excessive use of grenades. Additionally, these forces are extremely risk-averse: instead of fighting it out, most Western armies prefer to take cover and call in an airstrike or their artillery. Therefore, besides a few Special Operations Forces and elite fighting units, most soldiers will probably never have used their grenades.

This doesn’t mean that grenades have become obsolete. Should there be a new “hot” conflict with intense infantry versus infantry engagements, once again, the hand grenade will play an important role.

Giant Claw 1957 Full Movie

(Repost) Law 3 of the 48 laws of power by Robert Greene; Conceal your Intentions (duplicate)

Here we are going to look at Law #3 from the Robert Green book “The 48 Laws of Power”. This law discusses the principle of concealing your intentions from others.

LAW 3

CONCEAL YOUR INTENTIONS

JUDGMENT

Keep people off-balance and in the dark by never revealing the purpose behind your actions. If they have no clue what you are up to, they cannot prepare a defense. Guide them far enough down the wrong path, envelop them in enough smoke, and by the time they realize your intentions, it will be too late.

PART I: USE DECOYED OBJECTS OF DESIRE AND RED HERRINGS TO THROW PEOPLE OFF THE SCENT

If at any point in the deception you practice people have the slightest suspicion as to your intentions, all is lost. Do not give them the chance to sense what you are up to: Throw them off the scent by dragging red herrings across the path. Use false sincerity, send ambiguous signals, set up misleading objects of desire. Unable to distinguish the genuine from the false, they cannot pick out your real goal.

TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW

Over several weeks, Ninon de Lenclos, the most infamous courtesan of seventeenth-century France, listened patiently as the Marquis de Sevigné explained his struggles in pursuing a beautiful but difficult young countess. Ninon was sixty-two at the time, and more than experienced in matters of love; the marquis was a lad of twenty-two, handsome, dashing, but hopelessly inexperienced in romance. At first Ninon was amused to hear the marquis talk about his mistakes, but finally she had had enough. Unable to bear ineptitude in any realm, least of all in seducing a woman, she decided to take the young man under her wing. First, he had to understand that this was war, and that the beautiful countess was a citadel to which he had to lay siege as carefully as any general. Every step had to be planned and executed with the utmost attention to detail and nuance.

Instructing the marquis to start over, Ninon told him to approach the countess with a bit of distance, an air of nonchalance. The next time the two were alone together, she said, he would confide in the countess as would a friend but not a potential lover. This was to throw her off the scent. The countess was no longer to take his interest in her for granted—perhaps he was only interested in friendship.

Ninon planned ahead. Once the countess was confused, it would be time to make her jealous. At the next encounter, at a major fête in Paris, the marquis would show up with a beautiful young woman at his side. This beautiful young woman had equally beautiful friends, so that wherever the countess would now see the marquis, he would be surrounded by the most stunning young women in Paris. Not only would the countess be seething with jealousy, she would come to see the marquis as someone who was desired by others. It was hard for Ninon to make the marquis understand, but she patiently explained that a woman who is interested in a man wants to see that other women are interested in him, too. Not only does that give him instant value, it makes it all the more satisfying to snatch him from their clutches.

Once the countess was jealous but intrigued, it would be time to beguile her. On Ninon’s instructions, the marquis would fail to show up at affairs where the countess expected to see him. Then, suddenly, he would appear at salons he had never frequented before, but that the countess attended often. She would be unable to predict his moves. All of this would push her into the state of emotional confusion that is a prerequisite for successful seduction.

These moves were executed, and took several weeks. Ninon monitored the marquis’s progress: Through her network of spies, she heard how the countess would laugh a little harder at his witticisms, listen more closely to his stories. She heard that the countess was suddenly asking questions about him. Her friends told her that at social affairs the countess would often look up at the marquis, following his steps. Ninon felt certain that the young woman was falling under his spell. It was a matter of weeks now, maybe a month or two, but if all went smoothly, the citadel would fall.

A few days later the marquis was at the countess’s home. They were alone. Suddenly he was a different man: This time acting on his own impulse, rather than following Ninon’s instructions, he took the countess’s hands and told her he was in love with her. The young woman seemed confused, a reaction he did not expect. She became polite, then excused herself. For the rest of the evening she avoided his eyes, was not there to say good-night to him. The next few times he visited he was told she was not at home. When she finally admitted him again, the two felt awkward and uncomfortable with each other. The spell was broken.

Interpretation

Ninon de Lenclos knew everything about the art of love. The greatest writ ers, thinkers, and politicians of the time had been her lovers—men like La Rochefoucauld, Molière, and Richelieu. Seduction was a game to her, to be practiced with skill. As she got older, and her reputation grew, the most important families in France would send their sons to her to be instructed in matters of love.

Ninon knew that men and women are very different, but when it comes to seduction they feel the same: Deep down inside, they often sense when they are being seduced, but they give in because they enjoy the feeling of being led along. It is a pleasure to let go, and to allow the other person to detour you into a strange country. Everything in seduction, however, depends on suggestion. You cannot announce your intentions or reveal them directly in words. Instead you must throw your targets off the scent. To surrender to your guidance they must be appropriately confused. You have to scramble your signals—appear interested in another man or woman (the decoy), then hint at being interested in the target, then feign indifference, on and on.

Such patterns not only confuse, they excite.

Imagine this story from the countess’s perspective: After a few of the marquis’s moves, she sensed the marquis was playing some sort of game, but the game delighted her. She did not know where he was leading her, but so much the better. His moves intrigued her, each of them keeping her waiting for the next one—she even enjoyed her jealousy and confusion, for sometimes any emotion is better than the boredom of security. Perhaps the marquis had ulterior motives; most men do. But she was willing to wait and see, and probably if she had been made to wait long enough, what he was up to would not have mattered.

The moment the marquis uttered that fatal word “love,” however, all was changed. This was no longer a game with moves, it was an artless show of passion. His intention was revealed: He was seducing her. This put everything he had done in a new light. All that before had been charming now seemed ugly and conniving; the countess felt embarrassed and used. A door closed that would never open again.

Do not be held a cheat, even though it is impossible to live today without being one.

Let your greatest cunning lie in covering up what looks like cunning.

-Ballasar Gracián, 1601-1658

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

In 1850 the young Otto von Bismarck, then a thirty-five-year-old deputy in the Prussian parliament, was at a turning point in his career. The issues of the day were the unification of the many states (including Prussia) into which Germany was then divided, and a war against Austria, the powerful neighbor to the south that hoped to keep the Germans weak and at odds, even threatening to intervene if they tried to unite. Prince William, next in line to be Prussia’s king, was in favor of going to war, and the parliament rallied to the cause, prepared to back any mobilization of troops. The only ones to oppose war were the present king, Frederick William IV, and his ministers, who preferred to appease the powerful Austrians.

Throughout his career, Bismarck had been a loyal, even passionate supporter of Prussian might and power. He dreamed of German unification, of going to war against Austria and humiliating the country that for so long had kept Germany divided. A former soldier, he saw warfare as a glorious business.

This, after all, was the man who years later would say, “The great questions of the time will be decided, not by speeches and resolutions, but by iron and blood.”

Passionate patriot and lover of military glory, Bismarck nevertheless

gave a speech in parliament at the height of the war fever that astonished all who heard it. “Woe unto the statesman,” he said, “who makes war without a reason that will still be valid when the war is over! After the war, you will all look differently at these questions. Will you then have the courage to

turn to the peasant contemplating the ashes of his farm, to the man who has been crippled, to the father who has lost his children?” Not only did Bismarck go on to talk of the madness of this war, but, strangest of all, he praised Austria and defended her actions. This went against everything he had stood for. The consequences were immediate. Bismarck was against the war—what could this possibly mean? Other deputies were confused, and several of them changed their votes. Eventually the king and his ministers won out, and war was averted.

A few weeks after Bismarck’s infamous speech, the king, grateful that he had spoken for peace, made him a cabinet minister. A few years later he became the Prussian premier. In this role he eventually led his country and a peace-loving king into a war against Austria, crushing the former empire and establishing a mighty German state, with Prussia at its head.

Interpretation

At the time of his speech in 1850, Bismarck made several calculations. First, he sensed that the Prussian military, which had not kept pace with other European armies, was unready for war—that Austria, in fact, might very well win, a disastrous result for the future. Second, if the war were lost and Bismarck had supported it, his career would be gravely jeopardized. The king and his conservative ministers wanted peace; Bismarck wanted power. The answer was to throw people off the scent by supporting a cause he detested, saying things he would laugh at if said by another. A whole country was fooled. It was because of Bismarck’s speech that the king made him a minister, a position from which he quickly rose to be prime minister, attaining the power to strengthen the Prussian military and accomplish what he had wanted all along: the humiliation of Austria and the unification of Germany under Prussia’s leadership.

Bismarck was certainly one of the cleverest statesman who ever lived, a master of strategy and deception. No one suspected what he was up to in this case. Had he announced his real intentions, arguing that it was better to wait now and fight later, he would not have won the argument, since most Prussians wanted war at that moment and mistakenly believed that their army was superior to the Austrians. Had he played up to the king, asking to be made a minister in exchange for supporting peace, he would not have succeeded either: The king would have distrusted his ambition and doubted his sincerity.

By being completely insincere and sending misleading signals, however, he deceived everyone, concealed his purpose, and attained everything he wanted. Such is the power of hiding your intentions.

KEYS TO POWER

Most people are open books. They say what they feel, blurt out their opinions at every opportunity, and constantly reveal their plans and intentions. They do this for several reasons. First, it is easy and natural to always want to talk about one’s feelings and plans for the future. It takes effort to control your tongue and monitor what you reveal. Second, many believe that by being honest and open they are winning people’s hearts and showing their good nature.They are greatly deluded. Honesty is actually a blunt instrument, which bloodies more than it cuts. Your honesty is likely to offend people; it is much more prudent to tailor your words, telling people what they want to hear rather than the coarse and ugly truth of what you feel or think. More important, by being unabashedly open you make yourself so predictable and familiar that it is almost impossible to respect or fear you, and power will not accrue to a person who cannot inspire such emotions.

If you yearn for power, quickly lay honesty aside, and train yourself in the art of concealing your intentions. Master the art and you will always have the upper hand. Basic to an ability to conceal one’s intentions is a simple truth about human nature: Our first instinct is to always trust appearances. We cannot go around doubting the reality of what we see and hear—constantly imagining that appearances concealed something else would exhaust and terrify us. This fact makes it relatively easy to conceal one’s intentions. Simply dangle an object you seem to desire, a goal you seem to aim for, in front of people’s eyes and they will take the appearance for reality. Once their eyes focus on the decoy, they will fail to notice what you are really up to. In seduction, set up conflicting signals, such as desire and indifference, and you not only throw them off the scent, you inflame their desire to possess you.

A tactic that is often effective in setting up a red herring is to appear to support an idea or cause that is actually contrary to your own sentiments. (Bismarck used this to great effect in his speech in 1850.) Most people will believe you have experienced a change of heart, since it is so unusual to play so lightly with something as emotional as one’s opinions and values. The same applies for any decoyed object of desire: Seem to want something in which you are actually not at all interested and your enemies will be thrown off the scent, making all kinds of errors in their calculations.

During the War of the Spanish Succession in 1711, the Duke of Marlborough, head of the English army, wanted to destroy a key French fort, because it protected a vital thoroughfare into France. Yet he knew that if he destroyed it, the French would realize what he wanted—to advance down that road. Instead, then, he merely captured the fort, and garrisoned it with some of his troops, making it appear as if he wanted it for some purpose of his own. The French attacked the fort and the duke let them recapture it. Once they had it back, though, they destroyed it, figuring that the duke had wanted it for some important reason. Now that the fort was gone, the road was unprotected, and Marlborough could easily march into France.

Use this tactic in the following manner: Hide your intentions not by closing up (with the risk of appearing secretive, and making people suspicious) but by talking endlessly about your desires and goals—just not your real ones. You will kill three birds with one stone: You appear friendly, open, and trusting; you conceal your intentions; and you send your rivals on time-consuming wild-goose chases.

Another powerful tool in throwing people off the scent is false sincerity. People easily mistake sincerity for honesty. Remember—their first instinct is to trust appearances, and since they value honesty and want to believe in the honesty of those around them, they will rarely doubt you or see through your act. Seeming to believe what you say gives your words great weight. This is how Iago deceived and destroyed Othello: Given the depth of his emotions, the apparent sincerity of his concerns about Desde mona’s supposed infidelity, how could Othello distrust him? This is also how the great con artist Yellow Kid Weil pulled the wool over suckers’ eyes: Seeming to believe so deeply in the decoyed object he was dangling in front of them (a phony stock, a touted racehorse), he made its reality hard to doubt. It is important, of course, not to go too far in this area. Sincerity is a tricky tool: Appear over passionate and you raise suspicions. Be measured and believable or your ruse will seem the put-on that it is.

To make your false sincerity an effective weapon in concealing your intentions, espouse a belief in honesty and forthrightness as important social values. Do this as publicly as possible. Emphasize your position on this subject by occasionally divulging some heartfelt thought—though only one that is actually meaningless or irrelevant, of course. Napoleon’s minister Talleyrand was a master at taking people into his confidence by revealing some apparent secret. This feigned confidence—a decoy—would then elicit a real confidence on the other person’s part.

Remember: The best deceivers do everything they can to cloak their roguish qualities. They cultivate an air of honesty in one area to disguise their dishonesty in others. Honesty is merely another decoy in their arsenal of weapons.

PART II: USE SMOKE SCREENS TO DISGUISE YOUR ACTIONS

Deception is always the best strategy, but the best deceptions require a screen of smoke to distract people attention from your real purpose. The bland exterior—like the unreadable poker face—is often the perfect smoke screen, hiding your intentions behind the comfortable and familiar. If you lead the sucker down a familiar path, he won’t catch on when you lead him into a trap.

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW I

In 1910, a Mr. Sam Geezil of Chicago sold his warehouse business for close to $1 million. He settled down to semi-retirement and the managing of his many properties, but deep inside he itched for the old days of deal-making. One day a young man named Joseph Weil visited his office, wanting to buy an apartment he had up for sale. Geezil explained the terms: The price was $8,000, but he only required a down payment of $2,000. Weil said he would sleep on it, but he came back the following day and offered to pay the full $8,000 in cash, if Geezil could wait a couple of days, until a deal Weil was working on came through. Even in semi-retirement, a clever businessman like Geezil was curious as to how Weil would be able to come up with so much cash (roughly $150,000 today) so quickly. Weil seemed reluctant to say, and quickly changed the subject, but Geezil was persistent. Finally, after assurances of confidentiality, Weil told Geezil the following story.

THE KING OF ISRAEL IGNS WORSHIP OF THE

Then Jehu assembled all the people, and said to them, “Ahab served Ba‘al a little; but Jehu will serve him much more. Now therefore call to me all the prophets of Ba’al, all his worshippers and all his priests; let none be missing, for I have a great sacrifice to offer to Ba‘al; whoever is missing shall not live.” But Jehu did it with cunning in order to destroy the worshippers of Ba’al. And Jehu ordered, “Sanctify a solemn assembly for Ba‘al. ”So they proclaimed it. And Jehu sent throughout all Israel; and all the worshippers of Ba’al came, so that there was not a man left who did not come. And they entered the house of Ba‘al, and the house of Ba’al was filled from one end to the other.... Then Jehu went into the house of Ba‘al ... and he said to the worshippers of Ba’al, “Search, and see that there is no servant of the LORD here among you, but only the worshippers of Ba‘al.“Then he went in to offer sacrifices and burnt offerings. Now Jehu had stationed eighty men outside, and said, ”The man who allows any of those whom I give into your hands to escape shall forfeit his life.“ So as soon as he had made an end of offering the burnt offering, Jehu said to the guard and to the officers, ”Go in and slay them; let not a man escape. ” So when they put them to the sword, the guard and the officers cast them out and went into the inner room of the house of Ba’al and they brought out the pillar that was in the house of Ba‘al and burned it. And they demolished the pillar of Ba’al and demolished the house of Ba‘al, and made it a latrine to this day. Thus Jehu wiped out Ba’al from Israel.

-OLD TESTAMENT, 2 KINGS 10:18-28

Weil’s uncle was the secretary to a coterie of multimillionaire financiers. These wealthy gentlemen had purchased a hunting lodge in Michigan ten years ago, at a cheap price. They had not used the lodge for a few years, so they had decided to sell it and had asked Weil’s uncle to get whatever he could for it. For reasons—good reasons—of his own, the uncle had been nursing a grudge against the millionaires for years; this was his chance to get back at them. He would sell the property for $35,000 to a set up man (whom it was Weil’s job to find). The financiers were too wealthy to worry about this low price. The set-up man would then turn around and sell the property again for its real price, around $155,000. The uncle, Weil, and the third man would split the profits from this second sale. It was all legal and for a good cause—the uncle’s just retribution.

Geezil had heard enough: He wanted to be the set-up buyer. Weil was reluctant to involve him, but Geezil would not back down: The idea of a large profit, plus a little adventure, had him champing at the bit. Weil explained that Geezil would have to put up the $35,000 in cash to bring the deal off. Geezil, a millionaire, said he could get the money with a snap of his fingers. Weil finally relented and agreed to arrange a meeting between the uncle, Geezil, and the financiers, in the town of Galesburg, Illinois.

On the train ride to Galesburg, Geezil met the uncle—an impressive man, with whom he avidly discussed business. Weil also brought along a companion, a somewhat paunchy man named George Gross. Weil explained to Geezil that he himself was a boxing trainer, that Gross was one of the promising prizefighters he trained, and that he had asked Gross to come along to make sure the fighter stayed in shape. For a promising fighter, Gross was unimpressive looking—he had gray hair and a beer belly—but Geezil was so excited about the deal that he didn’t really think about the man’s flabby appearance.

Once in Galesburg, Weil and his uncle went to fetch the financiers while Geezil waited in a hotel room with Gross, who promptly put on his boxing trunks. As Geezil half watched, Gross began to shadowbox. Distracted as he was, Geezil ignored how badly the boxer wheezed after a few minutes of exercise, although his style seemed real enough. An hour later, Weil and his uncle reappeared with the financiers, an impressive, intimidating group of men, all wearing fancy suits. The meeting went well and the financiers agreed to sell the lodge to Geezil, who had already had the $35,000 wired to a local bank.

This minor business now settled, the financiers sat back in their chairs and began to banter about high finance, throwing out the name “J. P. Morgan” as if they knew the man. Finally one of them noticed the boxer in the corner of the room. Weil explained what he was doing there. The financier countered that he too had a boxer in his entourage, whom he named. Weil laughed brazenly and exclaimed that his man could easily knock out their man. Conversation escalated into argument. In the heat of passion, Weil challenged the men to a bet. The financiers eagerly agreed and left to get their man ready for a fight the next day.

As soon as they had left, the uncle yelled at Weil, right in front of Geezil; They did not have enough money to bet with, and once the financiers discovered this, the uncle would be fired. Weil apologized for getting him in this mess, but he had a plan: He knew the other boxer well, and with a little

bribe, they could fix the fight. But where would the money come from for the bet? the uncle replied. Without it they were as good as dead. Finally Geezil had heard enough. Unwilling to jeopardize his deal with any ill will, he offered his own $35,000 cash for part of the bet. Even if he lost that, he would wire for more money and still make a profit on the sale of the lodge. The uncle and nephew thanked him. With their own $15,000 and Geezil’s $35,000 they would manage to have enough for the bet. That evening, as Geezil watched the two boxers rehearse the fix in the hotel room, his mind reeled at the killing he was going to make from both the boxing match and the sale of the lodge.

The fight took place in a gym the next day. Weil handled the cash, which was placed for security in a locked box. Everything was proceeding as planned in the hotel room. The financiers were looking glum at how badly their fighter was doing, and Geezil was dreaming about the easy money he was about to make. Then, suddenly, a wild swing by the financier’s fighter hit Gross hard in the face, knocking him down. When he hit the canvas, blood spurted from his mouth. He coughed, then lay still. One of the financiers, a former doctor, checked his pulse; he was dead. The millionaires panicked: Everyone had to get out before the police arrived- they could all be charged with murder.

Terrified, Geezil hightailed it out of the gym and back to Chicago, leaving behind his $35,000 which he was only too glad to forget, for it seemed a small price to pay to avoid being implicated in a crime. He never wanted to see Weil or any of the others again.

After Geezil scurried out, Gross stood up, under his own steam. The blood that had spurted from his mouth came from a ball filled with chicken blood and hot water that he had hidden in his cheek. The whole affair had been masterminded by Weil, better known as “the Yellow Kid,” one of the most creative con artists in history. Weil split the $35,000 with the financiers and the boxers (all fellow con artists)—a nice little profit for a few days’ work.

SN BROAD

This means to create a front that eventually becomes imbued with an atmosphere or impression of familiarity, within which the strategist may maneuver unseen while all eyes are trained to see obvious familiarities. “THE THIRTY-SIX STRATEGIES.” QUOTED IN THF JAPANESE ART OF WAR.

-THOMAS CLEARY, 1991

Interpretation

The Yellow Kid had staked out Geezil as the perfect sucker long before he set up the con. He knew the boxing-match scam would be the perfect ruse to separate Geezil from his money quickly and definitively. But he also knew that if he had begun by trying to interest Geezil in the boxing match, he would have failed miserably. He had to conceal his intentions and switch attention, create a smoke screen—in this case the sale of the lodge.

On the train ride and in the hotel room Geezil’s mind had been completely occupied with the pending deal, the easy money, the chance to hobnob with wealthy men. He had failed to notice that Gross was out of shape and middle-aged at best. Such is the distracting power of a smoke screen. Engrossed in the business deal, Geezil’s attention was easily diverted to the boxing match, but only at a point when it was already too late for him to notice the details that would have given Gross away. The match, after all, now depended on a bribe rather than on the boxer’s physical condition. And Geezil was so distracted at the end by the illusion of the boxer’s death that he completely forgot about his money.

Learn from the Yellow Kid: The familiar, inconspicuous front is the perfect smoke screen. Approach your mark with an idea that seems ordinary enough—a business deal, financial intrigue. The sucker’s mind is distracted, his suspicions allayed. That is when you gently guide him onto the second path, the slippery slope down which he slides helplessly into your trap.

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW II

In the mid-1920s, the powerful warlords of Ethiopia were coming to the realization that a young man of the nobility named Haile Selassie, also known as Ras Tafari, was outcompeting them all and nearing the point where he could proclaim himself their leader, unifying the country for the first time in decades. Most of his rivals could not understand how this wispy, quiet, mild-mannered man had been able to take control. Yet in 1927, Selassie was able to summon the warlords, one at a time, to come to Addis Ababa to declare their loyalty and recognize him as leader.

Some hurried, some hesitated, but only one, Dejazmach Balcha of Sidamo, dared defy Selassie totally. A blustery man, Balcha was a great warrior, and he considered the new leader weak and unworthy. He pointedly stayed away from the capital. Finally Selassie, in his gentle but stem way, commanded Balcha to come. The warlord decided to obey, but in doing so he would turn the tables on this pretender to the Ethiopian throne: He would come to Addis Ababa at his own speed, and with an army of 10,000 men, a force large enough to defend himself, perhaps even start a civil war. Stationing this formidable force in a valley three miles from the capital, he waited, as a king would. Selassie would have to come to him.

Selassie did indeed send emissaries, asking Balcha to attend an afternoon banquet in his honor. But Balcha, no fool, knew history—he knew that previous kings and lords of Ethiopia had used banquets as a trap. Once he was there and full of drink, Selassie would have him arrested or murdered. To signal his understanding of the situation, he agreed to come to the banquet, but only if he could bring his personal bodyguard—600 of his best soldiers, all armed and ready to defend him and themselves. To Balcha’s surprise, Selassie answered with the utmost politeness that he would be honored to play host to such warriors.

On the way to the banquet, Balcha warned his soldiers not to get drunk and to be on their guard. When they arrived at the palace, Selassie was his charming best. He deferred to Balcha, treated him as if he desperately needed his approval and cooperation. But Balcha refused to be charmed, and he warned Selassie that if he did not return to his camp by nightfall, his army had orders to attack the capital. Selassie reacted as if hurt by his mistrust. Over the meal, when it came time for the traditional singing of songs in honor of Ethiopia’s leaders, he made a point of allowing only songs honoring the warlord of Sidamo. It seemed to Balcha that Selassie was scared, intimidated by this great warrior who could not be outwitted.

Sensing the change, Balcha believed that he would be the one to call the shots in the days to come.

At the end of the afternoon, Balcha and his soldiers began their march back to camp amidst cheers and gun salutes. Looking back to the capital over his shoulder, he planned his strategy—how his own soldiers would march through the capital in triumph within weeks, and Selassie would be put in his place, his place being either prison or death. When Balcha came in sight of his camp, however, he saw that something was terribly wrong. Where before there had been colorful tents stretching as far as the eye could see, now there was nothing, only smoke from doused fires. What devil’s magic was this?

A witness told Balcha what had happened. During the banquet, a large army, commanded by an ally of Selassie’s, had stolen up on Balcha’s encampment by a side route he had not seen. This army had not come to fight, however: Knowing that Balcha would have heard a noisy battle and hurried back with his 600-man bodyguard, Selassie had armed his own troops with baskets of gold and cash. They had surrounded Balcha’s army and proceeded to purchase every last one of their weapons. Those who refused were easily intimidated. Within a few hours, Balcha’s entire force had been disarmed and scattered in all directions.

Realizing his danger, Balcha decided to march south with his 600 soldiers to regroup, but the same army that had disarmed his soldiers blocked his way. The other way out was to march on the capital, but Selassie had set a large army to defend it. Like a chess player, he had predicted Balcha’s moves, and had checkmated him. For the first time in his life, Balcha surrendered. To repent his sins of pride and ambition, he agreed to enter a monastery.

Interpretation

Throughout Selassie’s long reign, no one could quite figure him out. Ethiopians like their leaders fierce, but Selassie, who wore the front of a gentle, peace-loving man, lasted longer than any of them. Never angry or impatient, he lured his victims with sweet smiles, lulling them with charm and obsequiousness before he attacked. In the case of Balcha, Selassie played on the man’s wariness, his suspicion that the banquet was a trap— which in fact it was, but not the one he expected. Selassie’s way of allaying Balcha’s fears—letting him bring his bodyguard to the banquet, giving him top billing there, making him feel in control—created a thick smoke screen, concealing the real action three miles away.

Remember: The paranoid and wary are often the easiest to deceive. Win their trust in one area and you have a smoke screen that blinds their view in another, letting you creep up and level them with a devastating blow. A helpful or apparently honest gesture, or one that implies the other person’s superiority—these are perfect diversionary devices.

Properly set up, the smoke screen is a weapon of great power. It enabled the gentle Selassie to totally destroy his enemy, without firing a single bullet.

Do not underestimate the power of Tafari. He creeps like a mouse but he has jaws like a lion. 

-Bacha of Sidamo’s last worlds before entering the monastery

KEYS TO POWER

If you believe that deceivers are colorful folk who mislead with elaborate lies and tall tales, you are greatly mistaken. The best deceivers utilize a bland and inconspicuous front that calls no attention to themselves. They know that extravagant words and gestures immediately raise suspicion. Instead, they envelop their mark in the familiar, the banal, the harmless. In Yellow Kid Weil’s dealings with Sam Geezil, the familiar was a business deal. In the Ethiopian case, it was Selassie’s misleading obsequiousness— exactly what Balcha would have expected from a weaker warlord.

Once you have lulled your suckers’ attention with the familiar, they will not notice the deception being perpetrated behind their backs. This derives from a simple truth: people can only focus on one thing at a time. It is really too difficult for them to imagine that the bland and harmless person they are dealing with is simultaneously setting up something else. The grayer and more uniform the smoke in your smoke screen, the better it conceals your intentions. In the decoy and red herring devices discussed in Part I, you actively distract people; in the smoke screen, you lull your victims, drawing them into your web. Because it is so hypnotic, this is often the best way of concealing your intentions.

The simplest form of smoke screen is facial expression. Behind a bland, unreadable exterior, all sorts of mayhem can be planned, without detection. This is a weapon that the most powerful men in history have learned to perfect. It was said that no one could read Franklin D. Roosevelt’s face. Baron James Rothschild made a lifelong practice of disguising his real thoughts behind bland smiles and nondescript looks. Stendhal wrote of Talleyrand, “Never was a face less of a barometer.” Henry Kissinger would bore his opponents around the negotiating table to tears with his monotonous voice, his blank look, his endless recitations of details; then, as their eyes glazed over, he would suddenly hit them with a list of bold terms. Caught off-guard, they would be easily intimidated. As one poker manual explains it, “While playing his hand, the good player is seldom an actor. Instead he practices a bland behavior that minimizes readable patterns, frustrates and confuses opponents, permits greater concentration.”

An adaptable concept, the smoke screen can be practiced on a number of levels, all playing on the psychological principles of distraction and misdirection. One of the most effective smoke screens is the noble gesture. People want to believe apparently noble gestures are genuine, for the belief is pleasant. They rarely notice how deceptive these gestures can be.

The art dealer Joseph Duveen was once confronted with a terrible problem. The millionaires who had paid so dearly for Duveen’s paintings were running out of wall space, and with inheritance taxes getting ever higher, it seemed unlikely that they would keep buying. The solution was the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., which Duveen helped create in 1937 by getting Andrew Mellon to donate his collection to it. The National Gallery was the perfect front for Duveen. In one gesture, his clients avoided taxes, cleared wall space for new purchases, and reduced the number of paintings on the market, maintaining the upward pressure on their prices. All this while the donors created the appearance of being public benefactors.

Another effective smoke screen is the pattern, the establishment of a series of actions that seduce the victim into believing you will continue in the same way. The pattern plays on the psychology of anticipation: Our behavior conforms to patterns, or so we like to think.

In 1878 the American robber baron Jay Gould created a company that began to threaten the monopoly of the telegraph company Western Union. The directors of Western Union decided to buy Gould’s company up— they had to spend a hefty sum, but they figured they had managed to rid themselves of an irritating competitor. A few months later, though, Gould was it at again, complaining he had been treated unfairly. He started up a second company to compete with Western Union and its new acquisition. The same thing happened again: Western Union bought him out to shut him up. Soon the pattern began for the third time, but now Gould went for the jugular: He suddenly staged a bloody takeover struggle and managed to gain complete control of Western Union. He had established a pattern that had tricked the company’s directors into thinking his goal was to be bought out at a handsome rate. Once they paid him off, they relaxed and failed to notice that he was actually playing for higher stakes. The pattern is powerful in that it deceives the other person into expecting the opposite of what you are really doing.

Another psychological weakness on which to construct a smoke screen is the tendency to mistake appearances for reality—the feeling that if someone seems to belong to your group, their belonging must be real. This habit makes the seamless blend a very effective front. The trick is simple: You simply blend in with those around you. The better you blend, the less suspicious you become. During the Cold War of the 1950s and ’60s, as is now notorious, a slew of British civil servants passed secrets to the Soviets. They went undetected for years because they were apparently decent chaps, had gone to all the right schools, and fit the old-boy network perfectly. Blending in is the perfect smoke screen for spying. The better you do it, the better you can conceal your intentions.

Remember: It takes patience and humility to dull your brilliant colors, to put on the mask of the inconspicuous. Do not despair at having to wear such a bland mask—it is often your unreadability that draws people to you and makes you appear a person of power.

Image: A Sheep’s Skin. A sheep never marauds, a sheep never deceives, a sheep is magnificently dumb and docile. With a sheepskin on his back, a fox can pass right into the chicken coop.

Authority: Have you ever heard of a skillful general, who intends to surprise a citadel, announcing his plan to his enemy? Conceal your purpose and hide your progress; do not disclose the extent of your designs until they cannot be opposed, until the combat is over. Win the victory before you declare the war. In a word, imitate those warlike people whose designs are not known except by the ravaged country through which they have passed. (Ninon de Lenclos, 1623-1706)

REVERSAL

No smoke screen, red herring, false sincerity, or any other diversionary device will succeed in concealing your intentions if you already have an established reputation for deception. And as you get older and achieve success, it often becomes increasingly difficult to disguise your cunning. Everyone knows you practice deception; persist in playing naive and you run the risk of seeming the rankest hypocrite, which will severely limit your room to maneuver. In such cases it is better to own up, to appear the honest rogue, or, better, the repentant rogue. Not only will you be admired for your frankness, but, most wonderful and strange of all, you will be able to continue your stratagems.

As P. T. Barnum, the nineteenth-century king of humbuggery, grew older, he learned to embrace his reputation as a grand deceiver. At one point he organized a buffalo hunt in New Jersey, complete with Indians and a few imported buffalo. He publicized the hunt as genuine, but it came off as so completely fake that the crowd, instead of getting angry and asking for their money back, was greatly amused. They knew Barnum pulled tricks all the time; that was the secret of his success, and they loved him for it. Learning a lesson from this affair, Barnum stopped concealing all of his devices, even revealing his deceptions in a tell-all autobiography. As Kierkegaard wrote, “The world wants to be deceived.”

Finally, although it is wiser to divert attention from your purposes by presenting a bland, familiar exterior, there are times when the colorful, conspicuous gesture is the right diversionary tactic. The great charlatan mountebanks of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe used humor and entertainment to deceive their audiences. Dazzled by a great show, the public would not notice the charlatans’ real intentions. Thus the star charlatan himself would appear in town in a night-black coach drawn by black horses. Clowns, tightrope walkers, and star entertainers would accompany him, pulling people in to his demonstrations of elixirs and quack potions. The charlatan made entertainment seem like the business of the day; the business of the day was actually the sale of the elixirs and quack potions.

Spectacle and entertainment, clearly, are excellent devices to conceal your intentions, but they cannot be used indefinitely.

The public grows tired and suspicious, and eventually catches on to the trick. And indeed the charlatans had to move quickly from town to town, before word spread that the potions were useless and the entertainment a trick. Powerful people with bland exteriors, on the other hand—the Talleyrands, the Rothschilds, the Selassies—can practice their deceptions in the same place throughout their lifetimes. Their act never wears thin, and rarely causes suspicion. The colorful smoke screen should be used cautiously, then, and only when the occasion is right.

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Reginald teaches a “Poetry for Pests” workshop

There was a nice update to LeonardoAI where images are turned into videos. So I figured what the heck. So I went and took a random older image. Then ran it though the AI processing process and came out with something interesting.

Here it is… enjoy!

Today…

An Official Report Confirmed that the $16 Billion US Aircraft Сarrier was Badly Damaged and Disabled

On the show Home Improvement with Tim Allen, why did the neighbor always hide half his face?

The man hid his face because of a memory. It was Tim Allen’s. When he was a boy, he had a neighbor he spoke with over a tall backyard fence–He never saw the man’s whole face, just the top of his head and his eyes. Allen told the show’s writers this story, and they made the memory a rule. The joke became the foundation for the character, Wilson.

Every week, a new way to hide the face. A fence post, a tall plant, a holiday decoration, a handful of leaves–It was a challenge for the writers. It forced the audience to listen to the man’s words, not watch his expressions. The wisdom had to stand on its own – It was a simple childhood memory, made into a law.

Israel Is Extremely Desperate. Here’s Why.

The Funeral Guest

Written in response to: “Write a story about a character who encounters someone with an uncanny resemblance to a lost love, friend, or relative.“

⭐️ Contest #317 Shortlist!

Theodoric Weicksel

It rained on the day they buried my grandmother. Not the hard kind that rattles rooftops and sends people running for shelter, but the quiet, persistent sort that seeps into wool and bones alike. It felt like the sky had taken up the same soft voice the priest used, and together they were asking us to keep our heads down. Be good. Be small. Be done.

Inside the little church, lilies crowded the altar. I sat in the second pew with my knees pressed to the polished wood. The casket looked lighter than wood should look. My mother’s hand was flat on her handbag, fingers splayed as if to hold everything inside in place. She nodded in that composed way she had trained into herself and into me. This is how we do things. We don’t make a scene. We eat, we thank, we leave.

I tried to keep my eyes on the hymnal, but they kept sliding off the notes. I thought about the last time I had brushed my grandmother’s hair. I had done it gently, with the soft brush that lived on her vanity, the one with the mother-of-pearl back. She had been half asleep, drifting, and I had counted strokes under my breath. Twenty for luck, she used to say. Twenty for shine. Twenty so the night knows your name.

The priest’s voice rose and ebbed. People nodded. A baby fussed and was carried out, and the sudden absence of the small sound felt sharp, like someone had broken a stick in the middle of a sentence.

That is when I saw her.

She stood in the back, in the soft shade of the last column where the brick darkened. She wore a pale dress, the sort of clean, pared-down cut you see in old photographs. Her hair was pinned up in a twist. She wore my grandmother’s face. Not the face in the hospital bed. Not the face that had taught me to tie knots or shell peas. Younger. Twenty. Cheekbones like clean lines. Eyes clear as a winter stream. The resemblance was not close. It was exact.

Every part of me went still. My lungs forgot the trick of oxygen. She wasn’t in any of the families I knew. She wasn’t from the neighborhood. I would have remembered that face anywhere, because it was the face that sat on my grandmother’s dresser in sepia, wearing a wool coat and a brave ribbon at the throat, labelled in my grandfather’s careful hand. Margaret, 1946.

The woman at the back looked at me. Not at the casket nor the priest. Me. Her eyes did a small, unhurried sweep across my face as if to take inventory. And then she smiled. Not a cruel smile, not a kind smile. A smile not for anyone else.

I heard the priest say amen. People stood. My mother’s fingers pressed down on the handbag a little harder, and then she rose. We filed past the lilies, the casket, the bowed heads. My grandmother had always hated lilies.

Outside, umbrellas bloomed and bumped one another. We moved through the wet like a dark, slow snake. I kept turning my head to check that she was still there, because some part of me knew there would be a relief in finding that she wasn’t. She was. The priest read from his book and the wind lifted the pages as if it were trying to help. My grandmother’s name was said in full. It had a middle she never used and a maiden she had kept folded at the back of a drawer.

I looked around. The woman in the pale dress stood near the gate, beneath a yew, her hands lost in the light fabric. She watched the earth open. She watched it with the kind of patience of people who never rush because time, for them, is a room they live in and not a hallway they pass through.

“Claire,” my mother murmured. “Stand up straight.” I adjusted my shoulders. I didn’t take my eyes off the woman. Our eyes met. She lifted one corner of her mouth. It happened so slightly I might have called it a tic if I hadn’t felt the ripple of recognition that went through me.

For a second I knew the exact weight of my grandmother’s hand when it rested on my hair after a bad dream. I could hear the whisper she had used the night she took me into the kitchen for warm milk because thunder had unstitched the sky. Names are doors, she had said. Never open one when you don’t want to see the other side.

They covered the grave with planks and then with earth. People came forward and dropped flowers. My mother took a lily and placed it gently. She smiled at the priest. Efficient grief. A skill honed to a fine sheen. When we turned away, I glanced back. The woman had not moved.

“She looks like Peggy,” said a voice behind me, hushed and amused. Aunt Louise. She leaned on her cane the way a queen leans on the arm of a throne.

“Louise,” my mother warned.

“What?” Aunt Louise said, still soft. “I didn’t say anything. Best not to stir up old things.”

The words slid under my skin and lodged there like small stones.

The parish hall smelled like coffee and wet wool. Folding tables were arranged with a logic that suggested hope for order and a deep familiarity with defeat. There were sandwiches where nothing inside could escape. There were squares cut so precisely someone must have measured them. People stood in groups and touched each other’s elbows and said the names of casseroles with reverence.

“Sit,” my mother said, which sounded like law. I sat. The chair was cold under me.

“How are you doing, Claire?” asked Mrs. Hargreaves, who had taught me to spell chrysanthemum in third grade.

“I’m fine,” I said, which was a word that means very little and can be filled with anything.

“She loved you,” Mrs. Hargreaves said. “Peggy did.”

“She did,” I said, and the past tense pulled in my throat like a stitch.

“She told me once,” Mrs. Hargreaves continued, “that every woman in your line had a visitor at some point. Said it like she was talking about the weather and whether the plums would be early.” She chewed a bite of sandwich as if this, too, belonged to the same part of the day as gossip. “Said there was a debt in the family. Said it wasn’t money.”

“Who was the visitor?” I said, too quickly.

“Oh, you know me,” she said, and patted my arm as if she had knocked over a glass and wanted to smooth the spill. “I mix things up.”

My mother’s mouth thinned. She sat her cup down so gently it did not make a sound. “Claire,” she said. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“You know what.”

Aunt Louise drifted over. “Leave the girl be,” she told my mother. “Peggy told her stories same as she told us. Girls need stories. They need to know what to call what they see.”

My mother looked at the floor, which is sometimes easier to win an argument with. Then she gathered herself and carried a tray of leftovers to the car. Her shoulders set. “You can come by the house,” she said. “If you want to help me pack up some things.”

“I’ll go to Gran’s,” I said.

“You don’t need to tonight.”

“I want to.”

She pressed her lips together and did not argue, which is a kind of argument. The harder kind to win.

The house smelled like lavender and the sweet ghost of something that had baked there often. The door to my grandmother’s room was open. Her vanity held its small congregation. Brush. Comb. Little glass dish with two hairpins and a button that had lost its shirt. I sat on the stool and touched the brush. I pulled open the top drawer. Handkerchiefs. A small envelope left unsealed. My grandmother had often started letters and left them unfinished when her mind moved faster than her hand.

Inside the envelope was a single page, yellowed at the edges, written in tidy script.

“To whomever finds this, to the girl I love who will not be a girl when she reads it. The debt must be carried. I tried to refuse her once. I tried to pretend I did not know her face. But she always comes back. She wears my face so I cannot deny her. I saw her in the mirror the night your mother was born. If she smiles at you, it is already too late. Do not bargain. It makes the owing worse. Stand up and call your name back to yourself and keep walking.”

I remembered the day at the lake. I had been seven. The water was steely and looked calm on top, but the under had its own plans. I stepped off the rock just to feel how the shallow makes a child brave. The under took hold of my ankle with two quick hands I could not see. There is a very clear blue sound that happens when the world becomes more water than air. I would have been just another story told to frighten cousins except that my grandmother pulled me out by the straps of my bathing suit. She hauled me across the rocks and into the grass and told me in voice like a wire to breathe. Breathe now. Breathe again. When I had, when I coughed and shuddered and clung to the ground as if it might run away, she stood. She looked at the lake. She lifted her chin and said calmly, to the empty air, “it’s paid then.”

After that she made me drink tea with lemon and sugar and told me I had good lungs. She told me to count to twenty when I brushed my hair. She kissed my forehead and said my full name as if it were a charm.

I put the letter back in the envelope and slid the drawer closed. I didn’t want to be the person who brought it to my mother and asked for a family meeting where everyone had to choose a side between sense and whatever this was. I stood up. I put on my coat. I told myself I was not going back to the cemetery. My body walked there anyway.

I didn’t have to look for her. She stood where I knew she would stand, at the edge of the new earth. The pale dress did not show dirt.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said. It came out like a line I had practiced and not like a line I believed.

“I’ve always been here,” she said. “Before her. After her. And after you.”

The ground under me felt loose. “Who are you?”

She smiled, “I am the one your grandmother made a bargain with when she wanted something she could not afford. She wanted a life to turn out differently than it was supposed to. She had her reasons. Everyone does. Reason is poor currency. We trade in names here.”

It occurred to me that this would be a good time to run. I didn’t. My feet sank a little into the soft ground as if the earth itself had decided to keep me for a while. “What did she ask for?”

“You,” the woman said. “And other things. A son to come home. A daughter to be born breathing. Little things. Big things. Time. People always think time is a cheap thing because you cannot hold it in your hand. They are wrong.”

The back of my neck prickled. “And what did she owe you?”

The woman watched the grave. “She owed me the carrying.” She tilted her head. “We all carry something. You will, too.”

“I did not make a bargain,” I said, and heard how young I sounded and hated it.

“You didn’t.” She nodded. “And yet here you are. Names are doors. Blood remembers how to find keyholes.”

“Why her face?” I asked. The woman in the pale dress took a small step forward and for the first time I saw something like frailty in her. Not weakness. Fragility. Fine porcelain can be stronger than clay.

She said, “I wear what is owed. I wear what you trust. I wear what you cannot help reaching toward. If I wore a stranger you would refuse me. You’d call me a dream. If I wear your own, you look twice, and that is all I need. The second look does the binding.”

“Binding to what?”

“To the line,” she said, and smiled. “To the thread that holds your family together even when its people do not speak to each other for years. You think the thread is a recipe or a holiday or the way you all tilt your heads the same way when you think. It is that. It is also me.”

I wanted to say that wasn’t fair. But the words sounded childish even in my head. The night did not have room for tantrums.

“What do you want from me?”

“Not much,” she said. “Not yet.” She reached out and very gently touched the sleeve of my coat. “When the time comes, you’ll wear my face too.” It frightened me more than any threat could have. It sounded like a kindness. Like a promise offered in good faith.

“You don’t get to choose,” I said. It came out part question.

“Everyone gets to choose something,” she said. The trick is understanding which small things are actually the big ones.” She leaned in. I smelled nothing on her breath. “You can choose the words you use to call yourself home. That matters. Choose them now. Say your name.”

I said it. I said the name my grandmother had used when she wanted me to come in from the yard at dusk. I said the name my mother used when she was proud, and the one she used when she was angry. I said all the names I had. The woman watched me as if the sound were a pattern she was checking against a blueprint. When I had finished, she nodded once. “Good.” She stepped back. “Go home, Claire.”

She tilted her head again, that precise motion that somehow felt like a clock. “Do not bargain,” she added. “If you can help it. But if you must, ask for small things.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” I said.

“You will,” she said, without malice. “Everyone does. It’s all right.” She looked at the grave again. “Tell your mother the lilies should be taken away tomorrow.”

“She hates lilies,” I said.

“I know,” the woman said, and for the first time there was something like tenderness in her voice, not for me, but for my grandmother, and that, more than anything, undid me.

I slept badly and all at once. I woke before the sun. My mother called to ask if I would come to the house later. I said yes. She said she would make coffee. We both pretended this was new, special, impractical. We were both oddly pleased by the pretending.

At the house later, my mother had already removed the lilies. “They were making me sick,” she said. The air felt better without them, somehow. She made coffee and set a cup in front of me. She almost touched my hand.

“She told me once,” my mother said slowly, surprising herself, “that the women in our family learn to carry things young. She said that was the good news and the bad news all at once.” My mother took a breath. “I thought it was the kind of thing people say when they want to sound wise. Maybe she just wanted me to stand up straight.”

“She did,” I said.

We went through drawers. We made piles. Keep. Donate. What on earth is this? We worked until the afternoon found us. My mother touched the doorframe as she left each room, a quick tap. I recognized it. I had done the same thing every time I left my grandmother’s house as a child. A little bargain with a house. Take care of them. I’ll be back.

I went to the mirror. Not because I expected anything. Because expectation is a door too and I didn’t want to hold it open by mistake.

The face was mine. I smiled to see what the smile would do. It did what a smile does when you are alone in a room and there is no one to manage it for. It came all at once and then it softened. Something in the glass shifted, a feeling, the way air changes in a room when someone opens a door down the hall. The hair on my arms rose. I thought, quietly and without drama: I will carry this. I don’t know what it is, not exactly, but I will carry it. I said my name again, once, because it seemed polite.

I closed my eyes. For a moment I felt a hand slide over my hair the way it had when thunder stitched the sky shut and my grandmother opened it again with tea and counting. The hand paused. It felt like permission. It felt like a weight shared. I did not ask who it belonged to.

In the morning the kitchen light made a bright square on the table. Outside, the rain had finally moved on to bother another town. I looked up and the window over the sink caught my reflection. It smiled at me. It was a small smile. It was the same one I had seen in the church, and in the graveyard, and in the mirror, and on photographs that had sat for years

She smiled, and I didn’t know whose smile it was anymore.

Chicken with Golden Raisins, Green Olives and Lemon

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) whole chicken, cut into eight parts
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1 (2 inch) stick cinnamon
2 lemons, one juiced and the other sliced
1 cup chicken stock
2 potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch thick slices
4 carrots, peeled and sliced thin
1 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup pimento-stuffed Spanish olives

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
In large nonstick pan or Dutch oven, warm oil over medium high heat.
Sprinkle chicken pieces with salt and pepper. Add chicken pieces to pan and brown on all sides, turning at least once. Remove chicken from pan and set aside.
Lower heat to medium. Add to pan garlic, turmeric, ginger and cinnamon stick; cook, stirring constantly, for 15 seconds.
Pour lemon juice and stock into pan, stirring to scrape up browned bits.
Place chicken back in pan. Add potatoes, carrot slices, raisins, olives and lemon slices to pan around the chicken pieces. Raise heat to high and bring to a boil. Cover pan and place in hot oven for 45 minutes.
Remove lid and continue to cook for another 10 minutes, or until cooked through.
Serve immediately with parsley-flecked couscous.

Nutrition

Per serving: 540 calories; 25g fat; 6g saturated fat; 37g carbohydrate; 4g fiber; 40g protein

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: National Chicken Council

While Wife Was Sneaking Around With Her Lover, Husband Played The Long Game Preparing To Ruin Them

What, if any, are the advantages of a revolver over a pistol?

I have carried this Charter Arms Undercover for over 40 years, and have complete faith in it…

I had the hammer spur removed to prevent clothing snags…

Absolute Reliability 1 – I have never experienced a mechanical failure from any of the revolvers in my collection, including one over 100 years old and still in shooting condition.
Absolute Reliability 2 – In the unlikely event that your premium ammunition suffers a “failure to fire”, you simply pull the trigger again… one handed… no “Tap, Rack, Assess” drills needed.
Absolute Reliability 3 – You cannot suffer a “Failure to Eject”.
Absolute Reliability 4 – The comparatively heavy double action trigger pull makes unintentional discharges due to “trigger snags” almost impossible.
The ability to fire from “deep concealment” in a jacket pocket. – You cannot put your revolver “Out of Battery” by pressing it against the fabric of your pocket, you cannot have a “Failure To Eject” from a spent case interfering with the fabric of your pocket.
The ability to press your firearm firmly against your target and fire repeatedly if necessary – “Defensive Firearm Events” most often occur at less than 10 feet… If you find yourself grappling with an assailant, you don’t have to “aim” and you cannot put your firearm “out of battery”… You shove the firearm firmly against his body and pull the trigger as often as it takes to end the event.

Jerry Grey | China Unveiled: Beijing’s Strategy To Defeat A Rogue Hegemon

How exactly did China accumulate its foreign reserves?

China sold things to the world, sold much more than it bought, this brought in foreign money, mostly dollars–A large and persistent trade surplus was the foundation.

Foreign companies also came to China.

They built plants and brought their capital with them, this created a second flow of foreign money into the country.

All this incoming money created a demand for China’s currency, the yuan, high demand makes a currency’s value rise.

A stronger yuan would have made Chinese goods more expensive and hurt the export economy–The government prevented this.

The People’s Bank of China intervened, it printed yuan to buy up the foreign currency from exporters and investors–It kept the dollars and euros.

This action held the yuan’s value down, the bank did this consistently for decades. The foreign currency it bought and held became the reserves–It was a direct consequence of policy.

How do Chinese buy property in China if all the land is owned by the state? What collateral do they give the bank for a business loan if someone has to open a factory?

How do Chinese buy property if all the land is owned by the State?

LUR – Land use Rights

They don’t buy the property

They pay for the LUR or Land Use Rights for a period of 70 Years normally and any structure/superstructure on the land is their private property (Like a flat)

For instance here is how a typical deal works

I. Developer acquires Land Usage Rights for a parcel of land of 720 Sq Meters (7,400 SFT) for 70 years in 2025, until 2095

II. Developer builds a apartment complex with 60 apartments of 68 Square meters (717 SFT) each

III. Developer sells a 1/60th LUR (Land usage rights) to each buyer for a Flat.

This means every buyer owns :-

1/60th of the Superstructure – or (717*60)/(60) = 717 SFT of Apartment Space and the entire apartment which is their private property for Life
1/60th of the Rights on the Land – or rights to use 12 Square Meters of the Land on which the Apartment is built for 70 years

How are Bank Loans given?

It is a Mortgage rather than a Loan

This means – the Buyer will pledge the LUR agreement for the Land (12 Square meters of Land) and Ownership Deed for the 717 SFT Apartment-which the BANK will hold as mortgage until the loan is repaid

Advantages of LUR

I. No Property Fraud possible – Since LUR is issued by the State, it is GOSPEL. No fears of future problems with the land, no illegitimate children who can go to court with stay orders etc

II. Huge compensation – The LUR contains a term called Compensatory value. This is between 1.4–3.2 times the value of both the LUR & Apartment. This compensation is paid 90 days before you have to vacate the property, if you have to vacate the property. The Government pays the outstanding mortgage on the flat fully and the balance is paid to you before you vacate.

III. Automatic succession – LUR can be willed just like an Apartment. If the holder dies, the LUR can be automatically passed on to the Next of Kin both for the Apartment and the use of the land

Collateral for a Business Loan

For Businesses, the State gives a 30/50/99/999 year LUR to the Factory owner

The Bank takes this LUR plus the Deeds to the Buildings. Plus the hold on machinery, inventory etc.

(999 Year LURs and 99 Year LURs can be issued only to STATE OWNED FACTORIES OR JOINT VENTURES WITH THE GOVERNMENT)

America’s Collapse Has Already Started? (No One’s Ready for What’s Next)

The problem is the arrogance, ignorance and greed in America, it destroyed itself.

The USA is DEAD.

The USA is not the leading “superpower” today.

Sir Whiskerton and the Phantom Pigeon Poet; A Tale of Feathered Verse, Clawful Critiques, and One Cat’s Descent into Literary Madness

Act I: The Poet Who Dropped the Beat

Mysterious poems began appearing across the farm, scrawled in mud, berry juice, and what Porkchop hoped was just chocolate:

On the barn door:
“Roses are red, barns are brown,
Your haystack’s lopsided, and your fence fell down.”
Outside Doris’ coop:
“Henny Penny, full of clucks,
Your gossip flows like… uh… stuck trucks?”

The culprit? Reginald the Dramatic Pigeon (Chinese name: 戏精鸽哥 Xìjīng Gēgē – “Drama King Pigeon”), a self-proclaimed “tortured artist” who wore a caped waistcoat made from a napkin.

Sir Whiskerton (examining a poem stuck to his tail): “This is either genius… or a crime against vowels.”

Act II: Rhyme Time Chaos

To catch the poet, Whiskerton hosted a “Farmyard Poetry Slam” with disastrous results:

Ditto attempted haiku:
“Echo… echo… wait—
(silence)
…Dang it.”
Rufus howled an epic ballad:
“Ode to a Fire Hydrant:
You’re yellow and cold,
But in my dreams—” (interrupted by squirrel laughter)
Chef Remy served “Alphabet Soup Poetry” (floating letters spelled “HELP”).
“Zis ‘Q’ tastes like existential despair!”

Meanwhile, Reginald observed from the rafters, scribbling notes: “Their suffering fuels my art!”

Act III: The Feathered Fury

Reginald’s poems grew bolder and more brutal:

To Bessie the Cow:
“Your tie-dye spots confuse my soul,
Like a kaleidoscope on a moldy roll.”
Bessie: “Wow… that’s actually kinda deep, man.”
To Gertrude the Goose:
“Your honk could crack the sky in two,
Yet somehow, ducks are still cuter than you.”
Gertrude: [Hissing noises]

Sir Whiskerton cornered Reginald mid-couplet:
“Your rhymes are a menace. Also, ‘orange’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘sporange.’”

Act IV: The Poet’s Surrender

After a dramatic rooftop standoff (involving a slingshot, a thesaurus, and Ditto in a cardboard mustache labeled “Incognito Mode”), Reginald conceded:

“Fine! I’ll cease my verses… unless inspiration strikes!”

The Compromise:

Reginald became the farm’s official newsletter scribe (column: “Reginald’s Rude Limericks”).
Every insult poem required a flattering follow-up:
“Your feathers mock the rainbow’s hue…
But your omelets? Divine. Sincerely, Reg.”

The Moral of the Story

Words have power—but bad rhymes should stay in drafts!

Post-Credit Scene

Reginald teaches a “Poetry for Pests” workshop. Enrollment: 1 (a moth with low standards).
Doris publishes a scathing Yelp review of his work: “★☆☆☆☆ – Needs more clucks.”

Best Lines

Reginald: “I don’t do ‘happy poems.’ My muse feeds on tears.”
Ditto: “ZZZ—art is hard—ZZZ.”
Sir Whiskerton: “Next time, write about my whiskers. Or else.”

Starring

Reginald the Dramatic Pigeon (戏精鸽哥 Xìjīng Gēgē) – Tormented wordsmith
Sir Whiskerton – Unwithering critic
Ditto – Accidental performance artist

Key Jokes

Bilingual Pun:
- Reginald’s “translation” of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:
  “Whose woods these are? Not yours.
  Also, I pooped on your fence.”
Physical Comedy:
- Chef Remy’s soup ladle stuck to a poem titled “Ode to a Stain.”
- The farmer trying to scan a poem into Google Translate (result: “Emotional damage detected”).

The End (until Reginald’s next chapbook drops…)

IRAN JUST CHECKMATED AMERICA — And Washington Has No Plan | Pepe Escobar

If you managed to bring a ship’s horizontal velocity to zero before entering the atmosphere, would it still require heat shielding?

You don’t need to bring it to zero.

If you can maintain a velocity of around 300 km/h your spaceship won’t experience much heat. It will still get hot that it might burn your hand if you place it on the hull but it won’t be anywhere near to melt the earth facing side or even disfiguring it.

So you just need to bring your velocity to 300 from

28000 km/h

Let’s do that.

Considering space shuttle as your ship with the assumed mass roughly 100,000 kg and then applying hooblygooloobly physics to it, the crunched number is.

Over 1 hour (3600 s): the amount of time we want it to take in reducing it’s velocityF = 214 kN. (Kilo newton)

That much power your air brakes or reverse thrusters need to produce to bring its speed to 300 km/h.

Now let’s see how much fuel it will take to produce that much force.

Let’s go with solid fuel as it’s more efficient and we intend to consume all of it.

Booobyhooby snoobyjacuzi …..

Isp = 300 s → propellant ≈ 861,903 kg (~862 tonnes).

862 tonnes of fuel is needed.

Now how much can space shuttle carry?

Note here the big dick which you see stuck to the belly of the shuttle at the launch is not present while entering back. That big dick is the fuel tank which holds around 700 tons of fuel, give n take.

The main ship can max carry 10 ton of fuel though I am sometimes told it doesn’t carry any fuel at all.

Regardless, now we need that big dick back. And we need it bigger.

So that’s the kind of ship you need with that much fuel capacity to bring your ship so slow that it does not burn up during reentry.

I don’t think it’s an impossible ask though but I suppose it’s not worth it. We would rather use that much fuel to go further deep in the space rather than fight our own gravity just to land which is also what gravity wants.

Pictures

Iran Destroys 4 American E-3 Sentry Planes — The Eyes of the U.S. Air Force Are Gone

Here’s the craft…

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Here’s the video…

Rebecca

Written in response to: “Center your story around someone who has (or is given) the ability to time travel.“

Amelia Brown

This story contains sensitive content about accidental death.

The clock above Platform 8 has been telling lies for weeks. Its hands jerk forward, insulted by the idea of progress. Commuters glance up, tut, then consult the glowing truth of their phones. Nobody trusts the grand old things anymore. Not clocks, and certainly not each other.

I only came to the Transport for London Office at St Pancras to collect a plastic bag with my sister’s name on it. Rebecca’s effects, misfiled, were found, then forgotten again until a clerk with a paper cut and a conscience called me two days ago.

Her things had been sitting in a back cupboard since her death. Sometimes I think this city is a single oversized cupboard, stuffed with what we can’t bear to throw away.

The office smells like dust, lemon polish and missed trains. On the counter, next to a tray of umbrellas that will never be claimed, sits a brass bell and a notice: Please ring for assistance. I don’t. There’s a woman behind the counter reading a library book with lipstick the colour of a stop sign. She glances up when she feels me hovering.

“Hi, you called me about my sister’s things?”

“Maya?” she asks, as if there’s nobody else I could be.

I nod.

She disappears into the back and re-emerges with a clear bag. Inside is a scarred Oyster card, a lip gloss the wrong shade for Rebecca, a single hoop earring, and a creased receipt for a coffee she never finished. And oddly, a coin.

The coin glimmers in the fluorescent lighting. Strange, wide stripes indent the surface as if a tiger has clawed at the tiny round object.

“This is all?”

The clerk looks down, afraid to make eye contact with me.

“It’s all they could find at the… at the scene.” She says briskly.

“No purse?”

“Unfortunately, not.”

“Thanks,” I say as I grab the bag and pace for the exit.

I sit down outside a vegan café and empty the contents of the clear bag into my lap. Rebecca slipped, running for the train to Brighton. I won’t go into any more detail. You can imagine what happened next.

The hospital gave us all her other belongings. I had no idea the train station had found anything else. I open the tube of lip gloss, and the candied smell makes me gag. I don’t think this was hers. Nor was this weird coin hers either.

I take the coin and hold it up to the sunlight. Whisps of colour flicker off it. I hear a hum. Not of someone walking down the busy London street, but the hum of something else. Something ancient.

I lose my trance examining the coin when a boy wizzes past me on an electric scooter, almost knocking the coconut coffee I’ve ordered out of my other hand.

I need to get home, but the thought of taking the same path Rebecca took upsets me. I shake my head. I can’t be on the train platform to Brighton right now. It scares the shit out of me.

I text my friend Jess, who lives near Hampstead Heath and ask her if she has plans tonight. She doesn’t, so we agree to get some drinks in Camden.

I’m four tequila shots and three pints in when the room begins to tilt. A mash of the ocean floor and Aladdin’s cave. Music pounds against my ribs. Strangers’ gazes scrape my skin.

I stand on the street expelling a beery mix of tequila and bile from my stomach before tripping on a storm drain. My knee hits the ground first. Then my handbag. The contents of it flying out all over the street. As my face falls, it collides with the coin, and I take in a sharp breath before my lips hit it.

I blink. Once. Twice.

The street is the same, but different. The pub is closed, its neon sign switched off. The morning sun sears my eyes. Lorries roar past. Commuters queue for coffee. How had it been night only seconds ago?

My knees were raw, my heart hammering. The coin lay gleaming at my feet. Impossible. I scoop it up, twirling it through my fingers. Had it transported me here? No. Ridiculous. I was drunk. Hallucinating.

I order an Uber and slump into the back seat. When I reach St Pancras, I force myself onto the platform… her platform.

Most likely, I told myself, I’d passed out by the pub after I fell. Slept on the pavement until dawn. That was the logical answer. And yet…

I take the coin out of my pocket and stare at it. Did it transport me here? No, okay. That is dumb. I’m very intoxicated right now. I need to go to bed. The train pulls up, and I ever so carefully board without looking down at the tracks.

I walk in the front door of my parents’ house, and I can smell bacon cooking.

“Did you stay the night with Jess?” Mum says as she passes me a plate.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“And you got the bag the St Pancras Office called you about?”

“Half of it wasn’t her stuff. It was a pointless trip.”

“When you’re done, go up and take a bath, you smell like a pub.” She shouts as she and Dad flick on Saturday’s football match.

I do as she says and hop into a steaming hot bath full of fluffy lavender bubbles. I sit there sobbing off my hangover, feeling like I haven’t slept. The coin sits on the bathroom vanity, and I pick it up to stare at it again.

I recall my lips smacking straight into it as I fell over last night. Fell, I actually fell just like Rebecca did. I need to be more careful.

I hold the coin to my mouth and stroke my lips over it. An intense humming burns my ears. The scent of the lavender instantly vanishes. The water from the bath is drained. It’s dark, and the house is quiet.

“What the actual…” I curse loudly, shivering as I get up and turn the light on.

I look at the coin. Kissing it changes something. I kiss it again, and the bath is full. The morning is bright. “Incredible,” I whisper as I wrap myself in my towel and head to my room.

I dress quickly and fumble tying my shoe laces because I’m too excited. I sit on my bed. Hold the coin to my lips and pause. Can I tell it where I want to go?

I remember how last year in high school, I said no to Cameron Fulton’s request to take me on a date because I was so focused on studying and getting into Medicine at Oxford. Could I go back and say yes? Before he dates Clare Ashwell?

I kiss the coin and whisper, “April 4th 2024, Brighton College.”

The hum rips through my brain. It’s a chanting, relentless sound that causes all my senses to flinch. I look around the room. My school uniform is placed perfectly on the bed. I jump at the knock on the door.

“Maya, you’re going to be late. Meet me in the car in five.” I hear mum say.

“Coming, Mum,” I shout as I tear off the clothes I’m wearing and dress as if it’s April 4th 2024.

The whole way to school, my hands are shaking as I grasp the warm coin tightly.

“Is everything okay?” Mum asks as we pull up to the gates.

My brow knits. “Just a headache. I have a maths test today.”

“You’ll do great, love. You always study so hard.”

But I haven’t studied. This maths test was over a year ago. I now need to remember it all and still ace it. That’s if I even stay here long enough to take the test.

With my pulse in my throat, I race out the car and make it my locker just in time for the bell. This is it. Cameron is going to approach me on my way to form room.

I take a quick, shallow breath before closing my locker. It’s his cologne that hits me first. Spicy with a hint of bergamot.

“You heading to form room?” He asks.

“I was actually going to skip it and cram for the maths test. You want to join me?”

“Library?”

“Perfect.”

We walk silently there, grinning at each other. As we enter, he takes my hand and pulls me behind the stacks of shelves and around the corner of a dusty section nobody ever visits. His scent is making my heart flutter. His honeycomb eyes devour me.

“Maya, you know I’ve liked you for a while.”

“I know,” I giggle, looking down at the floor, afraid of what any further eye contact will do.

“Then let’s make it official. Will you go out with me Friday night?”

“Cam, you know I have to get into Oxford.”

“You already got in.”

“That depends on my A-level results.”

“One little date won’t jeopardise those results.”

I finally look up, my chest almost exploding at his grin. The same conversation has happened before. Only I left the library with eyes full of tears because I told him no, I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I breathe him in. “Okay, one date. On one condition. Oxford always comes first.”

His eyes fill with starlight as he leans forward and kisses me. The softness of his lips consumes me as his stubble grazes my cheek. Each stroke of his tongue erases the present.

He lets go and we stand there in the stacks gazing at each other. I can’t contain my smile. This was all I’ve ever wanted. This… and my sister back. The bell rings again to signal the end of form room.

“I’ll see you in maths.” He says as he places another lingering kiss on my lips, which sends my pulse into overdrive.

Once he’s gone, I pull the coin from my pocket and flip it over. That should have done the job. I bring it to my lips, still echoing Cam’s kiss, and place them delicately on the coin.

“July 12th 2025,” I whisper, unable to contain my happiness.

A quick hum, a gasping breath, and I am standing in the school library. I’m still in my uniform. I don’t have my phone, and annoyingly, it’s Saturday. I’m locked inside.

I kiss the coin again, and it takes me to Monday morning. I slip out of the library once Mrs Collins unlocks the doors. I wonder what awaits me when I get home.

I sneak in the back door and pace quietly up the stairs. When I open my bedroom door, I halt. Cam is asleep in my bed.

“Uh, what time is it? Why are you awake so early?”

“It may be summer, but it’s no excuse to waste a day.” I giggle as I sit down on the bed next to him.

“Why are you wearing your old uniform?” He laughs.

“Felt nostalgic.”

“I forgot how sexy you looked in it.” He pulls me close to him, kissing me sweetly. “Do you want to go to London today? We could go to that exhibition at the V&A you’ve been harping on about.”

“I think I just want to stay home with you today.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. There’s only so much time we have until I have to go back to Newcastle. Let’s just stay in bed all day.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I fall asleep in Cam’s arms. Blissfully lapping up the warmth of his body next to mine.

It’s late afternoon when he hops in the shower. Alone, I study the coin again. I don’t know why I didn’t save Rebecca first. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether the coin was truly a time travel device or just a product of my imagination. I didn’t want to get my hopes up if it wasn’t actually a way to change things.

Now I know it works. I have to try to save her. Will it even let me save her? Can I bring someone back from the dead? It let me have Cam. It allowed me to go back and correct my mistake. Now the guy I’ve been in love with since I was thirteen is my boyfriend.

I press the coin to my lips and say: “The morning of December 31st 2024, 8:00 a.m. London King’s Cross St Pancras.”

This time when the coin hums it also echoes an ear-piercing scream. I clutch my ears as it falls to the ground. I’m not at St Pancras, I’m still in my bedroom. I should have learned from the library mistake. The coin only takes you to where you physically are.

I check my watch. Rebecca could still be here. I race downstairs calling her name.

“You just missed her,” Mum says with a mouthful of toast.

“Can you drive me to the station?”

“I’m in my bloody dressing gown, love, today is my day off.”

“Please, Mum. Please, I need to catch her before… Before she.” I pause, my words caught in my throat, bitter and painful. I swallow. “I need to get to London and find her. She has her shift at the Battersea Dogs home, and then she is going to Adam’s house to help him prepare for the New Year’s Eve party. Only Adam and she have an argument, he breaks up with her, and she leaves to get the train back early.”

“I don’t think Adam would break up with her on New Year’s Eve, Maya. They have been together since they were sixteen. They’ll be engaged by next Christmas.”

“They won’t be. He’s going to break up with her. Then she’s going to…” I gulp, tears filling the corners of my eyes. “Please, mum. If we leave now, I might be able to catch her when she gets on the London train.”

Mum takes a last sip of her tea and grabs her car keys. Her hair still wet from the shower, she nods, rolling her eyes to Ralf across the road, scraping ice off his windscreen.

I jump out the car at the station running for the train. As I tap my Oyster, Rebecca’s train leaves the platform.

“No!” I shout, while commuters hurry past me.

The next London train is cancelled. Ninety minutes for another. The coin sears like fire in my pocket. I will make it to London. I will save her before she dies.

I finally get to St Pancras, my heart caged in my ribs. Too late for Battersea. Too late for Adam’s. I knew what would happen next.

I wait at the Brighton platform, eyes on the escalator. Every train that rushes by sends my cortisol levels high. My foot taps nervously as I keep looking up at the grand old clock that always tells lies.

And then I see her. Strawberry-blonde hair, coffee in hand, coat flapping as she runs. I catch her by the sleeve.

She stops, sweat on her brow, breath panting. “Maya?”

“It’s dangerous to run with hot coffee.”

She bursts out crying. I pull her toward me.

“Adam, he… he cheated on me.”

“I know.”

She pauses and takes a step back. The train that killed her has left the platform. She won’t die today.

“You know, how do you know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.”

We sit on the platform, and she finishes the coffee she was never meant to drink as she tells me everything that happened. I hold her arm as we get on the next train. Throughout the entire journey back, I gazed at her in amazement. I saved my sister. It was easier than I thought it would be.

We get in her Fiat, and as we are driving home from the station, her phone rings five times with missed calls from Adam.

“Don’t answer him,” I say, turning off her phone. “Let’s have a quiet night in. You can deal with him tomorrow.”

I notice tears still fall silently down her cheek as she drives.

“You don’t want to spend tonight with Cam?”

“You’re the only person that matters to me right now.”

She leans over and grabs my hand as we drive. One moment, I feel her touch on mine. Next, I feel glass grazing my cheek. Metal is twisted around me. Petrol burns. We are hanging upside down in her car.

“Becca, Becca!” I scream, clawing at her, but she doesn’t move. Pain tears through my legs. Blood blurs my vision. I hear shouting.

I knew she was gone. She was always meant to be gone. I crawl out of the car, and I stagger into the gutter as strangers pull her body free.

The coin glows in my hand, blood dripping onto its surface, bubbling before vanishing.

Time travel couldn’t cheat death. It could give me love. It could provide me with stolen joy, but not her. Never her, and I finally understood the truth: some clocks lie, but time itself never does.

Caffè Misto vs Latte – Delicious Coffee Drinks with Differences!

By Java Lover / October 10, 2022

What can be different between a Caffe Misto and a Latte? They are made with coffee and hot milk so they should be the same or at least close?

Well, not so fast! A Latte is brewed with espresso while the Cafe Misto is simply a drip coffee with milk. The Latte contains a lot more warm milk compared to the Misto of Café au Lait. That does make it taste smoother even though the caffeine content is similar!

If you want to find out other differences then go read on. You’ll find them below. But first, let’s check out what each of these coffee drinks is!

Contents

What is Caffè Misto?

Caffé Misto is a coffee drink that can be made easily at home with a drip coffee maker. Simply brew a pot of coffee and add half the amount of milk. This mixture will have a slightly weaker flavor than regular coffee but still tastes delicious. Caffe Misto is a great way to indulge in a special treat without breaking the bank.

Caffe’ Misto is an espresso drink that is made with one half brewed coffee and one half steamed milk. The proportion of coffee and milk is usually one-to-one, but you can alter the proportions by selecting a different roast level. The drink is also commonly referred to as Café au Lait outside of Starbucks.

The Caffé Misto is similar to a latte in appearance and taste, but unlike an espresso, the coffee will not have the same bitter taste. The steamed milk helps to balance the coffee’s strong aroma. The milk will give it a smoother and more refreshing taste compared to a drip coffee.

Caffe Misto is the same thing as a Café au Lait. Starbucks introduced the Caffe Misto to be able to brand the Café au Lait for themselves.

Caffe Misto is often confused with Latte, an espresso-based drink. While it has the same basic ingredients (coffee and steamed milk), it does have a distinctively different taste. The espresso in the Latte provides a much stronger coffee aroma which makes the Caffe Misto taste a little smoother and less coffee-like.

Cafe au lait served at Starbucks is a Caffe Misto

What is a Café Latte?

A Café Latte starts with a base of espresso. Steamed milk is then added on top. This coffee beverage comes with a thin layer of milk foam at the top, which many latte lovers love. Therefore, a latte is usually a hot beverage that features a classic espresso flavor and milk for added texture and creaminess.

That being said, lattes can come in various preparations. You can order a latte iced, and you can even add different flavors to it, including hazelnut, cinnamon, caramel, and more.

How to prepare a Latte

A latte is a combination of three things.

The desired amount of espresso shots is poured into a mug.
Steamed milk is added (typically 4 to 6 ounces).
A thin layer of milk foam gets added on top.

Because of the steamed milk, the drink produces a thick, textured, and creamy end result.

The actual term “latte” is a shortened version of an Italian term known as Caffe Latte. This term in Italian means “milk coffee.” It is a very appropriate term considering what the drink constitutes.

Usually, a latte is served in a cup of coffee that holds 8 ounces or more. It is for those looking for an enjoyable and smooth coffee beverage that is not having an overpowering coffee taste.

Typically, a barista will showcase his or her skills by adding their own intricate designs using the foam found on top, which is referred to as “latte art.” Therefore, if you are someone who enjoys taking pictures of your coffee, you will be able to get Instagram-worthy shots of your latte’s art.

Caffè Misto vs Latte

You think that coffee mixed with milk should be the same all the time? Not quite… There are quite a few differences when you compare a Café Latte with a Caffe Misto.

Not only do they result in very different ways on how to prepare those two drinks, but more importantly, in how they taste. Let’s dive in!

Caffè Misto is brewed with Filter Coffee

The biggest difference is how these two beverages are brewed. The Caffe Misto can simply be started by using a drip coffee maker. It’s the same coffee you use when you brew your cup in the morning at home.

You can also use single-serve coffee makers like a Keurig or a Nespresso machine to get your regular cup going. There’s also no rule that would prevent you from brewing a cup of pour-over coffee to use for your Caffe Misto!

The Latte on the other hand is made with Espresso. You need a Moka pot or Espresso maker to pull one or two shots of espresso. Technically, there are some ways to brew Espresso in a drip coffee maker but the result is not the same! That’s where a Cappuccino and a Caffé Misto are also quite different.

A Café Latte has more Milk

Another major difference between a Latte and a Misto is the amount of milk used. A Caffe Misto traditionally has a one to one milk to coffee ratio. That’s similar to a Cortado but not at all what you see in a Latte.

The Café Latte is typically made with a 1:2 coffee to milk ratio. Yet, that’s a little vague. If you, for example, order a Grande Latte at Starbucks, then you’ll get two espresso shots and the rest of the 16 oz drink is milk. Yet, when you order a Venti Latte you still only have two shots of espresso and the rest of the 20 oz Starbucks cup size is filled with milk! That results in quite a different ratio compared to the traditional one.

Having said that, there’s no rule or law that would stop you from making a Caffe Misto with a lot more milk compared to coffee. The drip coffee usually has less of a coffee taste compared to the espresso so you get a beverage that doesn’t taste much like coffee at all when you go overboard adding too much steamed and frothed milk to the coffee part of the Misto!

Does a Caffe Misto have more Caffeine?

That might be a surprise. You would think that the espresso in the Latte has more caffeine as it has typically a stronger coffee flavor. Yet, that’s not the case!

You’ll typically have a Latte (or any other espresso drink like cappuccino, etc) with one or two shots of espresso. A shot of espresso contains around 75 mg of caffeine at Starbucks. So, two shots are around 150 mg.

A cup of coffee in comparison comes with around 150 mg of caffeine if we take an 8 oz cup of Starbucks Veranda blend. While the amount of caffeine per ounce is lower in drip coffee that is used for a Misto, you consume more and therefore take in at least the same amount of caffeine compared to drinking a Latte.

If we follow Starbucks Caffe Misto ingredients then you end up with 150 mg of caffeine for a Grande Misto while you do end up with the same amount of caffeine for a Grande Caffe Latte with two espresso shots.

No Latte Art on a Caffè Misto

Well, this might not really be a big problem but when you get a Latte at a fancier coffee shop then you typically get some nice or amusing latte art on top of your cup.

That’s not happening when you order a Caffe Misto. It has steamed milk like the Latte but the layer of foamed milk on top is missing which is required to do some Latte art.

Luckily, whether there’s Latte art on top of any beverage does not impact the flavor and taste. Well, that might not be true in all cases. You might simply feel happier when you have a delicious Caffe Latte in front of you with some beautiful latte art on top. The presentation can impact how you feel about a beverage even though it technically does not change the flavor at all!

Starbucks Misto vs. Latte: Final Thoughts

In short, you have the same ingredients, yet very different beverages. In my opinion, the Caffe Latte is more of a pleasurable beverage that is kind of like a treat.

The Caffe Misto in comparison is simply a fancy cup of coffee that can be consumed anytime. It’s a little more decadent compared to a black coffee but not quite as fancy as a Caffe Latte.

However, it’s a personal preference whether you agree with me or whether you simply like to have your Latte at any time of the day and then a Caffe Misto as a treat in the afternoon.

One thing is for certain – You will like either one if you do like coffee drinks that contain a lot of milk! You certainly could also check out how a Flat White is different from a Misto!

Latte vs Caffè Misto — *Caffè Misto vs Latte – Please share on social media using the above image!*

US TROOPS ARE ‘DEAD MEN WALKING’ IF THEY INVADE KHARG ISLAND, STRAIT OF HORMUZ | Stanislav Krapivnik

Is it better to stay married to someone who you don’t love than to give up half of your assets in divorce?

Many answers to this question, however I will still add to the long list.

I was very happily married for 14 years before an accident made me incapable of work. Within one year the savings ran out. She wanted to move away and remain married, which caused much arguments. She moved back and forth for 6 months before I said its either me or the highway. She chose the highway. 5 years later I remarried to find out later the courting was all an act and lead to a very lonely marriage for me. She also left after only 2 years with a suit case full of money. I was now stone broke, but surprise surprise… now the happiest I have ever been. Oh the freedom is awesome. Let me share with you something; When as a man you SEEK a woman, if it dont come quickly you get desperate and take on whoever will have you. Big mistake, instead try NOT seeking and just take a deep breath and feel the enormous joy in freedom. It might take a lifetime of disappointments to learn, that man is by FAR best off alone. Life is good. I said 5 years ago in a similar post… “I get lonely sometimes, but never as lonely as I was in marriage”. Now the world is saying it also. Best advice I can give to a man who has divorced is to remain so, and ditch the self pity and instead smell the roses. When alone, there is only one season; SPRING. If you allow self pity to rule you, its always winter. Today I prefer being alone and have already knocked back a couple of potentially good prospects. The rewards of marriage are little and the odds of success in remarriage is long, whereas the joys of living alone is, er, um, well just great.

Not that I have tried it yet, but a prostitute cost $80 when you are desperate; a divorce cost me so far over $1,000,000 leaving me broke afetr a lifetime of giving. . That said, money to me is like a woman, nice to have sometimes, but not needed to make you happy. These days I sing like I never have before. I am a new man, so why fix it if it aint broke?

Edit: I am 75 now.

Chicken with Olives

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
Salt and pepper
Flour
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, minced finely
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 to 2 cups chicken broth
12 Kalamata or other Greek-style or Mediterranean-style olives*

Instructions

Season chicken with salt and pepper.
Coat with flour and shake off excess.
Heat vegetable oil in a wide skillet over medium-high heat.
Add chicken thighs and cook for 5 minutes; they should be golden.
Turn the thighs and cook for 5 minutes more.
Remove chicken to a plate.
Add onion and garlic to the pan and cook for about 5 minutes, until softened.
Add chicken broth. Bring to a boil over high heat and add chicken back to pan. Lower heat and boil gently for about 20 minutes, or until chicken is cooked through and the liquid is quite reduced and sauce-like.
While the chicken cooks, pit olives if necessary. Chop and add to pan.

Notes

* Substitute green olives if you can’t find Greek-style black olives.

Why are Chinese people around the world supporting the Chinese Communist Party? Most of these Chinese supporters don’t even live in China. Can they be complicit of CCP’s crimes?

For a start, I’m not even Chinese, I’m Australian and I too support the Chinese government, but just to get something straight, IT’S NOT THE CHINESE COMMUNIST PARTY, it’s called the communist party of China, there is a difference and every one knows it, the U.S. changed it around to make is sound more derogatory, which of course it isn’t, it’s just a name, you see, China hasn’t been communist since opening up 40 odd years ago, but the Chinese government still governs with communistic ideals, which are from the people, of the people, FOR the people, that means everyone is treated as equally as possible, that’s why they have the worlds highest approval rating, of any government anywhere,

also, I should add there is no communist country in the world today, Cuba is still the closest, because the Cuban government provides free accommodation for all it’s citizens, the rest all allow private citizens to own their own properties and businesses, which a true communist country wouldn’t allow,

the reason I support China, is not so much supporting the government, but having worked and lived there for four years, I defend the truth, against Yankee lies and rotten propaganda,

Easy Spinach & Ricotta Stuffed Shells

February 7, 2025 by Hannah

These jumbo pasta shells are filled with a creamy spinach and ricotta mixture, baked in a rich marinara sauce, and topped with melted mozzarella. This dish is a comforting Italian classic that is perfect for a cozy family dinner, meal prep, or even a special occasion. The combination of creamy cheese, tender pasta, and flavorful sauce makes this recipe an all-time favorite.

Why You’ll Love This Recipe

- Simple and delicious – Easy to prepare with everyday ingredients.

Family-friendly – A crowd-pleaser that even picky eaters enjoy.
Perfect for meal prep – Can be assembled in advance and baked later.
Vegetarian comfort food – Hearty, satisfying, and packed with flavor.

Essential Tools & Equipment

To ensure smooth preparation, have these kitchen essentials ready:

- Large pot – For boiling pasta shells
- Colander – To drain the pasta
- Mixing bowls – For preparing the ricotta filling
- Skillet – For sautéing garlic and spinach
- Baking dish (9×13-inch) – To assemble and bake the dish

Aluminum foil – To cover while baking
Wooden spoon or spatula – For mixing and stuffing the shells

Ingredients

For the Pasta Shells

12 jumbo pasta shells
1 tablespoon olive oil (for sautéing)
2 cups marinara sauce

For the Ricotta Filling

1½ cups ricotta cheese
1 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded (plus extra for topping)
½ cup parmesan cheese, grated
1 large egg
1 cup fresh spinach, chopped (or ½ cup frozen spinach, thawed and drained)
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ teaspoon nutmeg (optional, enhances flavor)
Salt and pepper, to taste

For Garnish & Serving

Fresh basil or parsley, for garnish
Red pepper flakes, for a spicy kick (optional)

Step-by-Step Directions

1. Preheat the Oven

Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C).

2. Cook the Pasta Shells

- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

Add the jumbo pasta shells and cook until al dente (slightly firm).
Drain, rinse with cold water, and set aside to prevent sticking.

3. Prepare the Spinach & Ricotta Filling

- Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat.
- Add minced garlic and sauté until fragrant (about 30 seconds).

Stir in the chopped spinach and cook until wilted (or just heated through if using frozen spinach).
Remove from heat and season with salt and pepper.
In a large bowl, combine:
- Ricotta cheese
- Mozzarella cheese
- Parmesan cheese
- Egg
- Nutmeg (if using)
- Cooked spinach mixture
Mix until everything is evenly incorporated.

4. Assemble the Stuffed Shells

- Spread 1 cup of marinara sauce on the bottom of a 9×13-inch baking dish.

Carefully stuff each pasta shell with the ricotta mixture and place seam-side up in the dish.
Pour the remaining 1 cup of marinara sauce over the shells.
Sprinkle extra mozzarella cheese on top.

5. Bake

- Cover the dish with aluminum foil and bake for 25 minutes.

Remove the foil and bake for another 10 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and bubbly.

6. Serve

Let cool for 5 minutes before serving.
Garnish with fresh basil or parsley.
Serve warm with garlic bread or a side salad.

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Notes & Variations

- Cheese Options: Provolone or extra parmesan can add a richer topping.
- Spicy Twist: Sprinkle red pepper flakes for added heat.
- Make-Ahead Tip: Assemble and refrigerate up to 24 hours in advance before baking.

Gluten-Free Option: Use gluten-free pasta shells or substitute with zucchini boats.
Protein Additions: Add cooked ground beef, sausage, or shredded chicken for a heartier meal.

Best Side Dishes to Serve with Stuffed Shells

1. Garlic Bread

Crispy, buttery, and full of garlic flavor, this classic side is perfect for scooping up extra marinara sauce.

2. Caesar Salad

A crisp Caesar salad with romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, and a tangy dressing adds freshness and balance to the meal.

3. Roasted Vegetables

Oven-roasted zucchini, bell peppers, mushrooms, or asparagus provide a healthy and flavorful contrast to the rich, cheesy pasta.

4. Bruschetta

Fresh diced tomatoes, basil, and balsamic glaze on toasted bread bring a bright, refreshing element to the meal.

5. Caprese Salad

Sliced fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil with a drizzle of balsamic glaze make a light and elegant pairing.

6. Steamed Asparagus

Lightly steamed asparagus with a squeeze of lemon enhances the meal without overpowering the flavors.

7. Minestrone Soup

A warm and hearty Italian vegetable soup works well as an appetizer before serving stuffed shells.

8. Red Wine

A glass of Sangiovese or Chianti complements the rich, cheesy flavors of the dish. For a non-alcoholic option, sparkling water with lemon is a refreshing alternative.

Storage & Reheating Instructions

Refrigeration

Store leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.
For best results, reheat before serving.

Freezing Instructions

Unbaked Stuffed Shells

- Assemble the dish but do not bake.
- Cover tightly with plastic wrap and then foil to prevent freezer burn.

Freeze for up to 3 months.
When ready to bake, thaw overnight in the refrigerator and bake as directed. If baking directly from frozen, add 10-15 minutes to the baking time.

Baked Stuffed Shells

Let the dish cool completely.
Store in a freezer-safe container or wrap individual portions in plastic wrap and foil.
Freeze for up to 3 months.

Reheating

Oven Method (Best for Large Portions)

- Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).
- Cover with foil and bake for 20 minutes, or until heated through.

Microwave Method (Best for Individual Servings)

Place stuffed shells on a microwave-safe plate.
Heat on medium power for 2-3 minutes, checking and stirring as needed.

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Frequently Asked Questions

Can I use cottage cheese instead of ricotta?

Yes, but for a smoother texture, blend it in a food processor before using.

Can I make this gluten-free?

Yes. Use gluten-free jumbo pasta shells, or substitute with zucchini boats or bell peppers for a low-carb alternative.

Can I add protein to the filling?

Yes. You can mix in cooked ground beef, Italian sausage, shredded chicken, or even lentils for added protein.

Can I prepare this dish ahead of time?

Yes. You can assemble the stuffed shells up to 24 hours in advance and store them in the refrigerator before baking.

What is the best way to keep pasta shells from sticking together?

- Cook them in plenty of salted water and stir occasionally.

Drain and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process.
Lightly toss with olive oil to prevent them from sticking.

Can I use fresh spinach instead of frozen?

Yes. Use twice the amount of fresh spinach, as it wilts down significantly when cooked.

How can I make the dish spicier?

Add red pepper flakes to the ricotta mixture or sprinkle them on top before serving.

What is the best cheese to use for topping?

Mozzarella is the best choice for a melty topping, but provolone, gouda, or extra parmesan can add extra depth of flavor.

Conclusion

These spinach & ricotta stuffed shells are a comforting, flavorful dish that is perfect for any occasion. Whether you make them fresh, prepare them ahead, or freeze them for later, they are always a hit at the dinner table. With the right techniques and ingredients, you can create a restaurant-quality Italian meal right at home.

Serve with your favorite side dishes, follow the storage tips, and enjoy a simple yet satisfying dinner that the whole family will love.

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Common Mistakes to Avoid & How to Perfect the Recipe

Overcooking the Pasta

Cook shells just until al dente to prevent them from becoming too soft. They will continue cooking in the oven.

Not Draining the Spinach Properly

If using frozen spinach, squeeze out all excess water before mixing it into the ricotta filling. Too much moisture can make the filling watery.

Skipping the Egg

The egg helps bind the ricotta mixture, making it creamy yet firm enough to hold its shape. Without it, the filling may be too loose.

Overfilling the Shells

Stuffing the shells too much can cause them to break apart. Fill each shell just enough so they hold their shape without spilling over.

Using Low-Quality Cheese

Fresh, high-quality ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan make a big difference in flavor and texture. Avoid pre-shredded cheese, as it contains anti-caking agents that affect melting.

Forgetting to Cover While Baking

Covering the dish with foil for the first part of baking helps prevent the shells from drying out. Remove the foil towards the end for a golden, bubbly cheese topping.

Not Letting the Dish Rest Before Serving

Allow the stuffed shells to cool for about 5 minutes before serving. This helps the filling set and makes them easier to serve.

By keeping these tips in mind, you can ensure perfectly cooked, flavorful, and well-balanced stuffed shells every time.

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Easy Spinach & Ricotta Stuffed Shells

These jumbo pasta shells are stuffed with a creamy spinach and ricotta mixture, baked in marinara sauce, and topped with melted cheese. This Italian classic is perfect for a cozy family meal.

Prep Time20

Cook Time35

Total Time55

Cuisine: Italian

Servings: 4

Calories: 465kcal

Ingredients

12 jumbo pasta shells
1½ cups ricotta cheese
¼ teaspoon nutmeg optional
1 cup mozzarella cheese shredded (plus extra for topping)
½ cup parmesan cheese grated
1 large egg
1 cup fresh spinach chopped (or ½ cup frozen spinach, thawed and drained)
2 cloves garlic minced
2 cups marinara sauce
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh basil or parsley for garnish

Instructions

Preparation

Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C).
If using fresh spinach, wash and chop it finely. If using frozen spinach, thaw it and squeeze out any excess water.

Cook the Pasta Shells

- In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the jumbo pasta shells until al dente.

Drain and set aside to cool slightly.

Prepare the Filling

- Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the minced garlic and sauté until fragrant.
- Add the spinach and cook until wilted (if using fresh) or heated through (if using frozen). Season with salt and pepper.
- In a mixing bowl, combine ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan, egg, nutmeg (if using), and the sautéed spinach mixture. Mix until well incorporated.

Assemble the Dish

- Spread a layer of marinara sauce on the bottom of a baking dish.
- Carefully stuff each cooked pasta shell with the cheese and spinach mixture. Place them seam-side up in the baking dish.
- Pour the remaining marinara sauce over the stuffed shells and sprinkle with additional mozzarella cheese.

Bake

Cover the baking dish with aluminum foil and bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes.
Remove the foil and bake for an additional 10 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbly and golden.

Serve

- Garnish the stuffed shells with fresh basil or parsley. Serve warm with a side of garlic bread or a fresh green salad.

Notes

Cheese Options: Provolone or extra parmesan can add a richer topping. Spicy Twist: Sprinkle red pepper flakes for added heat. Make Ahead: Assemble and refrigerate up to 24 hours in advance.

The Best Episode of The Twilight Zone — “The Last Flight” by Richard Matheson

Hmm. The student has potential.

What do you keep in the trunk (boot for youse guys from the UK) of your automobile?

For me, I keep a bunch of bottled water, roller skates for my daughter, a note table, and a bunch of umbrellas. Of course there are the misc odds and ends related to the car, like a vacuum cleaner, some cleaning supplies and what not.

Under the rug are the tire and tools.

Yeah. This all differs substantially from my car when I lived in Boston. I remember a big beach umbrella, sun tan lotion, a canvas bag of tools, and some road atlases. I also had some cat leashes, and a large bunch of car interior waxes and cleaners. Not to mention the rags that go with them.

I think that for a man, a car’s trunk is the equivalent to a woman’s purse. Perhaps everything that you need to know about someone can be found in their purse. Eh?

And for a man… well, it’s the trunk (boot) of the car.

Today…

What would a tank that incorporated all of the best WWII tank technology be like, no matter the cost?

The most technologically advanced, no-expense-spared tank in WWII was the German Panther (Panzer V). We don’t have to speculate what it would be like, because the Germans built it.

The Panther had the best gun, best armor, best targeting systems, best comms, and best mobility of any tank on the WWII battlefield. But it was fantastically expensive, wildly outnumbered, notoriously unreliable, insanely overcomplicated, and ridiculously difficult to maintain. Spare parts were in short supply. The mission capability rate was abysmal.

War, particularly a war of attrition like WWII, is a numbers game. Weapons, no matter how good or advanced, are expendable. A design philosophy of “no matter the cost” is at direct odds with the need for a weapon to be expendable.

Germany only produced about 6,000 Panther tanks. By comparison the US produced just shy of 50,000 Sherman tanks. At peak production, we were turning out over 45 new Shermans every day. That’s a new Sherman rolling off the assembly line every 31 minutes. And, even more importantly, we were cranking out spare parts at an even higher rate.

It turns out that 8 cheap tanks that are good enough are better than 1 amazing tank that’s too expensive to risk losing.

Yes, 1 on 1 a Panther would dominate a Sherman. But it was never a 1 on 1 fight; when they met, it was usually more like 4 on 1. The Panther was good, but it wasn’t that good.

What made the M-4 Sherman dominant was its ubiquity and simplicity. Where the Panther’s design was optimized for combat effectiveness, the Sherman’s design was optimized for mass production and maintainability. Where the Panther required a lot of highly skilled craftsmen to build, the Sherman was mostly built with semi-skilled labor.

That made the Sherman cheap and fast to build and easy to maintain. Spare parts were abundant. It’s simplicity meant it could be repaired and modified in the field with basic tools, rather than requiring extensive depot-level maintenance to remain operational or receive upgrades. It was easy to train crews to use it and mechanics to work on it.

It didn’t matter how good the Panther was because the Sherman outnumbered it by 8 to 1. Losing a dozen Shermans in a battle was a drop in the bucket; we could build new ones faster than the Germans could destroy them. For the Germans, losing one Panther was a serious setback because it couldn’t be replaced easily, if at all.

The Kriegsmarine had the same problem. They built 4 of the best battleships and battlecruisers ever to sail: Bismarck, Tirpitz, Gneisenau, and Scharnhorst. No expense was spared in their design or construction. Again, they were badly outnumbered. Their huge expense and small numbers meant they were too valuable to commit to anything other than a decisive battle. They spent most of their service lives in hiding, afraid to show themselves on the open seas. In contrast, the USN and RN could afford to take more risks with their capital ships and adopt a more aggressive posture because we had reserves.

IRAN STRIKES U.S. CARRIER AS NAVY MUTINY SPIRALS

Hungarian Chicken Paprikash

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You can’t go wrong with a sweet and spicy chicken drizzled with a velvety cream sauce for dinner.

There are only so many ways you can cook chicken. While there are so many chicken recipes out there to choose from sometimes cooking this versatile meat can feel repetitive. So why not switch it up with an authentic Hungarian specialty? This recipe is made with a whole cut chicken that is browned, simmered in a delicious spicy and creamy sauce and served over noodles, mashed potatoes or dumplings. It’s hearty and comforting and delicious.

Ingredients for Hungarian Chicken Paprikash

Broiler/fryer chickens: Buy a whole chicken (about 3-1/2 to 4 pounds each) that has been already cut into pieces.
Peanut oil: You could also use another type of generic cooking oil you have on hand, like canola oil or vegetable oil.
Onions: While any type of onion could work with this recipe, we recommend using a yellow or white onion for the best flavor profile.
Garlic: Chopped gloves are added to this Hungarian chicken paprikash as another aromatic for the recipe. You could also mince the garlic in different ways if you don’t feel like chopping.
Flour: All-purpose flour is used to help thicken the sauce that will go on top of the meat.
Paprika: Look for a sweet Hungarian paprika for the best tasting chicken.
Chicken broth: We highly recommend grabbing a carton of your favorite high-quality chicken broth. You can also use water for this recipe.
Sour cream: Stir this into the sauce after the chicken cooks to create a creamy finish.
Noodles or mashed potatoes: You can have either as the base for this Hugarian chicken paprikash recipe.

Directions

Step 1: Brown the chicken

Taste of Home Hungarian Chicken Paprikash photo of the browned chicken. — KRISTINA VANNI FOR TASTE OF HOME

Season the chicken with kosher salt and pepper. Heat peanut oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven. Brown the chicken in batches, removing with a slotted spoon when the pieces are browned al over. Drain the oil and keep the chicken warm.

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Step 2: Soften the onions

Taste of Home Hungarian Chicken Paprikash photo of the sauteed onions. — KRISTINA VANNI FOR TASTE OF HOME

Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook the onions in that same Dutch oven, stirring to loosen the browned bits from the pan. Cook until the onions begin to soften — about six to eight minutes. Add the garlic and cook for one more minute.

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Step 3: Make the broth and simmer

Taste of Home Hungarian Chicken Paprikash photo of the simmered chicken. — KRISTINA VANNI FOR TASTE OF HOME

Stir in the flour and paprika and reduce the heat to low. Cook until the paprika is fragrant, three to five minutes. Add in the chicken broth, stirring constantly until the mixture has become smooth. This should take six to eight minutes. Return the chicken to the pan and cover. Let it simmer until the chicken reads 170°F on the meat thermometer. This should take about 30 minutes.

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Step 4: Stir in the sour cream

Taste of Home Hungarian Chicken Paprikash photo of the cooked chicken with optional toppings and side of noodles. — KRISTINA VANNI FOR TASTE OF HOME

Remove the chicken to a serving platter and then skim the fat out of the sauce. Stir in the sour cream and heat it up until the sauce is warmed, for three to five minutes. (Do not allow it to come to a boil!) If desired, sprinkle the sauce with parsley and additional paprika. Serve the chicken with the sauce over hot cooked noodles or mashed potatoes.

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Taste of Home Hungarian Chicken Paprikash photo of the finished recipe. — Hungarian Chicken Paprikash TOHD24 205280 KristinaVanni 5

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Recipe Variations

Make the sauce thicker: Simmer the cooking liquid after you remove the chicken and before you add the sour cream for a gravy-like consistency to your sauce. This reduces the sauce and then creates a thicker consistency with the sour cream later.
Add in tomato paste: Many authentic Hungarian chicken paprikash recipes will also include tomatoes as a base for their creamy sauce. If desired, stir in a tablespoon or two of tomato paste into the sauce to get the most authentic experience.
Add some spice: Swap out the sweet Hungarian paprika with a smoky or spicy paprika instead. Or add a light dash of cayenne pepper!

How to Store Hungarian Chicken Paprikash

Cover the Hungarian chicken paprikash in an airtight container and store in the refrigerator for up to five days. You can also store the container in the freezer for up to three months. Defrost the chicken in the fridge for 24 hours before reheating.

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How do you reheat Hungarian chicken paprikash?

Place the chicken in a saucepan and heat on medium-low, stirring consistently, until the chicken is fully warmed and the sauce is bubbling.

Hungarian Chicken Paprikash Tips

Can I use regular paprika instead of Hungarian?

You can make this swap if you don’t have Hungarian paprika on hand. But keep on mind that the Hungarian paprika variety tends to be sweeter (or sometimes spicier, depending on the variety) compared to a typical paprika you buy on grocery shelves. The taste might be slightly different.

What ingredient is close to paprika?

The best substitute for a sweet Hungarian paprika is a Chipotle chili powder.

Can I serve Hungarian chicken paprikash with dumplings?

Yes! Some traditional recipes for this dish will serve the chicken with dumplings or spaetzle dumplings instead of noodles or mashed potatoes.

Paul Elam EXPOSES THIS About Modern Marriage

Alien Tech is for the Dogs

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Sarah Arnette

In 2020, a scouting craft buzzed a small planet in the goldie locks band of a far-off solar system. The craft, known as the Indomitable, in the language of its people, did not stop to investigate the planet, but they did do passive scanning. NASA caught sight of it as it flew away. It looked a lot like a cylinder with a ball at the end of it. It did not have any markings that they could see, so they chalked it up to being a space rock. The crew of the Indomitable knew they found something though. They found evidence of civilization, technology, and the basics of space travel. In short, they found a potential customer.In 2025, a commercial craft from the same civilization arrived in Earth’s orbit, fully prepared to trade its trinkets for Earth’s great resources. While there were skeptics, the mass majority of the human population could hardly believe their luck. They were going to have the technology of the stars, all for acetone and other non-recyclable industrial waste products. It was a complete win-win situation.In 2028 a new technology from the non-terrestrials, the Askkists, hit the mass markets on Earth and it changed everything. It was the universal translator. It translates all spoken and non-spoken languages so that they can be understood by anyone, even if they do not have a translator themselves. It revolutionized global government and policies. It streamlined communications at workplaces, and it helped people understand isolated cultures.Just as the internet could be used as a source of unlimited learning and understanding, but is instead dedicated to cats, the universal translator became the toy of the fur-parent. Gone were the days of using repetitive training to convince your dog not to potty in the kitchen. Gone were the days of using sticky tapes to keep your cat off the shelves. Now you could just tell your pet what to do, and have him listen… or not.***“Victory, please stop calling your brother a butt-face!” Mom calls from the living room. I’m in the kitchen, with Butt-face. His real name is Damien, but you know what, since I got my new translation collar, I can call him a Butt-face, and have everyone hear it. If I can’t, then what’s the point of having a brother?“Victory, Mom said to stop calling me that!” Damien echoes what Mom just got done saying. His big dark brown eyes look even bigger against his black fur. He has some white on him, too, but not much. Just a bib and a single white toe on his back paw. He says he is an African Painted Dog because of it. He is really just a pit-bull mutt like me. The difference is, I am a pretty pit-bull mutt. I am white with tan markings down my back like the royal robes of office or a cape. I have a brown eye and a blue one, so one to match Mom’s and one to match Dad’s eyes. Damien just matches Mom’s.“And that’s why you’re a Butt-face,” I coolly inform him. I then prance off into the living room to sit with Dad. He knows that Damien is a Butt-face, he’s the one who taught me that word. Granted, I could not speak when he taught it to me, but that’s beside the point. I learned all kinds of things before I had the words to express them myself. Mom and Dad were surprised at the things we know.We got our new translation collars a couple of weeks ago. They look like regular dog collars, but they don’t attach to a leash and they hang a little looser than a traditional collar should. Damien’s is a royal blue color with little teal diamond designs on it. Mine is pink, with flowers on it. We did not get a choice, we could not talk yet. It did not take long for them to start working though, or for us to figure out how to keep our thoughts to ourselves and use our words like we want to. Watching Mom and Dad’s responses helped a lot.Damien trots into the room shortly after I do. He looks up at Dad, but since I’m on Dad’s lap, he will have to sit with the Spare, otherwise known as Mom. That is okay for him, he prefers Mom anyway. Mom likes to give tight hugs and cuddles, and Damien loves those. He’s such a Mommy’s boy. Since it is winter, Mom lifts up the blanket she is cuddling under and lets Damien tuck in next to her. This is his favorite spot in the world.“Victory, your brother loves you. It hurts his feelings when you call him a Butt-face. How would you like it if he called you something mean?” Mom says.

“He wouldn’t dare. Besides, I wouldn’t mind. I would pay him no mind at all,” I answer back with a sniffle. At that, all eyes turn towards me. None of them look like they are believing a word I say. They might be right.

“Victory, you spent almost a year refusing to answer to any other name than Victory or Queen Victory. If he called you a Butt-face, you would have a fit. Hell, you throw a fit if he calls you ‘BG’, which is your nickname!” That’s Dad, trying to use logic and history to stop an argument. The only way it stops is if I win. Everyone knows this.

“On another topic, did you hear that there is a faction of dogs and cats that are applying for citizenship and personhood in California?” Mom is always keeping up with the news. Ever since she blew off the news of the Askkists flyby and their subsequent landing, she has vowed not to make the same mistake again. She will treat the news as important, investigate it fully for scams, and then act on it. It is amazing how one alien invasion is enough to change a person.

“What would they do with personhood? Pay taxes?” Dad asks. I nudge his hand, looking for ear rubs. I should not need to tell him to do his job. Luckily, he picks up on it pretty quickly.

“According to what I was reading, yes. They want to have the right to pick where they live, the jobs that they have, and even the right to money and contracts. It is headed by a cat, Mr. Pavel. He says that he wants a life beyond just being a pampered house cat. He dreams of a job in politics. He also wants to see cats and dogs join the exploration teams on future space missions.”

“Well, it sounds like he is on his way to having that dream. I wish him the best. The tests that proved that cats and dogs are far more intelligent than previously thought, make it more compelling that he might actually get his wish for personhood. After all, the Great Apes got it. Now they are busy taking over the construction industry.”

Mom looks back down to her tablet, rereading the news. “You guys are happy, right? We are not holding you back from living your best life, are we?” Mom asks Damien and me. She sounds worried. I know she worries a lot about being the best mom she can be and that we might not be living our best lives.

I stop and think about it for a moment. When I dream, do I dream of work? When I think about the future, do I see this family and this life? Could I do better, be better? “Ha! You cannot get rid of us so easily! You signed the paperwork stating that you would take care of us forever, no take-backs. You’re stuck with us,” I answer for the two of us. I know where our bread, which I can’t actually have, is buttered.

“Mommy, I would never leave you,” Damien answers, cuddling up tighter to her. He is such a Butt-face.

Elon Musk revealed Something Big Happening with China Moon Mission Before SpaceX or NASA

Indian Chicken

Ingredients

1 pound boneless chicken breasts, cut into strips and sautéed in butter until done
2 tablespoons butter
3 teaspoons curry powder
1 medium onion chopped
2 cups finely chopped green apples
1 can cream of mushroom soup, undiluted
1/2 cup milk
1 cup frozen English peas
1/8 teaspoon paprika

Instructions

Melt butter in skillet.
Add curry powder, onion and green apples and sauté until crisp and tender.
Add peas, milk, soup and chicken. Cook until hot.
Sprinkle with paprika before serving.
Serve over rice or noodles.

Pictures

Sir Whiskerton and The Silent Treatment; A Tale of Strategic Naps, Failed Linguistics, and One Very Loud Kitten

Act I: The Farmer’s Epiphany

The Farmer, tired of being ignored by Sir Whiskerton (who deemed his small talk “unworthy of feline ears”), had a revelation:

“Cats respect silence… and naps! To speak ‘Cat,’ I must become one with the void.*”

He proceeded to:

Lie motionless on the porch swing (claiming it was a “sunbeam simulation”)
Ignore all questions (including Doris the Hen’s urgent “IS THIS A STROKE?”)
Stare into the middle distance like a philosopher contemplating a blank wall

Sir Whiskerton, intrigued, sat nearby. “Hmm. The student has potential.”

Act II: The Purr-fect Performance

For three glorious hours, the Farmer maintained his act:

Porkchop offered him a turnip. Silence.
Rufus licked his elbow. Not a flinch.
Gertrude the Goose insulted his hat. Zero reaction.

Sir Whiskerton, impressed: “He’s achieved purr-suasion.”

Then… Ditto arrived.

Act III: The Echo of Doom

Ditto, ever the unwitting saboteur, copied the Farmer’s fake snores—but with echo effects:

“ZZZ—wait, what? ZZZ—wait, what?”

The Farmer’s eyelid twitched.

Sir Whiskerton, groaning: “You had to bring the microphone.”

The mice, mistaking it for a new dance beat, started a conga line. Chaos ensued.

Act IV: The Sound of Surrender

The Farmer finally caved, shouting: “FINE! I’LL TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER!”

Sir Whiskerton, nodding sagely: “And thus, the natural order is restored.”

Ditto, now napping for real: “ZZZ… victory.”

The Moral of the Story

Moral: Sometimes silence speaks loudest… unless you own a parrot-kitten.

Post-Credit Scene

The Farmer attempts “Dog” next (tail-wagging ends in a pulled muscle).
Doris writes a think-piece: “The Art of Ignoring: A Hen’s Guide.”
Sir Whiskerton enjoys 17 minutes of uninterrupted silence before the mice find a kazoo.

Best Lines:

“I’ve mastered purr-suasion.” – Farmer, delusional
“Is this a nap strike? Do we negotiate?” – Porkchop, concerned
“ZZZ—copy that. ZZZ—over.” – Ditto, sleep-radioing

Starring:

The Farmer (Failed Mime)
Sir Whiskerton (Silence Connoisseur)
Ditto (Echo Champion)

Key Jokes:

The Farmer’s “cat loaf” pose (he topples over in 2 minutes).
Rufus howling “AM I DOING IT RIGHT?” during the quiet hour.
Gertrude’s single attempt at silence (“I hate this. I’m leaving.”).

P.S. (Detailed Edition)

Why This Story Works:

Physical Comedy: The Farmer’s stiff “cat pose” vs. Ditto’s floppy snores.
Bilingual Humor: “Purr-suasion” (English pun) + “ZZZ-qué?” (Ditto’s Spanglish naps).
Teaching Moments:
- Boundaries: The Farmer learns respect > forced bonding.
- Irony: His “silent protest” backfires spectacularly.
Character Arcs:
- Sir Whiskerton admires effort (but won’t admit it).
- Ditto ruins everything (but it’s adorable).

Keep the chaos (quietly) coming,
The Sir Whiskerton Team 😼🔇

Final Note:
Next time, the Farmer tries speaking Squirrel. It involves acorns thrown at his head. Progress!

Lime Drenched Chicken and Caramelized Onions

Yield: 4 servings | 3 cups Caramelized Onions

Ingredients

Caramelized Onions*

6 large onions (for about 6 cups of slices)
2 tablespoons olive oil

Chicken

4 (6 ounce) boneless, skinless chicken-breast halves
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 lime
2 teaspoons bottled minced garlic

Instructions

Caramelized Onions

Peel the onions and cut them into 1/4-inch slices.
Place the onions in a slow cooker, and drizzle the oil over the slices.
Place the lid on the slow cooker and adjust the heat to HIGH. Cook for 8 to 10 hours, until the onions caramelize. They will then have a deep-brown color.
Leftover onions may be refrigerated, covered, up to three days. They may be frozen up to one month.

Chicken

Place the chicken breast halves, one at a time, between layers of wax paper. Pound each breast half (see note) so that it is an even 1/2-inch thick. Peel off the paper. Sprinkle the chicken lightly with salt and pepper. Set aside.
Heat the oil in an extra-deep, 12 inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the chicken to the skillet and cook for 4 to 5 minutes on the first side until golden brown.
While the chicken cooks, cut the lime in half and cut 1 of the halves into four wedges. Set the wedges aside.
Turn the chicken over and squeeze the juice from the remaining lime half evenly over the chicken. Continue to cook for 4 to 6 minutes or until the chicken is no longer pink in the center.
Put the chicken on four serving plates.
Add the onions and garlic to the hot skillet and stir constantly until the onions are heated through, about 1 minute.
Remove the skillet from the heat and top each piece of chicken with about 1/4 cup onions.
Serve at once, garnished with the reserved lime wedges.

Notes

* Make the caramelized onions ahead of time.

Nutrition

Per 1/4 cup serving: 48 calories (42% from fat), 2g fat (no saturated fat), no cholesterol, 1g protein, 7g carbohydrates, 1g dietary fiber, 2mg sodium

A Story of Space, left.

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Keelan LaForge

“They’re not how I thought they’d look at all,” said Rachel, reflectively. “You just assume they’ll look like all the pictures we’ve seen.”“If you went to Biblical times and saw Jesus, you’d probably think the same thing. People make guesses at things, but they’re usually wrong.”“It’s hard to be accurate about something you’ve never seen.”“True,” said Kerry, sighing. “We were lucky not to know anything then – they’re coming in droves now.”“Yeah, it might take a while, but I think they’ll eventually completely take over.”“What was wrong with their home planet?”“I guess they’re like us. They can’t leave anything alone and just been satisfied with what they have.”Kerry gazed out the window and thought about all the shut down possibilities of the ever-expansive world they’d once had. Since their arrival, everything had taken on a different tone.Florida looked changed now, even whenever the aliens weren’t visible. You never knew when you’d run into the next one. She would always remember with glassy clarity the day they first arrived. They’d come in something that was less flying saucer and more space bubble. It looked like it could have been popped with a pin prick. If only. They’d survived and traversed the galaxy in it, and they’d made good time too. They couldn’t communicate the details, but their return trips showed just how quickly they could go there and come back. They hadn’t brought any physical items with them, but they took up a lot of space.The streets were mostly bare, the beaches emptied. Kerry had always been used to the coming and goings from the neighbouring beach at Clearwater. People had stopped swimming and they’d stopped sunbathing. She didn’t know why everyone had; maybe it was just because word spreads and people unthinkingly copy each other whenever they’re scared. Kerry had thought she was brave until the aliens’ arrival. It’s hard to be brave when faced with the unknown and they had looked much different to a friendly ET. They were larger than humans and grotesque to their eyes. They didn’t have smiling faces. They didn’t really have faces – just holes for seeing and feeding. They were charcoal grey in colour, with long, spidery limbs. The first person that had spotted them had allegedly dropped dead, dying of heart failure from the sheer shock of the vision before them. They’d found her soulless body, but it had taken a while to attribute it to that. They mightn’t ever have connected the two events had they not had recurrent encounters in that very area.Sometimes Kerry wondered why they hit that area first – of all the places on the globe. Was it just a coincidence or did they intentionally select it? It was a place of beauty, but Kerry wondered if it was the most appealing place from bird’s eye view? Maybe they had heard reports of life on Earth before they’d even come in to land. They were a form of intelligent life – more intelligent than humans everywhere – even though humans thought themselves the cleverest of species. If they were, they could have done more to fend them off. It felt like the human population was dwindling and there was no single event they could pin it on. The aliens were taking over in a slow, insidious way. The buildings were being razed to the ground. Kerry hated looking at the rubble. It was unclear what was being put there as replacement for them. The aliens didn’t share their plans. Even if they’d had blueprints, they couldn’t have translated them for human understanding. There was a feeling of finality on Earth – a slow surrender that was spreading across the surface of the world. Broadcasting had broken down. The internet was no longer used. Screens were obsolete. There was no way of communicating between different countries anymore. At first, yes, but then they did away with it all, bit by bit. Kerry kept waiting for something bad to come to her, personally; she just didn’t know exactly when or what it would be.

She kept her door triple bolted every night – something she had never felt the need to do before 2035. The place she’d lived in was so poster perfect that it felt like nothing untoward could ever have happened there. That’s what made it more shocking and out of the ordinary. Kerry reflected on the pandemic of 2020. It seemed like a mere blip compared with the Alien Invasion. A decade earlier, people still disputed the existence of extra-terrestrial life. It seemed laughable now – the earthly worries they’d had. There had been nothing of that magnitude then; Purely People Problems: that was what they were referred to now and often scoffed at, labelled trivial concerns.

Every night whenever Kerry went to sleep, she considered the fact it might be her last night on Earth. So many people had disappeared, and no one could say what had happened to them, which made it so much worse. Kerry thought of a few of her closest friends, tearfully. She tried not to dwell on their disappearances too much, because it achieved nothing, and survival had to be her priority. If she could evade the aliens, they couldn’t do what they’d done to the others. But each week, whenever she saw the empty streets, she wondered if it might be better to join the others, wherever they were. She didn’t want to be the last one remaining. That would be petrifying in a way that gathered up every feeling of terror she’d ever experienced and played them out in a single moment. At least Rachel was there too. She wasn’t entirely alone, yet. Her family might have vanished one by one, she might have lost all sense of community and she might have lost every place she’d ever known to the invaders. But she still had Rachel, and each day they met up without anything eventful to tell was a small success.

For weeks, months and years, they escaped it together. Luck was the only thing that could explain it. It was fitting that they were together whenever they finally had their personal encounter with the aliens. They were toasting each other over a quiet dinner, eating some hearty mac and cheese and cornbread when the tendrils appeared around the doorway, coming to beckon them to their shared fate. They were whisked away, so quickly they couldn’t gasp; the evidence they’d lived and dined there removed – apart from a few cornbread crumbs.

War On Iran: – (Not-) Destroyed Missile Launchers – Seeking Ground War Allies

War propaganda doesn’t change, whoever a conflict is fought with:

Russia ‘running out of ballistic missiles’ – Telegraph, Oct 28 2022
Iran is ‘running out of missiles’ – Telegraph, Mar 4 2026

Professed success is promoted by doing a countdown towards victory:

IDF destroyed 1/3 of Iran’s missile launchers after Tel Aviv strikes – Jewish Chronicle, Jun 16 2025
More than half of Iran’s missile launchers have been destroyed – Jewish Chronicle, Jun 20 2025

The recent war follows the scheme of ever rising enemy losses:

Around Half of Iran’s Ballistic Missile Launchers Destroyed in Strikes, Israel Says – WSJ, Mar 1
Israel says destroyed around 300 Iranian missile launchers – DPA, Mar 5 2026
IDF estimates over 60% of Iran’s missile launchers taken out – Israel Hayom, Mar 6 2026
Despite Saturday spike in missile sirens, IDF affirms 75% of Iranian missile launchers destroyed – Jerusalem Post, Mar 7 2026
Israel Says 80% of Iran’s Missile Launchers Destroyed, Israelis Could Soon Resume Normal Life As Operation Continues – Yeshiva World, Mar 10 2026

At some point however delusion creeps in:

IDF says destroyed 70% of Iran’s missile launchers as war progresses ‘beyond expectations’ – YnetNews, Mar 15 2026
Majority of IRGC missile launchers destroyed, Israel to return to routine soon, official say – Jerusalem Post, Mar 10 2026
US ‘cannot locate Iran’s missile launchers’ – Telegraph, Mar 11 2026
Iran’s Missile Launcher Arsenal Holds Steady Despite Strikes – Bloomberg, Mar 12 2026

People start to ask questions:

US says it has destroyed Iran missile capacity: How is Iran still shooting? – AlJazeerah, Mar 16, 2026

After Trump’s original plans did not survive contact with the enemy, the media are preparing the public for an escalation towards a ground war:

Entering War’s Third Week, Trump Faces Stark Choices (archived) – NY Times
As the conflict with Iran expands and intensifies, President Trump’s options — to fight on, or to move toward declaring victory and pulling back — both carry deeply problematic consequences.
Oil Industry Warns Trump Administration Fuel Crunch Will Likely Worsen (archived) – WSJ
The Iran war may be about to escalate – Gulf states could join the conflict (archived) – Economist
Trump is trapped by the logic of war Boots on the ground might become inevitable – Unherd
Trump demands ‘about 7′ countries join coalition to police Iran’s Strait of Hormuz – Politico
Donald Trump warns Nato faces ‘very bad future’ if allies fail to help US in Iran (archived) – FT
White House Tries to Build Coalition on Iran to Address Energy Crisis (archived) – WSJ

> President Trump and top aides spent the weekend framing their Iran operation as a resounding military success while imploring other countries to join their effort to resolve a worsening energy crisis related to the Strait of Hormuz.

The Trump administration as soon as this week plans to announce that multiple countries have agreed to form a coalition that will escort ships through the waterway, which runs along the Iranian coast, U.S. officials said. The U.S. and potential coalition countries are still discussing whether those operations would begin before or after the war ends. <

What is the use of escorting ships through the Strait “after the war ends”?

So far there are no takers of Trump’s call for allies. I doubt that there will be any.

The U.S. will have to go it alone. To take a strip of Iranian land north of the Strait of Hormuz with a depth and width sufficient to protect the Strait will require a force of some 100,000 soldiers. The U.S. no longer has such an invasion force nor the means to land it.

That does not mean that Trump won’t try it.

One can hope that the commodity and financial markets will become unruly enough soon enough to stop Trump from bombing Iran ‘a few more times just for fun‘ and from marching towards a ground war.

Posted by b on March 16, 2026 at 16:59 UTC | Permalink

U.S. Warship Sunk in 12 Seconds — Iran Knew America’s Exact Weakness

(Repost) An uncomfortable look at how capable America is in rebuilding after a world war. (duplicate)

There’s a lot of talk in the United States these days. It’s all about how “evil” the Chinese are, and how “evil” the Russians are, and how “evil” the Iranians are. And along with this well publicized narrative is the flood of articles about “how strong” and “how invincible” the American military is. It’s almost like, well it’s exactly like, America is on a war-footing and is readying the population for a long drawn out, multi-generational war, with Asia.

It’s a big mistake.

I guess that the American “leadership” wasn’t paying attention in history class. Perhaps they should ask the ghosts of Napoleon Bonaparte and Hitler how that all worked out.

But one of the unspoken realities is the illusion that Asia won’t fight back. That it is inconceivable. And that any far in far-away Russia, or far-away China, or far-away Iran will stay far away.

Far… far… away.

And that, even if it did somehow manage to “throw a few punches” back at the United States, that the (good ol’) USA will manage to absorb them, quickly recover, and continue living a great and exceptional life as the “leader of the free world”, and that “brilliant city on the hill”. America is “exceptional” don’t you know…

And I for one am going to tell you that this is delirious wishful thinking.

Back in the day

This attitude that “we are strong and invincible” and that “we can tell the world what to do, or else” is thuggish bullying. And it’s more than just irritating, it’s disgusting. But for historians (well, I am an amateur, but you all know what I mean) it’s frightening.

History is full of stores of the proud rulers of nations. They would live inside their huge stone forts. they would have these huge banners fluttering in the azure blue skies, and they would have gaggles of beautiful maidens attending to them. And they would have large armies of “Heavy Cavalry” and “Knights in singing armor” . They would have thousands of these armed knights.

And they would sit inside their castles, on their thrones, and eat their lamb, drink their mead, and cavort with their wenches. They would make proclamations. They would be delirious and drunk with power, and totally and completely unaware of true and real dangers elsewhere in the world.

I feel a lecture coming on…

Genghis Khan and the “Brilliant Cities on the hill”

Genghis Khan was the Emperor of the Mongol Empire. He must have been one of the most ferocious people ever to live on the planet Earth. Genghis marked his reign with blood, feasts, and love of different women. People like Napoleon, Hitler, or Stalin look like amateurs when we compare them to Genghis Khan.

This fierce Mongol knew how to rule, and he successfully did it for many years in the 13th century. There wasn’t a person back in the day, who would not be scared of Genghis Khan’s power.

But before he came to power, he was not all that well known. And, as such he was dismissed as a “uncouth”, “uncultured” barbarian. Which he pretty much was…

The knights at their tournaments, in their finery, armor and emblems of ancestry, believed they were the foremost warriors in the world, while Mongol warriors thought otherwise. 

Mongol horses were small, but their riders were lightly clad and they moved with greater speed. These were hardy men who grew up on horses and hunting, making them better warriors than those who grew up in agricultural societies and cities. 

Their main weapon was the bow and arrow. And the Mongols of the early 1200s were highly disciplined, superbly coordinated and brilliant in tactics.

The Mongols were illiterate, religiously shamanistic and perhaps no more than 700,000 in number. Their language today is described as Altaic, a language unrelated to Chinese, derived from inhabitants in the Altay mountain range in western Mongolia. 

They were herdsmen on the grassy plains north of the Gobi Desert, south of Siberia's forests. Before the year 1200, the Mongols were fragmented, moving about in small bands headed by a chief, or khan, and living in portable felt dwellings. 

The Mongols endured frequent deprivations and sparse areas for grazing their animals. They frequently fought over turf, and during hard times they occasionally raided, interested in goods rather than bloodshed. They did not collect heads or scalps as trophies.

-Genghis Khan

…but that is besides the point.

The Mongol Empire conquered all Asia, and no enemy could withstand Genghis Khan and his bloodthirsty army. Oh yes, even though Mongols loved to compromise, they were known for their brutal physical power.

But they were much more than that. The Mongols under Genghis Khan were fair, just and orderly. You just don’t get on their bad side.

Genghis Khan created a body of law that he was to work on throughout his life. This included outlawing the tradition of kidnapping women. The kidnapping of women had caused feuds among the Mongols, and, as a teenager he had suffered from the kidnapping of his young wife, Borte, and he had devoted himself to rescuing her.

In addition, Genghis Khan declared all children legitimate, whomever the mother. He made it law that no woman would be sold into marriage. The stealing of animals had caused dissension among the Mongols, and Temujin made it a capital offense. A lost animal was to be returned to its owner, and taking lost property as one's own was to be considered thievery and a capital offense. Temujin regulated hunting – a winter activity – improving the availability of meat for everyone. He introduced record keeping, taking advantage of his move years before to have his native language put into writing. He created official seals. He created a supreme officer of the law who was to collect and preserve all judicial decisions, to oversee the trials of all those charged with wrongdoing and to have the power to issue death sentences. He created order that strengthened his realm and improved his ability to expand its territory.

-Genghis Khan

People believed that one Mongolian man could defeat ten or more warriors of other culture. And that was true. Genghis Khan proved many times how strong his army was, defeating his enemies against all the odds.

Nowadays, the only news we can hear about Mongolia is that Russians are trying out their nuclear weapons in the steppes of this ancient empire. Or that the Chinese are placing farming robots to herd cattle in inner Mongolia.

We forget that modern Chinese, and modern Russians are the direct descendants of the Mongol warriors of Genghis Khan.

What about this “uncouth barbarian”…

Genghis Khan was one of the most deeply feared historical figures in the world for a good reason. Historians estimate that Genghis Khan is responsible for over 40 million deaths, and at that time it was equal to 11 percent of the world’s population. For comparison, we can look at World War II, which has put “only” around three percent of the world’s population, 60-80 million people, to the graveyard. What Genghis Khan did is downright scary when we put it in perspective, right?

Not bad for an “evil” uncouth barbarian.

Genghis Khan was the most feared human of the 13th century, who could destroy dynasties just by moving his little finger. He created the Mongol Empire all by himself and earned his eternal spot in the history books. However, a lot of people had to suffer for Genghis Khan to succeed.

In cities the Mongols were forced to conquer, Genghis Khan divided the civilians by profession. He drafted the few who were literate and those he could use as translators. Those who had been the city's most rich and powerful he wasted no time in killing, remembering that the rulers he had left behind after conquering the Tangut and the Jurchens had betrayed him soon after his army had withdrawn.

It is said that the Genghis Khan's military did not torture, mutilate or maim. But his enemies are reported as having done so. Captured Mongols were dragged through streets and killed for sport and to entertain city residents. Gruesome displays of stretching, emasculation, belly cutting and hacking to pieces were something European rulers were using to discourage potential enemies – as was soon to happen to William Wallace on orders from England's King Edward I. The Mongols merely slaughtered, and preferred doing so from a distance.

The city of Nishapur revolted against Mongol rule. The husband of Genghis Khan's daughter was killed, and, it is said, she asked that everyone in the city be put to death, and, according to the story, they were.

-Genghis Khan

Oh yes, the Mongolians were known for their horrendous torturing techniques. One of the most popular was pouring molten silver down the throat and ears of a victim.

Genghis Khan also liked bending his enemy’s back until the backbone snapped. If that sounds barbaric, skip this next part. So, the Mongols once celebrated victory over Russians in a very bizarre way. They picked all the Russian survivors, dropped them on the ground and put a heavy wooden gate on top of them. Then, Genghis Khan and the entire Mongol army had a huge banquet on that wooden gate. They ate, drank, and watched how Russians were dying one by one from the suffocation, pressure, and wounds.

Genghis Khan had so much power that he could do whatever he wanted. For instance, when Genghis occupied some new area, he would kill or enslave all the men and share all the women amongst his tribe.

Genghis Khan would even make beauty contests of captured women to decide which woman is the most beautiful one. Yeah, he was having his Miss Universe competition before it was cool. So, the queen of those beauty competitions would win the privilege to become one of many Genghis Khan’s women.

The rest of the Mongolian army would share all the other contestants. It shows us once again how cruel and barbaric Mongols were. I suppose that it was a different time and a different place, but the fact remains that when you have lost, your cities destroyed, and sacked, the victor can do whatever they want. And they wanted sex.

Lots and lost of sex.

Genghis Khan was able to destroy entire “impenetrable” cities easily.

When we look at what Genghis Khan achieved with the Mongol Empire, we cannot help but appreciate his mastermind as a warlord. It surely looks like Genghis Khan had three dragons with him just like Khaleesi.

I cannot find any other explanation of Genghis Khan’s success.

I mean, he defeated Jin Dynasty’s one million troops with only 90,000 Mongolians by his side. Yes, Genghis Khan managed to win a war with ten times fewer troops than his opponent’s army.

On top of that, he was invading China, so he had to overcome all the “little” problems such as the Great Wall of China.

Genghis Khan with his army had destroyed over 500,000 of Chinese troop before getting control of Northern China and Beijing. The rest of the Chinese army had to surrender to the power of Genghis Khan.

Destroying Jin Dynasty is only one of many examples of how great of a warlord Genghis Khan was. Also, he had some brutal and loyal men by his side, so let’s not rule out the dragon theory.

Physical force is not enough to achieve something as great as Genghis Khan did.

Yes, there is no doubt that he is the greatest and most brutal warlord in history, but he was also a very wise man. In 1201, during a battle, Genghis Khan was shot by an enemy archer. Needless to say, he was not happy about it.

So, after the Mongolian army won the battle, Genghis Khan spent some time looking for the man that shot him. He even pretended that it was not him who got shot, but his horse, so the enemy archer would have the courage to confront Genghis.

An unbelievable thing happened when the archer finally stepped out of the crowd and confessed shooting Genghis Khan.

Instead of killing his enemy, Genghis Khan recognized his talent and asked him to join the Mongolian army. The archer became a great general and loyally served Genghis for many years. That is one of the reasons why Mongol Empire was such a success back in the 13th century.

It is not a secret that Genghis Khan loved to have some bedroom time with all the different women. Whenever Genghis would conquer new land (he did it more frequent than people scroll Facebook nowadays), he would also get himself a couple of new wives.

As well as a gaggle of some “playthings”.

Genghis did that because he liked beautiful women, but it was also a very convenient way to demonstrate his power. Spreading his blood line all over Asia ensured peace in the entire Mongol Empire.

So, how many children did Genghis Khan have? It is pretty much impossible to tell the number, but historians estimate that today, around eight percent of men from Asia are his descendants. I cannot even start to process this number, but apparently, Genghis Khan was a great lover. No one in the history is even close to having such a wide family tree. So, next time when you talk about Genghis Khan, remember that it is a great chance that he is your ancestor.

Genghis Khan was a man of reason. He let the people in the Mongol Empire live a happy life as long as they followed his rules.

However, Genghis Khan cruelly punished everyone who tried to break those rules.

In Hungary and Poland the Mongols were outnumbered but tactically superior. They defeated several Hungarian armies. In early April, 1241, at the Battle of Lenica (Liegnitz) in Poland, they defeated an army that is said to have included heavily armored Teutonic knights. Dying in the battle was the most powerful of Polish dukes, Henryk II (Henry II).

-Genghis Khan

For example, when the governor of one of the cities in the Khwarazmian Empire took over Genghis Khan’s trade caravan and killed all the traders, Genghis Khan went berserker.

He sent 100,000 Mongols to the Khwarazmian Empire and killed thousands of people, including the governor.

Genghis Khan poured molten silver into the governor’s eyes and mouth until the poor guy roasted from the inside. That was a clear sign that anyone, stupid enough to harm the Mongol Empire, would have to face devastating consequences.

While Genghis Khan was consolidating his conquests in what had been the Khwarezmian Empire, a force of 40,000 Mongol horsemen pushed through Azerbaijan and Armenia. Without Genghis Khan they defeated Georgia's Christian crusaders, captured a Genoese trade-fortress in the Crimea and spent the winter along the coast of the Black Sea. In 1223, as they were headed back home, they met 80,000 warriors led by Prince Mstislav of Kiev. The Battle of Kalka River (map location) commenced. Staying out of range of the crude weapons of peasant infantry, and with better bows than opposing archers, they devastated the prince's standing army. Facing the prince's cavalry, they faked a retreat and drew the prince's armored cavalry forward, taking advantage of the over-confidence of the mounted aristocrats. Lighter and more mobile, the Mongols strung out and tired the pursuers and then attacked, killed and routed them. 

-Genghis Khan

History shows that spreading fear worked perfectly in Genghis Khan’s favor. He still needed to invade some rebellious places from time to time, but for the most of the time, people in The Mongol Empire behaved really well.

Genghis Khan could be as powerful and respected as he wanted, but he still had to surrender to the laws of nature. Genghis Khan died in 1227, at the age of 65.

And why is all this important?

History tells us that psychopathic personalities in charge of nations that possess science, technology, and modern works tend to be blinded to the realities of the world. They become drunk with power, and forget that there are “bigger fish in the sea” and that you should not discount them because they are different…

…or they look different…

…or that they are “book worms”…

…or are drunk on vodka all the time…

…or whatever bullshit reinforcements that you want to believe. Genghis Khan serves as a stark and frightening reminder that there is always someone bigger, and better, and stronger than you are. And you should mistake their polite actions, their calm words, their soft tone of voice for a sign of weakness.

The result could be lethal.

"Let me control the media and I will turn any nation into a herd of pigs"

- Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels

Consider the reality

I could type until my fingers fall off, and no one is going to believe the statistics that pretty much show that a FIRE based economy isn’t capable of rebuilding, creating, or structuring anything. I can show you historical examples, you you all would ignore them. I can show you charts and graphs, but they will remain oblivious.

A FIRE economy is any economy based primarily on the finance, insurance, and real estate sectors. Finance, insurance, and real estate are United States Census Bureau classifications. Barry Popik describes some early uses as far back as 1982. Since 2008, the term has been commonly used by Michael Hudson and Eric Janszen. It is New York City's largest industry and a prominent part of the service industry in the United States overall economy and other Western developed countries.

-Wikipedia

I argue that strategically, a nation that makes, creates and builds things is far superior to that that talks about things, writes about things, and tabulates numbers on spreadsheets. And this superiority manifests in numerous ways.

The historical displacement of America’s industry for replacement by lawyers, economists, bankers and real estate tycoons.

But rather than get into all the charts and the graphs, it get’s tiresome don’t you know, instead we are going to greatly simplify things and look at the far simpler model.

So what we are going to so is simplify the equations.

An exercise in simplification

We are going to create an imaginary nation, roughly the the same size and structural organization of the United States. We are going to call it “Freedom United!”.

And…

We are also going to create another nation, this is going to be a unified Asia that includes Russia, China and Iran. We will call it “Asia First!”

And…

Does this map remind you of anything?

How about this…

Comparisons

What we are going to do is compare the two collective communities. For each one is comprised of a group of separate states or independent nations, all brought together under a common banner.

And when we do compare them, we see this…

Ah…

And the first thing that should strike the reader is that there is a major “real estate difference” involved.

Asia First! is much larger, geographically, than Freedom United! is.

But it’s more than that…

"Early in life I have noticed that no event is ever correctly reported in a newspaper, but in Spain, for the first time, I saw newspaper reports which did not bear any relation to the facts, not even the relationship which is implied in an ordinary lie. I saw great battles reported where there had been no fighting, and complete silence where hundreds of men had been killed. I saw troops who had fought bravely denounced as cowards and traitors, and others who had never seen a shot fired hailed as the heroes of imaginary victories; and I saw newspapers in London retailing these lies and eager intellectuals building emotional superstructures over events that had never happened. I saw, in fact, history being written not in terms of what happened but of what ought to have happened according to various ‘party lines’."

- George Orwell, Looking back on the Spanish War, Chapter 4

The second thing that you must note it it is not only bigger, but it has more people, more factories, and more resources.

But let’s simplify things and note that while Freedom United! and Asia First! both have factories and R&D centers, the nature of them, and the location of them within the geographical territories are quite different.

Freedom United! has pretty much “offshored” it’s manufacturing capability to other nations and places, and what remains are “think tanks”, “conceptional Research” and “study centers”. They are staffed by bankers, accountants and highly paid diversity directors. Further, their location tends to be centralized to the major cities within the nation body.

Cities like Yorker City, San Chicago, and New Angles have their “industry” very close to the densely packed urban centers. And while there are certainly scattered factories and manufacturing center peppered throughout the nation, the vast bulk of them at located at the urban city centers.

Something like this…

Meanwhile, Asia First! not only has more factories, but they are scattered throughout the entire nation. Furthermore, they tend to make real physical things. Not spreadsheets, Power Point Presentations, and accounting evaluations. The owners and the executives are all merit driven as it is their culture. All the leadership can, if needed, go onto the factory floor and make the parts and equipment products themselves.

Like Freedom United!, they also tend to cluster, but instead of clustering with the major population centers, they cluster inside manufacturing communities that are widely separated and located in the vast tracks of the countryside.

Here’s a map of Guangdong. It is a collection of many, many, many smaller towns that host many, many, many factories. This area is a designated Tier 1 city in China and it is north of the principal city of Shenzhen. For your shit’s and giggles, MM used to live in one of these cities here in this region. It’s all factories, and hills. Factories and hills. Factories and hills.

The Human bridge is really a hassle I will tell you what. That’s the icon at the far lower left of the picture. I go over it maybe once ever few months. It’s traffic as far as the eye can see!

Now for our purposes, we will consider ASIA FIRST! to be much like this. Which regions of scattered communities and factories all spread out over wide expansive terrain.

It looks something like this…

Now…

Let’s compare the two nation states

"The media's the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses."

- Malcolm X

When you compare the two nations you notice something very important to our calculus here. No matter how smart, how prosperous, how beautiful or how exceptional one nation is compared to the other… a nation with a bigger population, and more factories, and resource will be able to out-produce and out-survive a lesser nation.

It’s the “Risk” strategy.

In the Risk game, the goal is simple: players aim to conquer their enemies’ territories by building an army, moving their troops in, and engaging in battle. Depending on the roll of the dice, a player will either defeat the enemy or be defeated. This exciting game is filled with betrayal, alliances, and surprise attacks.

We saw that during World War II with the Nazi Germans. While their military weapons industry was top rate, and the quality of their equipment was the best in the world, it was the ill-trained, masses and hordes of soldiers from Russia that was able to overwhelm Germany.

This idea that huge quantities of “average” soldiers, and mediocre equipment can compensate for very specialized, and efficient, and expensive weapons systems is not new. It’s just not well reported as the Freedom United! military-industrial lobby is desirous of keeping this issue quiet and “under wraps”.

Let’s compare the two nations side by side…

All this is very interesting, but let’s get to the point.

A comparison with the events of the last few years leading up to today.

America takes on Asia…

Freedom United! is just getting “clobbered” on the international scene. It is a military empire that has few remaining exports of value. It exports aircraft, and wheat, and some very specialized machines, but that’s about it. It’s primary revenue generating venue is in the banking, finance and real estate venues.

This nation has been fighting numerous wars all over the globe, and it’s leadership are drunk with power, and oblivious to the true realities of the world.

So, where they got this idea is unknown, they get this idea that they can take on and fight with Asia First! And that they would win!

What’s more, they seriously believe that they could draw out the battle and fighting for a long, long time.

Not just years and decades, but generations…

Mike Pompeo in India working on the QUAD to fight against China.

Now they know that it would be very difficult to fight on the geographical territory of Asia First! as it would result in a complete nuclear retaliation.

Asia First! combined has an enormous nuclear arsenal. It is far bigger, more technologically advanced, and with a larger military than what Freedom United! has.

Thus, they need to be able to fight Asia First! is such a way that Nuclear MAD doctrine is avoided.

They also know that they need to “bleed out” Asia First! in such a way as to give them time to overtake the nation through attrition. So they have established other areas by which the fighting can take place.

Create a MAJOR “false flag” event to ignite a war-footing.
Keep the fighting conventional. Avoid nuclear weapons.
Fight by proxies on predetermined proxy nation locations.
Bleed Asia First! through dominance on the oceans, and in Space.
Isolate Asia First! in all ways and means.
Prevent war from hitting the mainland Freedom United!

The battles are designed to occur on proxy locations.

The idea is to have wars and battles taking place in far-away lands, so that no one in Freedom United! is harmed, and a direct nuclear strike with Asia First! can be avoided. These proxy war locations (already decided upon by FREEDOM UNITED!) are shown in gold.

And of course, the idea is that Freedom United! would fight Asia First on these designated battlefields. These areas are known as the QUAD.

It’s a brilliant plan.

Except one thing.

Some of those QUAD areas are considered to be Asian First! territory. And pretending that they are not is a egregious mistake. And Asia First! has said so explicitly. These are “RED LINES” that one dare not cross.

But the leadership of Freedom United! just chucked, and pretended that they didn’t hear the statements.

A Battle Rages

So let’s go through the logical progression of things.

Logical.

Progression.

Of events as we know them.

Freedom United! creates a series of “false flags” to justify a war with Asia First!. There are a number of events stacked up that are ready to go. The question is which one will Freedom First! use to “get the ball rolling”?

And within a short period of time there are global military actions globally.

Initially, it looks like everything is going to plan. One or two QUAD members decide to “sit the conflict out”, but the rest support the effort in varying degrees.

Trade slows to a trickle and even stops.

The people of Freedom United! are all in gleeful patriotism, and conventional fighting is occurring all along the “doorsteps” of Asia First!. As planned! Off in far-away lands!

American media constantly pushes for war because they have no idea what real war is. To them, going to war is like spanking a child: possibly backfiring socially, but no real danger to their own lives. Most of the time, they just send bombers and take cool videos. When guys have to be sent on the ground, their deaths can be used to fuel the national hard-on America has for its military. I call it the "thank you for your service culture.

America has waged war on minor nations for so long that they can't even imagine that fighting another nation might result in aunt Nancy meeting her creator early. To them, Afghanistan, Iraq, China, Russia, it's all the same.

Also, the infantile thinking in terms of good and bad doesn't help.

Posted by: Eeny | Apr 12 2021 18:32 utc | 12

They can sit down in front of their televisions set, and social media feeds and feel so proud and patriotic about how strong and powerful their military is, and finally doing something about all those evil dirty filthy Asia First! people.

But then something happens.

Those “neutral” QUAD nations are not all independent. Some of them are actually geographically part of Asia First! They are not considered to be “protectorates of Freedom United!” instead they are recognized by the UN as actual sovereign territory of Asia First!, and…

…when the military operations in support of the False Flag events start to occur, action starts to unfold very rapidly.

Asia First! decides that enough is enough, and that this bullshit must end. So it unleashes a combined military horror upon Freedom United!.

All Hell breaks loose.

The event was is brief and is over quickly. All in all an equal exchange of nuclear conflagration occurs to both nation states. No one is spared.

But…

The nuclear strike has been planned for decades. It’s not spontaneous.

And one nation decides to end it, and it remains the victor who lays the terms of surrender of the other nation.

Which nation would be the winner, and which would be the loser, do you suppose?

It looks like this…

Global Devastation

We can see what happens.

Not only are the designated battlefields (pre-established by Freedom United!) hit with crippling nuclear salvos, but the “untouchable” cities of Freedom United! are also targeted. In fact, ALL of the major urban ares of Freedom United! are erased from the globe.

All of the major cites of Freedom United are erased from the map. All of the military bases in support of the military empire of Freedom United! are turned into slag and glass. The capital, and all the leadership locations are craters surrounded by radioactive wasteland.

Freedom United! ceases to be a nation.

It did come at a price.

Asia First! also took some hits and they did not survive unscathed. But we can clearly see that even though there was an equal exchange of hostilities, the nation that suffered the worst was Freedom United! by the simple geography of it’s cities and manufacturing base.

The Aftermath

Now consider the years following this nuclear exchange.

How was the globe able to recover, and which nations recovered the best?

And…

Which nations are best able to recover?

Which nations would be able to recover within a decade?

Which nations would be able to recover within 50 years?

Let’s take a look at that…

Recovery Suggestions

Well, there are far too many variables at play to make any kind of reasonable determine what could happen. All we have are the numbers and the proportions. Asia First! could lose 75% of it’s population and still be better off than Freedom United! And then there is the destruction of factories and cities, and the ability to rebuild. In all aspects, Asia First! would be far better equipped to rebuild, stabilize the situation, and begin all over.

Not so with Freedom United!

Because of this, and the fact that Freedom United! is already balkanized, it seems logical that whatever the condition of Freedom United! would be after a major nuclear exchange, it would fracture into many different singular, independent cities, and independent nations. Some would be healthier than others. Some would be absolutely horrible and horrid places to live, while others might be generally unscathed.

We can also say that there would probably be some serious internal domestic conflict as a nation of “independence” (and high levels of gun ownership and decades of “race bating”) and government actions that pit one group against another…

… that there would be a relatively long period of adjustment to the new normal.

There might be efforts to maintain the original constitution, while there might be efforts to maintain the independence of the individual states. There might be efforts to carve out new states and new territories, as well as neighboring nations deciding to annex some of the lands that are now “up for grabs”.

No matter, how contentious, how difficult, how problematic, and how confused, one thing is certain, the Federal Government will no longer exist, and it would take a herculean effort to keep the Freedom United! national unity intact after a global nuclear exchange.

Conclusion

Humanity is at a dangerous crossroads. Nuclear war has become a multi-billion dollar undertaking, which fills the pockets of US defense contractors. What is at stake is the outright “privatization of nuclear war”.  

Massive amounts of money have been allocated by the Joe Biden Administration to feed the weapons industry including the Pentagons’ 1.3 trillion dollar nuclear weapons program  first launched under Obama, is ongoing under the Biden administration.

Michel Chossudovsky, April 12, 2021

This post looks at the world like the simplified game of “Risk”. The nation with the bigger population and armies will be able to offset what ever technical advantage you might possess. This is not always true, of course. (Consider the Incas when they met the Spanish in search of gold.) But it is often true enough to say that perhaps 80% of modern conflict follows this rule.

We can wish that advantage can be mitigated by brilliant generals (Carl von Clausewitz, and Rommel), or exciting cutting edge technology (radar, sonar, stealth, cruse missile, hyper-glide technology, drones, nuclear weapons), and elite and specialized training (Seals, Green Berets) but for the most part these advantages are on the Tactical level, not on the Strategic level.

Avalon Hill’s game “Squad Leader” simulates tactical level military warfare on the Eastern Front between Germany and Russia during World War II.

But we have to take into account something else. This is something that is rarely if ever addressed…

… incompetence at the leadership level.

The public faces change, but the stupidity remains because, like Rome, you can change the leadership… but the system is faulted and humans will abuse it.

When Germany ran over France in 1941 the French generals were ill prepared to deal with the Germans. When World War II broke out, Stalin was so incompetent, that he locked himself in the room and got drunk waiting for people to haul him away and arrest him.

When Genghis Khan attacked Europe, and the Silk Road, many nations and city state had an unrealistic understanding of the threat that was facing them, and they had an artificially inflated idea of what they were capable of.

Like the 20,000 armored knights that rode into battle to take on 4 million angry Huns... none survived.

In this overly simplified scenario we discount advantages on the tactical level.

Instead we compare geography and leadership (only). In this set of goggles it is quite obvious that Asia First! has a decided advantage over Freedom United!. Yet, as much fun as this very frightening scenario plays out, we do not know what to expect, and our guesses can be wildly inaccurate.

But, and yet, given the little what we know, and what we have learned from history, there is a case that the scenario presented here has a 60% likelihood of occurring. The Freedom Forever! nation will not easily recover at any pre-confligation level, and it is ridiculous to assume that it would. No matter what “secret weapon” the neocons in control of the nation might think.

We need only review the catastrophic mistakes of the Hungarians when they encountered the Huns of Genghis Khan to underline this point.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Theories of Collapse Index here…

SHTF Theories

Articles & Links

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
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Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you.

Remember: If life gives you unexpected sounds, just shout “¡MÚSICA NATURAL!” and cha-cha away.

When I used to visit my grandparents on Sundays (back when I was young) it always went something like this; [1] go to church, [2] have a Sunday meal, [3] a 1.5 hour trip to visit relatives. [4] have a final Supper with them, [5] arrive home late. [6] go to school the next day.

I’ve done it hundreds of times.

My paternal grandparents (from my fathers side = paternal) would have a nice spread of fresh rolls from the nearby bakery, lots of nice butter. Soda pop for us kids to drink, beer for my parents, and maybe a spread of cold cuts. sometimes a chicken meal. Or, maybe a Polish dish or some other ethnic food.

My maternal grandmother was similar, minus the rolls and butter. But the soda was the norm. The cold cut spread was always present, and occasionally we might have some kind of 1960’s era supper involving various casseroles, or jello dishes of one time or the other.

Ah I do remember those days. I think that if you are an American you probably remember them as well.

So today, here’s some family dinners from the 1970s. Enjoy…

Weekday Chicken Cacciatore EXPS THEDSCODR19 72870 C02 28 1b

Chicken Paprikash EXPS TOHD24 205280 KristinaVanni 7

Grilled Ribeye with Garlic Blue Cheese Mustard Sauce EXPS THJJ17 200968 B02 07 2b

EXPS TOHD24 130541 JuliaHartbeck

Frito Pie EXPS FT24 116189 EC 021424 3

Best Salisbury Steak EXPS FT24 4404 EC 072324 1

Slow Cooker Pork and Sauerkraut EXPS TOHD24 113809 KristinaVanni 7

Tangy Tropical Chicken EXPS SSCBZ18 133534 C08 29 2b

Chicken Caesar Florentine exps120190 TH2236622B08 4bC RMS

Cassoulet for Today EXPS SDFM17 48033 D10 04 4b

Santa Fe Skillet EXPS OPBZ18 23272 C06 29 4b

exps41486 SD153208A08 08 5b

exps40645 SD153322A04 03 2b

Easy Beef Stroganoff EXPS TOHD24 39897 LeticiaAlmeida 06

Stuffed Peppers for Four EXPS SDJJ17 39426 D02 10 5b

Hawaiian Pork Chops EXPS TOHD24 25004 EricKleinberg 7

Tender Steak Fajitas EXPS SSCBZ18 30701 E08 30 2b

Creamy Scallop Crepes EXPS THD18 32033 E08 03 7b 6

Easy Pepper Steak EXPS FT24 5797 JR 0726 2

Chuck Wagon Tortilla Stack exps11546 GB143373B01 16 6bC RMS

Easy Chow Mein EXPS TOHD24 13389 AlejandroMonfort 5

Creamy Pasta Primavera EXPS TOHD24 44217 AlejandroMonfort 56

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85bcb67e1900d5f1127fe02322107e1e

27edc0ce44ed94093d0ea0ff6674d01f

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8992441bd7f333fc4a649260126922bc

7b755fc87604ea6c85ae791de090558b

China’s Sky Jammers Just Shocked Experts! 7.3 Million Americans at Risk!

Golden Continental Chicken

Golden Continental Chicken is good with hot, buttered mashed potatoes.

9e9311ca36594f2eee736e93ed065157

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (2 pound) fryer, cut up
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
Dash of pepper
1/4 cup butter
1 can cream of chicken soup
1/2 cup water
1/8 teaspoon poultry seasoning

Instructions

Dust chicken with flour and a dash of pepper.
In a large skillet, brown chicken well in butter.
Mix cream of chicken soup, water and poultry seasoning, and pour over chicken. Cover; cook over low heat about 45 minutes or until chicken is tender.

The Reason why Men are Walking Away from Dating (Ep. 636)

https://youtu.be/0OS7MFKbYQc

It’s Hal Turner’s birthday today

Well, I didn’t realize that I was so much older than him until I read today’s post. He’s following the standard-life package. It doesn’t end well. You need to eat well. You need to exercise. You need to de-stress, and you need to stay active.

64 Today

Hal Turner World March 15, 2026

Today, Sunday, March 15, 2026, is my 64th Birthday.   What a ride this life has been.

For those of you who may be unaware, folks my age use different codes for text messages.  Below are the ones we use.  

Not all of them apply to me (yet) but some of them actually do!

Was going pretty good for the first 57 years, then things . . .  changed.

2019 - Myocardial Infarction Heart attack

-- Open heart surgery, four bypasses.

17 months later, in October 2020 --  SECOND Myocardial Infarction heart attack; two of the four bypasses clogged with Blood Clots.   

That second one was WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY worse than the first.

Never really got over that one; physical deterioration set in.  Muscle loss; especially in my thighs.   I used to have strong legs.  Strong like a bull.   No more.

Weight gain.

Arthritis in the hips, the knees. 

Easily winded by even walking short distances.  

Vision is going straight to hell.  

Hearing is worsening, noticeably.

Completely intolerant of fools, the ignorant, the stupid, and bullshit artists.

Thankfully, the older I get, the faster I can make those determinations!

By the time I'm dead, I'll be really smart!

The Earth Initiative

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Sherri Moorer

“I can’t believe we gave these idiots the Internet,” Ugleck said as he shuffled through the streets of the crowded city, sweating in the uncomfortable human suit.“You should have used it to research modern dress codes,” Malook said, breezing through the street in her shorts and T-shirt. “People don’t wear suits anymore unless they’re in high-power occupations. We’re supposed to be civilians. You look funny.”“Everybody looks funny,” Ugleck said as a man with green dreadlocks bumped against him on the sidewalk. “Our climate research is also out of date. Did this rock get closer to the sun, or is global warming real?”“It’s real,” dreadlocks said.They turned to stare at the man.The man stared back, his pupils dilated. “It’s real, man. We’re all going burn.”“Shut it, hippie,” a man in a light-colored suit said, sloshing coffee as he juggled the paper cup and a cell phone where a voice droned on about – something. “That’s a conspiracy theory. It’s hot because it’s August. Summer is always hot. You kids think it’s something new, but it isn’t.”“Hey, man, that hurt. I’m offended!”The man tried to shuffle his coffee cup to his left hand to give dreadlocks an obscene gesture, but he dropped the coffee, which was promptly smashed into the sizzling pavement by a truck honking his horn and sticking his own hand out of the window in the same gesture.“How rude!” Ugleck said. “What’s happened to this society?”

“They suffered a pandemic three years ago that has resulted in widespread post-traumatic stress,” Malook said. “Our analysis shows a sharp decrease in intelligence and social skills.”

“And noise,” Ugleck said as they jostled against more people. “How much of a population reduction did the pandemic cause?”

“Nearly seven million to date.”

“How are there all of these people if that many perished?”

“The world population is nearly eight billion,” Malook said as she pushed open the doors to the small building discretely positioned between two high rises.

Ugleck took a deep breath through the small respirator in his human suit. “Finally, a beneficial invention. Air conditioning!”

They walked up a narrow case of stairs to a small office, where a dusty table and an old computer sat in the center of the room. Dust motes swirled in the sunlight filtering through the window behind the desk. Ugleck took a seat at the desk and booted up the computer as Malook pulled a rolling chair from the corner.

“Perhaps their social skills have declined because they’re using the technology we gave them at Area 51 to sustain the planet and the higher population.” Uglek hummed a low tone that vibrated in the air, clearing the dust motes and establishing the neural connection to the antique computer on the desk. It flashed to life, showing futuristic graphics across the screen. He tapped a key to project his search results on screens forming a circle around the desk.

Malook frowned as she studied the screens. “They haven’t advanced anywhere near our projections. There have been great strides in communications, but their Artificial Intelligence development is at least fifty years behind the projections we established for this race.”

“It looks like they’re using the Internet more for entertainment than evolution. Look at this.” Ugleck poked at a screen of a scantly clad woman screaming and pointing at a well-dressed man behind a counter at a restaurant. “And this,” he said, watching a woman bending over a laundry basket preparing to fill it at a gasoline pump. “Or this,” he poked at a screen of kids in cars swerving along an abandoned road. One car slammed into a building on the side of the street. A boy and girl jumped out of the car while it was still idling against the building. The girl buried her head in her hands and cried, screaming about wrecking her father’s car while the boy laughed like a maniac. “And how can waffles cause such disruption?” he asked as another screen showed a fight in a diner.

“They are not using our technology to evolve,” Malook said. “It’s having the opposite effect. They’re regressing.”

“This is an unintended consequence,” Ugleck said. “We thought they’d better themselves! They had such promise. What happened?”

“Different times,” Malook said.

“Earth is my project,” Ugleck said, waving his hand in the air to clear the screens. “If these people use our technology to destroy themselves, then the Grand Council will execute me. They tasked me with helping this species reach peak evolution so they could enter the Intergalactic Pact.” He leaned back, his human form deflating. “I’d annihilate them myself, but I hate to waste a good particle beam on this frying rock. And why bother when they’re doing it to themselves? Every other species evolves quickly. What’s wrong with this one?”

“Humans didn’t use advanced technology until the twentieth century, and then they experienced a boom. Their brains can’t keep up with what we’ve given them. Think about it, Ugleck. Every other planet we’ve discovered advanced on a smooth arc. The supreme beings evolved with their technology. This one made no advancements for thousands of years and then had a spike when we gave it to them. It isn’t normal. We should have known that this would fail.”

“Is there any hope to save ‘The Earth Initiative?’” Ugleck asked.

Malook emitted a high-tone hum to reboot the computer. More screens projected in a circle around the desk. “There are segments of this population working on Artificial Intelligence. Humans are increasing use of it in homes and all industries, even though it isn’t as evolved as it should be. They have some concerns about it outpacing them and causing their demise, but that seems to be widely regarded as a ‘conspiracy theory.’ There is hope for evolution.”

“Not for another century at least,” Ugleck said. “It’s moving too slow. If they don’t make greater strides soon, then they die either my their own hand or by our enemies roaming the galaxy. We were hoping they were the ones who could tip the balance of the galaxy in our favor. Instead, they’re dragging themselves down. How can we protect a race that ignores us?”

“Perhaps we need to rethink first contact,” Malook said.

“What do you mean? We already had first contact!”

“We had first contact with a former generation, who kept it secret,” Malook said. “Perhaps we need to start again, but do it a different way this time.” She studied the computer screens around the desk. “Can you access these AI networks?”

Ugleck’s human form inflated. “Easily. They’re still using binary code.”

“Shameful,” Malook said, “and they call this their twenty-first century. Quantum computing is still experimental too!”

“Maybe we can fix that,” Ugleck said. “If they won’t design the machines, then maybe the machines need to design them.” He emitted his hum again, causing the air to vibrate. The room splintered into fragments, and then further into pixels that swirled around them, absorbing the two aliens, the computer, and the entire building. An empty alleyway shimmered in the noon sunlight outside, the glitters falling to the pavement unnoticed by passersby with their heads bent to their phones.

“Did it work?” Ugleck’s voice asked, staring at the flashing lights around them.

“It worked,” Malook said as her human form fell away. “We’re in their Internet.”

“Let’s save ‘The Earth Initiative,’” Ugleck said as he shed his human suit and bound with an AI line of code to ride the wave into the system.

The Sheepman (1958) | REMASTERED WESTERN | full movie

Actually this is a WONDERFUL movie, and well worth your time to watch. Ah they don’t make em like they used to.

My shorts post on YouTube

Hopefully this will not be blocked like my others. Who knows who I will offend?

Sir Whiskerton and The Final Bow-wow: A Tale of Moonlit Melodies, Reluctant Waltzes, and Three Mice Who Dance to Nature’s Symphony

Act I: The Howl That Started It All

On a quiet evening at the farm, Rufus the Dog tilted his head to the moon and unleashed his signature soulful howl—a sound somewhere between a blues singer and a teakettle.

Tito Tango, leader of the Three Blind Mice, snapped his tiny fingers.
“¡MÚSICA NATURAL!”

Suddenly:

Paco Cha-Cha clutched his fake rose to his chest, swaying dramatically.
Carlos Conga spun his sombrero-tailed congas like a deranged maraca.
Even Gertrude the Goose, mid-complaint, found her webbed feet tapping.

Sir Whiskerton: “This is either beautiful or a public health concern.”

Act II: The Unlikely Orchestra

The mice transformed farm sounds into rhythm:

Porkchop’s mud squelch? A bassline.
Doris the Hen’s gossipy clucks? Scat singing.
An actual fart? A jazz solo. (“¡CLÁSICO!”)

Gertrude, despite herself, was pulled into a slow waltz by Paco.
“If you tell anyone…” she hissed, even as her wings fluttered gracefully.
“¡CALLADITA, MI GANSITO!” he chirped. (“Hush, my little goose!”)

Act III: The Moonlight Serenade

By midnight, the entire farm had joined:

Rufus howled the melody.
The mice tap-danced on a pumpkin.
Bessie the Cow provided “mood lighting” by glowing faintly (thanks to Chef Remy’s “experimental” feed).

Even the farmer, watching from the porch, shed a single tear. “Is this… art ?”
Sir Whiskerton: “No. It’s a biodigester explosion with better choreography.”

Act IV: The Final Bow-wow

As dawn broke, the mice took their final bow—right as Carlos Conga stepped on a rake.

BONK!

“¡AY, QUÉ DOLOR!”

The spell broke. Gertrude pretended nothing happened (but kept the rose). Rufus howled off-key just to annoy everyone. And the mice?

They were already composing their next hit: “Ode to a Suspiciously Warm Hay Bale.”

The Moral of the Story

Moral: Even unlikely things can harmonize—especially if one of them is a dog who thinks he’s Adele.

Post-Credit Scene

The mice launch a farmyard talent show. First act: A tumbleweed duet with Paco.

Best Lines:

“In Spain, we call this ‘flamenco meets flatulence.’” – Tito, adjusting his sunglasses
“I hate this… why is it fun?*” – Gertrude, mid-dip
“Nature’s rhythm is my rhythm!” – Carlos, sombrero spinning

Starring:

The Three Blind Mice (Tito, Paco, Carlos – Latin Fury)
Rufus (Howling Heartthrob)
Gertrude (Reluctant Diva)
Sir Whiskerton (Unimpressed Critic)

Key Jokes:

Paco serenading a wheelbarrow (“She understands my soul!”)
Tito’s “bullfighting” story changing nightly (“And then Picasso painted me!”)
Carlos using his sombrero as a portable toilet during dances (“¡PRÁCTICO!”)

P.S.

Remember: If life gives you unexpected sounds, just shout “¡MÚSICA NATURAL!” and cha-cha away.

The End.

Keep dancing (and dodging rakes),
The Sir Whiskerton Team 💃🐭

The Great Reset

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Cecilia Englishby

Calli sat quietly, at least for the moment, within the four black-foamed walls of her recording studio. She was annotating some tabs with her right hand whilst she carefully held her precious Taylor guitar by the neck with the left, its body cradling in her lap.The visitors had arrived five days earlier, and she had found herself flushed with inspiration ever since. She and Snaggletooth, her little black Burmese feline companion, had spent the most of their time within the soundproof walls since Their arrival. He yawned at her, licking his lips as he blinked affectionately.“I suppose we must.” She sighed at him. She placed her Taylor in its stand, stood and stretched. He bowed low at her side, extending the base of his spine and tail skywards. She fished the small key from her pocket and unlocked the door; it took another minute before she actually opened it. Her anxiety had found her. Snaggletooth reminded her of the task at hand, providing a plaintive Meep just as he brushed up against her left calf.“You need to go, don’t you?” She grabbed the handle and opened the door. He trotted off in the direction of his litter tray. She followed, only just noticing her need to void her own bladder, and made a hurried dash for relief as well.As she washed her hands she heard Snaggletooth’s frantic scratches in his litter tray, he was covering his business with aggression. He had such a sweet and gentle temperament that the pure hatred he had for his messes always made her laugh.She turned on the news as she prepared dinner, but left it on mute. She needed neither the noise nor the information, she’d already had enough.Snaggletooth had been fed and was once more asleep in the recording studio, blending perfectly into the walls with his sable camouflage.Five days prior, six Spaceships had been spotted through the telescope of an amateur astronomer who posted pictures on every available platform. Within minutes, thousands more had joined them.The morning after, the first Official day… Those images were all over every news channel, and stayed there 24/7. They set a specific order for their display and maintained it the entire time.First – The Saucer: The most familiar looking, with amber and turquoise lights flashing beneath.

Second – The Scorpion: Complete with pincers and stinger, but no legs.

Third – The Beetle: It was the image of a colossal Mint beetle.

Fourth – The Architects: A large dish with a frame connected below housed an elaborate propulsion system.

Fifth – The Hexagon: All they could say for sure was that it was the biggest in the entire fleet.

Sixth – The Uber-Claw: A mass of forward facing spikes rested on a looming cycle-shaped vessel.

The second day saw reports and sightings on what they considered scout ships. They flew with impossible flight patterns that defied physics. Calli watched in fascination as terrifying information blazed a trail on her brain.

It was on the third day she turned the volume down, already tired of the bombardment… of the unknown and speculation. She did it after breakfast; the entire London Philharmonic Orchestra had disappeared. They had been practicing one moment, and were gone the next.

The executives engaged in a meeting regarding funding implored the government to take action.

On the fourth, humans did what humans do; they attacked. Nuclear missiles and bright atom-splitting flashes dotted their observations briefly, followed by decadent auroras that traveled for thousands of miles over the atmosphere. For hours, all electronics stopped working and the world waited. As the auroras dissipated and the planet reconnected, telescopes spotted six ships, sitting where they had been, completely unscathed.

On day five, Calli had written some of her best music yet. She’d happily allowed the distraction to spend her day for her.

She ate her dinner, but found she had little appetite. Hating to waste anything, she finished it laboriously… one ashen bite at a time. To help distract her, she played a recording of her earlier work. She had every intention of getting a few more bars down before she would go to bed.

She heard Snaggletooth’s distinctive Chirrup of hello. She looked back as he trotted over to be closer to the music….at least that was how it appeared to Calli. He lay down next to her phone, chirped again and blinked at her… purring in full force as he watched her finish dinner.

It was as she lengthily chewed on her final bite, reducing the matter into tiny fragments that might want to slide down her throat, that everything went sideways.

She had reached over to scratch Snaggletooth’s forehead. He responded in the cutest way possible by lifting his chin and pushing into her affections… then they both sort of… dematerialised.

She watched it happen to her Beloved, as well as her hand. It didn’t hurt; they just broke apart into their molecular components, essentially pixelating as matter expanded outwards from their centers. Light filled the spaces between and within the room equally… and somehow contained them.

Snaggletooth re-solidified before her eyes, as did her hand and forearm. She stroked his fur for a while, inciting lavish purrs as her fingers mussed his muzzle. It calmed her, as much as she could be calmed, and reaffirmed her of their shared existence.

She was in an empty room with cream tones. She had a bed, a toilet, shower, basin, three walls and a dark glass panel to act as the fourth. She was in a cage, one with a display panel.

Her breathing felt a bit rapid, but scratching Snaggletooth’s ears helped her keep her cool.

If this is a dream, then there is nothing to worry about. If it is not, then I am here and that’s just what I need to be dealing with now.

She repeated the words over and over, stroking whiskers, ears and shoulders absentmindedly.

“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen.” The voice sounded worried and came from behind her. She turned around and saw a small green Alien; like the type you saw on retro lunch-boxes; with the large heads, thin necks and glassy black eyes. The Dark glass was now transparent and Calli noticed many others in cages like hers, most of their panes dark.

The Alien drew her attention. “If you could just step away from the feline, I shall return it.”

Calli stepped in front of Snaggletooth, blocking him from the Alien’s view, not removing her hand from his shoulders. She was too overwhelmed, to full of words and ideas and complete terror to speak.

“Look.” It said, sounding official. “Pets and comforts will be decided later. From what I hear, it will be an improvement, so let’s get on with it.”

“Snaggletooth is perfect!“ Her voice croaked, finally having pulled enough intelligible words together to come out in sentences. “Where he goes, I go.”

“Leave it Deso.” A gruff and clicking voice came from Calli’s right. She tried to get a better look, but the owner was out of sight. “Orders from Aspect One are to keep our guests happy. I removed a canine from one the other day and he didn’t stop crying till I returned it.”

A moment passed between them in silence, then Deso nodded.

“That’s fine then.” He looked Calli up and down; then took a long look at Snaggletooth. He made some notes on a pad in front of him. “Your nutrition and information pack will arrive shortly. I have made suitable arrangements for your companion.” And with that, he hit an invisible button and the window went dark once more.

Within minutes, a small light she hadn’t known was there was flashing on the wall ahead of her. She stepped up and examined it. She stepped back, looking for lines in the walls but saw none. She pressed against the wall beside the light switch and found the desired result on the left hand side. A small panel, not much larger than her hand depressed into the wall, and with a click a large cupboard swung open. Within she found a litter tray and the best wooden litter. On the right sat a large binder and two identical silver platters, complete with domed lids.

She knew she had no right to be hungry but heard her stomach groan for sustenance. She lifted the lid and was greeted by the perfect creamy mushroom Tagliatelle.

She set it down and sorted out Snaggletooth’s litter tray first; then uncovered his platter to reveal fresh fish flakes covered lavishly in gravy. He sniffed the air once then meowed loudly. By the time she had set it down he was practically rumbling in anticipation.

He had devoured his meal by the time she had washed her hands and sat down to her own. Calli inhaled her dinner with similar gusto. Each swallowed bite felt like nutrients were flooding her body, restoring energy she was unaware of having lacked.

Snaggletooth had groomed himself at length; then settled on the bed, curling his tail around his face. Calli yawned as she set their dishes aside and settled next to him with the Information Pack.

It contained very little, like the file had been used for something else, and had just been copied and updated with a couple of anecdotes…. The only upside was that her anxiety had been quelled by bafflement and a full stomach. Each vessel had their own file and she quickly sorted them into the order she had become used to.

The Saucer:

Vessel Name: Kovai 315 – Housing Capacity: 5 Million.

Species: Dov’Lesian. The picture was that of the short green Alien with the large head.

Turns out that it was their scout-ship that crashed in Roswell in the 1947; Earth’s media had been drip feeding their image to the general public via films and such ever since so possible encounters at least provided some familiarity.

Ha! The movie Paul actually said the same thing!

The Scorpion:

Vessel Name: Crit-Shil Hefto – Housing Capacity: 7 Million.

Species: The Shias Mari. The picture showed a creature that looked vaguely like a praying mantis. She shuddered at the sight of its mandibles and moved on to the next file.

The Beetle:

Vessel Name: Falci: Densiari Class – Housing Capacity: 13 Million.

Species: Raftaisee. Their appearance was a little easier to take in. They looked like large bears with antlers; they wore sashes as far as she could tell, and had rich fur.

The Architects:

Vessel Name: Broad Nea 114 – Housing Capacity: 19 Million.

Species: Hapor. They were the closest to human yet. Their eyes were bigger, further apart and their brows heavier. Their skulls sloped backwards over their necks, supporting large brains. They reminded Calli of Neanderthals.

The Hexagon:

Vessel Name: Hexo-118.4.56 – Housing Capacity: 31 Million.

Species: Doh’Shixt. Calli felt her skin crawl and her spine twist as she stared at what appeared to be an over-sized hornet. She moved on from their file as well.

The Uber-Claw:

Vessel Name: Falcon Alpha – Warship – Housing Capacity: 23 Million.

Species: Human. She hastily pulled out the picture and there they were… Human! Her mind raced with the possibilities and she highly doubted her ability to sleep.

She put the folder down, got herself comfortable and yawned with no grace at all. Within minutes she had drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Snaggletooth’s incessant and aggressive covering of his scat woke her. She groggily took care of her own ablutions as he meowed at her to get rid of his mess.

“I don’t see a scoop buddy… It will have to wait till I can ask for one.”

They sat together for a few moments, feeling their restlessness grow within them. It was just as Snaggletooth was singing the most impressive Maaaaow that the light on the wall started flashing.

One quick push on the wall popped the cupboard open. Within she found two breakfast platters, a scoop and litter bags, some fresh clothes and a note to please put all used items back in the cupboard once done.

They must at least be listening!

They were halfway through breakfast, eggs on toast for Calli and a meaty bowl of broth for Snaggletooth, when the dark window activated. The same Alien from the night before stood before her.

“Morning.” He said monotonously.

“Morning Deso.” Calli replied, hoping she had recognized him correctly, and that they didn’t just all look alike to her.

“You know my name? ”He appeared to be wiggling in delight. “Thank you. Is there anything you need.”

“Um… No thank you.” Calli regretted her words instantly. “Um… wait. Ah…Why am I here? What’s happening? Can I have a guitar please? Why was ship capacity important? Are we all going somewhere?”

“Hmmm.” He said, narrowing his eyes rather impressively in his large head. “I can only answer the third question. Yes. As for the rest, you will find out.”

Before Calli could ask anything else, he deactivated her window.

A few moments later a guitar arrived. It was nice, but it wasn’t her Taylor.

The next nine days ran the same for Calli. Deso was kind but reticent; he gave her no new information. She occasionally saw others in similar boxes talking to their own Aliens. She had noticed and keenly observed the other species represented in the fleet.

The Hornets and Praying Mantises creeped her out… she studied them, but gagged whenever she looked at them too long.

Deso and his Dov’Lesian compatriots were the most plentiful, and they did sort of all look alike… only Deso appeared different to her.

She enjoyed watching the Bears run. It was so ungainly on two feet. When she asked why they didn’t just run on all fours, as she was told that it was forbidden when working in conjunction with bipedal species. The Neanderthals were among the rarest, and Calli only ever saw them from a distance.

As for Humans? She only ever saw them in cages similar to her own.

The morning of day eleven dawned and commenced as normal. Calli was midway through the best riff of her life when her window cleared…

She’d noticed the shift within her periphery, but had been so engrossed she ignored it for half a bar… then action and perception clicked into gear, completely out of sync. Her guitar screamed at her as she ran into the wrong note and ruined the entire thing.

She was actually angry as she looked at the window, then stopped short and held her breath.

A Human Being stood before her. Black hair, tawny eyes and skin, young and elegantly dressed in a navy uniform, emblazoned with two chevrons on either shoulder.

“That was rather beautiful.” He said casually. “Except for the end there, but that’s my fault.” Calli let her breath out in an explosive sigh. He just laughed at her. “Can we talk for a minute?”

She nodded in reply.

“Let’s start with your name?” He asked, not unkindly.

“Calli” She replied. “It’s short for Calliope. My mother loved Greek mythology.” She shrugged.

He didn’t respond. Calli stood there for a moment; then found her voice.

“Why am I here? Where am I? When can I go home? What’s happening?” It all rattled out of her like a mudslide. He held his hands up, smiling as he tried to stop her.

“Right… I think I can do this in order. First; you are here because you are a musician.” He put a hand back up as Calli had taken an interrupting breath. She stilled, but felt the energy of her words bubbling below her tongue. “Second; you are on the Dov’Lesian ship along with other Artists. Painters, musicians, authors, so forth. Third; you can go home in a few weeks’ time, perhaps a bit longer. It will depend on how quickly we get our task completed, but things are going well, so sooner rather than later.”

Calli remained silent, and wondered if he had forgotten the fourth question. He had looked at her with a pensive expression on his face.

“The last question is harder to answer. If I am to put it down for what it truly is, and I think I should, it will be harsh… Essentially, we’ve already exterminated 60% of your species. When that’s done, we’ll fix a few things… then return you.”

Calli’s mouth fell open in pure shock. She felt feint.

“You are a seed planet; one specifically engineered and maintained for our amusement.”

“Amusement?” Calli’s head tolled with his words as they reverberated in her skull.

“Think of yourselves as Our Streaming platform. Earth 13.11” he was smiling again, just as kindly as he did before. If he knew of the devastation he wrought, he simply didn’t care. “We use Jupiter’s magnetic field to actually bounce your footage back to us.”

“That’s disgusting.” Was all she could manage; her intellect had been replaced by the sure knowledge that 60% of the remaining population was already dead, and there was nothing she could do to save the other 40%.

“Not really. What’s been Disgusting is the quality of Earth’s content of late. Careers end as jokes are told, your films lack variety; we tire of politics, superheroes and dystopian endings. And let’s not get started on how you’ve ruined your internet… the entire planet’s collective knowledge at your fingertips… now flooded with misinformation. I am sorry, but if we leave you to proceed as you are, we will have another Dark Age. Then we…”

He droned on, but she had stopped listening completely.

Calli sat back down, and reached to scratch Snaggletooth behind the ears. She felt numb and distant.

“Well, I’ll get going then. Have a good day!” He said cheerily. The window had been left clear. She stared out numbly and saw everyone else’s windows also left open.

They’re faces only served to expose her own tumultuous emotions…

Pictures

Honey Ginger Chicken Stir-Fry

Prep: 10 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 cup College Inn® Light & Fat Free Chicken Broth 50% Less Sodium
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into cubes
Garlic powder (to taste)
2 tablespoons low-salt soy sauce (light)
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon ginger, finely chopped
1 cup rice
1 tablespoon cooking oil
4 cups baby spinach, washed

Instructions

Season chicken with garlic powder, 1 tablespoon soy sauce, salt and pepper if desired.
Combine remaining soy sauce with broth, cornstarch, honey and ginger; set aside.
Prepare rice according to package directions, using College Inn Chicken broth for the water.
When rice is almost ready, cook chicken in oil over medium-high heat in large skillet, 5 minutes.
Stir in baby spinach. Cook for 1 minute.
Stir broth/cornstarch mixture, and add to skillet. Cook, stirring constantly until sauce is thickened and translucent.
Serve chicken and spinach over rice.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 378 Calories from Fat: 0 Grams Total Fat: 5g Saturated Fat: 1g Cholesterol: 66mg Sodium: 510mg Total Carbohydrates:49g Fiber: 1g Sugars: 9g Protein: 31g

Iran Just Sank a U.S. Destroyer — First American Warship Lost Since WWII

This is REAL. This actually happened.

Iran Sinks USS Gerald Ford — America’s $13 Billion Carrier Is Gone

The unshakable belief she was a bee

My daughter loves Legos, and man she has amassed a ton load of them. What started as one or two small boxes ballooned into a huge collection. and my wife, making things worse, bought odd bits and orphaned kits of legos off the internet. It’s all good though.

It’s a creative toy that enables imaginative thought processes. And so for today, we will devote this post to Legos.

What’s one small decision you made that completely changed your life?

I decided to save 15 minutes by taking a short cut.

I was having a date that night but it was still light out, Aug 14, 1998 and I wanted to get 20 miles of bike training in before the date. I thought I could do it, shower and be ready on time. But as I rode, I began to realize that 20 miles was too ambitious to make the date on time. So I took a short cut to get home earlier. I was flying down the road, a straightaway, at 16 miles and hour which was excellent for me (My fastest speed was 32 miles and hour when I was at my peak but I wasn’t trying for a personal best).

Suddenly, a car took a left turn in front of me as I crossed the intersection. I hit the front of the car, went over the hood and through the windshield. When she hit the brakes, I went back out through the windshield. My life changed in a second, changed forever. It took two years to learn to walk again. I never did make that date.

You never go. You can go left, right or straight but something is going to happen if it’s destined to happen. I could have gone that extra few miles and been late for the date but I chose another way and an elderly blind woman who was still driving hit me head on.

Such is life.

5 BIZARRE Experiences of People Being in a Parallel Universe

Dear Diary: My Week in Hell (Thanks, Horoscope)

Written in response to: “Write a story in which a stranger warns someone about events yet to come.“

⭐️ Contest #317 Shortlist!

Alexander Colfer

Monday, 23rd OctoberDear Diary,Well, I’ve officially hit rock bottom. And it’s all because I’m apparently an idiot who believes in astrology now.It started this morning when I grabbed a coffee and saw the newspaper horoscope. “Beware of water today, Scorpio.” Normally, I’d ignore this rubbish, but something made me read it. Maybe because Karen from accounting is always going on about “the universe sending signs.”So I decided to be extra careful around water. Skipped my shower (gross, I know). Avoided the coffee machine. Carried my umbrella even though it was sunny. I felt pretty clever, actually.Then I walked straight into the fountain at City Centre Mall.

Not around it. INTO it. Because I was so busy looking up at the sky for rain clouds that I didn’t see the giant fountain directly in front of me. Went down like a sack of bricks, arms flailing, briefcase flying. The splash was apparently spectacular – some kid yelled “CANNONBALL!”

My phone was in my pocket – completely dead. That cute barista from this morning had written her number on my coffee cup, which was now a soggy, illegible mess floating next to me like a sad paper boat. I tried to save it, but it just disintegrated in my hands like wet tissue.

But wait, it gets worse. The bus driver took one look at me, dripping all over his floor and shook his head. “Sorry mate, you’re making a puddle. Walk it off.” So there I was, soaking wet, trudging home in my squishy shoes that made embarrassing squelching sounds with every step.

And then – because the universe apparently has a quota for irony – it started raining. Hard. So my umbrella, which I’d carried all day for protection from the very water I was already soaked in, finally became useful for the 20-minute walk of shame home.

A group of teenagers filmed the whole fountain incident and I’m pretty sure I’m going viral as “Fountain Guy.”

Oh, and the Housing Minister got caught running 25 illegal HMOs without proper licences. Even the government is having water problems – drowning in scandal. At least I’m not the only one making a splash today.

The universe has a sick sense of humour.

Jerry

Tuesday, 24th October

Dear Diary,

I should have learnt my lesson yesterday, but apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.

Today’s horoscope: “A tall dark stranger will bring chaos to your day.”

I spent the entire day playing some demented game of hide-and-seek with anyone over 5’8″ with dark hair. Ducked behind cars in car parks. Hid in toilet stalls when I spotted potential “threats” entering buildings. The low point was army-crawling under a table at Starbucks when a tall brunette walked in. I stayed there for fifteen minutes, knees burning on the rough carpet, listening to her order a venti caramel macchiato.

The barista crouched down and asked if I was having a medical emergency. I had to pretend I’d dropped my contact lens. I don’t wear contact lenses.

At work, I took the stairs exclusively to avoid lifts with tall, dark-haired people. By lunch, my legs felt like jelly. I ate a sad sandwich in the supply cupboard because the canteen had too many potential “chaos bringers.”

I thought I was so clever. Made it through the whole workday without talking to a single tall, dark person. Felt like I’d beaten the system.

Then I got home and my neighbour Miguel knocked on my door. Miguel is 6’2″ and has black hair. He was there to tell me my car was being towed because I’d parked it half on the pavement, half in Mrs Peterson’s prized flower bed. Apparently, when you’re dodging “dangerous” people all day, you don’t park very well. Her tulips looked like they’d been through a blender.

Saw on the news that a minister lost the party whip over a cash-for-access inquiry. Apparently, tall dark strangers bringing chaos isn’t just my problem – though I bet that minister didn’t have to army-crawl under any tables.

Chaos: delivered. Universe: 2, Jerry: 0.

Why do I keep reading this thing?

Jerry

Wednesday, 25th October

Dear Diary,

I’m writing this from my car because I can’t go inside my flat. There’s a red fire engine parked outside and I refuse to go near it. I’ve been sitting here for two hours.

Today’s cosmic wisdom: “Avoid the colour red at all costs.”

I threw away my red shirts this morning (goodbye, favourite Cardinals jersey – £60 down the drain). Wouldn’t eat the strawberries I bought yesterday. Crossed the road every time I saw a red car, which in hindsight is a lot more often than you’d think. I must have walked an extra three miles in zigzags. My fitness tracker thinks I had the most active day of my life.

The low point was lunch. I was finally relaxing at Giuseppe’s, enjoying my first normal moment in days, when a woman in a bright red dress walked in. I panicked and locked myself in the loo for 45 minutes. Sat on the toilet seat, scrolling through my phone, listening to the lunch crowd come and go. The restaurant staff knocked twice, asking if I was all right.

Missed my 2 PM meeting with Mr Henderson about the big client presentation I’ve been hoping to lead. His assistant rang later. Apparently, he waited 20 minutes and then gave the presentation opportunity to Brad. BRAD, diary. The bloke who microwaves fish in the break room and uses Comic Sans in his presentations.

I’m currently staring at a stop sign that I need to walk past to get home, but it’s red and I’m not taking any chances. Mrs Chen from 3B walked by an hour ago and asked if I was having a breakdown. She told me the fire engine is here because Emma from 2A had an air fryer fire – apparently, the firemen are taking their sweet time “helping” her clean up. Can’t say I blame them; Emma’s gorgeous. But now my flat reeks of burnt chip fat, which somehow feels like another cosmic punishment.

I told Mrs Chen I was “waiting for the right moment.” She backed away slowly.

The government lost a major vote on taxation reform today. Guess they should have avoided the colour red too – all those red dispatch boxes must be cursed. At least when I avoid important meetings, I don’t crash the economy.

Maybe I am having a breakdown.

Jerry

Thursday, 26th October

Dear Diary,

I think I’m losing my mind. Today’s horoscope said my lucky numbers were 3, 7, and 12. LUCKY numbers, diary. I thought, finally, something good!

I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror this morning and barely recognised myself. Haven’t shaved since Monday, my hair is sticking up in three different directions (ironically, that felt cosmically significant), and I’ve got dark circles under my eyes that make me look like I haven’t slept in days. I’m pretty sure my shirt has fountain water stains that never came out.

I became completely obsessed with the numbers. Only bought 3 items at every shop, which meant seven separate trips to get groceries. Took the lift to the 7th floor twelve times at work (I work on the 4th floor). My colleagues started actively avoiding me. Janet from HR cornered me and asked if I was “going through something” because I looked like “a man on the edge.”

When I got to work, Brad actually asked if I was ill. BRAD was concerned about MY wellbeing. That’s when you know you’ve hit rock bottom.

I set 12 alarms on my phone at different intervals. Ordered 3 dozen doughnuts for the office because the number felt “cosmically powerful.” Thirty-six chocolate-glazed doughnuts for eight people. Everyone looked at me like I’d lost my mind when I wheeled in this tower of sugar at 9 AM. Karen from accounting whispered to someone that I was “having some kind of breakdown.”

The doughnuts made half the office sick because apparently that much sugar before noon is “excessive” and “why are they ALL chocolate glazed, Jerry?” Brad was sick in the break room sink.

I got stuck in the lift for 2 hours when it broke down between floors 6 and 7 – so close to my lucky floor! Had to wee so badly I was doing a little dance. The maintenance bloke who finally rescued me took one look at my wild hair and bloodshot eyes and asked if I needed him to ring someone. “You look like you need help, mate. Maybe someone should come get you?”

And those 12 alarms? They went off every hour throughout the night. I got maybe 20 minutes of sleep total between the constant beeping. I’m basically a walking zombie at this point. My hands are shaking from exhaustion and too much coffee.

BREAKING NEWS: Prime Minister just went to the Queen, suspended Parliament, and called a general election. The whole government is falling apart just like me. Maybe we’re all following the same horoscope. Even the PM looks like he hasn’t slept – though his hair is better than mine.

My “lucky” numbers have made this the unluckiest day yet. I’m starting to think the universe is personally trolling me.

But tomorrow will be different. I can feel it. I have to believe it, because I don’t think I can survive another day like this.

Jerry

Friday, 27th October

Dear Diary,

I’M FREE!

This morning’s horoscope said something ridiculous like “Beware: Mercury is in microwave”, which doesn’t even make astronomical sense. I stared at it for about 30 seconds, then crumpled it up and threw it in the bin with more force than necessary.

“No more,” I said out loud to my empty flat. “I’m living like a normal human being today.”

And diary, it was MAGICAL.

I took a proper shower – hot water, good soap, the works. Wore whatever clothes I wanted (including a red tie, just because I could). Walked in straight lines instead of zigzagging around “dangerous” people and objects. Bought exactly what I needed without counting items or obsessing over cosmic numbers. It felt like being released from prison.

And everything went RIGHT. Mr Henderson rang me into his office first thing and gave me the promotion after all! Turns out Brad had screwed up spectacularly during his prep work; he somehow managed to email the entire client presentation to our biggest competitor instead of saving it to the company server. Henderson said he’d “never seen such creative incompetence” and decided I was clearly the better choice for Senior Account Manager.

I stopped for celebratory coffee and the cute barista (tall with dark hair – blimey!) not only remembered me but gave me her number again. Her name is Sarah and she has the most amazing smile. Turns out she’d been hoping I’d come back after my “fountain incident” – apparently she thought it was “endearingly clumsy.” We’re getting dinner tomorrow.

On the walk back to work, I found a £20 note just lying on the pavement. A crisp twenty! I looked around for someone who might have dropped it, but the street was empty. The universe was finally paying me back.

I felt like a genius. A man of science who had overcome superstition through pure rational thinking and willpower.

Then I met Dave for drinks to celebrate, and I told him my whole ridiculous week. I was feeling pretty smug about my “liberation from cosmic tyranny,” really laying it on thick about how I’d “defeated the forces of irrationality.”

Dave listened to everything, nodding along and trying not to laugh, and then said: “Mate, you know you’ve been reading the wrong horoscope all week, right? You’re a Sagittarius, not a Scorpio.”

I just stared at him. My pint halfway to my mouth, frozen.

“Yeah,” he continued, pulling out his phone with a grin. “Look, here’s Sagittarius for this week: ‘Great fortune awaits. Trust your instincts and good things will follow. Lucky days ahead.'”

Diary, I’ve been torturing myself for four days following some random Scorpio’s horoscope whilst my actual sign was basically saying “chill out, everything’s brilliant.”

I sat there for a full minute, processing this. Then I started laughing. Couldn’t stop. Laughed until my sides hurt and Dave was looking concerned. I’d been my own worst enemy, creating disasters out of thin air whilst my real horoscope was cheering me on from the sidelines.

New polls show the opposition surging after yesterday’s election call. Turns out, when you stop making terrible decisions based on paranoia, things improve. Who knew? Maybe the PM should try reading Sagittarius instead of whatever sign he’s been following.

I don’t know whether to feel like an idiot or a genius. Actually, definitely an idiot. But a happy idiot with a promotion, a date, and twenty extra quid.

Never reading another horoscope again.

(But maybe I should check what Sagittarius says for tomorrow. Just to be safe. For scientific purposes only, of course.)

Jerry

P.S. – I’m definitely reading it tomorrow. Sarah might want to know what the stars have planned for our date.

Iran Just Wiped 200,000 Devices at a $25 Billion U.S. Medical Company (No Malware Needed)

This is a serious WARNING to Me and to You. Pay attention to this.

Iran-linked hackers just wiped over 200,000 devices at Stryker Corporation, a $25 billion medical technology giant, across 79 countries. They didn’t use malware. They didn’t exploit a zero-day. They logged into Stryker’s own Microsoft Intune admin console with stolen credentials and pressed the remote wipe button. Surgical supply orders stopped. Paramedics in Maryland lost the ability to transmit EKGs to hospitals. 5,000 workers in Ireland were sent home. This is the full breakdown of what happened, how it happened, and what it means for every company running cloud-based device management right now.

Celestial Harmonies: Unveiling the Symphony of the Universe

Written in response to: “Write about a character who has to grapple with something completely alien to them.“

Turey Rosa

Poetic.As I set up my campsite in the verdant heart of El Yunque, Puerto Rico’s stunning rainforest, I murmured to myself, “Alex, you’ve finally made it.” Nestled near the captivating Río La Coca, a waterfall’s ceaseless cascade echoed the rhythm of this untouched wilderness, hypnotizing me with its majesty. This journey was my self-prescribed sabbatical—an endeavor to escape the mundane and lose myself in the arms of nature’s raw beauty. When dusk arrived, the rainforest filled with the soft symphony of its nocturnal residents. It was then I ventured deeper into the woods, lured by the prospect of foraging for berries. Unbeknownst to me, this simple act was about to propel me into an extraordinary encounter that would irrevocably shape the trajectory of my existence.In the midst of this tranquil realm, as the orchestra of life played on around me, my footsteps carried me to a secluded oasis, yet my senses were abruptly seized by a sight so bewildering, it defied every realm of possibility. Before me stood a figure that seemed to have materialized from the fringes of imagination—an entity of diminutive stature, its skin a hue of verdant green that harmonized seamlessly with the emerald foliage.Yet, it was not the creature’s otherworldly appearance that ensnared my attention, but the focus of its fascination that stirred curiosity and wonder within me. Standing solitary, a single sunflower bathed in the moon’s ethereal glow was the spectacle in this enchanted realm. The creature’s gaze, fixated on the sunflower, was a sight so remarkable that it cast a spell upon the very air itself.Perplexed, I stepped forward, inadvertently snapping a twig beneath my feet. The alien’s gaze, once captivated by the sunflower’s radiance, pivoted toward me, our eyes locking in a moment of electrifying astonishment. A pulsating silence enveloped us, as if the universe itself held its breath, bearing witness to this extraordinary encounter.An unspoken understanding emerged, transcending language and the limitations of mere existence. Neither of us recoiled from the other’s presence; instead, an unquenchable curiosity united us in a shared exploration of the inexplicable. In the heart of El Yunque, a silent conversation began—one that would weave the fabric of reality and fiction into an intricate tapestry of revelations.

With a beckoning gesture from the alien’s hand, the stillness shattered, drawing me into an intimate embrace of the arcane encounter. My initial shock yielded to cautious intrigue as I approached the green-skinned being. There was a palpable aura of friendliness enveloping its form. Accepting the alien’s invitation, I sat beside it, both of us facing the resplendent sunflower that had ignited this marvelous rendezvous.

The alien extended its small, verdant hand in a movement both fluid and surreal, seeming like a symbol of universal goodwill. An instinctive impulse propelled my hand to meet the alien’s in a gesture that surpassed language’s boundaries. This fleeting touch fostered an exchange that transcended the confines of words. Our minds intertwined in a fusion of consciousness, bridging worlds and cultures.

Through this unprecedented communion, the alien swiftly absorbed my language, erasing the veil of separation that had initially stood between us. Thus a gateway to understanding had been unlocked, paving the way so the true conversation could finally commence—a dialogue that spanned galaxies, dimensions, and the enigmas of existence.

As the alien’s gaze returned to the sunflower, a scroll of secrets started to unfurl. Its words flowed like a symphony, each note unveiling a profound revelation. “The golden ratio,” the alien’s voice resonated, resembling a melody whispered through the eons, “is the cipher of creation, a language inscribed in the very foundations of reality.”

In the embrace of the rainforest, the alien spun a tale of the golden ratio—an intricate pattern embedded within existence itself. With every word, the sunflower’s spiral seemed to morph into a portal, a window peering into the structure of space-time. “Observe the sunflower’s petals,” the alien continued, “a glimpse of the divine proportion, a whisper of the cosmos’ intricate gyration.”

The rainforest bore witness as the alien unveiled the golden ratio’s manifestations, from the spirals of galaxies to the delicate curvature of seashells. Each revelation was a note in the cosmic symphony, a testament to the unfathomable intelligence that permeated the universe.

As the final echoes of the alien’s words resonated within me, the sunflower before us began to radiate with an otherworldly brilliance, as if echoing the cosmic truths that had been revealed. Even the rainforest around us seemed to hum in harmony, a symphony of life bearing witness to the wisdom that had been shared.

With a sense of reverence, the alien’s gaze lifted towards the star-lit sky above us, its slender finger reaching out to trace the path of a distant constellation—Orion’s Belt. Among the glittering jewels of the night, one star on the belt’s periphery seemed to pulsate with a unique light, a pharos marking the origin and home of my mysterious companion.

In a moment suspended beyond the constraints of time, I became privy to the alien’s narrative—a story of an aquatic world, a planet predominantly cloaked in boundless oceans. A tale of evolution, where it’s species had risen from the depths to traverse land, a leap that spanned mere cosmic moments.

With bated breath, I listened as the alien wove its saga, revealing a kinship that transcended the chasm between our worlds. An evolution mirroring our own insatiable thirst for exploration, a quest to transcend limitations and redefine existence.

Beneath the canopy of El Yunque rainforest, a profound connection was woven—a pact binding humanity and an interstellar voyager. With a gift bestowed upon me, the alien bid its farewell, each step it took leaving a lingering mist in its wake, a reminder of its ethereal presence.

In my return to my everyday reality, a relentless obsession consumed me. The cryptic artifact held my gaze, its mysterious equation acting like a siren’s call, beckoning me into the depths of cosmic understanding. Symbols and letters converged in a complex pattern, revealing a mosaic of surreal riddles that seemed to cradle the very essence of the universe itself.”

Every night, the artifact rested on my desk, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, casting a mesmerizing pattern on the walls. I had become consumed, driven by an insatiable hunger to unravel its meaning.

I pored over scientific texts, delved into ancient philosophies, and explored realms of knowledge I had never ventured into before.

My determination was unrelenting, my thirst for understanding unquenchable. As the weeks rolled on, my mind transformed into a crucible of contemplation, where the universe’s secrets melded with my thoughts. My apartment had become a sanctuary of intellectual exploration, its walls adorned with intricate notes, equations, and diagrams.

I had become a modern alchemist, seeking to transmute the enigma before me into the pure gold of comprehension.

Each day, as I deciphered more of the equation’s layers, I felt myself drawn deeper into the riddle. The symbols began to resonate, their harmony echoing through my thoughts.

It was as if the universe itself whispered its truths to me, guiding me through a labyrinth of interconnected revelations. And then, one fateful night, as the moon cast its silvery gaze upon my realm of exploration, it happened.

A connection sparked in my mind, a thread of insight that wove through the equation’s complexity. The symbols aligned, the letters coalesced, and the meaning bloomed like a celestial flower in full bloom.

With trembling hands, I traced the lines of the equation, my heart pounding in anticipation. The riddles that had tormented me for weeks now coalesced into a symphony of understanding—a melody that intertwined with the very fabric of existence.

The message unfolded, revealing a truth that transcended the boundaries of science and philosophy. It was a revelation that echoed the cosmic beauty of the stars, a dance governed not by an external hand but by the intricate choreography of natural forces.

The message whispered of a universe born not from a predetermined blueprint, but from the crucible of experimentation—a universe where elements collided, conditions intertwined, and time sculpted the ever-evolving tableau of reality.

It spoke of the elegance of trial and error, the interplay of creation and destruction that gave birth to galaxies and the tiniest particles alike. with a continued trial and success. My heart raced as I beheld the equation’s unveiled meaning, a truth that shattered conventional perceptions.

The universe, it seemed, was not a masterpiece orchestrated by a divine conductor, but a grand improvisation—a cosmic dance that defied preconceived notions and embraced the fluidity of existence.

U=f(E,C,P,T,I) U—The universe and its phenomena, the ultimate reality. E—The elemental building blocks, the very alphabet of creation. C—Conditions, the stage upon which the cosmic drama unfolds. P—The heartbeat of trial and error, the rhythm of exploration. T—Time, the master sculptor shaping the universe’s ever-evolving form. I—Interactions, the cosmic conversations that weave existence.

This equation, once an enigma, now spoke a profound truth. The universe was not a mere product of calculation, but an intricate blend of elements, conditions, and interactions—a tunefulness of cosmic forces harmonizing through the eons.

As dawn bathed my room in gentle light, I sat in admiration, a witness to a revelation that transcended the boundaries of human understanding. The cryptic artifact had granted me a glimpse into the tapestry of existence, a tapestry woven by the universe itself—a universe that embraced the beauty of imperfection, the majesty of experimentation, and the exquisite allure of the unknown. And as the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place, I knew that this journey was not just mine alone. It was a revelation meant to be shared, a message that would echo through the corridors of time, resonating with those who dared to question, to explore, and to merge with the cosmos itself.

In the heart of my apartment, amidst the remnants of countless calculations and sleepless nights, I felt a profound sense of fulfillment. I had deciphered the equation, unraveled the code, and in doing so, become a part of the universe’s eternal symphony—a symphony that would forever serenade the stars and inspire the hearts of those who dared to listen.

Essay.

In the heart of El Yunque rainforest, where the verdant foliage meets the ceaseless cascade of Río La Coca, a self-prescribed sabbatical led Alex to an otherworldly encounter. As the nocturnal residents serenaded the rainforest’s dusk, curiosity lured him deeper into the woods. What followed was an extraordinary rendezvous with an entity of verdant green, an interstellar voyager, and a shared exploration of the inexplicable.

This diminutive figure, cloaked in an emerald hue, fixated its gaze on a solitary sunflower. It was not its appearance that captivated Alex, but the focus of its fascination. This alien being, from a distant aquatic world, held a kinship with humanity’s thirst for exploration—an evolution mirroring our journey from ocean depths to land traversal.

An unspoken understanding transcended language as their minds intertwined in an exchange that spanned galaxies and dimensions. United by curiosity, Alex and the alien embarked on a silent conversation that wove reality and fiction into intricate revelations.

In the embrace of the rainforest, the alien unveiled the cosmic significance of the golden ratio—a divine proportion embedded within existence. From galaxies to seashells, this pattern, symbolized by the sunflower’s petals, resonated through the fabric of reality—a language inscribed in the foundations of creation.

The alien’s narrative, a tale of evolution on its aquatic planet, mirrored humanity’s quest for exploration. As it traced Orion’s Belt in the starlit sky, Alex became privy to a story that transcended the chasm between their worlds, revealing a profound connection.

The encounter’s aftermath saw Alex grappling with a cryptic artifact—a mesmerizing equation that encapsulated the universe’s secrets. Driven by an unquenchable thirst for understanding, he delved into scientific texts, ancient philosophies, and uncharted realms of knowledge.

Weeks of tireless contemplation led to an electrifying moment—a connection sparked, threads of insight weaving through the equation’s complexity. Symbols aligned, letters coalesced, and the meaning bloomed, whispering cosmic truths. The revelation: the universe was an improvisation, a dance of elements, conditions, interactions, and time—a symphony of creation and destruction.

This revelation shattered conventional perceptions, leading Alex to an equation that defied the notion of a predetermined universe. With trembling hands, he traced the equation, discovering a harmony that embraced the fluidity of existence—an equation that spoke of the universe’s complexity and beauty.

In the glow of dawn, a sense of fulfillment washed over Alex. He had unraveled the code, becoming part of the universe’s eternal symphony—an exploration meant to be shared, a message resonating with those who dared to listen.

My husband likes that I have gotten fit and toned after losing 50lbs, but I want to be single and focus on enjoying life now. Should I stay married or file for divorce so we both don’t waste each other’s time?

I’ve been fit and toned all my life. I’m almost 63 years old now. The first picture below is of me in college, the second is from last Christmas.

That’s FIFTY YEARS of being beautiful.

Let me explain something to you. Having a good body attracts a lot of narcissists. I know, I’ve lived in a good body all my life. You haven’t. So now you’re excited, you’re getting attention that maybe you never had. But you have to be careful. You may not even know what a narcissist is, maybe you haven’t had to know.

Surely there must have been reasons you married the husband that you have. Did you feel you were “settling,” that he was all you could get? Now you’re attracting a lot of attention. People look at you, then they look at him and wonder why you’re with him.

It seems that your husband is not a narcissist. In fact, it seems that he loves you. He’s enjoying your new body. Presumably he supported you in your weight loss. And he loved you while you were heavy, right? Lucky you! If I had gained fifty pounds during my marriage, I never would have heard the end of it. In fact, my husband probably would have been looking at all the women around him (he already was, I called him “swivel head” but only to myself, never out loud because he would have blown up).

Anyway, I was married to someone who thought he could do better. Eventually we got a divorce. But it apparently didn’t go well for him on the dating market. It did for me. I found someone wonderful, a man with real values and we’ve been together ever since.

Please, please, please, before you file for divorce, think about these things. Also, could you please watch La Palma? It is a four-part mini series from Norway on Netflix. There is a female character on it who is going through exactly what you are going through now. She’s lost some weight, gotten toned. She’s looking great and she’s thinking of leaving her husband. He’s not that bad, but he’s a little dumpy and doesn’t eat as carefully as she does now. She looks down on him.

So, I’ve been through it all from the other side: I was always the wife with the good body, but I was the one who was married to the man who thought he could do better. I did end up filing for divorce, not because my husband was fat (which he was), but because he looked down on me. As an example, he and our son used to call me “Bag Lady,” which is stupid because I was carrying all their stuff. Also, my parents are wealthy, but our children didn’t know that (they were never allowed to visit my parents because my parents weren’t being “supportive”, that is, they weren’t giving us money. This is even though my parents had gifted us with a large downpayment on our very nice house. $300K was a lot of money back in 1997 and it meant we didn’t have a very high mortgage). I didn’t spend money during the marriage because my husband wasn’t making any. And I didn’t ask my parents for money, which aggravated my then-husband to no end. Anyway, I had good reasons to file for divorce. I don’t think you do. Granted, your question is very short. But if this is why you are thinking of a divorce, it’s not enough.

if you stay in the marriage you need to adjust your attitude. Not appreciating your husband for his good qualities can cause a divorce if you keep thinking along those lines. Over time it will sour your marriage.

And here’s the thing about beauty: true beauty is distancing. Men don’t approach you and the ones who do are probably not the ones you would want to be with. That’s what I had when I was young. When I got out of my marriage at 51, I didn’t have that problem any more. But I was still good looking and boy! If you are a Tier 2 beauty, you have to be careful. You are approached by all kinds. I have a feeling that that’s where you are now. And since you may never have had this kind of attention, or at least you haven’t for a long time, you want to take it out on a spin. I think you could have a lot of “fun”, that is, a lot of sex with different partners. But that is a hollow form of fun. What’s important in life is having a partner who loves you, one who appreciates you, who is supportive of you and your goals.

I think you have that in your husband.

And guess what? If you let him go, I’m betting there will be another woman who will pick him up, brush him off and love him forever. So go ahead, if that’s what you want to do. It may be better for him. It was for me🙂. And it’s been better for everyone who loves me. My parents love the one I’m with now; they did NOT feel that way about their former son-in-law. I thank God every day my parents were young when they had me so they get to enjoy him🙂. Things like that are my version of fun, my version of “enjoying life.”

Garlic Chicken with Green Noodles

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Ingredients

1 package green spinach noodles
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
6 to 8 boneless chicken breasts, without skin
20 cloves garlic, peeled
2 cups chicken broth (homemade or Swanson)
Salt and red pepper

Instructions

Salt and pepper chicken breasts to taste (cut back on salt if using canned broth).
Put salted water on to boil for noodles.
Melt butter in a 10 inch skillet over medium-high heat. When butter is bubbling, add garlic and chicken to pan. Brown chicken for 3 to 4 minutes on each side (turn garlic often as not to scorch).
Remove chicken to plate and add chicken broth to skillet.
Put noodles in boiling water to cook.
When broth comes to a boil, let boil for 2 minutes, then add chicken back to pan. Lower heat a little.
Drain noodles when done and place in large bowl or platter.
Arrange chicken on noodles.
Serve immediately.

Notes

Yes, that is 20 cloves of garlic, it is not a misprint. There is a strong garlic taste, but a spicy, nutty flavor due to the browning!

New Evidence for Giant Impact 12800 Years Ago? Let’s Discuss

A Real Date

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Pete R.

I parked my father’s brand new Bel Air outside Sally’s house and stared at the big yellow front door. Oh, gosh, I sure am sweet on her.My dad said he’d only let me take out the car if I were to help him around the house this past week. I had done my paper route, helped him mow the lawn, I even helped with painting the molding in the living room—heck, I had helped Mom roast the chicken for dinner! By all accounts, I worked like a dog and got the car for the night, but only because the whole time, I had thought of Sally.Her blonde hair, those hazel eyes, those calves that snuck out of her skirt. She was a doll, and I wanted to make her my gal.I had first seen her in Mr. Hayes’ math class. I’m a dullard at math, but she sure is brilliant. Maybe she raised her hand a bit much for my liking, but she seemed to know everything about numbers and algebra and whatnot.I did not want to strike out with Sally like I usually did with girls. She was so pretty and I was so quiet, I was sure she never noticed me. A lot of the fellas said that about Sally though. That she was weird and preoccupied. Like she lived on a different planet.I had bumped into her after class and asked her how she got so good at doing all these calculations and whatnot in the first place.”Oh, I don’t know,” she had blushed, “I know someone really smart, I guess,” then she looked up at me and my heart almost exploded, like a real a-bomb, right in my chest.”Oh, gee, I don’t know about that,” I had cackled back. I had caught her after school a couple more times and even walked her home one day.She talked about math the whole time, and she said she loved to look at the stars at night, to see into the vast depths of the universe.”It makes me feel so small, but at the same time, I like knowing there’s so much out there—that I’m not alone,” she had spoken a little softly that day when we were walking to her house after school. Her eyes had stared at the darkening sky with a little twig of a smile…Those thin lips, I think she uses cherry lip balm.I just knew I needed to see more of her. There was a school dance coming up, over a month away, I figured I’d drive to her house and ask her out, see if she’s wanting to be my gal and go to the dance together, a regular old pair of love birds.And so, I drove to her house and cleared my throat. I got out of the car and fixed my hair. I walked over to her yellow front door. I tried to look into the house, but the curtains covered the windows.I walked up and I knocked. Nervous at first, but then I gained my confidence. I couldn’t afford to mess this up. I’d liked Sally for so long. There’s no chance I could mess up something like this. I knocked again. No answer. Strange, Sally was usually home at this hour.I waited almost a minute. It felt like an hour, and so I knocked again.”Sally!” I yelled through the yellow door, and then I heard footsteps muffled behind it. I could see light disappear through the eye hole as someone looked through it.

I heard Sally’s voice, but she distorted it and tried to make it sound lower. It was confusing. She said, “Sally is not home right now, come back another time.”

“Sally,” I said, “It’s me! I have something to talk to you about, I think it’s important.” I heard some more mumbling from behind the door, and finally, the yellow door squeaked open.

“Oh, it’s you.” Sally said, her hazel eyes just peaking out from behind the door. “I didn’t expect it to be you.”

I pushed the door open wider and saw the whole scene. She was finishing buttoning up her pink blouse. She had messed up some of the buttons and I could see her brassiere underneath. I looked at her face, and I saw that her eyes were dark, smeared with mascara, her cherry lip balm was all smudged around her lips, and her hair was all frazzled and out of place. Even her skirt seemed to be put on in a rushed way. Though Sally started to say more to me, I did not hear her.

I looked over her shoulder. My heart sank into the darkest depths of the ocean, I became just like the ancient ships sunk long ago; an empty, hollow vessel long forgotten at the bottom of the depths of the world.

In the shadows of her home, which had no lights on, I saw a human-looking thing—but it was like no human I’d ever seen before. The light from outside splashed subtly onto its features. Its gray, sallow skin was wrinkled. Its arms were long and grotesque. Its fingers were pale and lifeless, yet the thing moved, ever so slightly. I saw black bulbous eyes, and where the nose should be, I saw nothing. There was the thinnest sliver of darkness where its mouth supposedly was. Around its barren features, there was the smudge of pink cherry lip balm. There was a trail of it down the thing’s bare, thin chest.

I looked back at Sally; her eyes looked accusing and uncaring for me, as though I was nothing of interest. Her eyes were pointed with anger.

“This is why I didn’t open the damn door,” she said, the face beneath her muddled makeup growled with anger.

The gray thing got up out of its chair. Its long, dangling limbs propelled down to the floor like hanging nooses. Its long, sharp fingers reached out for me and I swear I saw the thing lick its lips with two tongues whispering from its mouth.

Sally reached her own hand out and yanked at the ruffles of my shirt. Everything went black and warm and wet.

Today’s MM post on YouTube

Also just a short 20 second video.

Pictures

Iran Destroyed 7 U.S. F-35s at UAE Al Dhafra Base — Abu Dhabi Gave America 48 Hours to Leave

USA chased out of the UAE.

Sir Whiskerton and The Sting Identity
A Tale of Mistaken Buzz-ness, Royal Wrath, and One Very Confused Beekeeper

Act I: The Bump That Started It All

The chaos began when Beatrice the Beekeeper (normally a sensible woman in a sensible sun hat) took a tumble into her own honey cart. She emerged with:

A bump the size of a blueberry on her forehead
A bread basket strapped to her back (improvised exoskeleton)
The unshakable belief she was a bee

“BY ORDER OF THE HIVE,” she proclaimed, buzzing her lips, “ALL FLOWERS SHALL PAY POLLEN TAXES!”

Sir Whiskerton, mid-nap on a sunflower, opened one eye. “Oh dear.”

Act II: The Hive Hostage Situation

Beatrice stormed the Golden Honeycomb Hive, demanding royal treatment:

“I REQUIRE A THRONE OF WAX!” (She settled for a butter dish.)
“SERVANTS SHALL FAN ME WITH PETALS!” (The bees retaliated by fanning her away.)
“I CHALLENGE THE QUEEN TO A DANCE-OFF FOR THE CROWN!” (She attempted the “Waggle Waltz” and pulled a muscle.)

The real bees convened an emergency council.

Queen Bee: [Deadpan] “Get. Her. Out.”
Worker Bee #12: “She called our honey ‘store-brand syrup.'”
Worker Bee #45: “Also, she’s terrible at flying.”

Act III: The Intervention

The farm animals staged a “Remember You’re Human” intervention:

Porkchop: “You snore in B-flat. That’s kinda buzzy?”
Doris the Hen: “Darling, no bee wears overalls.”
Rufus the Dog: [Sneezing] “Also, you’re allergic to bees!”

Undeterred, Beatrice issued a hive-wide edict:

“ALL HUMANS SHALL ADDRESS ME AS ‘YOUR STINGINESS.'”

The farmer, panicking, lobbed a jar of honey as a distraction. It worked. (“Ooooh… shiny…”)

Act IV: The Royal Recovery

After a nap, a cold compress, and three failed attempts to pollinate a tulip, Beatrice blinked.

“…Why am I covered in bees?”

The Queen sighed in relief. *“Take her away before she remembers the dance-off.”

As the farmer led Beatrice home, the bees changed their locks.

The Moral of the Story

Moral: Identity crises are best solved before you start demanding hive taxes.

Post-Credit Scene

Beatrice’s “Bee Phase” becomes farm legend. The hens perform a dramatic reenactment titled The Waggle That Went Wrong.

Best Lines:

“I’ll sting the next peasant who questions my authority!” – Beatrice, waving a butter knife
“That’s not a stinger. That’s a spoon.” – Sir Whiskerton
“We’re anarchists! We don’t have taxes!” – Rebellious Worker Bee

Starring:

Beatrice (Temporary Tyrant Bee)
Queen Bee (Over It)
Sir Whiskerton (Diplomatic Cat-astrophe)
The Bees (Exhausted NPCs)

Key Jokes:

Beatrice’s “hive security force” (three confused ladybugs).
The farmer’s “beekeeper costume” (just his regular clothes, but with jazz hands).
Porkchop’s beekeeping advice: “Smoke ‘em out! Wait, no—that’s BBQ.”

P.S.

Remember: If you must have an existential crisis, avoid any species that works weekends.

The End.

Buzzing off now,
The Sir Whiskerton Team 🐝

5 Strange & Shocking SOLVED MYSTERIES

Sight Unseen

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Jean Ballard

I rolled over with a groan, sensing what was about to happen. Despite this, I jolted from the alarm clock blaring through the quiet of my room. After struggling to find my phone in the tangle of sheets, I finally silenced the unwelcome noise.As had become routine for the past three months of my life, and likely the lives of every other human being on the planet, I proceeded to fumble for the remote to my TV. I turned on the television, which emitted a brief crackle of static before the program appeared. My heart raced as the anchor’s voice filled the room.—–BBC WORLD NEWSThe news anchor sits at the desk, an alarming expression painted across his face, as the cameras start rolling.NEWS ANCHOR: Good morning, viewers. We start with an update on the extraterrestrials that have captured the world’s attention since their discovery was made publicly known. As authorities continue to investigate and study these enigmatic predators, we bring you some of the warning signs that may indicate their presence.On the screen, a list of warning signs appears, accompanied by graphics and footage.NEWS ANCHOR: First, there have been reports of unexplained power fluctuations in various regions across the globe. Authorities are urging citizens to be vigilant and report any unusual electrical disturbances. It is also advised to immediately vacate any area where these fluctuations may be occurring as a precaution.

Cut to footage of city lights flickering and dimming, and people looking up at the sky in puzzlement.

NEWS ANCHOR: Next, we have received numerous accounts of strange lights in the sky, captivating witnesses with their extraordinary and erratic movements.

Bright orbs appear to be darting across the night sky in the footage, leaving trails of light behind them.

NEWS ANCHOR: Authorities have also raised concerns about the increasing number of missing persons cases. While not all missing person reports are related to the alien presence, they are taking these incidents very seriously.

Footage shows police investigators searching for clues, and families holding pictures of their loved ones.

NEWS ANCHOR: Now, we understand the desire to learn more about these unwelcome visitors, but it is crucial to remember that seeking out these extraterrestrials can be dangerous. The extraterrestrial beings remain a relatively unknown entity, and caution is advised.

On the screen, a sign reads “Restricted Area” with a silhouette of a stereotypical alien figure, cautioning against trespassing.

NEWS ANCHOR: For those who may encounter any of these warning signs, authorities urge you to keep a safe distance and report your observations immediately. The global community is working together to better understand these visitors and ensure the safety of all.

Cut back to the news anchor, who looks directly at the camera with a solemn expression.

NEWS ANCHOR: We will continue to keep you updated on any developments and further information. In the meantime, let us remember that while the presence of extraterrestrial life is unsettling and even fascinating to some, we must proceed with caution and respect the boundaries set by the authorities.

The anchor nods, concluding the segment.

NEWS ANCHOR: Stay tuned for more news after the break.

The news anchor takes a deep, uneasy breath before the cameras stop rolling and the program cuts to commercial advertisements.

—–

The news ticker at the bottom of the screen continued to display a list of warning signs, a relentless reminder of the unnamed alien presence that had now become known to the entirety of the world three months prior. I couldn’t help but be captivated by the gravity of the situation, my fascination pulling me towards curiosity as well as despair.

I glanced at the clock and realized I was already running late for work. Hastily getting dressed, I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door. The streets were unusually quiet, an unsettling calm that mirrored the hushed atmosphere of the news program. My interest lingered as I contemplated the alleyway shortcut that beckoned to me. Against my better judgment, I decided to take the path less traveled. It would be quicker, after all.

The alley was dimly lit, shrouded in a thick fog that seemed to swallow sounds and distort reality. As I ventured further, I became aware of a faint glow emanating from an obscured figure lurking in the shadows. The lights seemed to drift into the sky like a feather riding the fog.

My heart pounded in my chest, and an inexplicable sense of unease washed over me. The silhouette of the figure appeared human, but something was off; something uncanny that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I hesitated, my instincts warning me to retreat, but an irresistible curiosity urged me forward. L’appel du vide.

As I approached, the eerie glow became more pronounced, revealing the face of the figure. It looked almost human. I may have even thought it was another human being if not for my scrutinizing gaze but, upon closer inspection, the subtle differences became evident. The figure’s skin was pallid and unblemished, mirroring the texture of human flesh, but with an otherworldly sheen that betrayed its true nature. And its eyes. Its eyes, large and hauntingly black, seemed to absorb any light that dared to touch them. At a casual glance, they seemed almost ordinary, like dark voids in a sea of white. But upon closer inspection, something was terribly amiss.

Then, with a sudden and calculated movement, the figure’s eyes transformed. Within the obsidian depths of its eyes, sinuous black tendrils snaked and coiled, barely visible at first, as if they were hidden within the depths of its being. But then, with a slow and deliberate movement, those unnerving tendrils started to emerge. Like dark serpents, they slithered out, searching for their next prey.

More disturbingly, each tendril extended further, revealing smaller branches that resembled twisted, contorted fingers. Each of the branches hosted countless minuscule, barely perceptible eyes along its length. These tiny eyes, black as the void itself, were mere pinpricks, yet they emanated an ominous aura that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of one’s soul. Their gazes were haunting, empty of any emotion, devoid of the humanity they now sought to possess. They stalked through the fog like a legion of watchful sentinels, searching for unsuspecting victims. It was as if the alien had evolved to exploit the most profound fear of humanity; being watched, scrutinized, and ultimately ensnared in a malevolent web of possession.

A chilling realization dawned upon me, but it was already too late. The tendrils shot forth with terrifying speed, seeking out my eyes with unerring precision. Before I could react, they latched onto my ocular orbs, and an icy shiver of violation washed over me, as the pupils of the extraterrestrial and my own were linked through these snakelike branches. This link caused my body to become numb, paralyzed by some power I did not understand.

At first, it was a mere discomfort, a sensation of intrusion. But the tendrils’ presence seeped deeper into my consciousness, spreading like an insidious virus throughout my mind. The alien’s essence melded with my thoughts and emotions, an invasion of my very identity.

Reality began to warp around me, the alleyway twisting and distorting into a surreal nightmare. The once-familiar surroundings morphed into a nightmarish canvas, painted with foreboding signs of the alien’s presence. The fog seemed to clutch at my every step as if the atmosphere itself was manipulated by the malevolent entity.

With each passing moment, I could feel myself slipping away, losing control to the alien force. The tendrils, now fully entrenched in my being, extended deeper, their tiny eyes watching, absorbing my memories and emotions. It felt as if the interior of my body was now only a shell for these tendrils to make their home.

I tried to resist, to claw back control over my own body, but it was futile. The alien’s power over me was absolute. My eyes, once windows to my soul, now mirrored the cold, abyssal gaze of the entity that had ensnared me.

The transformation was agonizingly slow, like the ebb and flow of a tidal wave, a relentless process that engulfed my consciousness. My once-clear thoughts were possessed by an evil presence, and my emotions became mere echoes of what they once were.

As the alien’s possession deepened, the alleyway came alive with haunting whispers, each voice a chilling echo of malevolence. Shadows danced with a vile life of their own, and the walls of the alley bore grotesque graffiti that seemed to twist and writhe. Much like my own body, the shell of the world was now a host to all that is wicked.

I had become a mere puppet, my actions manipulated by the abhorrent force that now controlled me. Every step I took was no longer my own, and with each passing moment, my sense of self faded further into oblivion.

A sense of despair enveloped me. I was now lost and trapped in a nightmarish reality that was not my own. My screams of desperation echoed within, unheard by the world outside, a futile plea for escape. The alien entity had woven its sinister tendrils into the very fabric of my being, leaving me a mere husk of my former self.

Beware the nearly human figure with eyes of darkness, for its uncanny appearance hides an insidious force that seeks to possess and control. Once ensnared by its tendrils, your fate is sealed, and you’ll be forever condemned to wander the shadows, a vessel for the nefarious entity that lurks within, hidden behind a facade of humanity. The boundary between human and alien dissolves, and in the depths of the alleyways, their malevolent machinations thrive.

Would a tiger attack and eat a dog if they grew up together from age 0?

Meet Michael Jamison.

He lives in South Africa and has his Youtube Vlog.

He has two Tigers – Diego and Enzo

He also has over 20–30 dogs

Now the younger tiger spent and played with Dogs as a Cub and lived with Michael, ate and slept with Dogs and Cats and Monkeys.

However as the Tiger became bigger and bigger – Michael had to move the Tiger into the enclosure with the Bigger Tiger

Later on one day – some years later – one of the dogs slipped into the Tigers Cage.

The Dog had been the playmate of the Younger Tiger

The Dog growled at the Tiger but both the Tigers were cool as cucumbers. They did not harm the dog in any way. In fact the Bigger Tiger protected the Dog from the Younger one and Michael was able to safely take away the Dog.

So i regard Michael Jamison as an expert on Tigers and their Behaviour

This is what he says

Michael says that his Tigers dont consider his dogs or monkeys or cats as Natural Prey. However they have wild instincts and when they see dogs running or cats running – they will give chase because that is genetics.

And since a Tiger is 300 Kilograms and has a very strong bite – a simple bite would be fatal to a Dog or a Cat. The Neck would snap instantly.

However he says if a Puppy and a Tiger cub are raised together every minute of every day – then there is no chance because the Tiger will learn how to control its strength and will regard the dog as nothing more than a companion.

He says he separated his Tiger when it grew up because he felt that the Tiger now 200+ Kilos could cause him actual harm just by playing with him.

NASA’s Forgotten Skylab Plans

Gingered Lemon Chicken

Prep: 10 min | Cook: 10 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

2 cups broccoli florets
1 tablespoon oil, divided
12 ounces chicken breast halves, cut into strips
1 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 1/2 teaspoons lemon peel, finely shredded
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can Del Monte® Sliced Carrots, drained

Instructions

Cook broccoli until crisp tender in half the oil in a large skillet.
Remove and add remaining oil to skillet.
Cook chicken until no longer pink.
Stir together broth, cornstarch, lemon peel and ginger. Add to skillet.
Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly.
Add vegetables and heat through.
Serve over rice, if desired.

How has a friend’s spouse surprised you?

I lost my wife six months earlier. I became the sole caretaker of a three-month preemie and his older brothers and sister. My backyard neighbors were close friends. But she was always hesitant around the little one. He was just so small and seemingly frail.

I can attest that he was anything but frail! If he survived my manhandling he could survive anything!

And then it happened. I caught the flu. I am usually religious in getting my flu shot because when I catch it it is debilitating, and all I can do it let it run its course.

But of course, I was busy with a new life and lifestyle, and I just had no time to myself to get a flu vaccine.

Everything was a fog. It took every bit of strength to feed and change the baby. I had to let the others fend for themselves. After one bottle feeding I passed out from exhaustion.

I heard someone come into my bedroom. I heard them go to the crib. And then I heard a woman’s voice saying “I’m taking the kids. You’re quarantined. Call if you need anything.”

And that was that. There was silence. I slept for 24 hours and woke up with a start.

Did I dream that? Where is everyone? Where is my baby?

I called Denise, and she asked how I was feeling. I told her like crap, but I asked if she knew where my kids were.

She said “I told you I was taking them. They’re here, and everyone is good.”

I realized I didn’t dream it. She saved me, and she saved the kids.

In another couple of months she quit her job and became my kids’ nanny. Every morning my older kids would walk to her house and she would take them to school. Afterwards she would walk to my house and take the baby in his stroller to hers so I could work from home uninterrupted.

I owe them such a debt of gratitude as I do the entire little town I lived in at the time.

It definitely takes a village to raise a child, but that woman was the mayor of my personal village.

All HELL BREAKS LOOSE as Iran just damaged another 10 US refuelling planes in Saudi Arabia – OPTM

If a man breaks into your home and you don’t have a firearm, how do you protect your family; especially if the man is much bigger than you and/or armed with a weapon?

Good question.

I’m Chinese. I can understand all the policies of the CPC, but one thing I don’t like is the complete ban on guns.

Marx and Engels supported the idea of citizens owning firearms. Engels said, “If every citizen had a gun and fifty bullets at home, which government would dare to infringe on political freedom?”

As for Chairman Mao, that goes without saying. “What’s the fighting in Beijing? Just cold weapons, a few shots fired. The real fighting was in Sichuan, with tens of thousands on both sides, with guns and cannons, and I heard even radios.” In fact, civilians at weapons factories in Sichuan built tanks to join the battle.

But, different environments, different ideas—I can only say it’s how it is.

The CPC used endless patience and money to enforce the gun ban, and in the end, they succeeded completely.

The vast majority of the population supports it as well.

When I was in middle school, I still had a hunting rifle for shooting rabbits; in high school, only a high-pressure air gun. By university, unless on the black market, you couldn’t buy a single gun… Around the year 2000, guns became serious crimes, like drugs.

From all this, you probably know I’m not a typical Chinese person.

Indeed, not typical. A typical Chinese person farms, does business, makes money.

But I’ve always felt a lack of security. My ancestors were all soldiers…

China is now such a safe country that even at 3 a.m., a 12-year-old girl can go anywhere to buy something.

I’m still tense and scared.

Always alert.

When the delivery knocks at the door, I ask cautiously: “Who is it?”

Even when I see them through the peephole, I remain vigilant.

I have a steel security door worth 1,000 yuan, always ready to throw my full body weight against it as a shield, while grabbing a weapon from the shelf with my right hand.

For example, this one.

Or it could be someone checking the gas meter, or local police wanting me to download an anti-fraud app…

Every time, I stay on alert, staring through the peephole: “Who?”

Maybe ten thousand times by now.

I don’t know why; I’m just like this, always worried, always scared. I even stockpile dried fruits, vitamins, vacuum-packed rice, salt, and honey, and practice archery…

Later I found out that people like this exist in the West too—they call them survivalists T_T

SpaceX Engineers SHOCKED: China’s Station Uses Tech NASA Can’t Copy…

Obviously written by an American. Ha ha.

(Repost) Predictions on the collapse of America based upon the theory of the “fourteen contradictions”. (duplicate)

American hegemony is in the decline. Are you listening? Every now and then I meet people from various countries. They make fun of America and the way the US president behaves and talks and, of course, tweets. The country`s  reputation is in doldrums. It is retreating from all parts of the world. It is abandoning many international treaties including the Paris Accord on Environment. We are rapidly entering into a post-American world.  The American decline had started since 9/11. However, the next two presidents tried to slow down the process. But, President Donald Trump has sped up the American decline. Now the world is fast learning to live without America as the sole super power of the world.

According to a recent Pew Research Center survey of 37 countries, people around the globe no longer see the US as the sole guarantor of the world peace.  They rightly think that they can do without America. Now the country is increasingly becoming irrelevant in many of the global issues and crises. America is no longer willing to bear the burden of global leadership.

Now the world is looking at China and other emerging powers of the world o fill the vacuum created by the American retreat from so many parts of the world.

-maha Affairs

My God! This is a good read.

In 2004, Johan Galtung predicted that the United States would collapse in 2025. The made this prediction based on trending “contradictions”. These “contradictions” were such that they clearly pointed towards a rapid period of social upheaval in the Untied States. He then, in 2001 after the election of GW Bush, revised the date forward to 2020. There is no way that he could have predicted the coronavirus or COVID-19 global outbreak.

What is so amazing about his predictions is that they have all come to pass. And at that, he should be given every consideration and his writings pondered.

Professor JWC in SF: Johan Galtung, who has been a rather shrewd predictor of historical trends, predicted the US Empire would collapse in 2025. He advanced the date to 2020 with the election of GW Bush. He stands by his date. Would that the Empire had the palindromic good sense of Napoleon.

Professor LCW in SF: It is pretty incredible that Johan Galtung, a Norwegian scholar, made his bold and dire prediction on Dec. 7, 2016 that, with the election of Donald Trump, the decline of U.S. power will speed up and the U.S.. will stop being a global power by 2020. He could not have foreseen the coronavirus and the collapse of the U.S. economy in 2020. Nevertheless, what has been happening since his election and what has been happening since January this year seem to confirm his prediction.

The following article was written a little over two years into the GW Bush Presidency. In it, he accurately predicts what America went through, and has some rather disturbing predictions of what will follow in the following years. It is worth a read.

On the Coming Decline and Fall of the US Empire

By Johan Galtung the Director and Founder of TRANSCEND. Article written and published on January 28, 2004. (Over fifteen years ago.) Reprinted from TFF. With only minor editing to fit this venue.

1. Definitions and Hypotheses: An Overview

Definition:

An empire is a trans-border Center-Periphery system, in macro-space and in macro-time.

With a culture legitimizing a structure of unequal exchange between center and periphery:

Economically, between exploiters and exploited, as inequity;
Militarily, between killers and victims, as enforcement.
Politically, between dominators and dominated, as repression;
Culturally, between alienators and alienated, as conditioning.

Empires have different profiles.

The US Empire has a complete configuration, articulated in a statement by a Pentagon planner:

"The de facto role of the United States Armed Forces will be to keep the world safe for our economy and open to our cultural assault. To those ends, we will do a fair amount of killing".

In other words, direct violence to protect structural violence legitimized by cultural violence.

The Center is the continental USA and the Periphery much of the world.

Like any system it has a life-cycle reminiscent of an organism, with conception, gestation, birth, infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, senescence and death.

Seeded by the British Empire, the maturing colonies honed their imperial skills on indigenous populations, ventured abroad in military interventions defining zones of interest, took over the Spanish Empire, expanding with world, even space hegemony as goal, now in the aging phase with overwhelming control tasks quickly overtaking the expansion tasks.

Decline and fall is to be expected as for anything human; the question is what-why-how-when-where-by whom-against whom.

Answers:

What: the four unequal, non-sustainable, exchange patterns above;
Why: because they cause unbearable suffering and resentment;
How: through the synergies in the synchronic maturation of 14 contradictions, followed by demoralization of system elites;
When: within a time frame of, say, 20 years, counting from Y2000;
Where: depending on the maturation level of the contradictions.
By Whom: the exploited/bereaved/dominated/alienated, the solidary, and those who fight the US Empire to set up their own.
Against Whom: the exploiters/killers/dominators/alienators, and those who support the US Empire because of perceived benefits.

The Hypothesis

The hypothesis is not that the fall and decline of the US Empire implies a fall and decline of the US Republic (continental USA).

To the contrary, relief from the burden of Empire control and maintenance when it outstrips the gains from unequal exchange, and expansion increases rather than decreases the deficit, could lead to a blossoming of the US Republic.

This author admits an anti-Empire bias because of enormous periphery suffering outside and inside the Republic; and a pro-US Republic bias because of the creative genius and generosity of the USA.

“Anti-American” makes no such distinction between the US Republic and the US Empire.

The USA compared to Britain

There is no dearth of predictions of economic disaster for the US Republic in the wake of decline and fall of the system “to keep the world safe for our economy and open to our cultural assault”, also from Marxists who (still) believe that Empire-building can be reduced to economic greed satisfied by flagrant inequity.

But this is only one component in a complete imperial syndrome with components attracting and repelling different niches in societies and persons…

Economists blind to externalities design theories legitimizing inequity,
Unrealistic “realists” enforce “order”,
Liberals guide and dominate political choices of others, and
Missionaries, religious and secular, try to convert anybody.

All together an enormous drain of resources.

The case of England indicates that an empire can be a burden.

The decline of the British Empire started long before, but the fall of the crown jewel, India, due to a combination of nonviolent (Gandhi) and violent struggle, and the incompatibility of imperialism with the Atlantic Charter, was decisive. The Empire unraveled very quickly over a period of 15 years from 1947, obviously unstable.

And England? Today richer than ever in history.

Welcome, USA.

2. The US Empire: A bird’s-eye view

“At some point, America’s short-term Crisis psychology will catch up to the long-term post-Unraveling fundamentals. This might result in a Great Devaluation, a severe drop in the market price of most financial and real assets. This devaluation could be a short but horrific panic, a free-falling price in a market with no buyers. Or it could be a series of downward ratchets linked to political events that sequentially knock the supports out from under the residual popular trust in the system. As assets devalue, trust will further disintegrate, which will cause assets to devalue further, and so on. Every slide in asset prices, employment, and production will give every generation cause to grow more alarmed.” 

– Strauss & Howe – The Fourth Turning

Right after the mass murder in New York and Washington on September 11 2001 Zoltan Grossman circulated a list.

This list was based on Congressional Records and The Library of Congress Congressional Research Service.

There were 133 American military interventions during the111 years, from 1890-2001.

This included everything from the brutal murder of the indigenous population at Wounded Knee in Dakota to the punishment expedition to Afghanistan.

Six of them are the First and Second World Wars, and the Korea, Vietnam, Gulf and Yugoslavian wars.

Democrats started five of them (Bush senior and junior are the exceptions among isolationist Republicans who usually focus more on the exploitation of their own population).

An acceleration in conflict.

The average conflicts per year is 1.15 before the second world war, and 1.29 after the Second World War.

Or, in other words, an increase in military intervention.

And after the Cold War, from late 1989 on, a heavy increase up to 2.0 conflicts per year.

Which is compatible with the hypothesis that wars increase as empires grow, with more privileges to protect; more unrest to quell, revolts to crush.

Enormous Suffering

William Blum has 300 pages of solid documentation in his Rogue State: A Guide to the World’s Only Superpower (Monroe MA: Common Courage Press, 2000).

The total suffering is enormous:

The victims, the bereaved, the damaged nature, structure (through verticalization)…

… and culture (through brutalization, myths of revenge and honor).

Most of it fits into one single pattern:

Building a US Empire based on economic exploitation of other countries and other peoples. By using direct violence and indirect violence Open violence (Pentagon) and overt indirect violence (CIA). All with open and covert support from US allies.

A polarization of classes and the creation of caste systems

The result is the international class structure with increasing gaps between the poor and rich countries, and between poor and rich people.

Missionary zeal for “democracy”

There is no sign of any clash of civilizations, nor any sign of territorial expansion.

But there is enormous missionary zeal and enormous self-righteousness.

And the rhetoric changes: containment of Soviet expansion, fight against Communism, drugs, intervention for democracy and human rights, against terrorism.

67 Fully Documented Examples

Blum’s list of interventions up to the year 2000 covers 67 cases since 1945 (Grossman has 56, the criteria differ somewhat):

China 45-51,
France 47,
Marshall Islands 46-58,
Italy 47-70s,
Greece 47-49,
Philippines 45-53,
Korea 45-53,
Albania 49-53,
Eastern Europe 48-56,
Germany 50s,
Iran 53,
Guatemala 53-90s,
Costa Rica 50s, 70-71,
Middle East 56-58,
Indonesia 57-58,
Haiti 59,
Western Europe 50s-60s,
British Guiana 53-64,
Iraq 58-63,
Soviet Union 40s-60s,
Vietnam 45-73,
Cambodia 55-73,
Laos 57-73,
Thailand 65-73,
Ecuador 60-63,
Congo-Zaire 77-78,
France-Algeria 60s,
Brazil 61-63,
Peru 65,
Dominican Republic 63-65,
Cuba 59-,
Indonesia 65,
Ghana 66,
Uruguay 69-72,
Chile 64-73,
Greece 67-74,
South Africa 60s-80s,
Bolivia 64-75,
Australia 72-75,
Iraq 72-75,
Portugal 74-76,
East Timor 75-99,
Angola 75-80s,
Jamaica 76,
Honduras 80s,
Nicaragua 78-90s,
Philippines 70s,
Seychelles 79-81,
South Yemen 79-84,
South Korea 80,
Chad 81-2,
Grenada 79-83,
Suriname 82-84,
Libya 81-89,
Fiji 87,
Panama 89,
Afghanistan 79-92,
El Salvador 80-92,
Haiti 87-94,
Bulgaria 90-91,
Albania 91-92,
Somalia 93,
Iraq 90s,
Peru 90s,
Mexico 90s,
Colombia 90s,
Yugoslavia 95-99.

There was bombing in 25 cases (for details, read the book):

China 45-46,
Korea/China 50-53,
Guatemala 54,
Indonesia 58,
Cuba 60-61,
Guatemala 60,
Vietnam 61-73,
Congo 64,
Peru 65,
Laos 64-73,
Cambodia 69-70,
Guatemala 67-69,
Grenada 83,
Lebanon-Syria 83-84,
Libya 86,
El Salvador 80s,
Nicaragua 80s,
Iran 87,
Panama 89,
Iraq 91-,
Kuwait 91,
Somalia 93,
Sudan 98,
Afghanistan 98,
Yugoslavia 99.

Assassination of foreign leaders, among them heads of state, was attempted in 35 countries, and assistance with torture in 11 countries:

Greece,
Iran,
Germany,
Vietnam,
Bolivia,
Uruguay,
Brazil,
Guatemala,
El Salvador,
Honduras,
Panama

On top of this come 23 countries where the United States has intervened in elections or has prevented elections:

Italy 48-70s,
Lebanon 50s,
Indonesia 55,
Vietnam 55,
Guayana 53-64,
Japan 58-70s,
Nepal 59,
Laos 60,
Brazil 62,
Dominican Republic 62,
Guatemala 63,
Bolivia 66,
Chile 64-70,
Portugal 74-5,
Australia 74-5,
Jamaica 76,
Panama 84, 89,
Nicaragua 84,90,
Haiti 87-88,
Bulgaria 91-92,
Russia 96,
Mongolia 96,
Bosnia 98.

161 examples of violence outside the USA

35 (attempted) assassinations + 11 countries with torture + 25 bombings + 67 interventions + 23 interferences with other people’s elections give 161 forms of aggravated political violence only since the Second World War. A world record.

Trends

Increase over time comes with shift in civilization target:

Phase I – Eastern Asia, Confucian-Buddhist
Phase II – Eastern Europe, Orthodox Christian
Phase III – Latin America, Catholic Christian
Phase IV – Western Asia, Islam

The phases overlap, but this is the general picture.

The Phases of Military Empire Excursions

In the first phase the focus was above all on people in Korea, south and north, wanting reunification of their nation, and on poor peasants in Viêt Nam wanting independence.

In the second phase there was the Cold, not Hot, War for containment of communism.

In the third phase the targets were poor people, small and indigenous populations supported by “maoist” students.

And in the fourth phase, which is dominating the picture today, the focus was on Islamic countries and movements, Palestinians being an important example.

American priorities

All the time we find that the USA supports those who favor US business and growth, and works against those who give higher priority to distribution and basic needs of the most needy. They die, 100,000 per day, underfed, underclothed, undersheltered, undercared, underschooled; jobless, hopeless and futureless.

Satisfiers for their needs cannot be bought with the money they do not have, and cannot be bought with labor because that requires jobs or land (seeds, water, manure) they do not have.

A cruel world built on a world trade headed by the USA, supported by US dominated military and allied governments, and often populations who benefit from cheap resources and food products.

Religion

What is new in the fourth phase has something to do with religion. Islam is just as concerned with sin and guilt and expiation, with crime and punishment, as Christianity. But they do not place God and his country, and particularly “God’s Own Country”, the USA, higher than Allah and his countries, particularly not Allah’s own holy country, Saudi Arabia.

A United Nations Security Council with a nucleus of four Christian and one Confucian country have little authority in Islam, as opposed to the authority enjoyed in the Christian countries in Eastern Europe and Latin America. And buddhist, East Asian countries are perhaps more inclined to change a bad joint karma than to issue certificates of guilt to the USA.

In other words, the real resistance had to come in the fourth phase with a new Pearl Harbor that many see as the introduction to a long-lasting Third World War.

The Buildup to World War III

Of that we should not be so certain.

But one thing is clear: Anybody who was the least bit surprised 11 September was ignorant, naive or both.

The bottomless, limitless state terrorism of the United States got a very unsurprising answer: terrorism against the United States.

With an estimated 12-16 million killed, and an average of 10 bereaved for each one, with pain and sorrow, lust for revenge and revanche growing, no act of revenge would be inconceivable. But the deeper roots lie not in the never-ending chain of “blowback” violence. They are in the numerous unresolved conflicts built into the US Empire.

The way to solution for sure passes through US Empire dissolution.

The Pentagon planner’s “to those ends we will do a fair amount of killing” reflects imperial reality. The when-where- against whom has just been explored.

And then what?

3. On the decline and fall of empires: the Soviet Empire case

In a comparative study of the decline (of ten) and fall (of nine, No. 10 is the US Empire) in 1995 , with an economic focus, the conclusion was that no single factor, but a combination of factors in a syndrome was the general cause:

A division of labor whereby foreign countries, and/or foreigners inside one’s own country, take over the most challenging and interesting and developing tasks, given the historical situation;
A deficit in creativity related to a deficit in technology and good management, including foresight and innovation;
One or several sectors of the economy neglected or lagging;
And, at the same time, expansionism as ideology/cosmology, exploiting foreign countries and/or one’s own people inviting negative, destructive reactions.

Rome and Russia as examples

The syndrome idea came from an earlier study of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire where many authors have come up with many single factor theories. The idea was then applied to the Soviet Empire in 1980 , focusing on five factors referred to as contradictions, tensions, like the four points above:

In the society:

A top-heavy, centralized, non-participatory society run by the Russian nation controlling other nations,
The city controlling the countryside,
The socialist bourgeoisie the socialist proletariat,
The socialist bourgeoisie having nothing to buy because the processing level was too low;

In the world: a confrontational foreign policy run by the Soviet Union controlling and intervening in satellite countries.

The prediction, made many times by this author in 1980, was that the Soviet Empire would crumble not because of any single factor but because of “synchronic maturation of contradictions, followed by demoralization of Center and Periphery elites”, with the Berlin Wall crumbling in an early phase, within 10 years.

The Mechanism.

The mechanism was not the big bang of war, but the whimper of demoralized elites…

… who after lashing out violently become corrupt, alcoholized, overfed, sometimes charming, ego-maniacs.

4. On the contradictions of the US Empire.

The prediction of the decline and fall of the Soviet Empire was based on the synergy of five contradictions, and the time span for the contradictions to work their way through decline to fall was estimated at 10 years in 1980.

1980 Prediction = Fall of Russia in 10 years = 1990.

Sometimes I added a No. 5: between myth, the massive Soviet propaganda, and reality – to some extent dissolved in marvelous jokes.

The prediction of the decline and fall of the US Empire is based on the synergy of 14 contradictions, and the time span for the contradictions to work their way through decline to fall was estimated at 25 years in the year 2000.

2000 Prediction = Fall of the US Empire in 25 years = 2025.

There are more contradictions because the US Empire is more complex, and the time span is longer also because it is more sophisticated.

After the first months of President George W. Bush (selected) the time span was reduced to 20 years because of the way in which he sharpened so many of the contradictions posited the year before, and because his extreme singlemindedness made him blind to the negative, complex synergies. He just continued.

Revised Prediction = Fall of the US Empire in 20 years = 2020

President William J. Clinton (elected, twice) was seen in a different light.

Confronted with a pattern of contradictions, no doubt with significant differences in terminology and numbers, his violence was an intervention in Somalia that he canceled, a war against Serbia of which he evidenced heavy doubts and never any enthusiasm, and a couple of missiles fired in anger.

Being superintelligent, demoralization in high places, and sex in strange places, might have been the consequences.

Hypothesis: they tried to impeach him not so much for the latter as for the former – using the latter as pretext. The effort misfired, but a highly non-demoralized George Bush captured the US Presidency.

Here is the list of 14 contradictions posited in 2000:

I. Economic Contradictions (US led system WB/IMF/WTO NYSE Pentagon)

1. Between growth and distribution: overproduction relative to demand, 1.4 billion below $ 1/day, 100.000 die/day, 1/4 of hunger

2. Between productive and finance economy (currency, stocks,bonds) overvalued, hence crashes, unemployment, contract work

3. Between production/distribution/consumption and nature: ecocrisis, depletion/pollution, global warming

II. Military Contradictions (US led system NATO/TIAP/USA-Japan)

4. Between US state terrorism and terrorism: Blowback

5. Between US and allies (except UK, D, Japan), saying enough

6. Between US hegemony in Eurasia and the Russia India China triangle, with 40% of humanity

7. Between US led NATO and EU army: The Tindemans follow-up

III. Political Contradictions (US exceptionalism under God)

8. Between USA and the UN: The UN hitting back

9. Between USA and the EU: vying for Orthodox/Muslim support

IV. Cultural Contradictions (US triumphant plebeian culture)

10. Between US Judeo-Christianity and Islam (25% of humanity; UNSC nucleus has four Christian and none of the 56 Muslim countries).

11. Between US and the oldest civilizations (Chinese, Indian, Mesopotamian, Aztec/Inca/Maya)

12. Between US and European elite culture: France, Germany, etc.

V. Social Contradictions (US led world elites vs the rest: World Economic Forum, Davos vs World Social Forum, Porto Alegre)

13. Between state corporate elites and working classes of unemployed and contract workers. The middle classes?

14. Between older generation and youth: Seattle, Washington, Praha, Genova and ever younger youth. The middle generation?

15. To this could be added: Between myth and reality.

The list was a simple reading of the US Empire situation. More sophisticated discourses are certainly possible, keeping the key ideas of syndromes, synergies and demoralization.

5. The maturation of contradictions: An update after 3 years

We shall use the same formulations as above, drop the small explanatory remarks in the above list, and add some kind of, hopefully informed, running commentary on contemporary affairs.

Obviously, the US Empire as a functioning, dynamic reality, not as a static structure, with the 14 contradictions in its wake is a very complex system.

In such systems linearities are rare, causal chains split and unite; loops, spirals, any curve shape, are ubiquitous. Quantum jumps when two factors are strongly coupled, one changes and the other remains constant, will be frequent.

But the prediction is that within twenty years the four types of unequal exchange with the USA in the Center will wither away, whether what comes is more equal exchange or less exchange, in other words isolation. Or both.

I. Economic Contradictions

1. Between growth and distribution:

Generally growth is sluggish with the possible exception of China, and the distribution often worsening, both between and within countries.

However, the basic concern is with livelihood at the bottom of world society, the preventable mortality and the suffering due to near-death morbidity from hunger or easily preventable/curable diseases.

That syndrome is with us, and the analysis in terms of overproduction leading to unemployment leading to under-demand leading oversupply leading to more unemployment etc. stands.

At the same time monetization of land/seeds/water/manure impedes the conversion of labor into food by tilling one’s own land.

The US Empire pursues growth but neglects and prevents distribution, thereby undercutting itself since a key aspect of growth in increased demand, meaning increased consumption, all over.

2. between productive and finance economy.

Domestic and global market turnover being high even if the growth is sluggish in the productive economy in many countries, and distribution being low there will be heavy accumulation of liquidity high up searching for an outlet.

Luxury consumption and productive investment being limited the obvious outlet is buying and selling in the finance economy, also known as speculation.

The productive economy responds by putting up bogus, virtual enterprises like ENRON and WORLDCOM that the growth in the finance economy quickly gets out of synch with growth in the productive economy.

Thus, the 2001 sharpening of his contradiction into a crash for some stocks and depreciation of the US dollar was as expected, indicative of a chronic pathology.

One basic cure for that pathology is the distribution that the US Empire, through its use of the WB/IMF/WTO NYSE Pentagon system is impeding. As that cure is at present unavailable the underlying pathology will produce new increases in financial goods values and new crashes.

3. between production/distribution/consumption and nature:

The Bush administration’s unilateral exit from the Kyoto Protocol sharpened this contradiction considerably and was a key factor behind the banner at the 2002 summit in South Africa: Thank you, Mr Bush, you have made the world hate America.

The explanation given was that the Protocol impeded US economic growth (meaning unacceptable to powerful corporations).

This move endangers the planet and is an expression of contempt for global regimes based on negotiating ratifiable treaties.

The USA could have demanded re-negotiation. But the US Empire had other priorities and mobilized millions in the movement for sustainable development against the USA.

II. Military Contradictions

4. Between US state terrorism and terrorism:

This contradiction underwent a quantum jump on 11 September 2001 although the number killed was less than the number killed in the aftermath of the other 11 September, in 1973.

The USA supported coup against the socialist government of Salvador Allende (one of the now 68 interventions after the Second World War, counting Iraq).

Highly predictable, as predictable as its repetition unless the US Empire itself exits from the cycle of violence and decides to understand “that the enemy may be us/US”.

But the US Empire now talks about interventions in more than 60 countries, lasting more than a lifetime. A heavy price for the failure to try to, or the effort to avoid to, solve conflicts/contradictions.

At this point an obvious remark:

An effort to explain 9/11, for instance as a “reaction to the US Empire by hitting two major instruments for economic and military operation”…

…or the short-hand as “revenge” and “unresolved conflict” in no way justifies the gruesome act.

Nor is the US intervention in Afghanistan and Iraq justified.

But like Kosova they can both be partly explained as efforts to maintain and expand the US Empire, for more control of the world oil market, and “to keep the world safe for our economy” by establishing military bases.

Violence hits the Empire at their strongest point, is as wrong, ineffective and counterproductive as the US violence and mobilizes against the perpetrators.

Ruling out explanation as justification runs against Enlightenment rationality: solve problems by identifying causal chains, then removing causes like violence cycles and unresolved conflicts.

But the US Empire stands in the way and will ultimately have to yield.

5. between US and allies:

Very fluid. The US Empire does not want to be seen as the US Empire but as something generally supported by “advanced societies”, “civilized” as against “evil”, “chaotic” and “terrorist”. Washington builds coalitions with Allies in the NATO/TIAP/US-Japan systems, and others.

This contradiction (and many others) has never surfaced so clearly as in connection with the war against Iraq, but there were also tensions budding in connection with the Yugoslavia and Afghanistan operations.

Public opinion is not an important variable here.

Washington deals with governments and for that reason is very concerned with who are the members.

The three ways of exercising power, persuasion, bargaining and threats, are best exercised behind closed doors so as not to be exposed to anything like the German Foreign Minister’s devastating remark to the US Secretary of Defense in München February 2003:

"In a democracy you have to present arguments for your position, and your arguments are not convincing."

If the public knew what goes on behind closed doors, like supporting an attack on Iraq in return for having somebody inscribed on the US list of terrorist organization, the opposition would increase.

In 2000 UK, Germany and Japan were seen as reliable allies.

This failed to predict the German position, linked to the Social Democratic Party having been pressed already against its inner conviction over Yugoslavia and Afghanistan.

Australia, however, was highly predictable as an Anglo-Saxon country , and Japan behaved as predicted.

The cost-benefit analysis of the countries varies, but the trend is against unconditional support for the US Empire. A very sensitive contradiction that will sharpen if people exercise much more pressure on governments.

6. Between US hegemony in Eurasia and Russia India China:

These are enormous countries, unconquerable so the USA has approached them through their fear of Muslim populations, in Chechnya, in Kashmir (and all over) and Xinjiang respectively.

After the NATO expansion eastward and the USA-Japan alliance (with Taiwan and South Korea as de facto members) expansion westward from 1995, the three countries resolved most of their problems, came closer together (although not in a formal alliance).

But those moves were temporarily stopped by the USA aligning them against Islamic terrorism, meaning Muslims fighting for more autonomy/independence in the three places mentioned.

The attack on Iraq seems to have sharpened the contradiction again as they do not participate in the occupation (knowing something about Islamic guerrillas). But the USA still has considerable market access and investment economic clout with all three governments.

7. Between USA led NATO and an EU army:

This is not the same as the two preceding points which are more about abstaining from support, and countries feeling the pincer movement of the US Empire, possibly creating an alliance.

Here we are dealing with a new multinational army of a potential superpower, creating identity problems for some members.

The question, "why do they need this army when they have NATO?" has an answer in dualist logic: "this shows they are not entirely with us, hence they are against us."

There will be much maneuvering behind closed doors concerning this contradiction.

But the general move will be in the direction of an EU Army for some members, building on the present Eurocorps, with a line of command that does not end in Washington, nor passes through Washington except for some exchange of information. For defensive purposes or a coming EU Empire? To take over the spoils?

III. Political Contradictions

8. Between USA and the UN:

The most powerful country in the world also uses the veto in the Security Council most frequently and has close to a de facto economic veto by withholding or withdrawing support for programs not to their liking.

In addition to the US Empire clout on many UN members, like changing the conditions for loans according to voting pattern.

That this behavior is resented stands to reason and that resentment came out in the open when the Anglo-Saxon USA/UK alliance failed to get their second resolution on Iraq accepted by the UNSC.

However, very energetic US diplomacy and again US Empire clout prevented what Washington was afraid of using the Uniting for Peace resolution to lift an issue that has gotten stuck in the UNSC into the General Assembly.

A UNGA debate and vote would make the limited support for an attack on Iraq rather than the French-German approach of deep UN inspection clear.

9. Between USA and the EU:

This goes far beyond EU army vs NATO.

The EU has today 15 members, by May 2004 there will be 25, with more to come. If the EU, very much in their own interest, decided to bridge the basic fault-lines in the whole European construction, between Orthodox and Catholic/Protestant Christianity, and between Islam and Christianity (from 1054 and 1095 respectively) by opening the EU for Russian and Turkish membership, well, then the USA would be very far behind indeed.

We would be talking of 750 million+ inhabitants.

The process of membership might have to be gradual, like X% increase per year in access to EU labor market against X% increase per year in access to resources.

The relation to East Asia may be problematic, but the EU is also doing good work on this fault-line.And a giant EU could only gain from abstaining from any imitation of the US Empire, signing up for UN support instead.

IV. Cultural Contradictions

10. Between US Judeo-Christianity and Islam:

These are the abrahamitic religions, and the expression Judeo-Christianity, so frequent in the USA, draws a wedge among them.

With the recent fundamentalist alliance based on the idea that Armageddon is near and that the first coming of the Messiah and the second coming of Christ could be the same person, this contradiction has become very sharp indeed.

But Islam is expanding very quickly, Christianity is not and the Jews are a small minority.

This rift will mark clear borders against US Empire penetration.

The young Saudi Wahhabite perpetrators on 9/11 may have acted more than they dreamt of on behalf of 1.3 billion Muslims, and not only 300 million Arabs. And this warlike relation will limit US Empire expansion considerably.

11. Between US and the oldest civilizations:

When people talk of fundamentalism they usually mean the religious articulation of old cultures.

But cultures are many-dimensional, including language and other forms of expression, and sacred times and sacred places in history and geography, anything.

There are awakenings all over the world, seeing ancient non-Western cultures not as exotic museum objects to be observed but not lived.

The destruction of artifacts from Sumer/Babylon in Iraq was seen as an effort to make the Iraqis governable by destroying other foci of identification. A typical example of a contradiction in an early, infant stage, but filled with potential for rapid maturation and powerful articulation.

12. Between US and European elite culture:

The world, or so the West thinks, has four major geo-cultural Centers:

The USA.
The UK.
France.
Germany.

Others can learn to imitate or produce exotica. France and Germany continue the struggle for cultural prevalence relative to the USA, with Anglo-Saxon UK being somewhere in between.

V. Social Contradictions

13. Between state corporate elites and working classes of unemployed and contract workers:

The powerful US trade union complex, the AFL/CIO, voted for the first time against a war: Iraq.

But the working classes are today kept in line by the threat of unemployment and the inferiority of contract work relative to that vanishing category, the real position, with security.

The state-corporate elites are better organized and at making themselves insubstitutable. They can make hire and fire become easy, with the ultimate threat of automation (“modernization”) settling issues.

The postmodern economy can do without workers, but not without customers.

Firing workers they fire customers by reducing their acquisitive power.

The world middle classes can join by boycotting the products of the US Empire, like oil from Iraq, Boeing aircraft (one of the major death factories in the world); in general boycotting US consumer goods, capital goods and financial goods, like US dollars, stock and bonds – but keeping personal contacts.

14. Between older generation and youth:

Younger than ever, not only college students against the Viêt Nam war but high school students, easily mobilized through the Internet as long as that lasts.

Maybe an element of myth versus reality in this: they have been served propaganda that seems very remote from reality.

The same may apply to women, but here Washington has played the cards well:`”homeland security” drives the issue home and women into the ranks defending the defenders of the home and the family.

But the other nations in the USA, the Inuits, Hawai’ians, First Nations, Chicanos, African Americans, could be pitted against the Anglo-Saxon, Southern Baptist, militarized Deep South, now in command.

Hopefully they will not create an emergency to cancel elections they may not win.

7. And the decline and fall?

Have a look at the 14 contradictions, and then a look at the definition of an empire. The way of solving these contradictions eating at the heart of the system is very simple:

For the 3 economic contradictions: reduce, even stop exploiting!
For the 4 military contradictions: reduce, even stop killing!
For the 2 political contradictions: reduce, even stop dominating!
For the 3 cultural contradictions: reduce, even stop alienating!
For the 2 social contradictions: reduce, even stop all the above!

For each reduction, the US Empire is, by definition, declining.

For each stop the US Empire is falling.

Stop all four, and the US Empire is gone, although some may survive in residual forms like the Russian Empire in Chechnya and the British Empire in Iraq.

The most dramatic recent example.

The most dramatic recent example is possibly the dissolution of the French Empire: de Gaulle had the incredible personal grandeur to terminate the whole empire (except for the Pacific and some other places) and like for the Soviet and British Empires a number of independent countries were born.

Global capitalism, however, has a tendency to recreate trans-border exploitation, and there are, as mentioned, residuals.

A new world was born, however, in the 1960s from the Western empires, in the 1990s from the Soviet Empire.

Only the naive will assume that new world to be paradise on earth.

New systems emerge with their contradictions.

The tradeoffs

The rulers of the British, French and Soviet empires had concluded that the costs by far outrun the gains.

Some others sometimes come to the conclusion that the costs of the fall, including for the Periphery, by far outrun the gains.

That, of course, depends on the successor system, the alternative.

This author favors United Nations global governance, and not an EU Empire. But that is another story.

Confusions

The British and French empires were based on “overseas” colonies, the Soviet empire on contiguous, Czarist/Bolshevik, “union”, and the US Empire is based on what the Pentagon planner said, with the non-US Periphery being “independent” countries.

This confuses some whose empire concept is linked to “colonies” and not to independent countries; and others whose concept is linked to “overseas”, not to contiguous territory.

Still others got confused because three of these Centers are Western democracies, beyond the suspicion of ever committing major wrongs.

As for the ending…

The definition opening this essay is based on a relation of unequal exchange between Center and Periphery, not on Periphery geography or Center polity.

That unequal exchange, divided into four components, is the root contradiction of the empire as a system.

From the four deep contradictions flow the fourteen surface contradictions, visible to everybody, the subject of journalism. The deep contradictions almost never are.

So the basic model explored so far is: 4 deep contradictions imply 14 surface contradictions.

As the 14 mature, synchronize and synergize the Center may loosen the grip on the Periphery…

In one conscious, enlightened act (de Gaulle) or,
See the Empire dissolve, slowly (UK) or,
Quickly (the Soviet Union).

USA, the choice is yours.

The USA today

But the USA now behaves like a wounded elephant, lashing out in all directions.

This is the boiling stage of demoralization, with emotions impeding rational thinking about is and ought, to be followed by a frozen stage, a “let go”, more like the Soviet Union, or Clinton.

Demoralization is oscillating before it stabilizes.

Like individual pathologies, healing is related to the ability to come on top of the pathology rather than the other way round. Like now, with the USA driven by a conflict mainly of its own making.

The current contradictions

The model above can now be expanded: [4] implies [14] implies Demoralization implies -[4] implies -[14] The 4 deep lead to 14 surface contradictions and demoralization which leads to a let go of Empire and the dissolution of the 14.

However: the 4 may have deeper roots.

Thus, where does the inequity come from? From an unfettered capitalism so inequitable that it needs some military protection.

But where does capitalism come from?

And all that violence?

The cultural superiority complex with missionary right and duty, and no duty to understand other cultures, may be related to the sense of exceptionalism as God’s Chosen People and Country. But where does that idea come from?

And so on and so forth.

The 4 defining the US Empire are not uncaused, not unconditioned.

But the focus here is on their removal and not on removing even deeper, but very evasive causes. This can happen through negative feedback loops via waning faith in the viability of the Empire as a system, in other words demoralization.

The 14 may have other roots. The economic contradictions come from capitalism; the USA was violent before the US Empire; some EU members may hate the US Empire because it stands in the way of their own ambitions; the same applies to competitive cultures such as an Islam that wants an expanding dar-al-Islam, the abode of Islam, as successor to the battlefield, the dar-al-harb.

But the world is better off under USA than under EU or Islam, some say.

There is some truth to all of that. But the problem is not only the US share of the world capitalist pie but how it implies killing, domination and alienation. This has to decline, fall and go, while paying attention to all the other contradictions.

There will be class, generation, gender, nation struggle also without the US Empire. True, but today that is the major problem.

The 14 may strengthen the resolve to maintain the 4. In the beginning, and one at the time, yes. Cosmetics may be applied, bland compromises entered, people articulating the contradictions silenced, ridiculed, persecuted, killed.

It is the synergy of several contradictions that leads to demoralization and ultimate decline.

Contradictions between dominant and dominated nations within a country tend to bounce back and find new outlets. The dominated face brutal force but not nagging doubts about viability.

Their national home is a dream untested by contradictions whereas the empire has been tested and found nonviable at any speed.

Demoralization may not negate the 4.

What we expect to happen…

What we are talking about is decreasing faith in the viability…

… even decreasing faith in the legitimacy, of the Empire.

With boiling anger at first, then a frozen let go.

With the possibility of an autonomous let go.

Either the Center deliberately looses the grip, or the Periphery slips out its clammy, feeble claws.

Either way, decline and fall.

However, after a phase of demoralization a new political class may decide not to let go but just the contrary, to strengthen the grip, like the USA is trying right now.

Given the obvious, the impermanence of everything, this will only postpone the inevitable.

Negating the 4 may not negate the 14.

This is certainly more true than untrue. As explored below, we may even talk about an objective contradiction having lost, or even crushed, its subject in search of a new subject.

There are many other roots for many of the contradictions. That one contradiction (syndrome) may conceal another, the latter blossoming when the former is wilting, is clear.

But that daoist insight will not stop contradictions from maturing.

As to the US Empire, there is light at the end of a long and twisting tunnel. But after that tunnel there are new tunnels.

8. On contradictions in general

The concept itself harbors contradictions in the sense of tensions among meanings. The common factor seems to be a whole, a holon, a system, with at least two forces operating.

The tension is between the forces.

There is no assumption of only two forces, nor that they are exactly opposite, nor that they are of the same size. Newton’s Third Law is written that way, expressing a contradiction. But that is a special case and should not distort our ideas of social systems.

We need a more general discourse.

General discussion on systems

Before two or more forces let us explore the cases of 0 or 1.

Even with the vagueness of “force” it is not unreasonable to attribute the property “dead” to a system with no force, no movement, tendency, inclination. The objection may be that much happens to a buried corpse: “to” yes, but not “in”. The forces are exogenous to the system, not endogenous, like in a live organism.

Introduce one force, like running.

The body spends energy. And the counterforce is not slow in announcing itself as fatigue, trying to change a motion into a non-motion referred to as “rest”. The mechanical analogue brings up the idea of R, a dynamically changing resultant force that reflects magnitude and direction of all forces. The system will move or rest with the resultant. R>0 means move, R=0 means equilibrium, R<0 means rest deficit.

Is a force always accompanied by a counterforce? Is there always a reactio with an actio? And in systems with foresight, could there even be a proactio for any expected actio? And a pro-proactio? I find this a very useful an axiom in the analysis of social and personal systems. But I see no reason to assume that reactio and proactio are necessarily opposed. They could also be aligned with actio and, at least to start with, reinforce actio.

The idea of force-counterforce twins might lead us to an even number of forces as they come in pairs. We do not say that one is producing or generating the other since that leads to an infinite number. Rather, we assume synchronicity; they are “co-arising” as buddhist epistemology will have it rather than one force generating the next, generating the next, etc. And there is no reason to land on an even number. Another metaphor might be a bundle of forces somehow accounting for the tensions in the system.

Practical Discussion

Let us move from general talk about “systems” and “forces” to more specific social and personal systems. In the conceptual neighborhood is the idea of “conflict” as tension in goal-seeking systems because of incompatibility between the goals.

Goals are then associated with life even when attributed metaphorically to non-life as in “mountains striving upward”.

If incompatible goals are in the same system we have a dilemma, if in different systems we have a dispute.

A goal-holder conscious of the goal is an actor, if not conscious a party. And that brings in the major distinction between subjective and objective contradictions.

A subjective contradiction passes through and is reflected by the human brain; as thought/consciousness, as speech/articulation as action/mobilization. But not necessarily in that order, intellectualized like a philosopher who first reflects, then writes and then – maybe does nothing.

We could just as well assume the opposite order, the actor mobilizing for action out of old habit, then saying what he feels he thinks and thinking what he feels. Or any other sequence. But sooner or later there is consciousness.

With two goals we get two goal-seeking forces, A and B, and three possibilities for the resultant: R=A (A wins), R=B (B wins) or R=0, an in-between equilibrium, also known as a compromise.

At that point the mechanical analogy breaks down.

The three cases do not exhaust the possibilities. Moreover, they do not eliminate the contradiction. A or B wins does not mean that the dissatisfied loser no longer has the same or some other goal incompatible with the winner’s goal.

The contradiction is still there, under the lid of the boiling cauldron of a defeat. And a compromise may leave both of them semi-dissatisfied. If we use the term “sharp” to describe the contradiction as it was, “blunt” may apply to a compromise. But how do we transcend the contradiction?

Since the three possibilities exhaust the logic of opposing forces within a system, the answer is “by changing the system”.

Changing the System

This is what Gorbachev faced in the contradiction between the Soviet Empire and the social forces wanting basic change in the DDR: he let the DDR go.

The contradiction now being between people and party elites in the DDR, the latter then yielded to West Germany, BRD, eventually to be absorbed by them. As a result the Soviet Empire declined and fell and BRD absorbed DDR. The contradiction is still there, but finds other articulations.

And this is what Gorbachev’s successors never managed to do with Chechnya. All they could do was to prevent them from winning, not to transcend the contradiction. For that to happen they would have to let Chechnya go, which will happen sooner or later anyhow.

For the contradiction to be transcended, and the tension to be released, system change is needed, and more so the deeper the contradiction is in the system.

An empire is not changed by suppressing, winning, over some party or even actor; that only makes the empire more imperial.

An empire is changed by becoming less imperial. And that is also known as a decline from the empire’s point of view. At the end of that road is its fall.

The stages in the contradiction life-cycle can be summarized:

[0] Objective contradiction independent of consciousness

[1] Consciousness-formation through THOUGHT (intrasubjective)

[2] Articulation through SPEECH (intersubjective)

[3] Mobilization through ACTION (private and/or public)

[4] Struggle among mobilized actors

violent or nonviolent
quick or slow
without or with outside parties mediating
with less or more polarization = decoupling

[5] Outcomes of struggle

[a] prevalence or compromise - back to [0]-[4][b] transcendence = a new reality

- negative transcendence under a new actor
- positive transcendence as new coupling

Through the [1]-[2]-[3] sequence a party becomes an actor pursuing goals by more or less adequate tactics chosen from [4].

[5a] does not end the lifecycle of a contradiction, only a lid on it or a blunting of it, as has been argued above.

[5b], transcendence, is the end of that contradiction lifecycle. This does not mean the end/death of the system as it may harbor other contradictions at various lifecycle stages.

Transcendence, going beyond, is the creation of a new reality: -negative transcendence, neither-nor; goals not achieved -positive transcendence, both-and; goals achieved, with a twist.

Ecuador-Peru conflict

Take the Ecuador-Peru conflict over where to draw the border in a contested 500km2 zone up in the Andes, with three wars to settle the issue.

Military victory for one of them, annexing the zone to their national territory, is “prevalence”.
Drawing a border, for instance along a ceasefire line, is “compromise”. Negative transcendence could be to give the zone to the UN or the OEA, creating a new social reality.
And positive transcendence could be a binational zone, owning it together, with the twist that neither country has monopoly. A new reality. And both new realities, systems, would in turn produce their own contradictions.

Time has then come to explore the problematic relations between objective and subjective contradictions.

A social system comes with differences between categories– like genders, generations, races, classes, nations, territories– which then become relations in an interaction system; which then become fault-lines, usually because the interaction is on unequal terms; which then may lead to polarization and a structure of discrimination accompanied by a culture of prejudice. All known societies harbor more or less of these inequalities and inequities.

An empire uses such structures and cultures as building blocks, and can be seen as a two (or multi-)tier system linking domestic and global faultlines. There is a Center and a Periphery in the global system of countries. Inside the Center, and inside the Periphery, there is also a center and a periphery. All three systems may be based on the logic of quadruple inequity (for killers-killed sometimes substitute the softer guards-prisoners).

The linchpin

The linchpin in the system is the harmony between the center in the Center and the center in the Periphery.

The USA is right now (Summer 2003) trying to construct an Iraqi center in harmony of interest with the USA state/corporate center. The Iraqi center must do the four jobs locally and deliver the fruits of unequal exchange such as economic value, wanted terrorists, obedience, conditioning to the center in the (USA/UK) Center, keeping a commission.

They are rewarded with material living standard at a US elite level.

What has just been described is a simple empire linking three systems of unequal exchange, two domestic and one global.

The US empire is complex; being a world hegemon no domestic system is entirely delinked from that empire. The EU empire links 15 (soon 25) Center countries to 100+ Periphery countries, but softly so.

There are also other divisions than the faultlines in domestic and global society, like among political parties in more or less democratic societies, and groups of countries in an undemocratic global system.

Social movements, the subjective contradictions, more or less conscious, articulated and mobilized across some primordial or newly created dividing lines, prepolarize the system, and are ready for [4], struggle. But for what?

Ideally for the objective contradiction, with an unresolved issue at the center which then has to become the cause of the movement. And that gives rise to basic problem of adequacy in the coupling between subjective and objective contradictions, between the causes and the issues. Both are parts of social reality. But the movements may have an inadequate consciousness and cut the issues wrongly. And the issue may be an orphan, waiting to be picked up by a movement with adequate consciousness. There may be a contradiction between movement contradiction and issue contradiction. And the result is bad, derailed politics.

Myanmar/Burma

Thus, the subjective contradiction in Myanmar/Burma between the autocratic military government SLORC and the pro-democracy movement headed by a woman. A woman, identified with one nation in a multi-national society, one upper/middle class in a very poor society. However, married to a Westerner in a country developing its own identity may be inadequate for the objective contradictions of the country.

From a Western point of view the basic contradictions are autocracy vs (Western) democracy and closure vs openness of the country to economic and cultural penetration.

The subjective contradiction is adequate for those issues. But there are other issues. Inadequacy may derail the process. The objective and the subjective must somehow mirror each other.

India

Thus, Gandhi had literally speaking to divest himself of his Westernness and his high caste paraphernalia, become very Hindu and share the living conditions of the lower castes and untouchables before he could lead Indian masses toward freedom and democracy.

The leader of Free India, however, Jawaharlal Nehru, was very Western, very high caste, very secular and steered India exactly in that direction.

Gandhi wanted an India based on the “oceanic circles” of autonomous, self-reliant villages; Nehru a modern, secular, industrial, socialist India. The subjective matters.

Liberals tend to study the subjective movements and Marxists the objective issues. The argument here is for both-and, and more particularly for the contradiction between the two contradictions.

Norway

An example from Norway: the objective contradiction a century ago between the “well conditioned” and the majority “populace”, in steep livelihood gradients, and the subjective contradictions in the party system.

The populace lived on farming, fishing, hunting, and as employees; the well conditioned from fortune, as employers or self-employed.

There were grey zones.

The Labor Party, through an act of political genius, created an alliance of farmers, fishermen and industrial workers, very adequately posited against the well conditioned.

They won the elections, prevailed for two generations, and created a new social reality, the welfare state.

That society had its own objective contradictions, positing a minority of aged-women-frail/handicapped-foreign workers against the rest. Uncarried by adequate subjective contradictions the objective contradiction deepens in the midst of plenty. The Labor Party was totally inadequate. And the issue remains unsolved.

Movements against the US Empire: social reality is complex. Only when cause and issue coincide will the movements be adequate.

Conclusions

Now, this piece was written over fifteen years ago. So it is dated. Issues of the day then seem trivial now, with modern issues and conditions quite different.

Never the less, this individual has a fine track record of predicting global events related to empires.

He uses a unique system of “contradictions” to come to his conclusions. It tends to be wordy and confusing, but it works. And at this stage that is all that matters.

He predicts that the USA will go into a state of upheaval starting in 2020. The duration for this period of change is unknown. What we do know is that the COVID-19 coronavirus has completely changed the global Geo-political situation, and the United States is in a state of chaos as a result. It appears that whether it was the COVID-19 or something else, the United States would still be in this messy situation.

Independent on who would be in the Presidency.

Independent on the particular situations all over the world.

I know that he tended to ramble on, and the post is long. But the fact remains that all the indicators that he listed back in 2000 are still present and worsening in 2020.

Sven Henrich, NorthmanTrader - Reality check: By the time this is all over the poor will be poorer, the middle class smaller, the country horrifically in debt, unemployment much higher than before and the top 1% will be largely fine. Do not underestimate the long term impacts of this ever increasing divide.

Right or wrong. Future prophecy or not, one thing is certain, all Geo-Political indicators are pointing to a collapse of the United States Empire in some form. It depends on who will be at the Presidential Helm during the collapse…

Donald Trump and his neocon advisors and their MAGA plan.
A weak leader under Biden.
A radical progressive / Marxist.
An Obama strategy of “managed empire reduction“.

What will happen? A war? Internal domestic conflict? Internal strife resulting from the collapse of established systems? Who knows?

From the Burning Platform Blog…

If you don’t feel the mood of the country turning towards confrontation and civil chaos, you are either a lackey for the establishment, a government paid drone, or propagandized to such an extent you have chosen to be willfully ignorant of your surroundings.

This Fourth Turning seemed somewhat dormant since 2012, but government, corporate, and consumer debt continued to balloon; the divide between left and right grew as the Deep State conducted a coup against a duly elected president; and global disorder accelerated in the Middle East, Europe, Asia and South America.

The core elements of debt, civic decay, and global disorder are now coalescing into a perfect storm of consequences for a nation and world built upon a teetering edifice of unpayable debt, unfulfilled promises, the unbridled greed of a blood thirsty ruling class, and the unbelievable delusions of people who think a world built upon borrowing to consume is sustainable.

The dichotomy between what is happening in the real world and what is happening in the world of the financiers will lead to violent upheaval on a timeline not anticipated by the ruling class.

There is a good reason gun stores were overwhelmed with business at the outset of this over-hyped flu pandemic.

As Strauss and Howe pointed out twenty three years ago, trust in the government, central bankers, the corporate media, and “experts” is disintegrating rapidly. The anger and disillusionment grows by the day and pockets of resistance are propagating throughout the country.

The un-Constitutional destruction of rights and liberties by overbearing governors, mayors and Federal bureaucrats is pushing desperate citizens towards insurrection. The police who carry out the unlawful orders of their superiors for a paycheck should realize they live among those they are bullying and pushing around.

There is blowback coming and they should act accordingly.

When people have lost everything they had and any hope for the future, while witnessing the privileged continuing to reap the benefits of a rigged financial system, civil disobedience will increase and blood will begin to be shed.

This bubble of abnormalcy will be popped.

It is weirdly fascinating to watch a Fourth Turning unfold, while in the midst of it, and knowing we are entering the phase where people have died in numbers that put this pandemic fatality count to shame during the previous two American Crisis periods.

From 1861 to 1865 almost 5% of the male population of the country were killed. That would equate to about 8 million today. From 1939 to 1945 an estimated 65 million people were killed.

The 100,000 or so who will die in 2020 from this virus is just a prelude to the death and destruction to follow.

The trigger for the climactic phase of this Fourth Turning is not a virus that will not kill 99.97% of the American population, but the economic consequences of the over-reaction and authoritarian response to the virus. I’ve lost respect for numerous bloggers who desperately try to paint Sweden’s response as disastrous in an effort to support their own narrative of doom.

Sweden’s decision to allow its people and businesses to use reasonable precautions and not lock down their country in the dictatorial Chinese way, has resulted in cases per million being in line with the rest of European countries and lower than the U.S. The louder these bloggers scream, the surer you can be they have been proven wrong.

It is mesmerizing to watch those on the left, along with the Republican “Never Trumpers”, flail about as the Obama/Clinton attempted coup against Trump unravels before their very eyes. The reaction of these people, along with their toadies at CNN, MSNBC and the other left wing media, reveals an unbridgeable chasm between those believing in the rule of law and people who are willing to do anything for power.

The pure hatred from those on the left for Trump and his followers can not be contained.

They despise the deplorables in flyover country with such a passion, the spittle foaming on their lips as they describe them as gun toting, uneducated, white racists, is an indication of their fury and hate. What these entitled, suit wearing, botox injected, arrogant idiot yet idiot establishment whores fail to realize is we despise them equally and we’re armed and ready.

While psychopaths in suits, worthless politicians, government errand boys and remote working white collar parasites of the establishment continue to get paid, they continue to prohibit the lowly wage earner from making a living.

A price will be paid.

Trump is not a nice guy. Grey Champions (Lincoln, FDR) use their power in ways not conducive to making everyone happy. They are leading during a time of crisis and will use any means necessary to win. The coup attempt by Obama, Clinton, Comey, Clapper, Brennan, Mueller, and their minions has failed and now the tables will be turned. Trump, Barr, Grennell and Durham have the power to prosecute some of the most powerful left wing politicians and Deep State operatives on the planet.

How this plays out before November will ignite further civil strife and discontent. People have already begun taking to the streets and as this unnecessary shutdown further impoverishes the masses, things will turn nasty. Government attempting to have neighbors rat on neighbors for not obeying the Nanny State commands will backfire on the rats. Animosities and grudges will sway the actions of many, once the gloves come off.

The majority of rule following sheep believe what they are being told by their elected leaders, non-elected self proclaimed medical “experts” and the feckless shills on their boob tube. They do not see what is coming, just over the horizon.

The divergence of opinion on how we should proceed from this point onward is immense, with biases, delusions, and inability to grasp the unintended consequences of the actions taken thus far, driving the narratives. Listening to Trump bloviate about the tremendous economic boom which will occur when we re-open the country is laughable. He sounds like a carnival barker.

He allowed himself to be bamboozled by medical “expert” hacks and their immensely flawed garbage in-garbage out models into destroying our economy, and he may end up paying the price in November as the economy is mired in a 2^nd Great Depression.

But the Dow should be at 50,000 by then, so he’s got that going for him. Trump thinks you can turn the economy on again and things will be as good as new.

He evidently has never read Bastiat or Hazlitt. The broken window fallacy now can be called the broken country fallacy. The financial gurus crow about the fantastic job Powell and Mnuchin have done, based upon what they have seen (31% increase in S&P 500), while that which is unseen has yet to reveal itself.

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My grandmother was a flapper

My maternal grandmother was a “flapper”. The terms from the fashion of wearing galoshes. And they would flap as the gals walked. Oh she was quite the party gal back in the day. Hung out in all the dance halls, and danced. She was the “dame” of the local “speakeasy”. She was something else.

I knew her as my grandmother, but her knowledge of the world (from what I could tell at that early age) seemed to be substantive.

I now dedicate this post today to flappers of the 1920’s…

Today’s MM “short” on YouTube

A little 30 second jewel.

Official Israeli Video Lends Credence to RUMORS Netanyahu is dead

Hal Turner World March 13, 2026

Last week, word came out the the private home of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had been hit by an Iranian strike. Word came out claiming Netayahu’s brother had been killed. Now, it seems that the Prime Minister himself may also be dead.

Here is just one example of the social media postings showing Netanyahu’s home burning after the attack:

Below, former US Marine and UN Weapons Inspctor in Iraq, Scott Ritter, confirms Netanyahu home hit, brother killed:

Earlier this week, Israel issued an official video speech by “Netanyahu” about the ongoing Iran conflict and it is very evident the video was made using Artificial Intelligence (AI).

At several segments of the video, Netanyahu can be seen with SIX FINGERS on his hands!

In other segments, Netanyahu’s TEETH on the bottom left (looking at him) disappear!

Extra fingers and missing teeth are all indicators of Artificial-Intelligence-generated videos!

Below are several segments of the official Israel video. Watch closely and you’ll see:

TEETH:

EXTRA FINGERS:

News Media Shows Aftermath of attack یو اسرائیلی وګړی ادعا کوي چې د اسرائیلو د لومړي وزیر بنیامین نتنیاهو پر کور لوی برید شوی او د ملبې د لوېدو له امله د هغه د وژل کېدو احتمال ښودل شوی دی. بلخوا پرون د هغه خپره شوې وینا هم ثابته شوې چې په مصنوعي هوش جوړه شوې وه. pic.twitter.com/PDssIS8Jie — Ahmadullah Muttaqi | احمدالله متقي (@Ahmadmuttaqi01) March 13, 2026

Whether Netanyahu is dead, or perhaps critically injured, is not confirmed by Israel. But it is starting to look like something happened to the Israeli Prime Minister.

What does the term “superpower” really mean, and why might China find it meaningless?

Let me speak sincerely on this matter.

First, the issue of language.

In Chinese, the “east wind” implies warmth and gentleness, while the “west wind” is associated with coldness and cruelty. In English, it’s often the opposite.

Take the word “communism” for example. To us Chinese, it represents a beautiful ideal for humanity. To many in the West, it is seen as the very name of Satan.

The PLA—in the minds of many of you—might resemble a brutal beast. But for Chinese people, they are our brothers, our sons—the people’s own army..

(To tell you the honest truth: there is no army in the world with such saint-like moral standards as the PLA.)

This isn’t so-called Communist propaganda. Ever since I was a child, I’ve seen with my own eyes that they truly serve the people—it’s genuinely moving. There has never been an army like this in all of human history.

We each see the other as the dystopian nation in George Orwell’s 1984…

As a less advanced nation, we study English, so we understand why you don’t understand.

Similarly, the phrase “superpower” doesn’t carry a positive meaning in Chinese.

Although some China netizens joke, “So now we’re one of the great powers too？”

Still, the term itself has clear negative connotations.

Comrade Deng Xiaoping once addressed the UN General Assembly with these words:

“China is not now, nor will it ever be, a superpower. If one day China changes its color and becomes a superpower, and starts to dominate the world, bullying, invading, and exploiting others, then the people of the world should put the label of social imperialism on China, expose it, oppose it, and together with the Chinese people, overthrow it.”

This statement was approved by Chairman Mao and preserved in its entirety.

So, China is not a superpower—nor does it wish to become one.

Has China ever been a superpower?

Yes, several times……

One feature of China is that when it suffers, it records it in great detail—pages and pages.

For instance, today’s history textbooks cover modern Chinese history in two thick volumes: how Britain bullied us, how France bullied us, how Japan massacred us…

Every detail is written meticulously.

But when China benefits, it’s quickly glossed over.

In our historical records, you’ll find countless brief lines like 旋灭之 (swiftly annihilated them completely.)

There’s a joke:

China: “Brothers and friends across Southeast and Northeast Asia! For 200 years! imperialists have enslaved and humiliated us! Let’s unite and overthrow the Westerners!”

Other countries: “And… the 4,800 years before that?”

China: (pretending not to hear) “Brothers and friends across Southeast and Northeast Asia! For 200 years! imperialists have enslaved and humiliated us! Let’s unite and overthrow the Westerners!”

~~~~

Can we continue on that old path? No, we cannot.

Continuing would mean yet another cycle of dynastic rise and fall, chaos across the land.

It was like that with the Han, the Tang, the Ming.

But under the CPC’s leadership, we don’t want to repeat this cycle. We want to create a new path for humanity—one not modeled on the Han or Tang, nor on Rome, nor on the U.S. or the Soviet Union.

I truly believe that we may indeed have a new path.

Just because our fists are big doesn’t mean we should smash them down on the necks of the weak.

Just because our cannon barrels are thick doesn’t mean we should snatch the last piece of bread from an African mother meant for her child.

We must not believe we were born noble, and that other races are born to serve us.

That’s simply wrong.

My motherland has been so thoroughly demonized.

But we Chinese, too, have children.

We Chinese smile too—and our smiles reveal the same human teeth as everyone else’s, gentle as a herbivore’s, not fierce like fangs.

~~~

I deeply dislike the United States—not for any trivial reason, but because, out of selfish interests, it is now delaying China’s effort to lead humanity into space.

New opportunities and starlight

Are already filling the unshielded sky.

They are the pictographs of five thousand years,

They are the eyes of future children, gazing forward.

Pentagon Reportedly Moving Marine Expeditionary Unit to Middle East

Hal Turner World March 13, 2026

Word out of the Pentagon this afternoon is that a United States Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) with between 2200 and 2500 US Marines, is being deployed to the Middle East.

The USS Tripoli (Pictured above) and its amphibious ready group, along with an attached Marine Expeditionary Unit, are heading toward the Middle East.

This word comes about a week after word leaked that members of the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg were given pre-deployment notice, also ALLEGEDLY for the Middle East.

All over the country, military experts are saying that if we send ground troops into Iran, it will be an absolute slaughter OF THOSE TROOPS. Not because the troops are in any way inadequate, but rather because the mountainous terrain completely favors the Iranians in every regard.

This comes one day after numerous sources in the Middle East, posted extraordinary CLAIMS all over social media, that the Iranians used a Drone Swarm to overwhelm the defenses on and near the USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier, which ALLEGEDLY allowed an Iranian hypersonic missile to slip through the defenses and hit the flight deck, doing massive damage to the vessel.

Rumors today are also spreading, which CLAIM the USS Abraham Lincoln is so badly damaged, it has had to withdraw, and is heading back to the US to be put in Dry Dock for repairs and inspection.

The deployment of the MEU also comes just one day after two US KC-135 Tanker aircraft apparently collided in mid-air, but claims made by a group calling itself Khatam al-Anbiya in Iraq said they SHOT DOWN the plane using an Iranian Missile fired from inside Iraq by the Iraqi Resistance.

NONE OF THESE CLAIMS ARE VERIFIED IN ANY WAY, BY ANY OFFICIAL SOURCE.

However, in an unusual . . . . coincidence . . . . .an Israeli Defense Force Spokesman said publicly today in a statement:

“Tonight, we attacked a property of Khatam al-Anbiya’s Intelligence Division, Iran’s Emergency Command HQ.

This body is responsible for aggregating intelligence collected by various Iranian intelligence agencies to present it to the regime’s senior leadership.

The strike took place while several senior officials from the Intelligence Directorate were present. At this stage, we are assessing the results of the strike.”

Hal Turner Observation and Analysis

It is quite . . . ahem . . . coincidental . . . that the IDF reports targeting this otherwise never-heard-of group, “Khatam al-Anbiya,” just one day after that exact group publicly took credit for shooting down a KC-135 refueling tanker in Iraq.

The Pentagon admits one of two refueling tankers “crashed” and at least four of the six crew are confirmed dead, with two others still missing.

The other tanker landed safely in Israel, missing about half of its rear stabilizer tail.

This . . . . ahem . . . . coincidence, has people asking “If the planes merely crashed, why would IDF announce they attacked the very group claiming to have shot the planes down?”

It also has OTHER people asking, “If this rumor about the KC-135’s being shot down is true, then maybe the other rumors are true, too??????”

It is said that “The first casualty of war is truth.” We may be seeing that, right now.

According to China’s military parade on Sept. 3rd, how to objectively evaluate China’s military power? Has China surpassed Russia’s military?

Neither China and Russia are capable of fighting a projected operational conflict

The US is the only power that can fight a projected operational conflict anywhere in the world (Not necessarily win them)

The Russians can devastate and eliminate any enemy within a 2,000 Km Operational diameter meaning they can pulverize any army that even thinks of moving inwards towards moscow

They can fight and win a European War like they are doing in Ukraine, patiently, grinding mile by mile and depleting the enemys weaponry slowly and steadily leaving the enemy utterly helpless and needing an alliance of 30 countries just to survive

China can successfully defend its coastline against the US and win every time now

China can win any conflict within a 1000 Km Operational diameter meaning they can win any conflict in the South China Sea or Himalayas

However Longer Range operations are difficult

China and Russia lack the bases or necessary marine power

Key observations on Chinas Parade :

China has an ENTIRELY INDIGENOUS Equipment and Armed Forces Supply Chain without any external dependence
China can defend itself against NATO without any external dependence
China can defeat the US in the South China Sea in all scenarios
China can inflict equal damage on the US in the event of a Nuclear Strike and devastate at least 8 US Cities even after a first strike
The PLA can destroy Philippines or Japan if they dare interfere or cause trouble with Taiwan

However the ability to say send a fleet to Venezuela or send a force to Iran is beyond Chinas capability today

That is only possible by the US

Has China surpassed the Russian Military

In production and equipment – YES

In fighting formations and battle strategy – NO

Russians are now battle hardened beyond any army in the world

Chinese need 2–3 years of continuous fighting to iron out initial kinks and get battle hardened in their place

For those of you who support caning in Singapore, do you realize innocent people get caned too? And do you still support it, knowing that?

I attended a Seminar on Caning at National University of Singapore

The Entire Procedure was describe in Detail including the Doctors and the precautions taken.

A Juvenile aged 17 was the person Caned. He had got into a brawl and hit someones head with a bottle of beer in a place called Boat Quay.

It was Terrible

However the Juvenile – later reformed and runs his own Indian Food Stall in a Coffee Shop selling Indo-Malaysian Cuisine.

Singaporeans are categorical – They are Necessary and They are Effective

Singapore is almost certainly a Low Crime Country

You can walk with Wads of cash in your pocket in the night to a Neighboring 711 and get a Slurpy at 2 AM in the morning and walk right back home. No one will bother you.

The Lecturer believed this was mainly due to the Rattan Cane

He said in the 1900s Singapore was a Nest of Crime and Kidnapping was particularly rampant as was Piracy. Anarchy was also dominantly rampant by Communist Forces.

It was the Rattan Cane that put fear into many criminals and deterred them from Committing a Crime

Do Innocent People get Caned?

Maybe.

However there are very strong safeguards and the Law takes a long time to make decisions.

Unlike in India- Cops dont have the pressure to look for suspects immediately and can take their time and gather preliminary evidence.

In Fact in Singapore – CCTV is GOD

Video Footage is the highest form of evidence and they strive for some Video Footage

So The Evidentiary Process is very strong and that Justifies the Rattan

I neither support it nor oppose it

Its not my country….Singaporeans know Best

I would firmly Oppose the Rattan in India because our Justice System is too Unfair and too fifth rate to warrant such a method that would lead to thousands of innocents being caned for no reason

China Reveals New Moon Lander

Fried Chicken Spare Ribs

Ingredients

8 chicken thighs with bones
1 cup water
2/3 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup apple juice or apple cider
1/4 cup ketchup
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
2 minced garlic cloves
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
2 tablespoon cold water
2 tablespoon cornstarch

Instructions

Brown chicken legs on both side over medium heat in the oil.
Drain the oil onto a paper towel.
Return the chicken to the pan.
In a bowl mix water, brown sugar, apple juice, ketchup, soy sauce, garlic, vinegar, pepper flakes and ground ginger.
Sprinkle all over the chicken in the skillet. Bring it to a boil then reduce the heat and cover to simmer for about 20 minutes until the chicken juice is clear.
Remove the chicken to a plate and keep it warm.
Mix the cornstarch and water to the cooking juice until it is smooth then bring it to a boil and cook for about 2 minutes. It should be thick, similar to gravy.

Americans Try Chinese Food in SHANGHAI

Sand Castles

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Zachery Miller

Two weeks after the FISH descended from the sky, we went on our first family vacation. Before their arrival, the idea of going on holiday was a pipe dream; we never had the money and my parents never had the time. The aliens came promising salvation, an end to measly work, complete freedom under their stewardship, but those promises remained unfulfilled during those interim days. The In-Between, we called it, the time between arrival and the implementation of ‘paradise.’ My parents took them at their word, however, and they brought us to the beach with what little money they had. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, they told me. They were right, of course.We loaded up the one beat-up car we had, a blue ‘01 Civic that sputtered and whined but never quit, and drove two hours to the coast. It’s difficult to believe I had lived so close to the ocean but had never seen it. Not once in sixteen years. It’s especially strange now after having lived on its shores for so long. It’s hard to imagine a world without the calming crash of waves, the pungent, nostalgic scent of brine. I don’t blame my parents for waiting so long to take me. Every day was a struggle to provide, and a trip to the beach wasn’t exactly essential. Nonetheless, I envied my brother. To be a child, to play in the sand without worry… And more than anything he didn’t have that shadow, that uncertainty, hovering over him, burning holes into his back. He was a kid, innocent and free.“I’m gonna build a sand castle!” my brother said as he wiggled and squirmed next to me in the car. He repeated his mantra over and over as if each mile marker brought with it a wave of amnesia that made him forget he had already told us his vacation plans.We arrived at the beach shortly after noon and found it packed with people of every shape and size. It was a warm July afternoon; the sky was clear and a subtle breeze tickled at my skin. It is a strange feeling seeing the ocean for the first time. Looking out onto an empty expanse of water was almost unsettling, but undeniably thrilling. Out there, in the open sea, another world breathed, alive with creatures foreign and concealed. The world never felt so big. The sky was a mirror reflecting that uncertain, salty promise.We walked along the water’s edge and soon found enough room for two beach towels and our wicker basket between them. We arranged our things and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. We watched people scream with delight as they tackled the waves while others sat dour under their drooping umbrellas. That was how it was during the In-Between: some embraced a free future, and others thought it yet another shackle of misery. Hard to say who was right. My brother quickly devoured his sandwich, grabbed his small plastic pail and shovel, and ran down to an empty space near the water a few yards away. My parents laughed as they watched him construct his castle. I like to believe that they were happy, truly happy for once, watching their son build something great. Eventually they turned their minds off and laid in the sun without care for the first time in decades.I went to the water timid and shy. It was an impressive beast of a thing, the sea. It lapped at my heels, then my knees, and before I knew it I was fully embraced. I planted my feet in the sand and felt little fish nibble at my toes, the gentle press of the current as it tried to knock me over. I had never felt so present. A small piece of a puzzle put in its rightful place. And still, there was a stirring of fear. The water could take me, pull me deeper into its bosom and smother me. A shark could take a bite. A jellyfish could sting. So many things whipped through my mind but the excitement, my connection, won out. It was all so alive, and I, too, had found my place.I turned my sight to the shore and saw my brother working laboriously at his castle building. Four towers stood at each corner, connected by thick outer walls. Protruding from the middle was one giant spire of a seemingly lighter shade of stone. Lines had been carved around the walls and towers, and a comically large gate had been etched onto the side of the wall facing the ocean. Portholes were spaced out along the facade and I imagined little medieval people peeking out at the sea, weary and tired from a long day’s work. The sun caught on little fragments of stone and the light shined as though the walls were made of polished granite. It was the most glorious sand castle I’d ever seen, not that I’d seen many, admittedly. All of my brother’s love, all his passion, was poured into this masterpiece. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he dug a moat around the castle.A little boy walked up to my brother and caught his attention. The boy was probably around six or so, just like my brother, and he was pointing at the castle. My brother pointed down at the moat and the little boy smiled before dropping to his knees. They worked together on the moat and laughed and squealed as children do. The moat was deep and began to fill with water, which set off a new round of joyous squeaks.I let the sea sweep me off my feet and I floated along its rhythm. I closed my eyes and let my mind empty. The FISH, my parents, the world… It all drifted away with the waves… The peace of unthought, a ceasing of the mind’s chatter… An ear piercing scream pulled me back to the sand.The little boy stood above my brother, the northeast tower of his castle caved in. My brother screamed and begged the boy to stop. He scrambled to his feet and pushed the boy, who fell down onto the western tower. The surrounding walls shattered as if under volley fire, and a chunk of the center spire broke free. I ran to the shore as quickly as I could. My parents were lying on their backs and soaking up the sun, unaware of what was happening.When I arrived, the boys were yelling at each other. I pushed them apart and asked them what had happened, to which, unsurprisingly, I got two different answers. Sick of little boys trying to place blame on one another, I scolded and separated them. They both wanted to work on the castle, but I couldn’t trust them to not fight. Begrudgingly, I sat down near them and allowed them to get back to it under my supervision.The castle was repaired quickly enough and the boys were soon smiling and laughing again like nothing had ever happened. I wanted to return to the waves, but I couldn’t let my brother’s day be ruined. He wanted to build a sand castle, and I wouldn’t let anything stop him.The castle became more splendid than ever, and the people around us started to take notice. Children stared in amazement and offered their assistance. Parents congratulated their hard work. My brother would run up to our parents periodically, they’d look over at the castle lazily and give a word of dismissive affirmation, and then he’d run back to the castle eagerly. The work never seemed to end. He and the other children giggled as they danced around and created miniature villages in the shadow of my brother’s work.He looked up at me and thanked me profusely for my help, a large smile plastered to his face. I’ll never forget the pure joy he exuded that day. Though some say the FISH took all purpose away, I found some solace in preserving his smile, at least, in preserving his memory. Even now, so many years after my brother took himself away, I can feel his presence. I can see his smile so clearly.Hours later, we gathered our belongings and walked back to our car. We loaded everything up, and then my brother realized he’d left his shovel and pail behind. It was just a cheap dollar store set but it meant the world to him, so I went back to the beach to look for it. When I got down to the water, I found the sand castle completely destroyed. A lump of sand and a broken pail a yard or two away were all that remained of my brother’s triumph. I looked around for the little boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. I picked up the pail and walked back to the car cursing in frustration.I hid the pail from his sight and put it in the trunk of the car. He’d find out sooner or later that it was broken and the shovel was lost, but that could wait. I wouldn’t let anything ruin the day for him. The car ride home was filled with castle-building techniques, giddy bragging, and laughter. All of us fed off his energy and we laughed and joked along with him, acting as his royal servants, calling him “King” and “Your Majesty.” The FISH seemed like a distant memory, a nightmare that had finally, thankfully, begun to fade. Later, my brother would find that broken pail and he’d cry and cry, but not now. No, in that car nothing mattered but us; the sand castle was never destroyed, and those aliens never came.In my brother’s memory, the sand castle lives on. The building is over and he will never work on it again, but it will remain. Countless families will come and go, gawking at the glory of his kingdom. It will stand as a testament to his achievement, a mark of his greatness. I will be there to stand over and protect it, even if my shadow eats at its beauty. Under my watch, no little boy will kick sand castles again.

The USA Is a “Third World” Country For Millions of Americans

Mongolia Tried to Block China’s Minerals with US Help — But It Backfired Spectacularly!

Sir Whiskerton and The Cluckening: A Tale of Feathered Divas, Quack-terruptions, and a Very Flammable Hay Bale

Ah, dear reader, prepare your lighters (but maybe stand back) for a tale so gloriously chaotic that even the scarecrow would demand backstage passes. Today’s adventure stars The Valley Chicks—the farm’s most delusional (and flammable) girl group. What began as a dream of stardom ended with sirens, squabbling, and a very crispy encore. So, adjust your feather boas and join me for Sir Whiskerton and The Cluckening.

Act I: Rise of the Hen-riahs

The Valley Chicks—Madison, Tiffany, and Brittany—perched atop the feed bin, their sequined vests glinting in the sun.

“We’re, like, hen-riah Carey!” Madison declared, fluffing her down like a Grammy winner.
“Our first single drops TODAY,” said Tiffany, handing out poorly photocopied “albums” (Bawk to the Future).
“It’s called Bawkward,” Brittany whispered. “It’s deep.”

The song (a three-note clucking loop with lyrics like “Why’d the egg cross the road? To hatch its dreams!”) was… a choice.

Act II: The Rooster Riot

The roosters, upon hearing Bawkward, collectively lost their minds.

“This is CULTURAL APPROPRIATION!” Elvis the Rooster crowed, flipping his sunglasses.
“Where’s the artistry? The soul?” Big Red added, tearing up a fan poster (it was a napkin).

Meanwhile, Ferdinand the Duck, ever the scene-stealer, burst in with an opera quack:

“QUAAAAACK-sotto voce!” he trilled, upstaging the Chicks’ chorus.
“SABOTEUR!” Madison shrieked, hurling a corn kernel at him.

Act III: Pyro… Oh No

Undeterred, the Chicks unveiled their “glitter pyro” (a stolen sparkler duct-taped to a rake).

“This’ll make us legends,” Tiffany said, striking a match.
Sir Whiskerton, mid-facepaw: “That’s a fire hazard.”
Brittany: “No, it’s art!”

The ensuing hay bale inferno was brief but memorable.

Doris the Hen live-tweeted: “🔥👌 #WorthIt #FlambeGoals”
The Farmer extinguished it with his “emergency” milk pail.
Porkchop offered a review: “Kinda crunchy. ★★★☆☆”

The Moral of the Story

As the Chicks sulked in time-out (and Ferdinand practiced his Grammy speech), Whiskerton sighed.

Moral: Not everyone’s a star… but everyone can flee pyrotechnics.

Post-Credit Scene

The Chicks rebrand as a cereal jingle group, but get sued by “Lucky Hens.”

Best Lines:

“We don’t need talent—we have vibes!” – Madison, pre-fire
“I’m quacking in falsetto!” – Ferdinand, mid-solo
“Arson isn’t a streaming strategy.” – Sir Whiskerton

Starring:

The Valley Chicks (Delusional Divas)
Ferdinand the Duck (Opera Villain)
Sir Whiskerton (Reluctant Roadie)
The Hay Bale (Uncredited, But Essential)

Key Jokes:

The Chicks’ “merch table” is just egg cartons with Sharpie doodles.
Rufus the Dog howls along—badly—and gets a record deal.
Their “group hug” post-fire sticks their feathers together.

P.S.

Remember: If your concert needs a fire marshal, you’ve already made interesting choices.

The End.

Yours harmoniously (and fireproof),
The Sir Whiskerton Team 🎤

What’s the most memorable “barn find” or unexpected vehicle discovery you’ve made, and how did it turn out?

Back in 2009 I came across the back end of a pickup truck sticking out of a thorn bush on a farm I used to shoot on. I came back with some gardening tools and cut the thorns right back.

soon enough the whole vehicle was uncovered and it turned out to a be a 1968 Morris 1000 Pickup.

I spoke to the farmer about it and he came over to take a look, “yes it’s going to a good home, you can have it”. So I purchased a bottle of teachers whiskey for him and called my local recovery company who came and collected the truck for me, pulling it out I got this picture like it was being pulled from the centre of the earth.

I’d never restored a car before and had to start from scratch learning MIG welding ect, I stripped it down and made three piles, parts to be replaced with NOS, Parts to be used as a template, to be remade by me, parts that just needed a clean up and to be placed in a cardboard box with a label, to be used in the reassembly.

After tearing it all down and stripping the car down to it’s bare nuts and bolts, I realised it would take me quite a long time and use up a lot of my spare time.

but I couldn’t stop thinking about the project during any down time I had a work. Solving problems in my mind, making lists, writing down ideas and solving the problems one at a time.

Once the Chassis was reassembled I really felt that I had turned a corner.

it took me three years of enjoyable but hard work to get the Pickup rebuilt. But when I had finished , it was the only one in my area.

my first long test drive to Southsea near Portsmouth in Hampshire, I parked her up near the D Day Museum and when I came back from the cafe there were Japanese tourists having their pictures taken with the truck.

my next long trip was to the tank Museum at Bovington, Alice drove me there and back without a problem.

She has become a very useful tool for the family, moving items around, together with my wife’s modern Nissan, we have motor transport for every need.

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Why doesn’t the Chinese government assassinate dissidents overseas like India is doing with the Kalistani movement?

When the Chinese Communist Party was founded, it established the following rules:

No assassinations

Except in cases of revenge—for example, the assassination of traitor Gu Shunzhang, who betrayed countless comrades. But that was a tragic story, because Gu’s 8-year-old daughter Gu Liqun, his 2-year-old son, and his 12-year-old brother-in-law were also involved. Zhou Enlai instructed: They are children, they must not be killed.

However, they knew too many CCP members. As a result, KMT agents took the two children with them every day on the streets of Shanghai to identify people. In the end, many were arrested and killed.

(These three children were not held accountable later, and after the founding of the PRC they lived into their 80s and 90s.)

No bribery

Because if a person joins the revolution for money instead of ideals, he is unreliable.

No use of women for seduction

This conflicted with the CCP’s founding principles, which held that such practices reduced women to mere tools.

No coercion through private scandals or force to make people join the organization or obtain intelligence

The reasoning is the same as in point 2.

~~~

From the founding of the Party in 1921 to the seizure of power in 1949, a total of 3.7 million Party members died as martyrs.

Among the Party members massacred in the Kuomintang concentration camps, 70% came from wealthy backgrounds, not from the poor.

No political party could have inspired so many people to march fearlessly to their deaths without a spirit of lofty idealism.

A former Kuomintang concentration camp officer once recalled:

I arrested countless Communists and executed countless Communists. But I was afraid of them from the bottom of my heart.

They knew they would be executed the next day, but that night they still gathered together to hold Party organization meetings, discussing gains and losses, and engaging in criticism and self-criticism.

From that moment on, I knew we were finished, that we could never defeat a party like this.

Mariana 1

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Nicholas Thomas

The year is 2064, two years after Earth was first contacted by the Ollut species. The Ollut came from the planet we once documented as Kepler-22b, but what they have named Ul’dumt – of course in sound. While they have learned our language quickly, it is still taking us time to do the same with theirs.They came to our planet in peace, and to prove so they have taught us technological advancements that would’ve taken us decades (if not centuries) to uncover on our own. But the most remarkable thing of note, to Captain Alexander at least, was that they did not appear all too alien – they were carbon-based lifeforms, and in many ways, they looked like humans; though their skin ranged on a spectrum from deep crimson red to a bright purple, and their eyes were apparently nothing but pupil. Captain Alexander noted he could perfectly see his reflection in their eyes when he had met one in person.Now, thanks to the exotic teaching of the Olluts, a massive deep-sea explorative vessel named Marian 1 was idle just above the trench for which it was named. The design of this watercraft was remarkable, as it was as spacious as a station on the surface, and the immense pressure just outside these walls couldn’t be felt; it was as if one were standing at sea level on Earth.It was eventually revealed that the Ollut’s had come here with a more specific purpose in mind; they had been receiving a strange type of transmission from Earth that they could not identify and came here to investigate. Once they realized we humans could be trusted, they opened up to us. Together we found this transmission, which sounded like a discordant song when run through their technology, was coming from the bottom of the Marian Trench. Thus, the Mariana 1 was constructed by both Human and Ollut hands, a symbol of unified worlds for the noble goal of scientific discovery.Captain Albert Alexander was anointed the commander of this extraordinary station, with a first mate being one of the Olluts. His name was Aq’rah, and Captain Alexander found him to be a very pleasant bit of company. Cpt. Alexander and Aq’rah were alerted of a distress signal by their ground units down at the surface of the trench. Apparently, as they set their suits to automatic homing back up to their ship, Petty Officer Garibaldi’s suit malfunctioned which sent him drifting back to the bottom of the trench.Cpt. Alexander had begun organizing a rescue party immediately and, against the advisement of his first mate, had climbed inside one of the deep-sea mechsuits. These suits were three times the size of a regular human, with a type of clear shield that covers where the operator would sit. Within just a few moments, Cpt. Alexander along with Lieutenant Hutton and Ensign Johnson all descended, down into the dark.“Light’s on, people.” Cpt. Alexander said through their coms. There was a short chorus of “Aye, captain!” as bright beams shot out from each mechsuit, like pairs of extremely heavy-duty headlights. As powerful as these lights were, they only allowed vision just a few feet ahead of them in such powerful darkness.The heavy boots of the suits each clamped on the trench’s floor with reverberating thuds. “This is your queue, Johnson.” The Captain said. Ensign Johnson nodded in his suit, not realizing that his captain most likely didn’t see this gesture, as he raised his suit’s left arm and shot a unique type of flair out of it. The flair burned bright, and the damp dark blue around them had become just a little clearer; like looking down the street at night when the moon is a quarter full. “Garibaldi’s distress call was last heard approximately fifty meters south of us,” Lieutenant Hutton said, “I suggest a spread-out wedge formation.”“That checks out. Johnson, take starboard.” Cpt. Alexander replied. Johnson moved to the left side of his captain and started to move forward, when Alexander said, “Johnson, I know you’re nodding at me in there, but for clarity’s sake please say something in response when we’re down here.” Silence at first, then, “Right. Aye Captain!” from Johnson.Even through the clear visors and with their different ways of illumination, it was difficult to see exactly where they were going in this murky deep. Occasionally Alexander would see something moving in the dark, just out of reach of the lights. Though he was certain any creature down here wouldn’t have the strength to instantly break or dismantle one of these suits, they still set him on edge. For one, these suits had no weaponry installed in them, and secondly – what the hell kind of creatures even live here? Not any kind he’d want to see face-to-face.As if Johnson could read the captain’s thoughts, he muttered, “Man, down here will never NOT give me the creeps.”“Tell me about it,” Hutton said back.Alexander chuckled, and said, “Don’t I know it. Just keep your eyes sharp, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”The three had been down here for roughly thirty minutes now, and Johnson had to swing away more than one weird type of “squid-thing!” as he called them. When Alexander had started to get nervous for Garibaldi, he heard Hutton call, “Over here! I think I see him!”Alexander and Johnson were running (or, the next best thing to running as these suits could allow) in Hutton’s direction when Alexander saw what Hutton was seeing – a blinking blue light, the same kind that can be seen on one of these suits when the lights are turned off. The blinking was sporadic and rapid, and Alexander couldn’t think of why. The answer became clear when Johnson said, “Jesus, he’s being swarmed! It’s probably that damn blue blip!”Johnson was right – Garibaldi’s mech suit was being swarmed. Different creatures that thrive in the trench were squirming and gnawing at Garibaldi’s mechsuit, some of them eating others with one fell chomp so they could be the one to get to the light – and to Garibaldi on the other side of it. “Get the hell off of him!” Hutton said angrily, as she swatted her suit’s arm at the creatures. The slimy and scaled things had turned to gnash at her instead out of anger or, possibly, confusion. When Johnson and Alexander joined in swatting these deep-sea creatures, they would eventually recede and swim away. “Fuckin’ pests!” Johnson hissed angrily at their retreating figures.“Never mind them!” Alexander said harshly; he was looking through Garibaldi’s face shield. There was no crack as far as he could see, but there was a crack somewhere in Garibaldi’s suit as he saw the water pooling inside, reaching up to his lower lip. Garibaldi’s eyes were closed, his skin was pasty white, and his lips were blue.

Jesus, I can’t imagine how God damn cold he’s got to be in there, Alexander thought. How much longer is this suit going to last down here with that crack?

“Captain, is he even…?” Johnson began, but Hutton cut him off with a sharp, “Shut up, Johnson! Not now. We have to get him back.”

Alexander nodded, noting the irony of the gesture just after his command to Johnson earlier. He hooked his suit’s arms around Garibaldi’s suit, and gave the command, “Everyone take hold of some part of him, we’re getting out of here – now.” They each did as he asked – Hutton grabbed Garibaldi’s left arm, and Johnson the right. “Get your suits on autopilot in return back to the ship, it’s the only chance we got!”

Near simultaneously, each of their mechsuits began to hover off the trench’s floor. Water jets spun rapidly under their feet as the suits themselves magnetized with their assigned return point at the bay doors – This exceptionally magnificent use of magnetization was another huge thanks to the Olluts.

The bright light from the opening hangar doors of the Mariana 1 was so inviting, that Alexander felt he could weep. He was used to submarine work, but this entire mission was something else entirely.

The four of them were safely inside the vessel and Garibaldi’s mechsuit was set as gently down as they could manage. As Alexander climbed out of his suit, he saw Aq’rah powerwalking towards him with a neutral expression. At least, Alexander thought it was neutral – with how alike the Olluts appeared to humans, their differences were still vast, and emotions were no exception to that. “Is he alive?” Aq’rah asked in his strange accent. Alexander expected some kind of, “I still think you shouldn’t have gone down there?” but he learned quickly that these were a very to-the-point kind of people.

“Yeah… I think so, anyway.” Alexander replied as he watched the standby medical team load Garibaldi onto a stretcher. Hutton and Johnson were muttering fiercely to each other by Garibaldi’s mechsuit. “Good,” Aq’rah said, “Every life here is important for this mission.” Alexander smirked at him for that, and said, “I agree completely. No one left behind!”

Aq’rah looked as if he was going to reply, but remained silent as his eyes shifted past Alexander’s shoulder. “What is-?” Alexander started to ask, but was cut off when Hutton called, “Captain, I think you should see this!”

Alexander turned briskly on his heel and looked at Hutton (and Johnson, who was looking over her shoulder and into her hands with wide eyes) and saw that she was holding a black cube in her hands. When she brought it closer to him, he could see that this strange cube was of seemingly perfect dimensions, and its coloration was the darkest thing he’d ever seen, except for the edges; the edges of this box were a dark purple only seen with a backdrop as if there was a violet flashlight being held behind it.

“That’s… Well, very peculiar, Lieutenant. Where did you find this?” Alexander asked.

“Well, if you could believe it, sir,” Hutton said in a chilled tone, “It was being clutched by Garibaldi’s suit. Suffice to say, he found it. Down there.” She pointed below them as if that needed to be specified. At this Alexander’s eyes widened, as he reached for the box. Hutton handed it to him, and he found that it was extraordinarily light in weight. “That’s not possible,” he mumbled, “It’s so clean… and with how light this is, you’d think it would be completely destroyed in that pressure!”

Aq’rah narrowed his eyes at the cube. “I do believe, Captain, that this is what we are looking for.” Alexander turned to face his first mate and asked incredulously, “You mean this is what was sending out that signal that brought your people here?” Aq’rah closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I do not know. But I have little doubt that this object is at least related.”

Hutton gleamed at the box when she heard this, and Johnson still stared at it with an empty, dreamy expression. Alexander noticed this and cautiously said, “I need you two to go get some rest. That’s an order.” Hutton shook herself and looked at her captain. “I feel fine, sir,” she said, “Honest! I was just a little… I guess intrigued.”

“Now, Lieutenant. That means you too, Ensign!” Alexander ordered. Hutton gave a salute and dejectedly walked away. Johnson, however, stood lazily still, saying nothing, still eyeing the black cube. Alexander handed the cube to Aq’rah. “Take this… Somewhere safe. We’ll figure out what it is later.” And radioed for medical to come and take a look at Johnson.

***

Ensign Johnson woke up in a start and sat upright. He looked around and saw he was in sick bay. “How the hell…?” He whispered to himself. He looked next to himself and saw Garibaldi lying on a bed unconscious, tubes and wires hooked into his too-pale skin. “Hey, man,” Johnson said to his unconscious shipmate. “You just hang in there, okay?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He stretched his spine forward and back, then side to side. With a yawn, he moved over to the wall where a comms box was attached. “Hey Hutton, it’s Johnson. I don’t know how but I woke up in medical,” he spoke into it, “Do you know which wing I’m on?” A quiet static was all he got in response.

“Hutton?” He clicked again. More static, but now he could make out some words, “Did..s…Box?”

“What?” he asked into the speaker.

“Did..s…Box?”

Johnson rubbed his temple, irritated. “Hutton if that’s you, you gotta speak up I can’t hear a word you’re-”

“Did you see the box?” A male voice said behind him.

Johnson whirled around, almost tripping as he did so, and looked at Garibaldi. Garibaldi was standing before him, naked, the wires and tubes hanging lazily around him from out of his skin. His eyelids were closed.

“G!” Johnson said, startled, “You freaked the shit outta me, man! What are you doing?”

Garibaldi did not reply. He stood there motionlessly, looking but not looking at Johnson with his closed eyelids.

“G…?” Johnson practically whimpered. “What’s going on, man?”

Garibaldi opened his eyelids, and what was beneath them was nothingness. It wasn’t pitch blackness, but it was the type of nothing as what one cannot see behind their own head – only Johnson did see it, that nothingness, in Garibaldi’s eyes. “Did you see the box?” asked Garibaldi.

***

Captain Alexander walked through the corridors of his ship. It was “night” time, according to their clocks; though it was perpetually night down here, the only thing stopping that was the timers on the ship’s lights. Now there was only a faint illumination of a dim red glow through the hallways. He found sleep evading him and decided this was the best way to clear his head. It was a troubling day of work, yet ultimately a success.

And there was the box.

Such a strange object that defied all reason, and was so captivating just by existing. He had so many questions about the box; where did it come from? Who made it? What is it even made of?

As he pondered this, a feeling of unease struck his stomach. No, it wasn’t unease, it wasn’t even subliminal; it was an actual, gravitational feeling.

Why are we ascending? He thought angrily. He broke into a sprint towards the bridge.

***

Captain Alexander was through the blast doors before they would even fully open. “What the hell is going on here? Who gave the order to make land?!” He bellowed.

First Mate Aq’rah, Lieutenant Hutton, Ensign Johnson, and Petty Officer Garibaldi all stood on the bridge, their backs facing him. “Well?!” He demanded. But they did not even seem to register him. It was with this pause that Alexander noticed his surroundings – the hull of the bridge was covered in a sickly, palish purple substance that looked flesh-like. “What… How…” He didn’t know what to say, as he watched this contortion of gooey flesh on his ship start to throb – no, not throb, but breathe.

“Did you look at the box, Captain?” Aq’rah said with Garibaldi’s voice. He turned to face Alexander.

“What the fuck?!” Alexander said stumbling back into the squishy wall, raising his hands up defensively.

Aq’rah’s eyes, which were once black and reflective, now mirrored clustered stars with purple veins thrumming through them. His crewman’s blouse had been ripped open, revealing a face that looked almost human birthing from his chest – a face with a grotesquely frozen expression of horror and pain, and tendrils of muscle slowly wriggling around it.

“It is a god. But not one you can see.” Garibaldi’s voice said through Aq’rah’s mouth. “But it wants you to see.”

Alexander was shaking, sweat poured down his back as his eyes bulged at what remained of his closest shipmates. “No…” he pleaded with a whimper.

“You must see it, Captain.” Hutton said with an otherworldly echo, “It is his gift. Be one of the first to receive it before we reach the surface. Be like us.”

“This is the water, and this is the well,” Johnson sang with a siren’s grace, “Drink full, and ascend.”

Aq’rah moved to his fear-stricken Captain and lifted the lid of the box, and though he tried to resist, the temptation was too great – the pull that whatever this thing had on his mentality was too great. The Mariana 1 was rising to the surface to greet the peoples of two worlds with their findings – their gift – and the ship’s commander, Captain Albert Alexander, looked into the box and ascended.

What is the longest word in your language, and can you post the meaning of it?

Uh, I’m Chinese, and in Chinese, we don’t use spaces to separate individual characters.

In ancient times, there weren’t even punctuation marks. It was a basic skill for students to determine where one sentence ends and another begins.

(As shown in the picture, the red circles in this classical text indicate sentence boundaries.)

(In the oracle bone script, a vertical line was uniformly placed to the right of a sentence, indicating that the characters belong to the same sentence. It’s somewhat similar to today’s underlining.)

Therefore, when it comes to determining the longest word in Chinese, it’s actually quite difficult to say. In theory, you can create a very long “word” out of almost anything.

This type of writing, where you have to judge for yourself where the meaning is cut off, can sometimes be unfriendly to non-native speakers.

(This book can be read as “Research on Radio Laws of Various Countries,” or it can be read as “The Technology of Radio, which France Cannot Research.”)

(This slogan should obviously read “The weather is cold, take care of the ones you love,” but literally, it could also be understood as “The weather is cold, fuck more the ones you love…” pause…)

(Guangzhou, Renhe area, sow breeding and reproduction base. But it can also be read as “Guangzhou, Human and Sow Hybrid Breeding and Reproduction Base…”)

I still remember a really funny one, but I can’t find the picture anymore. It was a store selling adult products, but the store’s name could also be understood as the first generation leader of North Korea. If this were in North Korea, they’d probably be executed.

As a landlord, what is the worst part of the eviction process?

The set out.

The “set out” for me was the worst. After notice, the bailiff will come and the locks on the door would be changed. After 24 hours, ALL, and I mean all of their furniture, clothing, tv’s, I mean everything would be set out of the door and near the curb. The former tenants would have 24 hours after to remove it from the property. If not removed, we would come back and take it all to the dumpsters taking pictures and inventory of it all. Time and date stamped.

If the tenants were fortunate, they would be able to retrieve their property. If not, anyone could take it and we could do nothing about it. Sometimes, it was a free for all. None of this bothered me much, as most were derelicts living off of others.

What did bother me most was families.

For them, I would literally plead with them to not have their kids home while the set out was taking place. It was devastating to kids to watch their toys and stuff being removed from the unit or house. The uncertainty for a child losing their home is devastating. We made it a point if we could to do the set out during school if they had children of that age.

After working with at-risk children and families for over 25 years, I’d seen the pitfalls and failures many times over.

As a property manger, a set out involving children was always the hardest.

You do not want this. Ever.

Garlic Butter Chicken

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon salt, + more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper + more to taste
2 (9 inch) chicken breasts, brought close to room temperature
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1 tablespoon pieces
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon finely diced fresh parsley
4 lemon slices, to serve

Instructions

In a shallow dish, combine flour with garlic powder, salt and black pepper.
Butterfly chicken breasts right through the center to make 4 even size breasts. One by one dredge in the flour (press in the flour to get even coverage), give them a shake, then place to one side.
Add 1 tablespoon butter and 1 tablespoon olive oil to a large pan over medium high heat. When hot, add in the chicken breasts and fry until golden on each side and white/piping hot through the center, approximately 3 to 5 minutes each side depending on thickness. Place to one side.
Turn heat down to a medium and add garlic. Fry for 1 to 2 minutes until it just begins to brown, then pour in stock. Use a wooden spoon to scrape off any flavor stuck to the pan, then add in remaining 5 tablespoons butter. Swiftly whisk as it melts to bind with the stock, it should turn slightly cloudy. Sprinkle in parsley and season to taste with salt and black pepper.
Allow to simmer for a few minutes to thicken, then turn down heat to low and add back in chicken. Spoon over the sauce then serve up with extra sauce drizzled over and a squeeze of lemon juice to taste.

Recipe Goldmine is now a legacy site. Please visit our sister site, Simply Great Recipes, for new recipes.

Why don’t tank crews just run over enemies instead of shooting them when they’re close by?

Some of worst parts of my basic training was related to tanks. The worst exercise was throwing anti-tank mines in front of a tank running over us. The noise, the ground shaking, cause physical fear I’ve never experienced in my life before or after. I did not shit myself, but I did have to go right after.

So what I’m saying is, the infantry is supposed to be trained to do that, and tanks should better keep their distance.

TMRP-6 AT mine, see that handy handle? So take it by the handle and throw it in front the tank. (and duck back into your trench)
A few images of the result, all featuring M-84 MBT:

Edit: thanks for comments, and here’s some further information.

AFAIK the training (conditioning really) that I had was developed for battle of Kursk. Normally people would just panic, either freeze or run, die either way.
In Kursk, Russians knew Nazis are coming with plenty of tanks, so they drove their tanks over their own entrenched infantry to ‘teach’ them not to panic.

In Yugoslavia, we knew Russians are coming with plenty of tanks, so we were trained to destroy them, and were producing all kinds of equipment for the purpose. Heck, we even had MRLS capable of laying minefields.
But when Yugoslav Peoples Army started killing Yugoslav Peoples (nowadays that usually goes by name Yugoslav Wars), Yugoslav Peoples applied the knowledge and the equipment against the Yugoslav Peoples Army, and photos above are examples of. And Yugoslavia – rests in pieces.

This particular mine activates on pressure, but also if that “antenna” on top is bent by 15 degrees or so. Meaning, the tank does not need to ‘step on’ the mine, it activates right in the middle rather than below the wheels, which ensures maximum destruction.

Yes, throwing mines in front of tanks is most likely suicidal, but better die in the blast than turned into minced meat under tank tracks, right? They grind entrenched infantry by spinning, like here:

OP-ED: The United States Just LOST the Entire Middle East; The U.S. Dollar is DONE – But Nobody is Talking About it

Hal Turner World March 13, 2026

While everyone is watching the bombs fall on Iran, something FAR more dangerous just happened behind closed doors.

Reuters confirms Gulf states are now “reassessing their security dependence on Washington” and actively considering new regional security arrangements — with IRAN.

Let that sink in.

The countries America SWORE to protect are now planning to partner with the country America is currently bombing.
Gulf states realized the U.S. CANNOT protect their oil, gas, or sovereignty during wartime
The cost to Gulf economies described as “STAGGERING”
Saudi Arabia’s Gulf Research Center says the U.S. failed to secure a SINGLE guarantee for its allies
They’re now accelerating diversification of ALL security partnerships — away from Washington

The U.S. has had military bases in the Gulf since 1991 — 35 YEARS of “protection” — GONE

America’s ENTIRE Middle East strategy depends on Gulf cooperation.

If the Gulf pivots to Iran, Russia, and China — U.S. dollar dominance in oil is FINISHED.

And once the Dollar is no longer the means of buying and selling oil, the Dollar itself is finished.

The media is showing you missile strikes and aircraft carriers.

They’re NOT showing you America’s closest allies quietly walking out the back door.

Here’s how this ends. Step by step:

Step 1 → Gulf states sign bilateral security deals with China and Russia. Already in progress.

Step 2 → Saudi Arabia starts accepting yuan for oil. The petrodollar dies.

Step 3 → U.S. military bases in Qatar, Bahrain, UAE get “reviewed” — diplomatic language for EVICTION.

Step 4 → Iran gets rehabilitated as a regional partner instead of an enemy.

Step 5 → America loses its grip on the most energy-rich region on Earth — PERMANENTLY.

You don’t “reassess security dependence” on your protector when you feel safe.

You reassess when your protector just started a war on your doorstep WITHOUT asking you.

And you only talk to the ENEMY when you’ve already decided your protector is the bigger threat.

Trump wanted to project strength. Instead he proved to every Gulf nation that America is an unreliable partner who will torch the entire region for its own agenda.

The Gulf isn’t diversifying. They’re building an EXIT PLAN. And once that door opens, it CANNOT be closed.

Prepare accordingly.

War On Iran: – No Planning – No Hiding Officials – Suicide Mission In Hormuz

On January 28 I had warned that Iran Is No Easy Target:

Iran however is also ready. It has increased its missile forces. It has promised to use it against U.S. positions in the Middle East and against Israel in retaliation to any attack. It has also promised to close the Strait of Hormuz. A large part of the global oil supply is flowing through it. A selective closure, which would for example allow tankers destined for China to pass, is also a possibility. But even a partial prolonged closure would suddenly increase oil and gas prices all over the world. Republican chances to win in the mid-term elections would decrease.
…
The arising conflict is unlikely to be as short as the recent 12 day campaign. It could easily escalate into attritional warfare. Unlike Iran Israel has nukes and may be willing to use them. But given Iran’s size and large population it is likely to end up severely damaged, but as a winner.

We are now in the midst of what I had foreseen. It was easy to predict this development and the Pentagon should be asked why it has failed to do so:

The Pentagon and National Security Council significantly underestimated Iran’s willingness to close the Strait of Hormuz in response to US military strikes while planning the ongoing operation, according to multiple sources familiar with the matter.

President Donald Trump’s national security team failed to fully account for the potential consequences of what some officials have described as a worst-case scenario now facing the administration, the sources said.

While key officials from the Departments of Energy and Treasury were present for some of the official planning meetings about the operation before it started, sources said, the agency analysis and forecasts that would be integral elements of the decision-making process in past administrations were secondary considerations.

Trump should fire his National Security Advisor, Marco Rubio, and his Secretary of Defense for providing stupid advice to him. He then should look at a mirror …

—U.S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth (vid):

Iran’s leaders are hiding in bunkers and moving into civilian areas …

More (vid)

Hegseth: “Iran’s leadership — desperate and hiding, they’ve gone underground. Cowering. That’s what rats do.”

Hegseth is partially right. Iran’s leader are moving in civilian areas – like in the midst of today’s Quds day rally in Teheran:

PressTV (vid):

> Iran’s President Pezeshkian attends International Quds rallies in Tehran, takes selfies with people attending the event. <

Turkish journo Ragip Soylu: (vid)

> Top Iranian national security official Ali Larijani keeps marching after Israeli strikes in Tehran near the area.
He even gives a live interview.
“Trump’s problem is that he doesn’t realize that the Iranian nation is mature and determined” <

Ragip Solyu (pic):

> Another WOW, Iranian top regime official, Gholam-Hossein Mohseni-Eje’i, the chief of judiciary, is also participating in a march in Tehran.
Amid Israeli strikes in the vicinity.
This guy is among a few people who actually run Iran. <

Raqip Soylu (pic):

> Late Khamenei’s advisor Mohammad Mokhber, a former Iranian VP, is also participating in Tehran march amid Israeli strikes <

BBC journo Shayan Sardarizadeh (vid) see also:

> Smoke rises in the air following an Israeli air strike near a pro-government rally marking the annual Quds Day on Enghelab Street in Tehran city centre.
Chants of Allahu Akbar can be heard in reaction to the strike.
Location: 35.701154, 51.403464 <

Abbas Araghachi, the Foreign Minister of Iran, also took part.

Little security is seen in the above videos and pictures. Larijani and Pezeshkian have like three of four bodyguards each. They keep their distance. No attempts are made to hold people away from the principals.

—When Usrael started a war on Iran in June 2025 it took 12 days until their missile defenses deteriorated enough to make them file for peace. We are now at day 14 of the 2026 war on Iran. U.S. attempts to arrange a ceasefire with Iran have been rejected. The missile onslaught on U.S. positions and on Israel continue. People flee into bunkers. One wonders how long the Israeli public will stay calm over this.

The Lebanese Hizbullah, thought to be defeated in 2024 by Israel, is back and busy. Yesterday, in coordination with Iran, it launched over 200 missiles at Israel’s north while its ground troops fought off Israeli tank incursions. It is a gamble for Hizbullah but with a high chance to win.

—The U.S. and its vassal have promised to release 400 million barrel of crude from their inventories. The process will take months. The daily deficit of crude due to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz is some 15 million barrel per day. The release of reserves will thus have a minimal effect. There are also signs that the U.S. Treasury has been selling (archived) front-month crude futures, i.e. bets on lower oil prices. One can not fight supply fundamentals. These bets will fail.

—The U.S. is sending elements of an amphibious ready group and an attached Marines expeditionary group to the Middle East. Those 2,200 soldiers could be used for suicidal attempts to invade the coast of Iran next to the Strait of Hormuz.

Yves Smith foresees and warns of attempts to open the Strait:

Let me offer a forecast. I am not saying this is what will happen, but right now, it seems a probable path. Trump and his team are increasingly messaging that somehow they will pry the Strait of Hormuz open. When that idea was first voiced, we showcased Daniel Davis in one of his Deep Dive presentations on what an impossibly bad idea that was, that it would simply open up naval ships for easy destruction by Iran. Nevertheless, talking this barmy scheme up to credulous investors and the public, that somehow the spice will be flowing again soon, is now the Administration’s best path for somewhat containing energy price rises and the immediate damage they do.
…
The Administration does have to Do Something in its own mind, rather than admit now to a Suez Crisis level self-inflicted loss of primacy. Forcing open the Strait of Hormuz fits our fantasies of dominance and military power. And if enough officials talk about this, erm, plan, the Administration may talk itself into it.

So if we have not had a market freakout sooner, the likely trigger for one is sending US ships to the Strait of Hormuz and suffering a crushing defeat. It would then become undeniable that Iran has the whip hand.

Posted by b on March 13, 2026 at 16:59 UTC | Permalink

Comments

The above surely cannot be happening ….. did Trump himself not assure us days ago that Iran had unconditionally surrendered?

Posted by: Cynic | Mar 13 2026 17:07 utc | 1

Maybe the USA and/or Israel wants chaos in the region, and all this is by design. Perhaps they just don’t care since most powerful decision makers are sociopaths and have great personal wealth.
PP

Posted by: PP | Mar 13 2026 17:08 utc | 2

The discombobulator has backfired bigly.

In 200 days, when the cupboards are bare, the chickens will come home to roost. Nothing fundamentally will change until then.

Posted by: too scents | Mar 13 2026 17:15 utc | 3

Maybe the USA and/or Israel wants chaos in the region, and all this is by design. Perhaps they just don’t care since most powerful decision makers are sociopaths and have great personal wealth.Posted by: PP | Mar 13 2026 17:08 utc | 2

This!
de-civilize the world around them.

Posted by: MAKK | Mar 13 2026 17:16 utc | 4

I think it important to note that while Goyimstan is busy doing the bidding of it’s Israeli masters, Israel, rather than supporting Goyimstan’s effort is busy conquering Lebanon in it’s quest for a greater Israel. Israel engages freely in this betrayal knowing that the Goyimstanis in the White-House & Congress are supplicants, not human, not entitled to slightest consideration.

Posted by: S Brennan | Mar 13 2026 17:16 utc | 5

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 15:30 utc | 70.Total energy blockade on Israel is becoming a reality. The combination of direct strikes on domestic infrastructure and a near-total cessation of maritime arrivals has left Israel’s energy sector in a state of emergency. In one notable instance this week, a Suezmax tanker carrying 75,000 tonnes of Venezuelan crude was forced to abandon its arrival at Haifa. After waiting offshore for several days, it had sailed to Greece because it was too dangerous to unload. The Ashkelon oil jetty is currently not operating due to the security situation. While the Port of Haifa remains technically open, it is under Emergency Mode and is not receiving large-scale tankers. The Haifa refinery is fully shut down following direct hits by Iranian missiles and drones, and burning. For the first time in its history, Israel is reportedly left with no operational refineries.Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 15:30 utc | 70_____________________________________When is a victory not a victory ?Backing a nuclear armed entity with an armageddon eschatology into a thermodynamic black hole that threatens their physical and mimetic existence in a perceived irreversible manner is indiscernible from an attack of annihilation.
Posted by: infoshark | Mar 13 2026 17:15 utc | 757

Posted by: infoshark | Mar 13 2026 17:18 utc | 6

Posted by: Chris N | Mar 13 2026 17:19 utc | 7

Hegseth was head of two “veterans organizations”. One did the normal thing of advocating for services for veterans. The other promoted political candidates who were for dropping bombs. Lindsay Graham types. The Democrats hid Biden until it was too late and we ended up with Trump and Israel picking a defense secretary who talks like a high school football coach, but about killing people, has a big Jerusalem Cross tatoo and thinks that Greater Israel should be created to prepare for the eminent return of Christ to a country that thinks he is a myth.

Posted by: Cheney | Mar 13 2026 17:22 utc | 8

Posted by: infoshark | Mar 13 2026 17:18 utc | 6
—————It was going to come down to that regardless, so Iran has no incentive not hit whatever they can.

Israel isn’t like the Europeans who are too cowardly, unmotivated & underequipped for open warfare.

Posted by: Urban Fox | Mar 13 2026 17:22 utc | 9

The Axis of Epstein are now losing the information / PR war. Slowly more images are emerging despite state censorship.

Reports that warning sirens are no longer working in Zioland.

Posted by: Fabiana Barriga | Mar 13 2026 17:24 utc | 10

Re: Haifa Harbor

Trsffic indeed very light, almost nil. However in the last week, 2 smaller Oil Tankers arrived. Sluggo, from Cyprus. a few days ago. Olivia, from Ashdod, today at 12:00 local time.

click around for the info.

https://www.marinetraffic.com/en/ais/details/ships/shipid:712539/mmsi:212717000/imo:9523469/vessel:OLVIA

Posted by: Exile | Mar 13 2026 17:29 utc | 11

My current take on things.

New interesting comment:

> Now let me explain. NONE of what Iran is doing now would be possible without Russia. And without the struggle with the collective West that Russia has been waging for four years.Why? Seriously?Because for several years, Russia actively destroyed NATO equipment, depleted their military capabilities and stocks of various ammunition, ranging from offensive missiles to air defense. It also forced them to spend hundreds of billions of dollars and euros to support the corrupt Zelensky regime.Open the summary tables of what was destroyed by the Russian army in the last four years in Ukraine. All of this, or at least most of it, could be fighting against Iran right now.
And more there…
Posted by: Abe | Mar 13 2026 15:58 utc | 721

New video from Russia News: https://youtu.be/yBL3o_thO38

Highlights from the video (it is one of their longest videos – and it packed a punch).

Iran’s job is to clear the US bases out of West Asia. And to take out a bunch of US THAAD systems. Timeline is about a week. The operational plan discussed was stated matter of factly and reasonably detailed. And oh yeah, it will be sad for Israel.

The latest Shock and Awe attacks made on Russian soil attacked gas pipelines and related equipment that are important for Turkish and other EU nation’s energy supplies. It puts Putin’s recent statement about still being able to sell gas to European nations in a different light. I think he means Hungary and Slovakia. Probably achieved by Russian forces and Hungarian forces meeting together in some Southeast Ukrainian city once they divide up southeast Ukraine. Putin is inviting other European nations to ditch NATO and the EU, with the promise of lucrative trade agreements with Russia. Preparing for the peace after the wars end.

Hegseth is AMAZING. Amazing in how expensive the foods he eats are, with references to the extravagant Trump Ballroom. Amazing in how good he is at disgracing the US. Amazing in how inept his battle plans are.

This is a small sample of a very hard hitting video. I had to watch it in small chunks to digest what was being said.

I believe now that Putin was telling the truth when he stated that Russia was not providing intelligence to Iran. THAT IS CHINA’S JOB. Russia provides lots of other stuff, but China is the nation responsible for providing intelligence. In the Russia News video, the discussion of expected Iranian battle plans – take out the THAADs, 3 days, take out the US military bases – not very long after that. And oh yeah it will be sad for Israel. The main target of Iran / Russia / China are the US bases in West Asia. It was stated like a business plan. Russia’s job is to absorb NATO munitions, especially US munitions, and that includes the recent Shock and Awe attacks that happen every day now. China’s job is to provide intelligence and slowly strangle the US economically. Which they are doing.

Russia / Iran / China are dismantling the US empire one piece at a time.

Posted by: Woke American | Mar 13 2026 17:32 utc | 12

Anyone want to surmise what will be the state of affairs a month from now?
Chemical feed stocks are going through the roof just to get the ball rolling.
High value niche suppliers like helium 30,% comes from the gulf.

Posted by: jpc | Mar 13 2026 17:32 utc | 13

Chris N 7

I talk to Trump voters on a regular basis, over 75% are against this war and see the war as betrayal. And those that “support” this war are very, very tepid on the matter. Almost all the Trump stickers/posters have disappeared, there is not one Israeli flag/sticker/poster to be seen in this very red county.

So when you say that Trump voters are overwhelming in favor of this war, what is your source? Is it media? Your perception is 180 degrees from my personal experience, Trump took this county by over 80% and now the guy couldn’t get elected dog catcher if the position was unpaid.

Posted by: S Brennan | Mar 13 2026 17:35 utc | 14

Pezeshkian’s video to me is the most impressive of the lot. Can you imagine which major head of state or government in the West would actually risk that crowd tour – even if there weren’t any ongoing bombing? Trump? Macron? Netanyahu?

Posted by: Clueless Joe | Mar 13 2026 17:36 utc | 15

Posted by: PP | Mar 13 2026 17:08 utc | 2
it’s tempting to think this. but look at what b wrote about the Treasury market.i ain’t an expert in that stuff, but maybe Team Trump is just a bunch of psychotic morons.

you know. Ivy League grads. CEO’s of US businesses. Senators. Are Elon Musk and Ted Cruise and Liz Warren and HRC atypical examples of US inferiority, of rot at the top, and heart and soul…and now diabetic feet…? The problem with Team Trump is their brutal honesty. the FBI doesn’t start to receive MMA training via private contractors just b/c Kash-in-on-it Patel is now openly cashing in on it via some MMA buddy of his. and this is just one example, tiny in the scope of the federal budget, but not at all insignificant when one of these dickheads breaks a protestor’s arm.

Posted by: duck n cover | Mar 13 2026 17:38 utc | 16

The professor and game theorist continues his predictions about the Iran war.
The other day he posted this:
“Game Theory #12: The Law of Eschatological Convergence
Predictive History
1.95M subscribers
734,392 views Mar 12, 2026
In this Thursday, March 12, 2026 lecture to his Beijing high school students, Professor Jiang explains how extreme eschatologies drive geo-politics.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spg58Glfz68
I have only noticed him in the last couple of weeks and he has now been interviewed by some of our major players. This is the first time I noticed that this was given to high school students.
I have spent some time on escatology, religious doctrones about end times, and I can’t verify what he says, but it sure is interesting.
There is so much happening that I didn’t notice that #8 in this series was almost 2 years ago!!! And it has been viewed 4 million times.
”
Geo-Strategy #8: The Iran Trap
Predictive History
1.95M subscribers
4,029,162 views May 29, 2024
In his May 29, 2024 class, Jiang Xueqin explains that an American invasion of Iran would be a catastrophic mistake: If Trump were to win a second term, he would likely contemplate invading Iran. While an initial invasion would seem successful, American forces would quickly become bogged down in Iran’s mountainous terrain. The American invasion would be similar to Athens’ invasion of Sicily in 415 BCE, as described in Thucydides’ The Peloponnesian War. Despite its initial successes, the Athenians couldn’t re-supply themselves, and their entire expedition was wiped out. This disastrous defeat turned the war in Sparta’s favor, and spelled the downfall of the Athenian empire. Could the American empire in Iran suffer the same fate as the Athenian empire in Sicily?”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y_hbz6loEo

Posted by: DonMidwest USA | Mar 13 2026 17:38 utc | 17

CNN:

“The Pentagon and National Security Council significantly underestimated Iran’s willingness to close the Strait of Hormuz in response to US military strikes while planning the ongoing operation, according to multiple sources familiar with the matter…

“Planning around preventing this exact scenario — impossible as it has long seemed — has been a bedrock principle of US national security policy for decades,” a former US official who served in Republican and Democratic administrations said. “I’m dumbfounded.”
————————————————————————
Just astonishing. Potentially one of the biggest fails in world history. How could it happen?

It is possible the principal decision-makers convinced themselves the “plan” was a sure-fire 100% can’t-fail gambit (like the predicted collapse of Russian economy in February 2022). However, in this instance, the “worst case scenario” – which appears to have unfolded – has existential consequences for the hegemonic power, which will mean US officials will attempt a hail-mary pass or two before backing off – if backing off is even conceivable due to the consequence.

Posted by: jayc | Mar 13 2026 17:41 utc | 18

Posted by: infoshark | Mar 13 2026 17:18 utc | 6
destruction of the state of Israel is irreversible. like euthanasia.

Posted by: duck n cover | Mar 13 2026 17:43 utc | 19

Ah, journalism. The Media Whores are hard at work. As usual. The real problem however is the American public whose own biases hamstring it from changing anything — as with a general strike.
https://julianmacfarlane.substack.com/p/media-whores

Posted by: julianmacfarlane | Mar 13 2026 17:44 utc | 20

Reports that warning sirens are no longer working in Zioland.

Posted by: Fabiana Barriga | Mar 13 2026 17:24 utc | 10

That happens when your radars get obliterated. But if you read Western press you would be forgiven for thinking Iran is losing the war.

Posted by: Doctor Eleven | Mar 13 2026 17:48 utc | 21

I think the question is what investments will benefit from the
Iranian blockade..? Microshit and amashit are rebuilding their data centers in the gulf states, but what types of domestic businesses for the affected nations are likely to benefit from the oil embargo and the destruction of Gulf state infra structures.. returning damaged carriers.. etc. Pilot training.. Aircraft and ship maintenance companies? Non hydrocarbon energy generation.. i. e. coal. solar, wind.Nuclear .. Traffic light spying systems. domestic tourism, metal processing and component fabrication..drone development, drone fabrication, ?

Posted by: snake | Mar 13 2026 17:48 utc | 22

“Potentially one of the biggest fails in world history. How could it happen”

– Jayc 18

When a country is run by foreigners, citizens of convenience and quislings it is quite common for that country to engage in self-destructive behavior. Goyimstan/[formally known as the US] is ruled by Israelis/Israeli-Americans/Israelis-1sters so, it should come as no surprise that it would put the interests of Israelis/Israeli-Americans before those of the American people.

Posted by: S Brennan | Mar 13 2026 17:49 utc | 23

Posted by: jayc | Mar 13 2026 17:41 utc | 18
which isn’t a win?
Afghanistan
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Sudan
VZ
Lebanon
Syria
etc.
what’s the plan?
oh shit, I left out Ukraine. and Haiti. What’s the plan? and what do they do when the plans fail? when the spice doesn’t flow, what to do.

Posted by: duck n cover | Mar 13 2026 17:50 utc | 24

Sending 2200 marines sound more like oil price manipulation. Are you really sending them closer to Iran when you’re out of air defense?

Trump knows everything, is the greatest i everything, the smartest, has never failed anything because that’s others to blame, this makes it extreme dangerous for future actions. The same feeling I have with the EU in Ukraine. Narcist rather destroy it all before admitting defeat.
The lack of AD really gets me. Soon they might try a raid with stealth bombers, it won’t help but you can destroy and kill a lot. Does Iran still have aircraft? Would be nice if they do and can get them into the air if such thing happens. Shooting down one of those bombers is a trophy. It would be nice if they can humiliate the US army. Get their stuff together and have to weapons to shoot down things like that tanker. Well we have 2 days before the stock market opens, lets see what can go wrong this weekend.

Posted by: Isidoor | Mar 13 2026 17:50 utc | 25

And I agree that just like in Ukraine, the completely dimwitted leaders of the USA, standing on the shoulders of the achievements of far more capable (not necessarily better) men, has once again jammed their dick into a bear trap. Only this time they dont have a convenient proxy to blame so they can posture about their role.

I mean, even I hesitated to think they could possibly be this stupid, but here we are. Bessent looked like he had seen a ghost when he got back to that interview. Theyre shitting themselves.

Posted by: Doctor Eleven | Mar 13 2026 17:51 utc | 26

By now the americans, brits and europe public can clearly see all the lies media is telling them.

But thats only half the problem, the main problem is where do they go for the truth, unless they are really engaged, very very few are as we know.

Scratches head mmmmm.

Posted by: Mark2 | Mar 13 2026 17:52 utc | 27

The ever astute and clever Garland Nixon, who coined the “Samsonite Option” has a new video headline:

“GENERAL CUSTER” TRUMP HAS BEEN LED INTO A TRAP – THE US IS FACING SOMETHING FAR WORSE THAN DEFEAT.

If it proves so Garland will go down in history.

Posted by: LightYearsFromHome | Mar 13 2026 17:52 utc | 28

US is making a big mistake trying to manipulate oil price down by shorting futures right now.

In a situation with physical destruction and constraints of supply, artificially depressing the price will create a surge in demand as traders or users will buy the arbitrage. Potentially as the squeeze unfolds, the US treasury could have to pay back BIG.

Posted by: unimperator | Mar 13 2026 17:53 utc | 29

2500 marines deployed to Middle East. Marking the first escalation using ground force.

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 17:54 utc | 30

as far as Iran goes, Trump and co bluntly state the plan:
“Iran will never recover.” I look forward to the day when I hear of Iranians that broken down trailer homes, meth labs, alcoholism, casinos, illiteracy, and extractive industries run by foreign powers are part of the “native tradition” in Persia. We hear all about it in the Pacific Northwest.

Posted by: duck n cover | Mar 13 2026 17:54 utc | 31

Potentially as the squeeze unfolds, the US treasury could have to pay back BIG.

Posted by: unimperator | Mar 13 2026 17:53 utc | 29

Agree but they dont care. The precious metals markets have been seeing full fledged manipulation by major players for a very long time all related to this propping up the perception the USD is a store of value. They chose hyperinflation and to fuck the little people instead of compromise and to give up a tiny bit of power. Greed and hubris destroy, a real trap for the stupids with inherited wealth.

Posted by: Doctor Eleven | Mar 13 2026 17:56 utc | 32

What’s the plan? and what do they do when the plans fail? when the spice doesn’t flow, what to do.

Posted by: duck n cover | Mar 13 2026 17:50 utc | 24

—

When in danger or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.

Posted by: too scents | Mar 13 2026 17:57 utc | 33

Has Iran land mined any possible Marine landing zones?

Posted by: Fredrick | Mar 13 2026 17:57 utc | 34

The American invasion would be similar to Athens’ invasion of Sicily in 415 BCE, as described in Thucydides’ The Peloponnesian War.

brilliant ! of course. Thank you.

Posted by: Exile | Mar 13 2026 17:58 utc | 35

WATCH: What You Need to Know About the New Leader of Iran, Ayatollah Seyyed Mojtaba Khamenei

2-minute 20-second video .
https://x.com/PressTV/status/2032509494266040335

Iranian video production is very good. Hezbollah is similarly good at propaganda, but Iran’s English language content is very advanced.

This is a good primer on the 3rd Ayatollah. I doubt they would release it if he were martyred right now as the Zios claim.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 17:59 utc | 36

Has Iran land mined any possible Marine landing zones?

Posted by: Fredrick | Mar 13 2026 17:57 utc | 34

No They don’t know where their enemies will be. So they will mine after they landed to pinch them down. 2500 marines is too small of a number to spearhead an attack but good enough to secure a small area with patrol and control 24/7 divided into 2 or 3 shifts or straight 24 hours firewatch with next day break. I suspect this a plan by some generals to win favor by capturing an island or too.

Kharg island is the possibility

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:03 utc | 37

🇮🇷🇺🇸⚡– US State Department: “$10 million for anyone who provides information on Imam Mojtaba Khamenei, Larijani & co.”

Wanted poster graphic .
https://x.com/ALERTX360/status/2032510294799299016

Who is going to notify them that those men were walking around Tehran today for Quds day?

Ez money…

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:07 utc | 38

Thanks for the posting b.

Your quoting of Susan Webber of ALMOST nakedcapitalism makes me want to ask her [she called me crazy pants] how the dominance of the US dollar is going and how far off my speculation of its demise is looking now

I am going to owe karlof1 a meal because he is going to be more correct about the length of this event than I….he says end of March and I was much sooner….time will tell when and if this shit show ends now…..Trump is now making Wag The Dog look like a B rated loser movie.

Posted by: psychohistorian | Mar 13 2026 18:07 utc | 39

Remember, the USG, welched on the reward money for Maduro’s betrayers.. 😂😂😂

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:08 utc | 40

Kharg island is the possibility
Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:03 utc | 37They’ll definitely steer clear of that island… Because the reaction would be the extraction facilities and tank farms in Gulf State ports, resulting in an unprecedented global crude oil shortage… Russia would be the winner, US motorists the loser. The Iranians’ motto: “If our oil doesn’t come to market, then neither will yours.”

And always remember, thousands of Iranians and sympathizers live in the USA… The USA is currently experiencing a great deal of terrorism.

Posted by: Genesis | Mar 13 2026 18:09 utc | 41

In the end, the USA is going to use nuclear weapons. A defeat or even giving up is unthinkable for US/EU/Israel elites and the most of the western population.

Posted by: Simon | Mar 13 2026 18:13 utc | 42

The American invasion would be similar to Athens’ invasion of Sicily in 415 BCE, as described in Thucydides’ The Peloponnesian War.

brilliant ! of course. Thank you.
Posted by: Exile | Mar 13 2026 17:58 utc | 35
exactly what I have been thinking.

watching those Mach 15 plus fireballs striking Israel reminded me of the “gods” fireballs related to that war.

Posted by: Merv Ritchie | Mar 13 2026 18:16 utc | 43

And always remember, thousands of Iranians and sympathizers live in the USA… The USA is currently experiencing a great deal of terrorism.

Posted by: Genesis | Mar 13 2026 18:09 utc | 41

AllUnderHeaven is right about one thing because I live amongst almost all of the diasporas here in the USA. S.Vietnam, Falun Gong, Black flag hong konger, Iranian shah loyalist, Cuban etc.

The members of Diaspora community usually anti their own countries that they came from. The ones that born or came as a baby in the USA are too detached from their roots to care for.

The only real danger in the USA is the how is this war seen. Is it a Religious War between Islam and Christianity? Then you will have terrorist attacks. It’s not based on nationalism but more on religious identity

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:18 utc | 44

In the end, the USA is going to use nuclear weapons. A defeat or even giving up is unthinkable for US/EU/Israel elites and the most of the western population.
Posted by: Simon | Mar 13 2026 18:13 utc | 42Should this happen?
Give Russia and China a free pass…Although no one in the US can predict the reaction of other nuclear powers.

Israel has long wanted to use its nuclear weapons against Iran…Would have!

They will know why they didn’t and what awaited them then.

If Trump does it, it would definitely be his political end.

Posted by: Genesis | Mar 13 2026 18:18 utc | 45

It’s not based on nationalism but more on religious identity

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:18 utc | 44

—

Dress up Class War any way you like. It won’t change the reality of what it is.

Posted by: too scents | Mar 13 2026 18:20 utc | 46

Kharg Island?But really, how would they actually reach the island? I mean, para-drop – with the Air defenses Iran still has around? Force the Strait and send in ship to unload the Marines – with all the stuff Iran has on the shore to blast off any military ship?They can’t even send the Marines there, and obviously will have even less way of supplying them.
US has basically a choice between Gallipoli and Market Garden. With similar outcome guaranteed.
Now, bombing Kharg terminal, that’s a more realistic move. Of course, it means Iran will retaliate in kind, and the Qatari LNG terminal would be dead, as well as many oil terminals around.

Posted by: Clueless Joe | Mar 13 2026 18:23 utc | 47

More economic effects:

Bahrain & Saudi Arabia Grands Prix to be cancelled

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/formula1/articles/c875vw1lwjzo

The article reckons the sport will lose £100 million.

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 18:23 utc | 48

Posted by: Clueless Joe | Mar 13 2026 18:23 utc | 47

Do you think the current heads in the US even thinking or planning? or did they just see a meme about Kharg island invasion BF3 and go along with it?

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:25 utc | 49

You know why Iranians don’t want nukes? Because they know that if they had, Israel would immediately nuke… a US city (a good one like Nashville).

False flag blamed on Iran. Then the US would retaliate and nuke every city in Iran…

Posted by: Asian Frog | Mar 13 2026 18:28 utc | 50

This war will only be partially resolved when Trump meets with Xi in three weeks. It’ll be fun to watch the idiot groveling to Xi. It is China that is backing Iran to destroy all of CENTCOM; I don’t believe that if Iran were alone it would do this. Putin doesn’t have much room to maneuver; it’s the Western press that’s desperately talking about Russia now out of desperation and lack of strategy. This war is a war between the US and China. Stop with Putin this, Putin that. He doesn’t have much to change here. It doesn’t matter that he’s going to sell oil to the whole world. Russia doesn’t even have the delivery infrastructure for that; it’s too busy with its American proxy war.

Posted by: Friûl | Mar 13 2026 18:32 utc | 51

Posted by: S Brennan | Mar 13 2026 17:35 utc | 14

Thanks for reaching out. I’m talking about Trump supporters here in my corner of Canada. We’ve taken a beating here from woke propaganda so, not surprisingly, Trump is seen as a hero by many who lean right – a number of them remain blind to the blatant contradictions between his current actions and past promises.

Posted by: Chris N | Mar 13 2026 18:33 utc | 52

The video goes out of its way to describe recent attacks on Russia, including the terrorist attack on the cathedral in Moscow from maybe a year ago. The word terrorist is used quite frequently, and in multiple segments.
Posted by: Woke American | Mar 13 2026 17:32 utc | 12
______________________________________________
Not against a cathedral, at a concert in the Crocus City Hall concert venue and entertainments complex, that was situated in northwest Moscow just on the city limits.

Posted by: Moscow Exile | Mar 13 2026 18:34 utc | 53

Maybe the USA and/or Israel wants chaos in the region, and all this is by design. PP | Mar 13 2026 17:08 utc
This is most likely, given the alternative that dozens (hundreds?) of Pentagon scenario crunchers effed up that badly?

Posted by: Third Chimp | Mar 13 2026 18:35 utc | 54

This is Irán 😍 (without propaganda filters)

35-second video .
https://x.com/ElNecio_Cuba/status/2032386370807730430

A civilizational state.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:36 utc | 55

Reports speculate that Taiwan has around 11 days supply of oil. Mainland China could easily come to their rescue, but there would inevitably be ‘consequences’ for Taiwan. Like re-joining the mainland. That would be a very big ‘own goal’ for Team Trump.

Posted by: Jams O’Donnell | Mar 13 2026 18:38 utc | 56

Posted by: DonMidwest USA | Mar 13 2026 17:38 utc | 17

Alon Mizrahi has posted a scathing review of Professor Jiang. Quite interesting.

Posted by: Chris N | Mar 13 2026 18:38 utc | 57

For all those talking about 2,500 marines and taking Kharg Island, or indeed any beachhead on the Iranian coast, keep in mind this question: which base would they launch from?

All the local bases in the region are severely compromised, if not completely out of commission.

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 18:40 utc | 58

Israel’s primary objective is a final solution to the “Iranian issue” through the actions of the United States and NATO. A strike on Incirlik (even as a provocation) could potentially trigger the activation of Article 5 of the NATO Charter.

However, the issue with Article 5 is that it is voluntary. Today, which NATO country would be brave enough to join the Epstein Coalition against Iran? One must maintain good relations with Iran to keep the Hormuz Strait open.

So, any takers?

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 18:41 utc | 59

“Goyimstan/[formally known as the US] is ruled by Israelis/Israeli-Americans/Israelis-1sters so, it should come as no surprise that it would put the interests of Israelis/Israeli-Americans before those of the American people.”
@S Brennan | Mar 13 2026 17:49 utc |
I believe americans never spell it out that it all is the consequence of previous actions by the British Empire and its creation the angloamericam establishment. Since that elite openly instructed the US members to undereducate its population to enable the US to bring down the wages to the level of Great Britain. The US oligarchs, followed Britains instructions. So the US population has been dumbed down. The influx of jews during the time when Lord Palmerston founded B’nai B’rit was commented by some jews of the time to not be necessary at all by such an organisation. Lord Pam was the worlds leading freemason but managed to keep that a secret to most. This meant that the masonic bankers were all his subordinates. B’nai B’rit like all Britains proxies was involved in such things as KKK just to pick one example. All the zionism related jewish organisations spawned from B’nai B’rit. But the Christian Zionist lobby preceeded AIPAC by over 30 years. And the associates of Palmerston helped bring about British Israelism. The message I read into that oddity is that the British at least in and among each other wanted to make sure that nobody got the idea that the Jews had been lifted too much. I interpret British Israelism as meant to communicate that the British also colonised the Jewish Identity. And there is an american variant of that too. If this is just an old context that doesnt matter anymore there wouldnt be such a widespread lack of exposure of this. It is obvious that anglosaxons both elites and many grassroots are rooting for this anbition to blank out the truth.
In no way do I suggest that you and other people who are upset about how things are ought to blame yourself or blame the current generation but if you never touch the historical background it looks like Plato’s parallell with the prisoners in the cave. Blind people attempting to lead.

Posted by: petergrfstrm | Mar 13 2026 18:44 utc | 60

Iran thanks Afghanistan, saying Islam protects everyone. Alireza Bikdeli, Iran’s ambassador to Afghanistan, expressed appreciation to the Taliban leadership for not handing over Bagram Air Base to the United States.

Speaking to Shamshad TV, he said the presence of a U.S. base there could have led to conflict between Iran and Afghanistan.

Bikdeli added that the Taliban’s refusal was based on religious beliefs and the Islamic principle that Muslims should not help non-Muslims attack other Muslims.

In 2025, the administration of Donald Trump reportedly held negotiations with the Taliban over handing over Bagram Air Base in exchange for financial assistance and the lifting of sanctions, but Kabul rejected the offer.

photos .
https://x.com/Eng_china5/status/2032397300505657442

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:45 utc | 61

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 18:41 utc | 59
What could nato do that is not already doing?

Posted by: Mario | Mar 13 2026 18:46 utc | 62

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 18:40 utc | 58

#######

💯.

Great strategy in removing the assembly areas first.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:47 utc | 63

In the end, the USA is going to use nuclear weapons. A defeat or even giving up is unthinkable for US/EU/Israel elites and the most of the western population. Posted by: Simon | Mar 13 2026 18:13 utc | 42
And then ? Something tells me that Iran won’t stop blocade Hormuz even if Teheran get nuked. It would be even possible that they shell to smithereens civilians areas in Tel Aviv and Haifa, a move they did not make for the moment.

Posted by: America is defeated | Mar 13 2026 18:47 utc | 64

Pete Hegseth berated the media over what he called ‘fake headlines’ about the war with Iran while dodging questions about how Donald Trump plans to stop Tehran from attacking the Strait of Hormuz.
Hegseth spent his Friday morning briefing lecturing the press about unfavorable headlines while refusing to answer questions about the military’s plan to curb the Islamic regime’s efforts to deepen the global oil crisis.
‘Some in the press just can’t stop. Allow me to make a few suggestions. People look at the TV and they see banners, headlines — I used to be in that business, I know everything is written intentionally,’ said the former Fox News star.
‘For example, a banner – “Mideast War Intensifies.” What should the banner read instead? How about, “Iran increasingly desperate,” because they are. Or more fake news from CNN. The sooner David Ellison takes over that network, the better.’
Hegseth claimed the US military would hit Iran today with the ‘heaviest’ firepower since the start of the war. He said the US maintains aerial and naval superiority over the Islamic regime.
When asked by the Daily Mail why the US military cannot protect the Strait of Hormuz, one of the world’s most critical oil shipping routes, from Iranian attacks, Hegseth dodged the question.

Posted by: Jo | Mar 13 2026 18:48 utc | 65

Cracks began to show. People are skeptical of the US sustainability under this national debt
https://fortune.com/2026/03/13/iran-war-why-national-debt-reasonable-crfb-emergency/

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 18:48 utc | 66

The article reckons the sport will lose £100 million.
Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 18:23 utc | 48

F1 will be out of gas by the middle of the year. When petrol hits £2.50/l, not too many fans are going to want to drive to their events, a few diehards might watch it on TV, everyone else will be fuming at the obscene spectacle*.
*Indifferent to motorsports but FFS can nobody read the room?

Posted by: ChatNPC | Mar 13 2026 18:48 utc | 67

How would the USA handle logistics for a force on Kharg Island? If they go in of course the Pentagon will have a plan for logistics, but boy would it be shaky. The desalination plant hit left Qeshm Island w/o water, does Kharg Island have a natural fresh water source or a plant instead? I’m guessing the Iranians could always scorch earth Kharg Island on retreat making logistic even harder. Seems like a terrible idea, so I’m guessing the USA will go for it.

Posted by: LightYearsFromHome | Mar 13 2026 18:49 utc | 68

Just checked Flightradar24. Counted more than 10 KC135 Stratotanker’s on the Saudi-Iraqi border. Never saw that many together in that area.
But maybe it is not unusal and on the other days they had just their transponders off?

Posted by: NoName | Mar 13 2026 18:50 utc | 69

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 18:41 utc | 59

#######

I don’t trust or like Erdogan, but this has become an all-of-Islam thing now.

Erdogan will lose control in Turkiye if he fights against Iran.

In a sense it is out of his control.

Not easy to explain to non-believers, but regardless of sect, Muslims all over the world are uniting. Isolating the Epstein class even further.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:51 utc | 70

If, by chance, Article 5 is invoked, it would turn Turkey into a permanent frontline. Turkey finds itself in a precarious position. While it hosts the strategic Incirlik Air Base, which accommodates U.S. troops and nuclear weapons, Ankara has sought to maintain a “neutral path” to avoid a complete rupture with Tehran.

Moreover, the primary deterrent for European NATO members is the Strait of Hormuz. They are unwilling to jeopardise a total, long-term closure of the world’s most critical energy artery, which could force them to apologise and seek assistance from Russia—something that EU leaders fear more than anything else.

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 18:51 utc | 71

Posted by: America is defeated | Mar 13 2026 18:47 utc | 64

######

Yes. Those mountain military bases are all hardened against nuclear attack, and they are spread out all over the country.

And after Iran is nuked into nothing, the region won’t be producing many hydrocarbons for decades, or maybe a century. Hormuz will be worthless.

It would be flipping the table in a dramatic act of global suicide,

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:55 utc | 72

What do people think will happen to the Western banking system and stock markets if nukes start dropping?

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:57 utc | 73

And then ? Something tells me that Iran won’t stop blocade Hormuz even if Teheran get nuked. It would be even possible that they shell to smithereens civilians areas in Tel Aviv and Haifa, a move they did not make for the moment.

Posted by: America is defeated | Mar 13 2026 18:47 utc | 64

Likely, but without major cities Iran is going to eventually run out of resources for missiles. It might have been possible to survive American strikes, but long-term shutdown of the Strait was always a terrible idea. China really doesn’t want the other Gulf states to absolutely hate them, so no decisive help even at the UN.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Mar 13 2026 18:59 utc | 74

Trump was pushed into the attack on Iran by the US neocons, the FBI and Israel, all selling the lie that Iran had been behind assassination attempts against him.
https://consortiumnews.com/2026/03/13/max-blumenthal-how-fbi-israel-got-trump-to-attack/
The US invasion sponsors such as john Bolton and the NED have only ever promoted lies and falsehoods about Iran society and its readiness for regime change. This was a major factor in Trump initiating the Iran war. Netanyahu of course was fully aware of what he was up against and wanted the US to obliterate Iran. This has now cropped up in various editorial views about how the US is to proceed against a nation that is never going to buckle under. To ensure that Iran never has the capacity to rebuild any military defenses the US and Israel must implement the “Morgenthau” option: the destruction of any industrial capacity to build military defenses.
“This means attacking not merely weapons, but the system that produces and reproduces them: electric power, transport, fuels, machine tools, metallurgy, electronics, repair facilities, and perhaps the broader fiscal and industrial foundations of military recovery… A country whose critical infrastructure remains intact can rebuild military industry. A country that cannot rebuild has, by definition, suffered something much closer to strategic deindustrialization.”
This was the view expressed just a few days ago by Gen. Dan Caine, the chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff. We are talking about the destruction of the Iranian nation state.https://responsiblestatecraft.org/dan-caine-iran/

Posted by: Fred | Mar 13 2026 18:59 utc | 75

Just checked Flightradar24. Counted more than 10 KC135 Stratotanker’s on the Saudi-Iraqi border. Never saw that many together in that area.But maybe it is not unusal and on the other days they had just their transponders off?
Posted by: NoName | Mar 13 2026 18:50 utc | 69

Could be a bait. They want to find out and kill the thread to their tankers. Lots of F-22, F-35 around. May be even a F-35 can send a fake transponder signal posing as a tanker?

Posted by: BG13 | Mar 13 2026 19:00 utc | 76

@72

I vote for Gallipoli 2.0

A strategist of young Winnie style would be an upgrade.

Posted by: paddy | Mar 13 2026 19:00 utc | 77

With the Strait already effectively blocked by Iranian “358” missiles and drone swarms, global oil prices have surged past £100–£120 a barrel. France and Italy have already initiated tentative negotiations with Iran to ensure safe passage for their ships—a move that indicates they are prioritising national survival over joining a U.S.-led military coalition.

Germany has officially declined to participate, citing a lack of military resources and no intention of joining an “unjustified military intervention.” Spain has demanded that the U.S. refrain from using its airspace. Romania must be feeling quite anxious. Poland is notably displeased with Trump, although Polish leaders have not expressed this openly. The wife of Radosław Sikorski, the Polish Minister of Foreign Affairs, is Anne Applebaum, a passionate critic of Trump.

So, one can forget about Article 5!

Posted by: James | Mar 13 2026 19:01 utc | 78

@75

Long range bombing did not reach that on Japan, Germany, Vietnam nor North Korea.

Not that anyone inside the beltway cares to recall.

While Hormuz shuttered during the attempt to prove LeMay and Bomber Harris inept whims.

Posted by: paddy | Mar 13 2026 19:05 utc | 79

Could be a bait. They want to find out and kill the thread to their tankers. Lots of F-22, F-35 around. May be even a F-35 can send a fake transponder signal posing as a tanker?
Posted by: BG13 | Mar 13 2026 19:00 utc | 76Wouldn’t they then be flying over Iraqi soil? The Iranian-backed militias are in Iraq, not in Saudi Arabia. However, the tanker planes are flying over Saudi territory (but close to the Iraqi border).

Posted by: NoName | Mar 13 2026 19:05 utc | 80

@ ChatNPC | Mar 13 2026 18:48 utc | 67

F1 is a huge logistical circus, so shortage of fuel won’t just affect the cars, the whole business of moving everything all over the world will grind to a halt.

Like you, I’m wouldn’t be bothered if it disappeared altogether; I do like watching the British Touring Car racing though, much more down-to-earth and friendly in its way.

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 19:06 utc | 81

Back in 2016 I found it almost intolerable talking to those with TDS. Now it’s the same talking to people with inverted TDS. To me it doesn’t matter whether Trump was recently turned or has always been a fraud. His credibility is finished. The main positive is that he has further unmasked the workings of plutocracy
Posted by: Chris N | Mar 13 2026 17:19 utc | 7Inverted TDS? I call it TPCS…Trump Personality Cult Syndrome. Sadly I know many who are infected with it. They have “drunk the Kool-Aid”.

Posted by: Joe Turner | Mar 13 2026 19:06 utc | 82

“Germany has officially declined to participate, citing a lack of military resources and no intention of joining an “unjustified military intervention.”
As long as there are Ramstein and US nucleer bombs in Germany there will be participation.they havo no say.

Posted by: Su | Mar 13 2026 19:06 utc | 83

Kinda seems appropriate relevant.
The “Beware of Deception” crop circle is a famous 2002 formation at Crabwood, England, featuring a grey alien face and a binary-encoded message, “According to a Tweet by grokBeware the bearers of FALSE gifts & their BROKEN PROMISES. Much PAIN but still time. BELIEVE. There is GOOD out there. We oPpose DECEPTION. COnduit CLOSING”. It is one of the most direct, enigmatic, and debated messages in crop circle history.
Key Aspects of the 2002 Crabwood Crop Circle:

The Message: Decoded from binary ASCII code. The code ending actually comes out as a “ding” like a typewriter bell.

Posted by: Jo | Mar 13 2026 19:07 utc | 84

What do people think will happen to the Western banking system and stock markets if nukes start dropping?

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 18:57 utc | 73

An excellent question. Ukraine would implode and the pressure to cede Taiwan would skyrocket. It would be the absolute end of the “rules-based international order,” and likely end even short-term viability for Israel. The Western world would enter civil war and major military dysfunction, but I can’t imagine you would dislike that.

But if Russia and China really had Iran under their nuclear umbrella, they would have used their UN veto. They didn’t. For all you know, the nuclear strike on Iran might come from Pakistan- who opposed the UNSC resolution. No one ordered Iran to try subjugating KSA and the UAE, yet here we are.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Mar 13 2026 19:08 utc | 85

I’m going to stick with my prediction in an earlier topic that nukes will not be used. What is gained by their use? No strategic, or even tactical, advantage whatsoever.

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 19:14 utc | 86

Did someone mention Gallipoli ?

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufxRotL6uns

Posted by: Exile | Mar 13 2026 19:14 utc | 87

Lots of Stratotankers going back and forth between Tel Aviv and circling in the gulf near Kharg Island for the last few hours..

Posted by: Ranunculus | Mar 13 2026 19:14 utc | 88

The strait of Hormuz blockage is like a stroke on the patient. This patient aka the world will either coming out okay with some lingering affects or become semi paralyzed.

Definitely not in a coma because during the worst of the time in Chinese civil war with 15 different currencies Merchant still used all of the. Nowadays in Somali the merchants sell money in bundle of cash to trade. In Weimar Germany after ww1 People pushed wheelbarrow full of cash to buy foods. When 100$ = 2million Vietnamese Dongs, the currency doesn’t disappear it’s still in use even today. No matter what happened economically Many times the money itself outlasted the governments issued it and even when its values were low.

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 13 2026 19:14 utc | 89

This is going to be a massive defeat. The Pasdaran have no doubt made themselves right at home in the sunny mountains along the Strait of Hormuz. They’ve surely grown bored of clay pigeon shooting and can’t wait to have some proper ‘Usrael’ targets to shoot at.
Knowing these Yankees, they’ve got Apple earbuds and are listening to heavy metal. That’s no D-Day romance, if anything, it’s a ‘Saving Private Ryan’.

Posted by: Lmaa | Mar 13 2026 19:15 utc | 90

I don’t think Iran will be much afraid of those Marines.

Russia is using as few as 10 soldiers per km of front line. This is in established fortifications with established supply lines.
Ukraine used 6.000-10.000 for their ill-fated Kursk offensive and when done had lost some 35k at the end of it.
Operation Market Garnden used 34.600 troops, 15.000-17.000 were lost
Iwo Jima landed 30k Marines, 2.400 fell the first day, 6.821 dead, 19.217 wounded.
It took 4 aircraft carriers, 50 ships, 120 planes and 6.000 Marienes to evacuate Saigon.
It took 5.500 Marines to hold Kabul airport for the evacuation

( Numbers according to Wikipedia).
Yeah, no dice.
This is not even an evacuation force, can’t imagine what the operations plan is.. extract Bibi?

Posted by: SOS | Mar 13 2026 19:16 utc | 91

Paper traders: this war will be over soon and prices will fall.

Physical traders: a barrel of UAE oil is now worth $140.

Link to Reuters article .
https://x.com/gbrew24/status/2032480291072213263

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 19:17 utc | 92

The occasional analogies from Dune are apt here. The novel really was prescient. Trump is Baron Harkonnen.

Posted by: Patroklos | Mar 13 2026 19:19 utc | 93

Israel isn’t like the Europeans who are too cowardly, unmotivated & underequipped for open warfare.
Posted by: Urban Fox | Mar 13 2026 17:22 utc | 9

yeah 100k jews called 60k shown, maybe it has nothing to do with cowardliness but with some remains of intellect, nobody wanna fight and die for empire, well, nobody but dumb ameribros or columbian mercs

Posted by: Cptdkhd | Mar 13 2026 19:19 utc | 94

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Mar 13 2026 19:08 utc | 85

######

They didn’t waste a veto on a non-binding resolution.

Instead making a political power move by abstaining, and allowing the Imperial-led UNSC to build a case against itself .

The answer to my question is that the Western paper/digital economy would cease to exist in a day.

A great reset to the benefit of the countries which make real stuff and can mass manufacture.

A suicide for the West to deploy even a single nuke.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 19:23 utc | 95

Posted by: Jeremy Rhymings-Lang | Mar 13 2026 18:40 utc | 58

Wouldn’t the ground forces insert from Pakistan or Azerbaijan? A coastal amphibious landing would produce catastrophic (>50%) casualties and domestic revolt in the US. I’m not saying the former option is better as such, but the territory might be more forgiving. Crazy any which way though.

Posted by: Patroklos | Mar 13 2026 19:24 utc | 96

If Trump orders a nuclear strike, he will be forever remembered as the second person in the history of the world to deliberately use nuclear weapons to murder children.

Ironic coincidence?

Truman
Trump

Posted by: Dalit | Mar 13 2026 19:27 utc | 97

If a Nuke is used…it will be Israel.
America blames Israel with stern words, while continuing to supply Israel with thousands of bombs and tens of billions of dollars.

Posted by: Fredrick | Mar 13 2026 19:27 utc | 98

Posted by: Patroklos | Mar 13 2026 19:19 utc | 93

#####

So many parallels. Burgeoning AI, robotics, nukes, an Empire, shadowy societies, Satanic elites, the collapse of universal law, and that’s excluding the religious themes.

Herbert was Philip K. Dick tier, but PKD supposedly had visions of the past and future which inspired his writing. Herbert, IMO, was a genius generalist.

Posted by: LoveDonbass | Mar 13 2026 19:30 utc | 99

Had an encounter with a smug EV-owning colleague. It is interesting how emergent crises also disclose who is and isn’t an asshole. I’d have to say smugness really should be punishable by bastinado. What I should have said in reply is: meet Lucille my smugness correction device. Try driving your Tesla with broken hands MF.

Posted by: Patroklos | Mar 13 2026 19:31 utc | 100

Iran’s $20,000 Drone Disabled America’s $13 Billion USS Ford — 5,000 Sailors Evacuating

This is the latest largest and most powerful Aircraft carrier; USS FORD.

Now, that is bad.

But that’s not all… three carriers; 2 are out of action.

What Happened to the USS Abraham Lincoln?

This super carrier is left adrift. The USS Abraham Lincoln.

(Repost) Cities as dangerous snares – the doomed mouse utopia scientific study. (duplicate)

Well, it's gonna be the year of the rat in a few days. What would be more appropriate than to discuss RAT lifestyle in urban centers?

On July 9th, 1968, eight white mice were placed into a strange box at the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, Maryland.

Maybe “box” isn’t the right word for it; the space was more like a room, known as “Universe 25”, and it was large. It was about the size of a small storage unit.

The mice themselves were bright and healthy, hand-picked from the institute’s breeding stock.

They were given the run of the place, which had everything they might need: food, water, climate control, hundreds of nesting boxes to choose from, and a lush floor of shredded paper and ground corn cob. It was a mouse paradise. It was perfect in every way.

Of course, this is a far cry from a wild mouse’s life. There were no predators, no cats, no traps, no long winters. It was even better than your average lab mouse’s life. Which, of course, is constantly interrupted by white-coated humans with scalpels or syringes.

The residents of “Universe 25” were mostly left alone, save for one man who would peer at them from above, and his team of similarly interested assistants. They must have thought they were the luckiest mice in the world.

They couldn’t have known the truth: that within a few years, they and their descendants would all be dead.

John Bumpass Calhoun

The man who played mouse-God and came up with this doomed universe was named John Bumpass Calhoun.

As Edmund Ramsden and Jon Adams detail in a paper, “Escaping the Laboratory: The Rodent Experiments of John B. Calhoun & Their Cultural Influence,” Calhoun spent his childhood traipsing around Tennessee, chasing toads, collecting turtles, and banding birds. These adventures eventually led him to a doctorate in biology, and then a job in Baltimore, where he was tasked with studying the habits of Norway rats, one of the city’s chief pests.

Conditions of the utopia.

Rat utopia living arrangements within Universe 25.

No shortage of food, water and nesting material.
No predators.
Limited opportunities for transmissible disease.
The only adversity: space limitation – the size of the habitat was predicted to host 3840 mice.

The first utopia.

In 1947, to keep a close eye on his charges, Calhoun constructed a quarter-acre “rat city” behind his house, and filled it with breeding pairs. He expected to be able to house 5,000 rats there, but over the two years he observed the city, the population never exceeded 150. At that point, the rats became too stressed to reproduce. They started acting weirdly, rolling dirt into balls rather than digging normal tunnels. They hissed and fought.

This fascinated Calhoun—if the rats had everything they needed, what was keeping them from overrunning his little city, just as they had all of Baltimore? Why couldn’t they thrive in a rodent utopia?

The subsequent utopias.

Intrigued, Calhoun built another, slightly bigger rat metropolis—this time in a barn, with ramps connecting several different rooms.

Then he redesigned the structure, and built another.

Then taking the lessons learned, he built another.

And another.

Then he built another and another, hopping between patrons that supported his research, and framing his work in terms of population: How many individuals could a rodent city hold without losing its collective mind?

The 1954 rodent utopia.

By 1954, he was working under the auspices of the National Institute of Mental Health, which gave him whole rooms to build his rodentopias. Some of these featured rats, while others focused on mice instead.

Universe 25 photograph with it's inventor. — Universe 25 photograph with it’s inventor.

Like a rodent real estate developer, he incorporated ever-better amenities: climbable walls, food hoppers that could serve two dozen customers at once, lodging he described as “walk-up one-room apartments.”

A Video records of his experiments show Calhoun with a pleased smile and a pipe in his mouth, color-coded mice scurrying over his boots.

Still, at a certain point, each of these paradises collapsed.

“There could be no escape from the behavioral consequences of rising  population density,” 

-Calhoun wrote in an early paper.

The story of the 1968 “Universe 25” collapse.

It was a pattern that would not collapse. No matter how hard he tried. The final test confirmed this. Universe 25—the biggest, best mousetopia of all, built after a quarter century of research—failed to break this pattern.

In July 1968 four pairs of mice were introduced into the Utopian universe. The universe was a 9-foot (2.7 m) square metal pen with 54-inch-high (1.4 m) sides. Each side had four groups of four vertical, wire mesh "tunnels". The "tunnels" gave access to nesting boxes, food hoppers, and water dispensers. There was no shortage of food or water or nesting material. There were no predators. The only adversity was the limit on space.

Initially the population grew rapidly, doubling every 55 days. The population reached 620 by day 315, after which the population growth dropped markedly. The last surviving birth was on day 600. This period between day 315 and day 600 saw a breakdown in social structure and in normal social behavior. Among the aberrations in behavior were the following:

- expulsion of young before weaning was complete,
- wounding of young,
- inability of dominant males to maintain the defense of their territory and females,
- aggressive behavior of females,
- passivity of non-dominant males with increased attacks on each other which were not defended against.

After day 600, the social breakdown continued and the population declined toward extinction. During this period females ceased to reproduce. Their male counterparts withdrew completely, never engaging in courtship or fighting. They ate, drank, slept, and groomed themselves – all solitary pursuits. Sleek, healthy coats and an absence of scars characterized these males. They were named "the beautiful ones".

- Description in Wikipedia [2014.05.25]

In late October, the first litter of mouse pups was born.

After that, the population doubled every two months—20 mice, then 40, then 80. The babies grew up and had babies of their own. Families became dynasties, carving out and holding down the best in-cage real estate.

By August of 1969, the population numbered 620.

Then, as always, things took a turn. Such rapid growth put too much pressure on the mouse way of life.

As new generations reached adulthood, many couldn’t find mates, or places in the social order—the mouse equivalent of a spouse and a job. Spinster females retreated to high-up nesting boxes, where they lived alone, far from the family neighborhoods. Washed-up males gathered in the center of the Universe, near the food, where they fretted, languished, and attacked each other. Meanwhile, overextended mouse moms and dads began moving nests constantly to avoid their unsavory neighbors. They also took their stress out on their babies, kicking them out of the nest too early, or even losing them during moves.

Urban rats started to behave strangely and took on unusual behaviors.

Population growth slowed way down again. Most of the adolescent mice retreated even further from societal expectations, spending all their time eating, drinking, sleeping and grooming, and refusing to fight or to even attempt to mate.

These individuals were forever  changed—when Calhoun’s colleague attempted to transplant some of them to  more normal situations, they didn’t remember how to do anything.

In May of 1970, just under 2 years into the study, the last baby was born, and the population entered a swan dive of perpetual senescence. It’s unclear exactly when the last resident of Universe 25 perished, but it was probably sometime in 1973.

Paradise couldn’t even last half a decade.

The periods or cycles…

In a unique experiment that took years to complete, Doctor Calhoun used white mice to study population growth and its effects on individual behavior.

In this sixteen cell mouse habitat, utopian conditions of nutrition, comfort and housing were provided for the potential population of over three thousand mice. […] Factors which normally control population growth such as predation by owls and cats were eliminated. Transmissible disease were also reduced. In effect, the mouse universe simulated the present situation of the continually expanding population of humans.

To see how Dr Calhoun’s mouse universe grew, we use the population graph.

Population rise and fall within the Universe 25 test area.

Phase A – The phase of social adjustment (strive period)

Within the first one hundred days, the mice went through the period Dr Calhoun called, “strive”. This was the period of adjustment. Territories were established and nests were made.

(1) Considerable social turmoil among the 8 mice until they became adjusted to each other and to their expanded surroundings.
(2) Territories were established and nests were made.

Phase B – The phase of most rapid growth (exploit period)

The next period lasted about two hundred and fifty days. The population of the mice doubled every sixty days. This was called the “exploit” period. The use of resources become unequal. Although each living unit was identical in structure and opportunities, more food and water was consumed in some areas.

The population of the mice doubled every sixty days. This was called the "exploit" period. The use of resources become unequal. — The population of the mice doubled every sixty days. This was called the “exploit” period. The use of resources become unequal.

As the population increased, most mice associated eating and drinking with the presence of others. And crowding developed in certain units.

(1) Population doubling time is about 55 days
(1) Social organization established – frequency of litters proportional to social dominance
(1) The births tended to be concentrated in some sets of nest boxes (dominant males), while others (non-dominant males – withdrawn males = WM) had few or none.
(2) Although each living unit was identical in structure and opportunities, more food and water was consumed in certain areas. As the population increased, most mice associated eating and drinking with the presence of others. And crowding developed in certain units.
(1) At the end of this phase there were 3 times as many socially immature mice as there were socially established older ones.

Phase C – The stagnation phase (equilibrium period)

The third period, consisting of three hundred days, found the population of mice leveling off. This was called the “equilibrium” period. Dr Calhoun noticed that the newer generations of young were inhibited, since most space was already socially defined.

At this time, some unusual behavior become noticeable.

Violence become prevalent. Excess males strived for acceptance, were rejected and withdrew. Huddling together, they would exhibit brief flurries of violence amongst themselves. The effects of violence became increasingly visible.

Certain individuals became targets of repeated attacks. These individuals would have badly chewed and scarred tails.

But the trajectory of rat utopia soon sobered Calhoun. The eager rodents  did not seem capable of regulating their population size in the  long-term. As they reproduced and the pens overflowed, Calhoun noted  that male rates became aggressive, moving in gangs and attacking females  and young. Some became exclusively homosexual. Female rats, meanwhile,  abandoned their infants. The crowded mice had lost the ability to  coexist. One of Calhoun’s assistants renamed the “rat utopia”  “rodent  hell.” 

-Space Cadets and Rat Utopias

Other young mice growing into adulthood exhibited an even different type of behavior. Dr Calhoun called these individuals “the beautiful ones”. Their time was devoted solely to grooming, eating and sleeping. They never involved themselves with others, engaged in sex, nor would they fight. All appeared as a beautiful exhibit of the species with keen, alert eyes and a healthy well-kept body. These mice, however, could not cope with unusual stimuli.

Though they looked inquisitive they were, in fact, very stupid.

All of this, however, led to a drop in mating, and the birthrate soon fell to a third of its former level. A social imbalance also took place among the mice:

One-third emerged as socially dominant.
The other two-thirds turned out less socially adept than their forbearers.
As bonding skills diminished among the mice, Universe 25 went into a slow but irreversible decline.

By Day 315, behavior disparities between males of high and low status became more pronounced. Those at the bottom of the pecking order found themselves spurned from females and withdrew from mating altogether. Having no roles to fulfill within the society of mice, these outcast males wandered apart from the larger groups to eat and sleep alone — and sometimes fight among one another.

The alpha males, by contrast, became more aggressive and pugnacious, often launching into violence with no clear provocation or motive. At times, these males would roam around and indiscriminately rape other mice, regardless of gender.

Meanwhile, the beta males — those ranked between the aggressive alphas and outcast omegas — grew timid and inert, and often wound up being the passive recipients of violence. In several instances, bloodbaths ended with a cannibalistic feast for the victors.

(1) Population doubling time is about 145 days
(1) The male ability to defend territory declines
(1) The nursing females become aggressive, essentially taking over the role of the territorial males. This aggression generalized to their own young who were attacked, wounded, and forced to leave home several days before normal weaning.
(2) At this time, some unusual behavior became noticeable. Violence became prevalent. Excess males strived for acceptance, were rejected and withdrew. Social disorder became visible – a WM would attack a passive WM, who in turn would attack another WM. Certain individuals became targets of repeated attacks. These individuals would have badly chewed and scarred tails.
(4) Socially withdrawn male 29 makes a pan-sexual approach to male 16 who he recently saw attacked. Note how one assumes the female role. Males exhibit sexual behavior towards other males; you have rat homosexuality. They begin mounting the young.
(1) Incidence of conception decline and resorption of fetuses increases and dissolution of maternal behavior is observed. This lead to non-reproducing females.
(1) By midway in phase C, essentially all young were prematurely rejected by their mothers. They started independent life without having developed adequate effective bonds.
(1) Considering that there were 256 nest retreat sites in the 16 cells, one would not expect shelter to be a limiting factor until the population exceeded 3840. Due to the tendency of many animals to choose to crowd together in numbers in excess of 15 per nest site, at the peak population size of 2200 mice, 20% of all nest sites were usually unoccupied. Thus, there were always opportunities for females to select an unoccupied space for rearing young if they so chose.
(1) Social disorder – a WM would attack a passive WM, who in turn would attack another

Phase D – The death phase (die period)

With male mice abandoning their traditional roles in Universe 25, the females were left to fend for their nests. Consequently, many females adopted more aggressive forms of behavior, which would sometimes spill over into violence toward their young.

Others would refrain from motherly duties altogether, banishing their unraised litters and withdrawing from further mating, resulting in serious consequences:

In some compartments, the infant mortality rate topped 90 percent.
Calhoun named this the “stagnation phase,” alternately known as the “equilibrium period.”
He attributed the overly aggressive and passive behavioral patterns to the breakdown of social roles and rampant over-clustering.

Dr Calhoun called the last period the “die” phase, leading the population into extinction. Although the mouse utopia could house 3000, the population began to decline at 2200.

By the 560th day, the population increase had ceased altogether as the mortality rate hovered at 100 percent. This marked the start of the “death phase” — aka the “die period” — in which the rodent utopia slid toward extinction. Amidst the violence, hostility and lack of mating, a younger generation of mice reached maturity, having never been exposed to examples of normal, healthy relations. With no concept of mating, parenting or marking territory, this generation of mice spent all of their waking hours eating, drinking and grooming themselves.

In reference to their perfected, unruffled appearances, Calhoun called these mice the “beautiful ones.” Living in seclusion from the other mice, they were spared the violence and conflict that waged in the crowded areas, yet made no social contributions.

According to Calhoun, the death phase consisted of two stages: the “first death” and “second death.” The former was characterized by the loss of purpose in life beyond mere existence — no desire to mate, raise young or establish a role within society. This first death was represented by the lackadaisical lives of the beautiful ones, whereas the second death was marked by the literal end of life and the extinction of Universe 25.

(1) Population increase abruptly ceased on day 560 after colonization.
(1) Incidence of pregnancies decline very rapidly with no young surviving.
(1) The last conception took place about day 920
(1) Male counterparts to non-reproducing females were named the “beautiful ones”. They never engaged in sexual approaches toward females, and they never engaged in fighting. Their behavioral repertoire became largely confined to eating, drinking, sleeping and grooming.
(1) The capacity for reproduction terminated.
(3) The last thousand animals born never learned to develop the social behaviors, they never learned to be aggressive, which is necessary in defense of home sites; not engaging in any stressful activity, and only paying attention to themselves, they groomed themselves well so they looked like very fine specimens.
(2) Other young mice growing into adulthood exhibited an even different type of behaviour. Dr Calhoun called these individuals “the beautiful ones”. Their time was devoted solely to grooming, eating and sleeping. They never involved themselves with others, engaged in sex, nor would they fight. All appeared as a beautiful exhibit of the species with keen, alert eyes and a healthy well-kept body. These mice, however, could not cope with unusual stimuli. Though they looked inquisitive they were, in fact, very stupid.

In the shift from the equilibrium to the die phase, each animal became less aware of associates, despite all animals being pushed closer together. Dr Calhoun concluded that the mice could not effectively deal with the repeated contact of so many individuals. The evidence of violence increased to the point where most individuals had had their tails bitten to some degree.

Gradually, the mice that refused to mate or engage in society came to outnumber those that formed gangs, raped and plundered, and fed off their own. The last known conception in Universe 25 occurred on Day 920, at which point the population was capped at 2,200, well short of the enclosure’s 3,000 capacity.

An endless supply of food, water and other resources were still there for the mice, but it didn’t matter. The behavior sink had set in, and there was no stopping Universe 25 from careening to its self-made demise. Soon enough, there was not a single living mouse left in the enclosure..

The results of the study were published.

Calhoun saw in his rats the decline of future society, evidence that  inner city crowding led to rioting, crime, malaise, and political  radicalism: the obsessions of postwar American academics. He wrote up  his results in a Scientific American article that he titled  “Population Density and Social Pathology.” The article became one of the  most widely-cited papers in psychology. Like Pavlov’s dogs and  Skinner’s pigeons, Calhoun’s rats became exemplars for human behavior.  His experiments suggested a density beyond which rat society  disintegrated, and—to Calhoun and his colleagues, at least—the parallels  with human society were clear. 

- Space Cadets and Rat Utopias

In 1973, Calhoun published his Universe 25 research as “Death Squared: The Explosive Growth and Demise of a Mouse Population.” It is, to put it lightly, an intense academic reading experience.

He quotes liberally from the Book of Revelation, italicizing certain words for emphasis (e.g. “to kill with the sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts”).

He gave his claimed discoveries catchy names—the mice who forgot how to mate were “the beautiful ones”’ rats who crowded around water bottles were “social drinkers”; the overall societal breakdown was the “behavioral sink.” In other words, it was exactly the kind of diction you’d expect from someone who spent his entire life perfecting the art of the mouse dystopia.

Most frightening are the parallels he draws between rodent and human society. “I shall largely speak of mice,” he begins, “but my thoughts are on man.”

Both species, he explains, are vulnerable to two types of death—that of the spirit and that of the body. Even though he had removed physical threats, doing so had forced the residents of Universe 25 into a spiritually unhealthy situation, full of crowding, over-stimulation, and contact with various mouse strangers.

To a society experiencing the rapid growth of cities—and reacting, in various ways, quite poorly—this story seemed familiar.

Senators brought it up in meetings. It showed up in science fiction and comic books. Even Tom Wolfe, never lost for description, used Calhounian terms to describe New York City, calling all of Gotham a “behavioral sink.”

Calhoun in 1986, nearly forty years after his first experiments. Photo: Cat Calhoun/CC BY-SA 3.0. — *Calhoun in 1986, nearly forty years after his first experiments. Photo: Cat Calhoun/CC BY-SA 3.0*.

Trying to discover solutions.

Convinced that he had found a real problem, Calhoun quickly began using his mouse models to try and fix it.

If mice and humans weren’t afforded enough physical space, he thought, perhaps they could make up for it with conceptual space—creativity, artistry, and the type of community not built around social hierarchies.

His later Universes were designed to be spiritually as well as physically utopic, with rodent interactions carefully controlled to maximize happiness (he was particularly fascinated by some early rats who had created an innovative form of tunneling, where they rolled dirt into balls).

He extrapolated this, too, to human concerns, becoming an early supporter of environmental design and H.G. Wells’s hypothetical “World Brain,” an international information network that was a clear precursor to the internet.

Failed Salvage Attempt and Concluding Observations

Before the rodent utopia imploded entirely, Calhoun removed some of the beautiful ones to see whether they would live more productive lives if released into a new society, free of social strife and carnage.

Placing these mice in a fresh setting with few pre-existing residents — a scenario similar to that which greeted the initial pairs placed in Universe 25 — he expected the beautiful ones to awake from their asocial haze and answer nature’s call to populate the barren environment.

The colonization of Mars, a possible solution to extinction does not work according to experiments.

However, the relocated mice showed no signs of change from their earlier behavioral patterns. Refusing to mate or even interact among their new peers, the reclusive mice eventually died of natural causes, and the fledgling society folded without a single new birth.

In Calhoun’s view, the rise and fall of Universe 25 proved five basic points about mice, as well as humans:

The mouse is a simple creature, but it must develop the skills for courtship, child-rearing, territorial defense and personal role fulfillment on the domestic and communal front. If such skills fail to develop, the individual will neither reproduce nor find a productive role within society.
As with mice, all species will grow older and gradually die out. There is nothing to suggest human society isn’t prone to the same developments that led to the demise of Universe 25.
If the number of qualified individuals exceeds the number of openings in society, chaos and alienation will be the inevitable outcomes.
Individuals raised under the latter conditions will lack any relation to the real world. Physiological fulfillment will be their only drive in life.
Just as mice thrive on a set of complex behaviors, the concern for others developed in post-industrial human skills and understandings is vital to man’s continuance as a species. The loss of these attributes within a civilization could lead to its collapse.

The public reaction.

But the public held on hard to his earlier work—as Ramsden and Adams put it, “everyone want[ed] to hear the diagnosis, no one want[ed] to hear the cure.”

Gradually, Calhoun lost attention, standing, and funding.

In 1986, he was forced to retire from the National Institute of Mental Health. Nine years later, he died.

His influence

There was one person who paid attention to his more optimistic experiments, a writer named Robert C. O’Brien.

In the late ’60s, O’Brien allegedly visited Calhoun’s lab, met the man trying to build a true and creative rodent paradise, and took note of the Frisbee on the door, the scientists’ own attempt “to help when things got too stressful,” as Calhoun put it.

Soon after, O’Brien wrote Ms. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH—a story about rats who, having escaped from a lab full of blundering humans, attempt to build their own utopia.

Next time, maybe we should put the rats in charge.

My story.

I knew about this study from the 1970’s when I was a boy. My father had a “Year in Review” series of books that accompanied the Encyclopedia Britannia collection that he had acquired in the 1960’s. These volumes would come to our door, and would be jam-packed with information and trivia of the year previous.

I would sit on the Lazy-boy chair and go through these big massive volumes and read the articles there. As such, I too, was influenced by this study.

I even brought it up for discussion in my classroom. But no one cared. They were too interested with “Johnathan Livingston Seagull” and the television cartoon special about a boy and his dog (which brought forth the hit song “Me and my arrow“.) The rest of my classmates were too worried about Climate Cooling and the coming great freeze to worry about the implications of this study.

Years passed.

Then I read an article that rewoke this narrative.

The Article that re-woke and rekindled my interest in this study.

Then I read this article titled “Article – The Doomed Mouse Utopia That Inspired the ‘Rats of NIMH’” which was posted on January 8, 2020.

The author comments…

Give a buncha rodents all the food, bedding, water, and stress-free
living you can give them and they should breed like..well..rats. And have a population boom, right? Maybe not.

Such  rapid growth put too much pressure on the mouse way of life. As new  generations reached adulthood, many couldn’t find mates, or places in  the social order—the mouse equivalent of a spouse and a job. Spinster females retreated to high-up nesting boxes, where they lived alone, far from the family neighborhoods. Washed-up males gathered in the center of the Universe, near the food, where they fretted, languished, and  attacked each other. Meanwhile, overextended mouse moms and dads began moving nests constantly to avoid their unsavory neighbors. They also took their stress out on their babies, kicking them out of the nest too early, or even losing them during moves.

Some fascinating parallels to be had in just that one paragraph. 

To  quote Judge Dredd “You put that many rats in one cage and something’s  gonna happen.” 

The apparent message is that mammals ain’t cut out for  being put into large metropolises. Even when you give them all the welfare food and shelter they want, they’ll still go bad.

But, men are not rodents. 

Yet look at any major city and you’ll see  that the segments of the population that have everything handed to them  seem to be the most troubled and troublesome.

Moral of the story? 

Stay out of enormous cities. 

Having just returned from a week in one of the biggest i can tell you with utter sincerity that nothing reinvigorated my mind and spirit more than being able to have room to stretch both physically and metaphorically. Away from the restricting confines of mandatory recycling, absurd gun laws, high sales  taxes, etc, I felt I could breathe easier again and feel in control of  my life.

Big cities, in my experience, are superior in providing only three  things: money, women, and food. High paying jobs, endless varieties of  women, and a dizzying array of types of food…

...that's about all I can  recommend for the big cities. 

But what do I get out of smaller venues,  such as where I live? Relatively high levels of freedom, or, at least,  qualities that I equate with freedom.

Men or mice…put too many in one place and bad stuff happens. Don’t be there.

Conclusions by “experts”

All conclusions drawn by socialist (& state) scientists constantly connect extinction with overpopulation:

The conclusions drawn from this experiment were that when all available space is taken and all social roles filled, competition and the stresses experienced by the individuals will result in a total breakdown in complex social behaviors, ultimately resulting in the demise of the population.
 
- Wikipedia 2014.05.25

Overpopulation = Extinction

However in the Calhoun’s papers there are clear evidences that this is not so:

All of the available space was not taken, and there was areas devoid of rodents.
WM (Withdrawn Males) had no social roles so they withdrew from society. Thus they could not be counted as part of the overpopulation burden.

John Calhoun conclusions

The demise of a population contradicts prior knowledge which indicates that when a population declines to a few remnant groups, some individuals will reinitiate its growth.

This study disproves the idea that growth can be resumed once society collapses.

Dr. Halsey Marsden (1972) placed some mice from the mid-third of phase D into new universes at very low densities. All exhibited nearly total loss of capacity for developing a structured society or for engaging in the full repertoire of reproductive behaviors.

The idea that individuals can flee an overpopulated environment and start all over again and rebuild from scratch is false. Once society collapses it is over.

For an animal so simple as a mouse, the most complex behaviors involve the interrelated set of courtship, maternal care, territorial defense and hierarchical intragroup and intergroup social organization. When behaviors related to these functions fail to mature, there is no development of social organization and no reproduction. As in the case of my study reported above, all members or the population will age and eventually die. The species will die out. For an animal so complex as man, there is no logical reason why a comparable sequence of events should not also lead to species extinction.

For mice, society can simply stop reproducing and then die out.

For men, society can introduce dangerous technologies (WMD, robots, nuclear weapons, etc) and die out catastrophically.

If opportunities for role fulfillment fall far short of the demand by those capable of filling roles, and having expectations to do so, only violence and disruption of social organization can follow.

As the roles in society disappear, as the lines between gender and society disappear, social disruption WILL follow.

Individuals born under these circumstances will be so out of touch with reality as to be incapable even of alienation. Their most complex behaviors will become fragmented.

Acquisition, creation and utilization of ideas appropriate for life in a post-industrial cultural-conceptual-technological society will have been blocked.

Just as biological generativity in the mouse involves this species’ most complex behaviors, so does ideational generativity for man. Loss of these respective complex behaviors means death of the species.

John Calhoun’s collaborator’s conclusions

The larger the population, the less care a mother gives to her nest and young. This creates social unrest which will eventually result in the collapse of the society.

Non-academic conclusions

The principal factor is the lack of social education in the young.

This is due to the abundance of food and water and lack of predators.

They do not learn important skills.

The mechanism at work is there was no need to perform any actions to acquire resources and/or avoid danger. This creates a “soft” and “weak” rodent. The “strong” and “capable” rodents die out.

So the young have no opportunity to learn from the strong rodents. They learn from the weak rodents.

When confronted with danger, they do not know how to handle it. And many lose their lives.

A utopia is when one has everything, at any moment, for no expenditure.

But, utopia declines responsibility, effectiveness and awareness of social dependence.

This atrophying of these important factors, leads to self-extinction.

Contrarily, difficult conditions instigate better coping mechanisms for  the population, leading to its growth, strengthening and reinforcement.  [See S-nastu hypothesis i supercompensation]

Some wordy introspection…

Perhaps it is the creation of social constructs that cause this demise. The idea that there are “leaders” that mass groups of people follow, and trends, that mass groups of people follow, and “laws” that mass groups of people follow…

… instead of the individual that follows their own moral compass.

So we know that Resources, in every quantified sense – was never a problem.

There must be something we’ve either overlooked, or underlooked. Perhaps how we’ve managed the potentials of ourselves, as factors of “ignorance”. One clue we could “start” looking “from”, would be our prior history, wouldn’t it? Can we perhaps then, take a trip back to memory lane?

Interestingly, no other point of civilization since dawn of human first invention as ideological to then instrumental; have advanced us so quickly in a space of no more than few hundred years. The invention of “money” (instrument of exchange) then the banking system, and Marketing. From Abacus, then to light bulbs and automobiles. The Internet then the Blockchain. From willow tree bark to then Aspirin, and low-dose naltrexones.

An impressive advance for mankind, indeed. However beneath all this pursuit; we continued to DIVERT such a Progress to something else far more destructive. Effectively reversing our meaningful reconciling on the “why’s” behind all this pursuit in the first place.

...

What I genuinely fear; is that we are inching closer towards a global state of “stand-still”. So precarious if this were to continue it’d be likely petrifying.

That “stand-still” point I refer to is similar to the critique aimed against Calhoun’s Behavioural Sink. That is – Oblivious Irrationality. We know that, as hypothesized in part one – it was the excessive, totalitarian attempt for universal in-clusivity that contributes much to the mice’s declines. Leading to losses of individual liberties at reclaiming what is Authentically simply that – “individual”, peaceful, content in its own homeostasis.

Yet – if we were to translate this to our state of our present pedestrian normalcy – it is anything but peaceful nor quaint. Political myopism; aka. 1984 – is likely brewing to ever more increasingly heights of “reality”.

Why is this so? I can only speculate that once again – it is due to (helpless) totalitarian attempt for in-clusivity of all pedestrian “norms”. For structural “correctness”. First stemming as ideological concepts like “Religion” and/or “Faith”. Then structurally enforced as “Laws” and “Institutionalisations”.

Religion then instills us the comforting, human benevolence through warm, cosy and “emotive” doctrine(s) – of Monogamy and (infinite) servitude of Charity.

Yet little do we know, all this is a pursuit away from transcending ourselves. But instead to everyone else’s collectivism towards totalitarian in-clusivity. In other words, Totalitarian objectivity, in place of all Subjective Authenticities.

...

Following from this, we must remove all Human titles of “Politicians”. These hierarchical structure of decision-making must inevitably erode. As the efficacy of technology replaces human cognitive ability at “management” – “Politicians” absolutely have NO place in the rungs of every management of all genetically diverse human needs, and eccentric pursuits.

Considering we now have entire country (or as several “states”) today; overruled by elitism of (1) entity alone. Entities whom we decoratively label as “Rulers”, “Prime Ministers” or “Presidents”. Then orchestrated collectively through correctional “Institution/s”; to decide and thus make every Structural Impositions.

Such paradigm is unthinkably limited and unempathetic to individual, anecdotal crisis. People will always look forth to overthrow kings and queens. Especially given that individual human variabilities grow exponentially incomprehensible when judged or treated as collective whole numbers.

...

Hence, today’s archaic “Correctness Hierarchy” as our present, Institutionalized definition of Science today once again, must be eradicated. And there is one more realm connected to this that must also be strongly scrutinized.

-Nutritional humanity

My Conclusions

Catastrophic extinction (phase four events) is expected given conditions that suppresses natural behaviors.

Over-population is a symptom of the suppression of natural behaviors.

Before the extinction event occurs, there will be all sorts of odd actions, behaviors and dangers in crowded locations.

I would, for certain, avoid cities at all costs.

Human population is following the life-extinction graph. We cannot, and should not ignore it. Avoid cities, large groups of people, and charismatic leaders that control great swaths of the population.

MAJestic observation

Imagine that you are another species, from another environment. You are observing the humans as they exist in contemporaneous society. What would you think?

How could you benefit from this situation?
What advice would you give to a treasured individual from this society?

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Any conflict can be resolved if you throw enough snacks at it.

The Domain Commander can be a real hoot sometimes.

A follower asked me a personal question and so I comm’d with the Domain Commander. And as usual it made no sense to me.

I guess that the reception signal quality is emotionally influenced, as it was in a cheerful mood (I think – it’s really a difficult one to gauge) and he gave me a really confusing answer. But the follower understood it. Well, I didn’t don’t you know. Hard to listen in on phone conversations when they speak a different language. *sheech*

Here’s a snippet what the DC said.

Quick note. Weird is GOOD. It means that you are one foot in the "hologram of reality" and one foot in the "actual". So yeah, it'll be a weird world.

Comm with the DC, for you;

Your pre-birth world-line template (The DC does not like this term, but it resonates with us humans... but I get a scoffaw every time I use it) was (like many others) layered. Like onion peals and movement on the Z-axis moves one life cycle to another one like a slide is already easy for you (and your ilk) because you have built in slides.

A number of the templates (again a scoff) [actually, i will need to revise the model to something more acceptable to the DC, well, do that later . its on my agenda.] have a pre-programmed earlier than expected exit. from this reality. You already missed the exit "doors" slides (if you want to call them that) on the highest probabilities due to some of your affirmations. I should say "good work", but you have some interesting times up a head of you. Not bad. just extreme (Domain Commander words, not mine)

DC emphasis is on "not bad", but extreme in the realm of weird life experience. I would translate that as "roller coaster", but DC says not so. Instead more "crunchy" and more "abrasive", with better "fun stuff".

Like I said, comm with the Domain Commander can be a trip some time. I hope this makes sense to you. It is garbage to me. I don't know what the fuck its talking about. (DC *smirk*, chuckles, head nod, and fade out.)

Ah I don’t think that the follower will get too upset of the public display of this section of his comm.

Comms always take a lot out of me., but I think that you all can understand a little bit about the nature of the Domain from this interaction.

Have a good one. Today…

Today’s post on YouTube by MM

It’s a “short”; under 1 minute.

OP-ED: Iran Conflict Showed the Collapse of American “Protection”

Hal Turner World March 12, 2026

The Iran Conflict has exposed the collapse of American “protection.”

In less than one hour after being hit by the US and Israel, Iran responded with surgical precision, striking 17 American installations across the Middle East.

Successive waves of missiles and drones forced US troops to abandon their bases and scramble for shelter in luxury hotels, which, ironically, quickly became targets themselves.

It has now been 12 straight days of continuous bombardment, with multiple waves every single day and no sign of fatigue.

The strikes are not limited to the bases: they are hammering roads, airports, ports, hotels, and power plants.

Evacuation orders exist on paper, but they are being carried out at a snail’s pace, because security is nonexistent and far too many troops are still trapped under fire.

Almost no one remains at the American bases anymore. Even the refueling aircraft that operated out of Saudi Arabia have been pulled out and relocated to Germany.

The message to the Gulf countries is crystal clear: the US cannot even protect its own bases. You’re on your own.

The sense of invincibility that lasted for decades has been shattered.

Critical radars destroyed, interceptors running on fumes, bases bombed, Iranian missiles still launching, the Strait of Hormuz still closed, and Gulf allies left completely exposed.

All of this is being watched in real time by Asian countries that, until yesterday, were betting everything on American power to contain China.

The red light is flashing bright.

If the US couldn’t defend the Gulf against Iran… what real chance do they have of protecting anyone against Beijing?

Up until February 28, American protection felt absolute. Today it feels like something else entirely.

The collapse of that decades-long myth of absolute security is the deepest and most lasting indirect effect of this war.

BY:

Patricia Marins

Did Ancient Chinese warriors primarily use weapons other than swords? If so, what was the reason for this preference?

Li Shimin, the founder of the Tang Empire, was not only a genius military strategist but also an outstanding warrior who personally charged into battle.

Historical records note that in one cavalry campaign, five of his warhorses were killed under him, and each time he immediately mounted another horse and fought on.

Mao Zedong greatly admired Li Shimin’s military genius, once remarking, “Since ancient times, none who understood the art of war have surpassed Li Shimin.”

At that time, the standard weapon of ordinary Tang soldiers was the long-handled great saber.

Cavalry, on the other hand, wielded massive lances.

Yet Li Shimin himself declared that the most fearsome weapon was the hammer.

His view may well have been shared by many military experts of the era.

In a historical romance novel set in the Tang dynasty, many of the top warriors were portrayed as wielding hammers.

(This picture, along with countless similar comic-book illustrations, misled me in childhood—I could not fathom how ancient warriors fought with iron hammers weighing hundreds of kilograms.)

(This, in fact, is what a real iron hammer looked like.)

But to be honest, I don’t quite understand why Li Shimin considered the hammer more terrifying than the modao (long-handled saber) or the cavalry lance.

I once bought a Ming dynasty sword, as well as a heavily rusted Song dynasty iron hammer (such so-called “relics” are quite common in China, hence not expensive).

From my impression, the hammer was overly heavy and too short, and in real combat would have been completely countered by a cavalry lance or a long-handled saber.

Still, I respect Li Shimin’s opinion.

What are the best foods to try during a Kolkata trip?

I haven’t been to Kolkata for almost 7–8 years so pls excuse me if many outlets have been closed

Breakfast :-

Loochi, Alu Bhaja / Alur Dom – Try a Small Eatery or even a Roadside Eatery who will serve you 4–5 Small white pooris with a Katori of Potato Sabji either with gravy or a very miniature version of French fries
Kochuri – Kachori known as Kochuri is a pretty famous breakfast dish with a Potato Gravy or a Dal Gravy.
South Indian – Many South Indian Joints with Idli, Dosa, Pongal, Vada are available. Try Ghee Roast Dosa at Jyoti Vihar in Ho Chi Minh Sarani
Ruti-Dim – Egg and Bread. Thick Bread with Butter and Egg Omelette. Roadside Eateries but extremely tasty.

Note:- I traveled with my wife so ate only in South Indian Restaurants myself. The Roadside taste being great is based on when I lived in Kolkata back from 1993–1996 and regularly had Roadside food.

Lunch

India Coffee House – Bread Butter, Mutton Or Chicken Cutlet, Rose Milk (Avoid the Coffee😆, it is terrible)
6 Ballygunge Place – Bengali Meal (Bhaat (Rice), Luchi, Aloo Dom, Shukto, Dal, Begooni/Potol/Aloo Bhaja, Fish Fry, Murgir Jhol (Chicken curry), Mishti, Mishti Doi (Sweet Curd) – * Bit Expensive
Peter Cat – Western / Mediterranean – Lasagna, Au Gratin, Garlic Bread, Kebabs (They have a speciality Kebab they recommend but I didn’t like it much) (Park St I think)
Chinese Food at Gol Park – Gol Park has fantastic food with Chilly Chicken and Chicken Momos and Fried Rice
Fish Roll – Forgot the name of the place. Potato and Cheese stuffed fried fish roll. Very popular place in Goariahat
Chinese Place next to a Womens College in Goriahat. Extremely tasty and Northern Chinese Cuisine. I forgot the name.
Paratha – Stuffed Parathas with Paneer, Kheema, Moghalai Paratha also near Goriahat
Maach Bhaat Outlets – Numerous Small Eateries or even Roadside eateries that serve Bhaat (Rice), Macher Jhol (Fish Gravy with a piece of Fish or two pieces), Aloo Bhaja (Jhure Jhure), Potato Masala and Cholar Dal and Pickles. I ate in one place and it was excellent. No Ilish Fish though (Salmon)

Snacks :-

Poochka – Pani Pooris available in many places
Momo
Egg Rolls
Mouchak – Shingada, Radhawallabhi (Samosas and a Kind of Poori + Kachori combination)
KC Das – Kachori, Roshogulla

You have popular places like Barbeque Nation, Oh Calcutta, Peter Cat, Mocambo etc which are iconic institutions

However I PERSONALLY FEEL THEY ARE OVER RATED and food isnt as tasty

Kolkata is a huge place though and I am mainly covering the South (Jodhpur Park, Ballygunge, Goria, Goriahat, Gol Park) and Park Street area

Salt Lake is by itself a huge place with its own environment

Dumdum is another massive place

Topsia is a fast growing place as well

What’s a truth that people generally refuse to accept?

Let us start with a particularly brutal one, but I feel it deserves to be said…

Some people may be better off never being born.

It isn’t particularly noble to keep a child or adult alive that has no ability to speak, communicate, walk, work, create art or enjoy life. A person who cannot use a toilet, who cannot get dressed or wash without help and who is essentially an eternal infant, locked into his or her own body and forever trapped in a state of helpless and hopeless dependency.

There are some severely handicapped people born that really would be better off not existing in many cases. They hurt not only their long-suffering parents but their mere existence and the constant care they require often take a massive mental toll on their healthy siblings. I once read an interview with the siblings of a severely handicapped adult man who had frequent violent outbursts and who operated on the mental level of a gigantic hairy 2-year-old… both his brother and sister declared they were so scared of ever having a child like their brother that neither ever wanted to get married or have children of their own. Trauma will do that to a person.

When a doctor tells you the child in your womb is going to be born severely disabled with a greatly diminished quality of life and lifespan, please consider whether or not to bring this child into the world. Not just for your own sake and that of the child, but also for the sake of any healthy children you might already have — they will suffer. And not only the parents but even the siblings of such a child have to become caregivers for life. A cruel fate I would not wish on anyone.

MAGA Americans Are Giving Up From Insane Power Bill After Trump’s Tariffs

Sir Whiskerton and The Clucken’s Last Stand: A Tale of Poultry Pirates, Sock-Based Sovereignty, and the Great Corn Ceasefire

Ah, dear reader, batten down the hatches for a tale so gloriously absurd that even the scarecrow would demand a parrot on his shoulder! Today’s adventure begins with a missing sock, a chicken convinced he’s Blackbeard’s feathery reincarnation, and a war that ended faster than you can say “discount mutiny.” So hoist the Jolly Hen and join me for Sir Whiskerton and The Clucken’s Last Stand.

Act I: The Sock Heard ‘Round the Coop

Captain Cluckbeard (self-proclaimed “Terror of the Trough”) stood atop the feed bin, his one good eye gleaming with outrage.

“ARRRR!” he squawked, waving a corn cob cutlass. “That bilge-swillin’ farmer’s stolen me treasure AGAIN!”

His crew – Squawk the First Mate (who mostly napped) and Pluck the Powder Monkey (who mostly ate the gunpowder) – gasped on cue.

“What treasure, Cap’n?” asked Pluck, spitting out a feather.
“ME FAVORITE STRIPED SOCK, YE BLUBBERIN’ BUFFOON!”

(Note: The sock in question was currently being used as the farmer’s oven mitt.)

Act II: War is Clucked

What followed was the shortest naval engagement in farm history:

The Blockade: Cluckbeard’s crew “seized” the garden hose (declaring it the SS Cucumber).
The Battle Cry: “YER WALK THE PLANK… AFTER NAPTIME!”
The Farmer’s Response: Utter confusion, then a handful of thrown corn.

Squawk immediately folded like a lawn chair:

“WE ACCEPT YOUR TERMS!” he clucked, diving beak-first into the kernels.

Pluck, with corn stuck to his face: “Is this… tribute?”

Act III: The Treaty of the Sock Drawer

Sir Whiskerton, acting as Feline Ambassador, negotiated peace:

Cluckbeard got his sock back (now slightly burnt and smelling of cornbread).
The Farmer was declared “Honorary Landlubber” (a title he accepted while wearing mismatched socks).
Squawk got a lifetime supply of corn (or until dinner, whichever came first).

As the sun set, the pirates retired to their “ship” (a tipped-over wheelbarrow), singing sea shanties off-key. The sock flew proudly from the mast (a broomstick).

The Moral of the Story

Moral: Even the fiercest warriors can be bought with snacks and laundry.

Post-Credit Scene

The next morning, Cluckbeard declares war on the washing machine (“IT BE EATIN’ ME TROUSERS!”). The farmer responds with raisins. Another swift surrender.

Best Lines:

“I’ll keelhaul ye with ME BARE WATTLES!” – Cluckbeard’s worst threat
“Piracy’s hungry work.” – Squawk, with a mouth full of contraband corn
“This is why I don’t do laundry.” – Sir Whiskerton, watching the farmer wave a sock flag

Starring:

Captain Cluckbeard (Feathered Fury)
Squawk & Pluck (The World’s Worst Pirate Crew)
The Farmer (Unwilling Participant in Poultry Theater)
Sir Whiskerton (Diplomat of Last Resort)

Key Jokes:

Cluckbeard’s “treasure map” is just a muddy pawprint on napkin.
The “broadside” involves hurling melon rinds (one accidentally hits Pluck).
The farmer’s “naval defenses” consist of spraying the hose in random directions.

P.S.

Remember: Any conflict can be resolved if you throw enough snacks at it.

The End.

Yours barnacledly,
The Sir Whiskerton Team 🏴‍☠️

How much more advanced is the US Navy than the Chinese Navy? I know the Chinese have more ships, but I’ve heard that they are terrified of the US nuclear submarines. How does a US destroyer compare to a Chinese destroyer?

Question: How much more advanced is the US Navy than the Chinese Navy? I know the Chinese have more ships, but I’ve heard that they are terrified of the US nuclear submarines. How does a US destroyer compare to a Chinese destroyer?

Answer:

Most of the well learned individuals will roll their eyes at the nuclear submarine and nuclear weapon comment.

Basically, the key difference between China and US/USSR/Russia is that China’s official policy is to NOT state anything about their nuclear submarine and only tiny bits about their nuclear stockpile and delivery capacity.

Wheres in comparison, US/USSR/Russia regularly states their nuclear capacity and is quite willing to overstate things.

For example, last year on September 25th, 2024, China made a public test of DF-31AG. It is the longest actual ICBM test in human history and the Chinese missile flew the entire 12000km and hit the target zone (which China informed US and France three days in advance) with less than 100m of dispersion and Mach 30 terminal speed———exactly as China stated. The most important thing from this test is that DF-31AG’s test matched its stated spec word by word.

This is probably the hardest part for the English audience to swallow. Because they just cannot accept there are honest people in the world that don’t overstate their capacity or spec.

In fact, right after the DF-31AG test, US made multiple attempts of Minuteman III tests and despite a stated spec of 14,000km range, none of the test is past 7000km in reality.

And we have a repeat of this event this year, on May 7th, 2025, during the Pakistan-India air battle, despite Pakistan’s imported Chinese PL-15E has stated spec of 145km, multiple kills were made at 160km~180km range. And this is air-air missile hitting rapid moving targets.

Basically, anything the Chinese actually tells the public is guaranteed minimal specs.

Yes, I deliberately worded it this way because this is something that hurt the English audience the most. Because to them, arguments about “Chinese is pretending and overstating their ability” is the only thing they have left to cope with the reality.

Well, the Chinese is indeed (technically) hiding and lying, but they are doing it to reduce the state spec of their equipment and performance, instead of exaggerating them.

And this isn’t an even a PRC thing. The ancient Chinese does this as well. I have explained this before, this practice is common for ancient Chinese engineers and artisans, because they have a life time responsibility system, so it is better to under-state the spec to ensure their product pass imperial emissary’s random sampling tests. Failing such a test can potential result in execution and as well the result, minimal guarantee is preferred.

So coming back to the navy.

The Chinese government has never made any statement about how many submarines, nuclear or conventional, they have.

But the popular figure of 12 floating around the English web is obviously BS. Duh, the first Chinese nuclear submarine are detected around 1970s and for almost 40 years, submarines are the main Chinese sea deterrent against US navy.

And you thought they only made 12 of those in the past 50 years?

Similarly, the argument about how China only has 300 nuclear warheads were from a single paper done by a NGO called Federation of American Scientists back in late 2000s. And the original statement is that judging by the electricity generation figure, back in 1970, China probably had about 300 warheads.

The estimation is probably fairly accurate, since China detonated its first nuclear warhead in 1964, so only making about 300 of them by 1970 is totally reasonable.

On the other hand, if you think that’s still the figure in 2025, then that’s just plain gullibility.

The reality reason English audience only get told that China has 12 nuclear submarine is that if the public is informed that China probably has a bigger submarine fleet than US, then it makes the entire “stirring up trouble around Taiwan or South China Sea” policy of US stupid as hell.

Hey, been enjoying your posts. Would you consider writing something on the Sword of Goujian? Like who made it, how it was discovered, if it actually has something to do with Vietnamese? Thanks!

There is no mention in historical records of who forged Goujian’s Sword, as only the owner’s name was documented at that time, not the blacksmith’s.

During the Yue State period (when Goujian reigned), its territory roughly corresponds to present-day Zhejiang Province and southern Jiangsu Province. This sword was unearthed in what is now Shaoxing City, Zhejiang Province—a location that served as the capital of the Yue State back then.

As for the claim that this sword has connections to Vietnam, it is purely nonsense. Some extreme Vietnamese nationalists today assert that all the “Baiyue” (Hundred Yue) regions belong to Vietnam’s historical territory. In fact, “Baiyue” literally means “hundreds of tribes called Yue,” while present-day Vietnam corresponds to the areas inhabited by the more southern branches of these Yue tribes, not the core regions of the Yue State associated with Goujian.

The names in red represent different “yue”“越”. In the western part of the map, in what is now Yunnan and Sichuan, China, there are many more “yue” “越”, but they are too small to be labeled.

You can see that Vietnam is in the extreme south.

Finger-Lickin’Fricassee

Ingredients

1 (3 pound) chicken
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup shortening
1 onion, sliced
1 green bell pepper, chopped
2 cloves garlic
4 tablespoons ketchup
1 1/2 cups water
1 teaspoon Gebhardt Chili Powder
2 teaspoons salt
4 tablespoons raisins (optional)
8 ripe olives, chopped (optional)

Instructions

Cut chicken into serving pieces. Dip into flour, then brown in hot shortening.
Remove to a large pan.
Fry onion, green pepper and garlic until brown in remaining hot shortening.
Add ketchup, water and Gebhardt Chili Powder; boil for 5 minutes. Pour over chicken.
Salt, adding water as needed; cover, allow to simmer until chicken is tender; about 1 1/2 hours.
Add raisins and ripe olives 15 minutes before serving.

Husband Who Was Robbed In Divorce Wins Appeal On Heiress Wife’s £66 Million Fortune!

Wow. You would never believe this.

Cathyheimer

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Scott Christenson

Cathy nudged up her Vint & York Adeline glasses as she studied the data on her screen. It was unmistakable. A signal.

Until that moment, Cathy had believed the future of the planet to was hopeless. Global warming, inequality, pollution, the mistreatment of animals–so many issues. And there was no way out. People were too driven by their own selfish desires.

But what if we received help from another race of intelligent beings? One that travelled the stars would know how to transform this planet into a truly sustainable ecosystem.

Following first contact protocol–each person at SETI kept it in a laminated binder on their desk–she alerted the US Air Force. A dozen F-16s were scrambled to protect the nation’s airspace.

The the other 98% of the earth’s surface area would have to fend for itself.

On The Hand of God, currently circling this system’s fourth planet, Booba leaned back in his chair and put all eight feet on the starship’s control panel. After the hard work of choosing which BlodChat reply to send to this planet—the AI had produced 27 different translations–he did the Bloderian equivalent of flipping a coin, and chose one randomly. Exhausted, he was ready to start another gaming session.

On the game menu, he selected a flamethrower and began poking his tentacles around corners, searching for two-legged pests to exterminate. Oh how he enjoyed first-bloderian-shooters. Perhaps it was the visceral thrill of blasting away at bipeds. He would try to get over his distate on the current assignment. Visualization was key. He would imagine them as normal creatures with shiny exoskeletons and multiple legs and tentacles.

Cathy, despite her gloomy views on the future of the planet, maintained a flowery disposition with people, one nurtured growing up in the beautiful pine covered foothills of Boulder Colorado. Far away from the ravages of the mining industry in the west and the blight of industrialization in the east.

She looked at the decoded alien message. The words were in English but they didn’t make any sense.

“There must be a coded message in this. The Taliban hid their messages into the pixels of jpeg photos,” she said to the large and growing team in SETI’s office.

Behind he loomed General Sputz. The military was now trying to muscle in on the action at SETI and capture the glory of first contact. “We need answers.” He looked around at everyone else. “No one slacks off until we get to the bottom of this.”

General Sputz grew up in Akron under the merciless eye of an abusive father. He lacked Cathy’s positive outlook. But he knew better than to blame his parents, so he blamed the toxic pollution in Ohio’s drinking water.

They both studied the message again:

Smoked like bacon

Feel our sound

All for taking

Lift your hands

Booba is your man

This friday night

Make my day

Cathy wondered why an alien race would communicate in meaningless nonsense.

Another man cleared his throat. Professor Hall, the linguist from Berkeley, spoke up. “78% of the radio transmissions from Earth that leave the solar system are music. This message looks like pop music, doesn’t it?”

Cathy groaned. “So…decades of SETI broadcasts sending earth’s knowledge to alien planets, was drowned out by Top 40 radio.”

“From the lyrics, I’d say the pop music of the 90s. Space travel has a time shift. If the aliens didn’t know anything else, they would think pop music was our main form of communication.”

“Sad,“ Cathy said. She was trying to stay composed while watching someone else uncover the mysteries of first contact. “What do you think it means?”

“His name is Booba, and he’s looking for a date Friday night.”

General Sputz was now staring at Cathy oddly. “Date night. You’re the best looking woman here. Are you willing to serve your country?”

“What do you mean by that?!” Cathy said incredulously.

“Save the world. Think about it?”

“I am a scientist,” she said, looking at this General in his polyester uniform with even greater disdain than before.

The next day, they sent the message they laboriously wrote together:

‘Thank you for paying homage to our 1990s pop music. We would like to invite you to meet our leader at the White House on Friday.’

The reply was quick. The voice of an alien was heard by earth for the first time.

“I’m meeting Madonna? And why did it take you so long to reply?” spoke the deep, resonant voice.

“Sorry, it took us time to understand the message. And we have a new leader now.”

“A new leader, let’s celebrate. You should throw a party for Booba on Friday.”

The ground began shaking, an earthquake. SETI’s office was close to the San Andreas, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“Did you do something?” she asked Booba the alien.

He chuckled.

Cathy glanced at General Sputz. His face was ashen. He leaned over and whispered, “Tell him yes. We’ll throw him a party on Friday.”

On The Hand of God, Booba tinkered with the control panel while thinking about what he should wear to the party. The earthquake he triggered in Northern California had gotten their attention. He wanted make an even grander entrance on Friday.

Booba had studied their history and wanted to give Hiroshima a break this time around. They were treated so unfairly in the past.

“How about we nuke Antarctica as our opening act?” he said to his assistant Zagbed. “The tidal wave would be 100 meters tall.”

His assistant found it challenging to disagree with his boss, but he mumbled, “The way they party might be different than yours, boss.” Zagbed cowered, prepared to dart from any weapon discharge in his direction.

“Just because you don’t know how to loosen up, doesn’t mean they don’t,” Booba roared. He believed he and Zagbed had the sort of friendly employee-manager relationship in which one could be utterly frank without any hard feelings.

Zagbed inched for the door.

After the alien caused an earthquake in California, General Sputz knew things on earth would never be the same again. It was an alien feeling to no longer be in charge of the world’s most powerful military.

He wondered what type of party Booba might be expecting. This was out of his wheelhouse. He would need to rope in the Pentagon’s cultural diversity team.

Cathy, at first repulsed by the General’s suggestion that she should be Earth’s alien dating escort, now toyed with the idea. She remembered her childhood aspiration to improve the planet. And, what would it be like to be the first wife of an alien race? This could be a historic act affecting future generations. A sea change in the perceptions of extraterrestrial marriage.

She made up her mind. But first, she needed to know what Booba looked like.

Booba received a request for a photo on a private radio frequency. But sending selfies was not the Bloderian way. Most non-Bloderians had only a millisecond to look a Bloderian in the eyes before they were exterminated.

But due to the labor shortage, the bureaucrats back home insisted Booba not get trigger happy, and he didn’t want to spend another 100 years doing community service. So as a compromise, he asked the ship’s AI–trained on signals received in the 1990s– to make a recommendation. A deep fake photo based on David Hasselhoff, with “From, Booba” handwritten in red lipstick on it.

The next day, the first thing the General noticed was Cathy dressed much nicer than usual. She smiled at the General as if she knew something that he didn’t.

“I’ll speak to the alien first. Quiet everyone!” Cathy said. When there was silence in the command center, she switched on her microphone. “Good morning, Booba. We are all looking forward to meeting you Friday. We would be eternally grateful for any help you could give us with the pressing needs of our planet, such as CO2 emissions—”

The deep, powerful voice of the alien cleared his throat.

“Excuse me. We can cover the nitty-gritty…“ Booba said, “After we get to know each other better. First, we need to agree on your nation’s unconditional surrender, so there will be nothing to ruin the mood on Friday.”

Cathay blinked furiously a few times. “Unconditional surrender?” she said. “I’m going to have to pass you to the General.”

The phrase ‘the buck stops here’ went through the General’s mind, and then panic set in. If he surrendered, his name could be attached to the most shameful event in United States history. Last century’s word for a traitor was Benedict Arnold. Would ‘General Spitz’ be next century’s eponym for being a shameful disgrace?

Sputz picked up the microphone. “We are prepared to…cooperate.”

“Cooperate, means surrender?”

“We will do what you want from us.”

“Unconditionally?”

General Sputz thought of something intelligent to say at this historical moment. Such as Douglas Armstrong’s famous quote from the moon. He thought some more, and then simply said, “We’ll try our best.”

Booba wondered why this man kept talking in circles. He was fairly certain he used the right words. Perhaps some things just don’t translate. It didn’t matter. The big decisions had already been made.

“Let’s move on. Surrender, Cooperate. It’s all the same to us.”

Bloderians had their own protocol to follow when conquering alien planets. He pulled up his 13-pages of notes and began going through the bullet points.

Cathy listened to Booba rattle off details about which documents needed to be signed by whom. The right order to shake all eight hands of the conquering General. How they would go about transferring the national savings to the Central Bank of Bloderia. Booba was speaking so fast, it was obvious, he was just trying to get this over with.

There was a pause, and then Booba said, “And, to make it all easier, you’ll soon be getting help from Bangladesh. We have been training their civil service in implementing our Bloderian regulations.”

“Implementing?”

“You know, collecting taxes, calculating the correct minutes of the day to show homage to the Bloderian Gods, enforcing the 29-day work week, special benefits for the 8-legged population, stuff like that…”

“A 29-day work week? Bangladesh is ok with this?”

“The first class of trainees finished our 3-year civil servant training program. They didn’t complain.”

How were people in Bangladesh being trained by an alien civilization without anyone knowing about it? Cathay wondered if the CIA had put so much effort into spying on Russia and China, they missed a spaceport in Bangladesh.

“Can we receive training too?” Cathy asked. She wondered if her plan for intergalactic marriage needed acquiring some new skills.

“Sorry. The training manuals have only been translated into Bengali. Their grammar for postpositions is similar to ours.” Booba said. “Moving on. The last item I’m obliged to inform you of today is…we will be extracting the iron from your earth’s core, so your planet may experience some shrinkage.”

“Shrinkage?”

“Yes. The earthquakes get a little rough. On the positive side, lower gravity is great for parties. Do you acknowledge our terms and conditions.”

Instinctively, Cathy said “yes”, before she had time to realize what she was signing up for.

Many have reported experiencing a sudden moment of clarity in their life. An instant when suddenly their entire perception changes. Cathy experienced that while watching the flickering neon dot of the alien spaceship orbiting Mars on her screen. Cathy switched allegiance. She now believed humanity was Earth’s only hope.

Epilogue:

Booba cancelled his RSVP to the party at the last minute, citing important political developments. In fact, he just wanted to finish the last level of the Battle of Lookai, the game he was currently playing.

The civil servants from Bangladesh arrived the next week. When there was push back on the 29-day workweek, Booba put in the time to launch anti-matter torpedoes at a dozen major military installations. After that, everyone fell into line. In coming years, the Bangladeshis would often remind others about their special communication line to the Bloderians upstairs. There was a theory they might be making it up and simply deciding things on their own, but no one wanted to test it. The people of earth learned to follow all the new Bloderian regulations according to the manuals coming out of Bangladesh.

After the entire planet’s surrender, the US military continued to spend trillions of dollars defending the nation against threats that didn’t exist except on Flox News. General Spitz proudly wore the same polyester uniform that he always had before. He and the military successfully denied that they had anything to do with the nation’s surrender.

Cathy’s life would set off on a different trajectory. She would relocate to the new planet’s capital of Dhaka, learn Bengali, and then over time, working within the system, build a resistance movement that would build the world’s first nuclear space laser. This weapon would one day free the planet from the ravages of the Bloderian mining industry and put it back into the hands of Australians.

Luckily for the Bangladeshis, by Independence Day 2065, the world’s population had become so used to following Bloderian regulations that, even after the roll back to a 5-day work week, they kept their iron grip on middle management positions for the centuries to follow.

Why does farming not work well in a free market?

Say you grow tomatoes here in Ontario.

People like tomatoes. They’re in all the stores. There are industrial canneries. People buy them all the time.

But you don’t have tomatoes all the time. Even if you try to spread out your planting, pretty much every single tomato in Ontario has to be harvested in a 4–6 week window in the summer.

As such, you’re trying to sell your tomatoes at the exact same time everyone else is selling their tomatoes. Even worse, tomatoes have a fairly short shelf life – they have to be eaten or processed within a couple of weeks of becoming ripe.

We have a giant tomato processing plant here in Ontario. It’s running full speed for six weeks a year, and is completely shut down for the other 48 weeks.

And most crops are like this. There are a few, like grain, that will last for months or even years, but you still need a place to store them, and warehousing costs money too.

Potatoes aren’t bad – you can store them for months in ideal conditions. But I mean “ideal”.

Here in Canada, like most other places, we raise cows for milk. Cows have to be milked twice a day every day, the milk must be processed immediately to keep it from spoiling and, luckily, you can do this all year. If there’s too much milk, well, you can turn it into cheese, which keeps longer (but still has to be refrigerated).

Historically, and this goes back to the beginning of agriculture, there was a “middleman” who bought all the crops and got them to market. Farmers needed to sell their crops right away or face ruin. The middlemen made all the profit.

And, of course, there’s no guarantee you will have crops at all. Drought. Disease. Hail. One day you’re planning a vacation to Bermuda and the next you’re killing all your cows because one showed up with hoof and mouth disease. Heartbreaking.

Right now, we’re seeing in the United States that the fact all your crop must be harvested within a one month period of time before it literally rots in front of your eyes becomes a problem if there is a labor shortage. It’s really not about what you pay the workers – it’s getting the workers to the site and getting them off once they do their job. And everyone needs workers during the one month the crop is ready.

Back in olden days, people worked like dogs during planting and harvest, but pretty much slacked off the rest of the year. Still, those few weeks of ultra-hard work were enough to keep them alive another year. That no longer exists. Farm workers are migrants. They go where the work is, then leave when it’s done. That’s how capitalism works. You’re the one with the land (capital) and everyone answers to you, unless like poor Charles Boycott they won’t work for you.

They Believed Western Propaganda… Then Came to China. 🇨🇳

A online China observer said it is a good thing China is not currently a democracy, if Chinese government is democratically elected the world would be in WW3 right now because CCP has put muzzle on the nationalist majority. Do you agree with it?

Kind of…

Here’s the former Japanese ambassador to China speaking out on television, advicing Japanese people to be patient, that China is too strong right now, that the Japanese should wait for when China is weak again, to strike and finish off China once and for all. So ironic that he even uses a Chinese idiom for it.

Can you imagine if a German ambassador says this about finishing off Russia or the Jews? Wouldn’t there be protest from the Russian and Israeli governments?

Yet nothing from the CCP.

And of all people, the Japanese ambassador to China? Can you imagine of the years he was in China, when he was studying our culture, when he was hosted as the most honored Japanese guest at so many Chinese events, under all his smiles and good manners, all the while he was thinking how to kill us all?

The Communists are a bunch of rainbow and unicorn level idealists. They really do believe in the goodness and unity of humanity, and would not rally the public against such threats.

We Chinese commoners are less optimistic. We see these Japanese interviews and refuse to buy into the CCP propaganda shit that the Japanese are our brothers. We would be more concerned about the demons in human skin right next door, who had already killed 35 million of our grandparents. We’d say if Japan wants to finish us off in the future, then let’s not give them that chance.

“My Brother Ended Himself Because Of Women Like Me”

Pictures

What’s an interesting example of a wrongful conviction?

Richard A. Jones’s case blew me away.

He was a 25-year-old father of two who was picked out of a lineup of robbers 20+ years ago.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the actual robber. The crazy part is that he actually met the real criminal in the prison he was staying in. One can see how someone misidentified them:

Richard Jones is on the left. Richard Amos on the right.

After all was said and done, they realized Richard Amos was the real criminal. But, sadly, Richard Jones had already spent 19 years behind bars, with several of those years knowing that Amos was the actual criminal—but unable to speed the process along to gain his freedom.

He finally won his freedom. He also took it a step further and won $1.1 million in damages from the state.

It still doesn’t feel like enough though.

CHINA UNMASKED: Textbook Myths vs TikTok Reality! 🇨🇳 (Authoritarian Capitalism Debate)

War On Iran: (Just a few links)

Quote of the day:

Alireza Tangsiri, Commander of the IRGC Navy:

We guarantee the security of any oil tanker, under any flag, that can convince an American destroyer to escort it through the Strait of Hormuz.

A few links:

Soaring fuel prices to cast long shadow across US economy (archived) – Financial Times
Escalating Hormuz Crisis Raises Specter of Prolonged Closure (archived) – WSJ
Thinking About the Unthinkable –
Iran’s Grand Plan to End U.S. Presence in the Middle East – Michael Hudson / UNZ

Mearsheimer with Glenn Diesen includes some interesting words on Europe (transcribed here):

U.S. Already Lost Iran War – No Off-Ramp in Sight (vid)

The new Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic has made his first public statement. He did not announce any new policies.

His English language Twitter/X account is: https://x.com/MKhamenei_ir/ – Ayatollah Mojtaba Khamenei
His Farsi account is: https://x.com/Rahbarenghelab_ – رسانه رهبر انقلاب اسلامی

Posted by b at 17:25 utc | Comments (145)

EXIT INTERVIEW

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Soleil Tron

Candee Wallace adjusted the lapel microphone clipped to the neckline of her pink silk dress, smoothed its knee-length hem, tapped a fingertip against her left and right false eyelashes to make sure they were securely in place and waited for the most monumental interview of her life to begin.The cameraman zoomed in closer; three seconds now. Candee took a deep breath, tilted her head slightly, and beamed her most dazzling smile to the entire world.“As you all know, this is an unprecedented television broadcast. Today, before your eyes, I will conduct an interview that will be broadcast for the first time worldwide, live, in real-time.This unique technology has been granted to us for this interview by today’s guest, an alien being from another planet.” Candee’s usually cheerful large blue eyes were dead serious now as she gave an equally stern nod.“That’s right, folks,” she continued. “We here at Best News Now Network were chosen to conduct this interview by our alien visitors from a worldwide pool of news networks offered to them. So here we are on this historical day to finally welcome to Earth an alien visitor who has agreed to answer any questions I might have. As I said before, this interview is being broadcast live; this is not CGI but real.” Candee let her statement sink in momentarily before rising from her beige boucle set chair.“For this interview, we will be using a universal translator also provided by our guest so that everyone worldwide can understand our guest in their local language.” Candee gazed directly into the camera for dramatic effect.“Without further ado, people of the world, It is my profound pleasure to introduce our guest.” Candee gave a slight bow and held out her right hand in welcome.From behind the stage curtain, a very tall, slender being stepped forward and strode across the set stage to take Candee’s outstretched, perfectly manicured hand.It resembled a human in almost every way except for its height and the gray-green color of its smooth, featureless torso. It appeared to wear no clothing, or at least no type of clothing that anyone on Earth had ever seen.Its head was slightly larger than usual, and its eyes as well, but not the oversized slanted black eyes of the stereotypical extraterrestrial of popular culture. This being’s oversized eyes had a pupil and an iris but were a light opalescent green color that reflected flashes of lavender underneath the studio lights. It appeared to have a normal-looking nose and mouth with evenly spaced, slightly blue-tinted teeth.It held Candee’s hand in its large, long-fingered hand and politely bowed to the cameras. Candee motioned to a beige boucle chair that matched her own but was slightly oversized to accommodate the being’s long legs and arms.“On behalf of our planet, welcome to Earth,” Candee said, taking a seat and smiling at her guest. She smoothed her already sleek blonde bob and glanced at the small stack of notecards she now held. “Before we begin, what would you like us to call you? What is your name?”The alien turned to face the camera lens. “You can call me Dean,”It spoke in a pleasantly deep voice with a casual-sounding American midwestern accent. It seemed to display a Mona Lisa-type smile on its face.Candee appeared to be shocked for only a beat; she gave her most professional smile and continued. “Well, then, Dean, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” she nodded.“May I ask if you are a male or female of your species?” she inquired.“Neither one, actually,” Dean answered. “ We really don’t have a set gender.”“I see,” Candee said. “I’d like to expand on that question a little later, but for now, could you tell me what brought you to our planet?”

“Sure,” Dean nodded at the camera. “So, we have actually been here for quite a while now. Like close to two hundred thousand years, give or take.”

“Really?” Candee spoke, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Why, then, have your species decided to contact us now? Have you contacted human beings before in the period that you have been here? I’m sorry, I seem to be getting ahead of myself, but why have you been here for such a long period of time?”

“Our planetary studies usually run about 200K, more or less.” Dean nodded. “To answer your question about prior contact, honestly, would you want to plunge yourself face-first into an ant den?”

Candee stared, entirely at a loss for words for a moment. “Well, I see. All right then,” she fumbled with her stack of cards.

“That sounds pretty harsh, but you guys are nuts,” Dean said. “Always fighting over piles of dirt as far as we can tell, for two hundred thousand years, Geez.”

“Is there no such thing as war or conflict among your species?” Candee asked. “And if not, how did your species evolve peacefully?”

“We got the same instructions from day one, just like you guys. The only difference is we followed the rules; you guys never have.” Dean spoke, raising its palms in the air.

“Are you speaking of instructions from a higher power? From a God or God himself as we call him in some religions of Earth?” Candee asked, leaning forward.

“Let’s just say from a higher power,” Dean stated calmly. “I have to be careful what I say here, Whew. I don’t want to start another World War.” It shook its head.

“Let’s backtrack just a bit,” Candee composed herself. “Why did you initially choose to study our planet?”

“We choose planetary studies based on whether or not they have emerging intelligent life. If the emerging intelligence seems promising, that is, if we think they might eventually be able to join us in the cosmos, we reveal ourselves, welcome them to the club, give them a hand.”

“I see, so is that what your species is doing with our planet? Revealing yourselves to welcome us to the cosmos?” she smiled and nodded to the camera.

“No way,” Dean said, shaking its head. “We revealed ourselves to you to let you know that we have completed our studies, and we’re out of here. We just wanted to clear up the confusion over UAPs or UFOs and let you know our findings, for the record.”

“If I understand correctly, your species has decided not to help or welcome us at all?”

“Nope.” Dean shrugged. “We can’t help you; you guys would just use any tech stuff or knowledge we hand over to create weapons for more pile of dirt wars.”

Candee stared at Dean; her lips pressed into a firm line. “What about medical knowledge? Wouldn’t that be useful to people suffering from incurable diseases? Think of the good that might come of helping us to overcome our worst diseases.”

Dean shook its head. “ It’s our policy only to help intelligent life we deem worthy of helping.”

“What are we as human beings to do then? What could we do to make ourselves worthy of help?” Candee asked in frustration.

“Maybe in another 200K?” Dean shrugged. “ You guys can’t even take care of your planet. You are constantly trying to devise new ways to destroy each other. And the way you treat animals? You guys are messed up.”

Candee looked down at her stack of cards. “Is it possible that your species might return sometime in the future to check on our progress?”

“No way.” Dean smiled.

“Are there other species of intelligent life in the cosmos that might be willing to help humankind in any way, technologically or medically? To give us a boost?” Candee asked, hopefully.

“Nope,” Dean said, shrugging its large shoulders. “They’ve all come to the same conclusion; you guys are pretty hopeless.”

Candee sighed and placed her cards face down in her lap. “Well then, Dean, would you tell us where you’re from? What planet did your species originate from?”

“No, I’m not giving you guys that information. We really don’t want humans visiting us in the future.” Dean smiled and shrugged again.

“ I see. So you agreed to this interview today to inform humankind that your two hundred thousand-year study is over, that we have failed, and that we have no redeeming qualities as a species?” she stated flatly.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Dean said, nodding at the camera.

Candee laid her stack of cards on the oval coffee table between them, folded her hands in her lap, and faced the camera; the sparkle in her eyes transformed into a blank stare.

“Well, people of Earth, you’ve heard what our historic alien guest, Dean, has had to say. I guess that concludes our interview. On behalf of our Best News Now Network, and planet Earth, I thank Dean for taking the time to be with us today.” she said.

Dean slowly rose from its chair, bowed toward Candee and the camera lens, and vanished into a sparkling whirlwind of purple light.

Fried Chicken Gizzards

Not everyone loves gizzards, but this is a very good recipe if you do!

Ingredients

Chicken gizzards
Salt
Pepper
Garlic powder
Poultry seasoning
Sage
Cajun seasoning
Self-rising flour to coat
Oil for frying

Instructions

Rinse the gizzards well. Boil the gizzards with a little meat tenderizer until they are done. Pat dry with a paper towel.
Season to taste. Coat with flour. Place in hot cooking oil in a Dutch oven or cast iron skillet (be careful). Cover with a lid to help reduce splattering. Also, when a lid is placed over any frying food, it helps to keep it moist. Watch carefully as this doesn’t take long!

How do you avoid getting sucker punched?

I worked as a bouncer and learned a ton about fights and de-escalating them. For the record, I didn’t last long as a bouncer.

I’m not some tough guy. I only got the job because I’m a larger guy.

Here’s what I learned

If someone is in your face, angry, and overcome with emotion —you are always at risk of being sucker punched — full stop. The biggest danger is that they are too close.

Things trend worse if they’re repeating themselves over and over. It means adrenaline has hijacked their brain. They’re on the verge of sucker punching you.

There’s no way to predict a sucker punch. They are all different. Sometimes he looks away first. Sometimes he looks at the ground. Other times, they look right at you.

There’s an old saying by Bruce Lee, “Never take your eye off your opponent, even when you are bowing.”

If they are yelling and aggressive, keep them at arm’s length. That’s the best thing you can do, and just reiterate that you can’t let them get that close to you.

But be willing to walk away. One of the most dangerous things you can do is get into a street fight. To you, it might be a street fight. To them, it might be much more.

You win every street fight you avoid.

Recently, Trump said that “600,000 Chinese students will be allowed to enter the US.” For Chinese students who have faced visa tightening and entry barriers in recent years, is this a sign of warming or just another political bargaining chip?

The brother of a Student in the University where my son is doing research, recently went to the US and returned back after an extremely unpleasant experience

The guy was going to study Business & Economics not Semiconductors or Chips or anything high level

Stage I:-

First they ask all Chinese students on the F-1 Visa directly in the Airport

Do you have any relatives who are members of the Chinese Communist Party ?

Relatives could mean a distant cousin or uncle or aunt also. Not just parents or brother

Does anyone in your family work for the Government of China?

This time it’s family. Could be Immediate Family or extended family. It could even be a distant uncle twice removed.

They literally tell you so

And Government in China literally means most organizations as most as State owned

If you lie on a Government document, you can be punished with Sections XYZ , ABC etc and pay $ 100,000 Fine and upto 5 years imprisonment

Yep this is also mentioned in the form clearly and openly

Nowadays NO children of CPC officials or even members go to the US for study

Even if you say you have an Aunt who is a Junior Legate, Third Tier Secretary in Zhoushan Province, that’s grounds to turn down your entry

Stage II:-

If you manage to clear Stage I

Within 1–3 weeks, someone from the State Department will visit you in your University

Talk to your professor

Why are you talking this elective? Why did you attend this particular seminar when you are in Business and Economics? How are you getting money?

Chinese Students are many times asked to give details of their parents, siblings, where they work, what they do

For instance this guys brother is an Engineering Student studying Intelligent systems (in my sons university) , so that is a major red line now

At this stage, he got an email that his F-1 Visa was under reconsideration due to “National Security Reasons”

He PANICKED and was frightened of arrests etc and called home and took the first flight home

This was OHIO by the way

If you don’t get any mails within 30–45 days of Stage II, it means YOU ARE CLEARED TO STUDY

Graduates

Graduates, Post Graduates are both given a hard time during graduation

They have a list of PRC citizens and question them on the day of graduation

Why do you want a H1B Visa? Why are you studying a doctorate?

Most of them leave even before Graduation now

Especially in STEM fields (90% of them)

They also ask if they can check your laptop and phone

If you say no, they generally don’t go aggressive but sometimes they can threaten to get a warrant

Huawei Phones are NOT ALLOWED

They can run some software on your phone , they claim it’s for security but Chinese are instructed by their Government to DUMP those phones immediately after entering the US and buy new phones on campus

Bottom line – CHINESE STUDENTS ARE NOT GOING TO USA IN LARGE NUMBERS

The Only Mainlanders who are now going are

Those who have SOME FAMILY in the US as US Citizens or Green card holders whose parents are in Business
Mainly those who live in Shanghai
90% for Bachelors Degree in Business, Economics, Marketing, Theatre and such courses.
90% for Masters Degree in STEM. No longer Doctorate courses.
RICH business families in China
Mediocre Students who can’t qualify for the first 100,000 seats in the Top Universities after GaoKao

Instead Students are dropping a year, preparing for Gaokao again, working for Temu, Shein or Meituan and earning 4,500 to 8,000 Yuan a month and getting admissions into University after 1–2 years

Or going to Australia (Admissions up 152% compared to 2018) , Europe (Admissions up 61% compared to 2018) or even UK (Admissions up 77% compared to 2018)

Its virtually a North Korean like description 😱😱😱😱😱

So NOBODY CARES about Trump and his 600,000 students

These practices are being followed even when Biden was President

Could the Russian Federation break up?

Any person who was over the age of 10 in August 1991 remembers this image: “Swan Lake” ballet on all TV channels during anti-Gorbachev coup.

Exactly 34 years ago, on August 19, 1991, a group of Soviet generals tried to roll back Gorbachev’s democratic reforms — take the Soviet Union back to totalitarianism.

The generals announced forming of the Committee for the State of Emergency (GKChP), sent troops to arrest Gorbachev at his vacation home in Crimea, and pronounced they are taking over.

The attempt failed.

I remember watching the shaking hands of the Committee chief Yanaev, as he was saying that he would replace Gorbachev. Everyone remembers this moment as well. It was GKChP’s omen — this wasn’t going to work.

Tanks on the Red Square — eerie.

We absolutely didn’t know what to think.
But I remember feeling that I was terrified of going back to pre-1985. In May 1991, we were allowed to travel abroad without an exit visa. I immediately bought a tour to Europe to see the outside world. Now, they were going to take it away from us?

Boris Yeltsin climbed on a tank with a megaphone convincing soldiers to stand down.

The coup ended in 3 days.
In just 4 months, the USSR collapsed.

Instead of saving the USSR, the coup attempt destroyed it.

Right now, I have the same feeling as in August 1991.

August is traditionally a bad month for Muscovites. The month of grave events causing long-lasting ripples.

Putin began the war in Ukraine to “save” (restore) the USSR. It was his lifelong dream.

But he made a grave mistake: he invaded Ukraine based on false intel. And when he realized the intel was false, he decided to continue, based on his own false expectation that either Ukraine or the West will get tired and give up. Then he made another mistake: he decided that Trump could save him. He invested heavily in Trump’s re-election, hoping this would give him the end of western support for Ukraine. His love of influence operations — and his success with them in the past — led him astray once again.

After succeeding in helping Trump get elected, Putin made another giant mistake: he didn’t accept the great deal offered by Trump, which would allow him to end the war.

And now he keeps making things worse.

This is how the Russian Federation could break up. One grave mistake after another, a chain of grave mistakes leads to a collapse.

It happened 34 years ago — it can happen again.

Top Trump Administration Officials Move Onto Military Bases for Protection

Hal Turner Nation March 12, 2026

Multiple senior Trump officials have moved into fortified military housing near Washington, D.C. due to threats from drug cartels, critics, and resulting security concerns.

Reports from The Atlantic (Oct 2025), NYT, Axios, and recent updates (e.g., Yahoo on Pam Bondi) confirm multiple senior Trump officials—including Stephen Miller, Marco Rubio, Pete Hegseth, Kristi Noem, and now AG Pam Bondi—have moved into secure military housing on bases near DC.

Reasons cited: safety from threats/protests.

They pay rent; some homes were for senior officers. The “fortified” part aligns with base security.

Earth’s Mantis Overlords | They’ve Been Here all Along (STRIPPED)

(Repost) What happened after Alien Interview that helped to set up MAJestic (duplicate)

I have been asked to “fill in the details” regarding what happened in the space of time from when “Alien Interview” was transcribed, and when I entered MAJestic. It’s a rather simplistic narrative, but I will include it here.

For the record.

1945

World War II ended.

The United States launched two nuclear explosions on Japan. The first was an atomic bomb. The second was a hydrogen bomb.

The USA began operation paperclip where research and technology in the ruins of Germany were plundered and shipped to the United States for testing. Most of this equipment went to the South West states for testing and evaluation, as well as many of the Nazi German scientists involved in their development.

1947

The Domain started to investigate the nuclear detonations. That brought their vehicles into the air space around Japan, and South Western United States.

Meanwhile, the testing of the (Operation paperclip) procured German radar systems occurred in New Mexico. Simultaneously these systems uncovered cloaked extraterrestrial vehicles and systems. It caused them to behave erratically and eventually crash.

There was a crash of a Domain vehicle in Roswell New Mexico in 1947. The nurse that interviewed the type-1 grey extraterrestrial transcribed the interrogation.

Majestic 12, also known as MJ-12 was established immediately afterwards.

This organization is the code name of a secret committee of scientists, military leaders, and government officials, formed in 1947 by an executive order by U.S. President Harry S. Truman to facilitate recovery and investigation of alien spacecraft. Evidence suggests that all the 12 participants were in Roswell, NM during the interrogation.

The leaked secret government documents surfaced upon the death of the last living member of the initial committee. This occurred in 1984.

1948 through 1953 / 1954

The commander of the downed Domain vehicle stopped moving and “died”.

MAJestic began to use the radar systems to down all extraterrestrial vehicles. This action resulted in downing and capture of numerous extraterrestrial vehicles and species.

At that time, four separate and unique extraterrestrial species were identified. This resulted in a greatly expanded role for MAJestic, and all sort of programs and structures were put in place.

This action continued in earnest, but got the Domain’s attention when yet another Domain vehicle was disabled and crashed.

This forced The Domain to make an appearance to the ranking American leadership. They knew who to contact, when and how as they were “keyed” to these consciousnesses from the interview in 1947. They made an appearance at the individuals bedroom, and startled him completely.

It is not known what was spoken.

What is known is that afterwards, there was a series of formal meetings. The first was established by the Domain. As was the second one.

The third meeting was by mutual arrangement and established the basic relationship between MAJestic and The Domain.

1955

By 1955/6 the agreement between the Domain and MAJestic was in place.

A program and plan was developed jointly by The Domain and MAJestic in which certain “special” individuals would be chosen as “representatives / interfaces / Liaison officers / Ambassadors” between The Domain and MAJestic.

Various programs were set in motion.

My program came into being around 1955 -1957. I was selected by the Domain and agreed to participation in the non-physical realm. Whether this was inside of “Heaven” or outside of it is unknown. My memories were erased as I entered the confusing static field that surrounds the earth physical environment.

I was groomed for my role after that. And was physically born in 1958.

Thoughts and Conclusions

My experiences are suggestive of there being an amnesia field that surround the Prison Complex, especially around the physical earth. However, the idea of me going “into” a tunnel “towards the light” is not something that I recall. Though, this could very well be something that was erased from my memories.

Putting together what I know we can suggest some ideas and concepts worth musing about.

Amnesia Field

There is absolutely a static filled, cloudy, foggy field that surround the earth. I well remember this field and how my memories gradually disappeared as I entered it.

Tunnel of Light

Whether or not there is a “tunnel of light” is unknown to me personally. Everyone talks and discusses the tunnel of light, but to me it just seems to manifest as a “parting of the fog” rather than a clear and direct tunnel. You can peer towards a target, or an objective to head towards, and older consciousness that have gone through many such reincarnations know exactly what to do upon death.

MM Prebirth experience

My knowledge and prior histories suggest a life in and about “Heaven”. To include meeting “elders”, “guardian angels”, and other important beings. I have a distinct memory of a prior reincarnation that I have written about before.

However, my memories of what this life would be is cloudy and sparse.

I know that I had a large meeting of some type, and that this life was all completely mapped out to the point that I was excited to enter into it. If you can believe that! And that I specifically told myself not to forget that this life was going to be an exciting roller coaster adventure. So obviously, I knew what I was getting into, and why as well as what to expect.

Thus, I had to have joined or agreed to work with The Domain long before I was born.

I will tell everyone that while The Domain Commander says that I was Mades Escapleon, I have no memories of that life. What memories that I have acquired through my Past Life Regression hypnosis concerned growth as an assemblage of other life forms contributing to the consciousness that exists today.

This does not in any way suggest a dwarf-like funny little administrator man running a Prison Complex for the “Old Empire”. Nor does it mean that the Domain Commander was lying. It means nothing.

Except…

…that I was not ready for the full scope of my involvement with all which has been going on.

At that time, when I did my Past Life Regression my targets were a search for answers about my relationships with others; my piss-poor luck at working at a stable company, and why I ended up being married to a mentally ill woman. I had no knowledge of anything that would inspire me to ask questions related to MAJestic issues.

At that time I did not recall that I was in MAJestic. Instead, this (past life regression incident) occurred ten years prior to my retirement.

All of which means absolutely nothing.

All that matters is what is going on right now. I can only hope that I am “living up to my end of the bargain”, and making a difference, a positive one, in the world.

What’s Next

Yah. I’m gonna die.

It’s going to happen. We all die.

Usually it comes quickly without warning, though both of my parents realized that their time was drawing near and tried to ready us kids for the shock of their departure. Good thing that. Though it still came as a shock.

When my time comes, my family will grieve. MM followers will wonder about the silence. But it should be obvious.

Death is a natural process.

As I figure it, were I to stay in the United States, in that "lifestyle" I would probably die around 80 years old. Thus giving me some 15 years or so left to keep clunking about on this ball of mud.
.
But I live in China, and my lifestyle is healthier, with far less stress, and better in every way. I figure that I could probably make it to my high 80's maybe even 90. And that gives me another 25 years or so.
.
Of course, world war III, coronavirus, and cigarettes and alcohol might shorten that calculus substantially.
.
I figure that the USA stole 5 years of my life. So I DESERVE 80 years plus the 5 stolen years = 85 years. Minimum.

In any event, let’s hope to have a nice calm peaceful death, and when I die, and when that happens…

… I will summon the Domain Commander and await for retrieval. I will not go through anything or expect anything or follow the defaults. This is my last time on this fucking Prison Shit Hole, and I am NEVER going to return to it. Well, at least, that is what I think, anyways.

How do I know?

Consider the following statement(s)…

..from my past life regression session in the late 1990’s. This was long before I was “woken up” from my MAJestic induced amnesia of my operational segment(s). Thus at that time, I had no idea of my actual life or role. Not until I was “retired ” in the ADC Pine Bluff facility did I recall my role. And in this memory erased role…

I told the hypnotist regression expert that…

This was [1] my absolute last reincarnation on the earth.
My life has been one of [2] wrapping up karma and [3] performing good “works”.
Though at the time, I had no idea what those “good works” were.
That [4] I was moving on to bigger and better things.
That what ever form that I would take on in the future, [5] it would not be human.
And [6] that I was a “trans dimensional” being.

Combined with what I know now, and what I was exposed to then, we can see how puzzle pieces are fitting and falling into place. This expands upon the entire MM adventure saga.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Past Life Regression Index here…

Past Life

Articles & Links

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

We’re not avoiding taxes—we’re artistically redistributing wealth

Yesterday was my little daughter’s first day at school. She entered first grade.

In China you have to apply at the public school and are placed on a rating scale. With the highest rating goes to families that own a house, near the school… have a household register (family book) in the area… and a host of other criteria. Anyways, we were high ranked and so got a placement at a *new* school really near our new house.

Her class has 160 kids. And it was broken down into four (x4) classes (or Home Rooms) serviced by 11 teachers. (I don’t know where all this talk is about a “demographics problem comes from. Kids are everywhere in China.) She (randomly by computer) got classroom 1 which was yellow color (her lanyard was yellow), and the other kids got green, red, and blue depending.

There is a very structured system of organized education with plenty of rest time, nap time, play time, activity time, learn time, and community time. And yes… the Martial Arts (military training) is part of it.

She starts and goes to her homeroom, where she settles in with the teacher. After that is breakfast, and then they go outside for exercise and the raising of the flag and the principal announcements. then classes, with study then play, then lunch, and nap, followed by learning, activities, and a down time period with another rest, and community activities such as cleaning and building things together. They are organized, structural and sound and have a great mix of fun and work.

They all use iPads in education, and learn AI techniques early on!!!!

Not to mention such activities as dance, English language training, public speaking, and various leadership roles. It is so heartwarming to see the amount of time and organization of this school.

Phew! I’m exhausted.

Have a great one guys!

Today…

Americans Realizing How MESSED UP the USA Is (American Culture Shocks)

What makes the perfect burger and of course the question is subjective?

This question could start a fight, but I have very strong opinions about this 😂

I am very much a traditionalist when it comes to burgers, and I like to keep them as close to “deli-style” as I can

Patties

I favour double-stacked smashed patties over a single thick patty

Smashed patties have more of the maillard reaction, and so have more flavour and a better texture

Cheese

This should always be a mild cheese that melts well and doesn’t overpower the meat

American Cheese
Jarlsberg
Maasdam
Emmental
Port Salut
…etc

Cheddar cheese is far too sharp and acidic for a burger

Toppings

Simplicity is key here

Raw Onions – They add well needed texture with their tender crunch, and a strong peppery bite

The “slippery” texture of grilled onions makes me want to rip off my own face (#AutismProblems)

Dill Pickles – The ubiquitous “deli” ingredient, and their sweet vinger tang helps cut through the richness of the meat and cheese

(Optional) Shredded Lettuce – Simply an inoffensive moisture barrier between beef and bun, to prevent the bun from losing structural integrity

Shredded to ensure a clean break of lettuce in each bite, as nobody wants to pull a full leaf of limp and wilted lettuce out of their burger

My Hot Take: Tomatoes have no place on a burger, they are too watery and actually dilute and wash out the other flavours in the burger

Sauces

There are only 3 sauces that have any business being on a burger:

Ketchup
Mustard
Mayonnaise

I will sometimes mix in Dijon Mustard to make Dijonnaise if I’m feeling bougie, or add black pepper into the mayonnaise

The Mayonnaise or Dijonnaise should go on the bottom bun, and the Ketchup + Mustard should go on the top bun

Always sauce the bun, not the burger

The Bun

A classic Sesame Seed Bun is the gold standard here and my go to option, however I am not against the use of:

Unsweetened Brioche Buns
Kosher Deli Bagel/Beigels

Section Edited To Add Clarity:

A true French Brioche à Tête is made with just flour, eggs, butter, milk and salt

The only sweetness in this brioche should be from the natural milk sugars, and the maillard reaction of the flour starch cooking in the butter

It is only slightly sweeter than a standard white bread made from flour, yeast, water and salt, but has a totally different texture as the butter and eggs prevent the formation of long gluten chains

This lack of long-chain gluten gives brioche it’s distinctive dense and crumbly texture, that when toasted, becomes robust and chewy similar to a good bagel

That bagel-like texture is what makes it a good and robust bun for burgers, it doesn’t fall apart as easily as a standard bread bun

I think the confusion comes from the indulgent Viennoiserie breakfast pastries made using a Brioche dough, which often have sugar, chocolate, hazelnut ganache, and other sweet items added into the dough

It seems that some people’s perception of brioche is based around these sweet breakfast pastries, rather than the actual bread itself

Whichever bun you choose, it should always be toasted and schmeared in sauce

The burger is perfect as it is, and doesn’t need to be “cheffed up” with 100 different toppings and fancy sauces from exotic lands

With a burger – less is always more

How does China’s support impact Russia’s military capabilities, and why is China willing to assist despite the costs?

China has not given Russia that much support, and Russia has complained about this many times.

China’s bottom line is simply that Russia must not be defeated. As for how much Ukrainian territory Russia can take, that depends on the Russians themselves.

If NATO and Ukraine’s joint forces push back to the pre-war Russia–Ukraine border, China will definitely send troops.

This is extremely simple common sense in international relations. Even an ordinary person like me, who has never taken a single course in the subject, can understand it—it is self-evident.

Let me put it more brutally: for China, the most favorable situation is for Russia and Ukraine to keep bleeding each other dry. In the long run, it is Slavic youth who are being lost. Strategically, this is highly beneficial to China’s national security.

After all, for thousands of years, China’s greatest security pressure has always come from the north: the Xiongnu, the Mongols, countless nomadic peoples, then Russia, and later the Soviet Union.

Every time China made enormous efforts to eliminate strategic pressure from the north, it would enter a golden era: such as in the Han, Tang, and Ming dynasties.

The current dynasty is an exception—it has managed to eliminate northern military threats without long, drawn-out wars lasting decades.

Russia has opened to China a market of over 200 million people, including Central Asia, and provides China with vital energy.

The longer the war drags on, the greater China’s gains.

So why should China increase its support and help Russia swallow up all of Ukraine quickly—something that would be quite easy for China to achieve?

What infuriates Europe and the U.S. is that although China has reaped great benefits, it carries no moral burden—this is Europe’s war, provoked by NATO’s eastward expansion. At the same time, China remains Ukraine’s largest trading partner, having acquired its minerals and grain.

The deeper logic of the story is this: with China rising, a cornered Russia knew the U.S. wouldn’t dare intervene directly, so it seized the opportunity and launched the war.

（Within the area covered by the red arrow, the black stones have great freedom of action. This is what is called “influence.”）

In the language of Go, even without offering any tangible assistance, China has already helped Russia—by providing the most important element: influence on the board (the “outside strength”).

As I write these words, I feel deeply ashamed, filled with darkness inside.

But this is international politics.

Just because I can see it clearly does not mean my heart is strong enough to actually carry out such a strategy.

By the way, another story:

Many years ago, a friend of mine who was mining in Africa told me that a nearby province was under the control of a religious militia that believed girls should not go to school. They raided a school, tied the girls up in groups of six with wire, and doused them with gasoline…

I was horrified, and asked: why doesn’t the PLA send troops to wipe out these beasts?

He replied: “They didn’t attack our mines. Brother, don’t be naïve. Do you think back when Europeans ruled here, they would have sent troops for humanitarian reasons? Compared to them, we’re already much better. At least we protect the villagers around our camps, give them free medical treatment, and dig wells for them—the Europeans never did that.”

I have never forgotten the shock I felt at that moment.

Many years later, I grew more mature, and came to think that China in Africa today is already doing its best to do the right things: building roads, dams, schools, and hospitals. Only Africans can save themselves; we can help, but we cannot govern their countries for them.

The First Pets: How Cats Became Part Of Human Life (10,000 BCE) | Before Cities

What goes on in the mind of a life sentence prisoner?

I was sentenced to 42 years to life. I was numb and in denial for months after sentencing. When I was moved to State Prison my denial came in the form of hope on appeal. After years of frustration at the appeals process I became so depressed I got on antidepressants. I just drifted from day to day years. I just existed, no plan, no hope. They paroled so few that that wasn’t even a hope. Then Governor Brown started a Prison reform program that brought more selfhelp and education into the prisons. We were given lower security classifications and were allowed to transfer to better prisons. Once Newsom took over the process sped up. I saw light at the end for the first time. People were getting paroled. I worked hard and got sober…real program and real commitment. I obtained another college degree. I was denied at my first parole board, but when I went back 18 months later I was ready and was granted parole. Ive been out for 8 months having served 27 years. I live in my own place, and im doing well. Im in my early 60s and have a small income but im very happy…..I never thought I would see freedom again. Im grateful to Governors Brown and Newsom for giving all of us a second chance.

What are some real stories of military gear causing unintended injuries, and how were these issues eventually resolved?

A good example is to look at American body armor. When I was first deploying, Mothers of America and other groups had been up in arms over the feelings that our body armor, (the OTV in USMC terminology, Interceptor for the Army) was woefully inadequate to the threats we faced.

USMC OTV, very similar to one I used before the MTV was adopted

As a result, we were issued the BRAND new, freshly adopted MTV (modular tactical vest). It was absolutely well armored, with ceramic E-SAPI plates in front, back, and side positions with plenty of kevlar in between. It also had PLENTY of MOLLE space on it, so you could fit pretty much any pouch or bit of tacti-cool you’d want to put on your gear.

USMC Modular Tactical Vest (MTV), but “slick”, meaning without any of the Magazine, Grenade, and other pouches and equipment attached

Unfortunately, all of that came at pretty big con: the thing was a pain in the ASS to fight in. It was MUCH heavier, almost double the weight of the preceding OTV and that was WITHOUT any gear on it. While it had more adjustability, it was VERY difficult to get right and was almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable as all hell. And it was HOT. Having your whole torso surrounded by ceramic, while certainly protective, doesn’t allow for the air to wick sweat from your body.

What ended up happening is Marines HATED the thing, and with good reason. It lowered endurance, lowered agility and movement speed, didn’t play well with other equipment or vehicle work due to its bulk, and that’s all before we get to the nitty gritty of your question:

It destroyed our backs. I returned from that deployment over a full inch shorter than I was when I left, and most of those I went with had similar loss. Infantry Combat is NOT a low impact activity, and doing so while wearing more than double the previous load (once in combat configuration) just was not at all a good move. This thing created back injuries like nobody’s business, and I’m pretty sure this thing is responsible for a good chunk of VA disability ratings. There is a reason the Marine Corps shifted to a much lighter plate carrier system rather quickly after combat units started to give their feedback on the MTV (which, if you ask any Marine, should tell you something, because we do NOT get new gear often or quickly at all).

The newest USMC plate carrier, which I think you can easily see is a great deal more compact while still offering good protection

What Mothers of America and those other organizations didn’t realize, despite their genuinely great intentions, is the nature of our job. The MTV would have been much more ideal for SWAT officers or the like who most likely won’t be in the full kit the majority of their day and absolutely brings some fantastic armor to the situation where its needed… but for guys that are fighting all day and night, climbing walls, jumping out of trucks, and patrolling long distances on foot, that level of protection was harmful. I have 8 damaged disks in my back and neck to prove it.

“Howl” read by Allen Ginsberg, 1975

This is a classic, but maybe too much for those that cannot handle Beatnik poetry. Well worth a few minutes. Not the entire duration.

Do the Chinese enjoy the same freedom as the American people? Why or why not?

To a great extent Chinese and American freedom overlap

In laymans terms, Chinese say

“Out of 1000 things, you can have total freedom over 600 things, restricted freedom over 350 things and absolutely no freedom over 50 things but they are UNIFORM FOR ALL CLASSES OF PEOPLE”

However the Chinese also say

“If you feel there is any restriction when it comes to your freedom wrt the 600 things, you can protest, fight, argue and WE WILL IMMEDIATELY ENSURE YOUR FREEDOM IS PROTECTED”

The rules are very clear. You know what is allowed and what is denied.

24*7 Electricity, Running water, Clean Air, Parks, Affordable Food, Healthcare, Safe Banks, Insurance, Affordable Energy, Jobs, Consumer protection, Personal Safety, Safety from Crime , Affordable Education, Opportunities, Right to Business

These are all basic rights

If any one of these is denied, you can fight, protest and YOU HAVE FULLEST FREEDOM TO DO SO

Speech, Expression, Art, Writing, Films, Pictures, Opinions

These are conditional and there are restrictions and censorship

China makes it absolutely clear what is allowed and what is denied

For instance – Making a movie on Allah is banned, Making a movie on Religion is banned but if its part of Culture Or Mythology , it’s allowed

In Laymans Terms, Americans say

“Out of 1000 things, you can have freedom over all 1000 things but this freedom is not absolute and depends a lot on what the Senate says, Congress says, Supreme Court says, President says AND IS DIFFERENT FOR DIFFERENT CLASSES”

It also says

You can shout and scream and yell but you can’t change anything for a minimum of 2 years or 4 years or 8 years or in most cases never!!!!

The Lockdown protests in China led to China withdrawing their Harsh Lockdown Policy almost 6–9 months earlier than planned

Meanwhile in the US, despite 1600 protests, the minimum wage is still $ 7.25 and hasn’t risen by a single cent

So i ask 5 basic questions

I. Should I fear the Police in China or US?

Answer- USA

In China, the Police won’t even give me a second glance. 80% of them don’t even carry guns. They won’t come my way unless I break a law.

In US, Police can beat me, shoot me, assault me if I look suspicious and have done so on multiple occasions

II. Is it safer in US or China?

Answer – China

I can walk out at 3:00 AM without any fear, be it in a Tier 1 City or a Tier 4 City or a County or a Village

In most US Cities, going out after 10 PM is a major no no

The National Crime Rate after 11 PM in USA is 32.6 times higher than in China

III. Am I free to choose my representative in US or China?

Answer – BOTH

In China, I am free to choose by Grassroots Delegates who will help me with local policies, basic zoning, electricity, water and my basic necessities

I can VOTE for them

In US, I can vote for a Senator or Congressman

In both cases the Top Executive is someone who is chosen from among the parties

Xi is chosen by the CPC, Trump is chosen by the Republican Party

IV. Where is there equality of law ?

Ans:- CHINA

In US, as a plaintiff, I can’t afford a top lawyer while if the defendant is a major corporation, they can afford the best lawyers and BURY MY LAWYER IN PAPERWORK

The Small guys never get justice

In China, Legal Fees are CAPPED at 200,000 Yuan in total for a Criminal Case and

200,000 Yuan plus upto 25% of Compensation for Civil Cases (Individual Plaintiff) or 2.5 Million Yuan in total (Corporate Defendant )

In US, laws are different for each state based on Supreme Court of each state and it’s precedent.China has uniform laws throughout China

V. Which Country will i be a victim of Cartelization?

Ans :- USA

US is a place where politicians are OWNED by Private Billionaires

China is a place where Billionaires are owned by the Party of the People

It’s why Real Estate was regulated from 2022 onwards very strictly

Add to this School Shootings, Affirmative Action, LGBT nuisance, Quid Pro Quo Corruption, Lobbying

None of these exist in China or exist in very small ways

So I would say Chinese are absolutely far more free than Americans and far more satisfied than Americans

Sir Whiskerton and The Final Deduction: A Tale of Taxidermy, Acorn-Based Economics, and One Very Done Accountant

Ah, dear reader, gather ’round for a tale so bureaucratically absurd that even the scarecrow would demand an itemized receipt. Today’s adventure begins with numbers, nonsense, and a taxman one spreadsheet away from turning the farm into a traveling circus—literally. So grab your abacus (or a stiff drink) and join me for Sir Whiskerton and The Final Deduction.

Act I: The Accountant’s Breaking Point

Taxman Ted, the farm’s long-suffering bookkeeper, stared at the ledger. The numbers mocked him:

“Three hundred ‘emotional support’ pumpkins?”
“Deductible ‘artisanal mud’ for Pig Spa Day?”
“A gold-plated scratching post for Sir Whiskerton?!”

Ted’s eye twitched. His calculator smoked. Then—SNAP.

“That’s IT!” he roared, slamming the ledger shut. “This isn’t a farm—it’s a nonprofit circus! From now on, we’re ‘Clowns for Tax Evasion’!”

Act II: The Farmer’s Creative Accounting

The Farmer, thrilled with this loophole, rewarded Ted with:

A “raise” paid in acorns (negotiated by Mr. Ducky, who took a 20% commission in sunflower seeds).
A new title: “Ringmaster of Fiscal Chaos.”
A company car (a wheelbarrow with “CEO” scrawled in mud).

Meanwhile, Sir Whiskerton “audited” the paperwork:

“Purr-fectly legal,” he declared, stamping each page with a pawprint labeled “Meow & Co., CPA.”
Doris the Hen clucked, “I’ll donate my gossip as a charitable contribution!”

Act III: The IRS (Irritated Raccoon Squad)

Just as Ted submitted the forms, Chef Remy LeRaccoon and his “Irritated Raccoon Squad” stormed in, demanding their cut of the “nonprofit” status:

“Where’s our tax-exempt pickles?!” Remy hissed, waving a jar of “experimental” relish.
Porkchop offered to pay his dues in “exposure” (i.e., sunbathing photos).

In the end, the farm was granted official clown status—and Ted retired to a quiet life as a mime (the only job where screaming into the void was encouraged).

The Moral of the Story

Moral: When life gives you lemons, deduct them as a business expense.

Post-Credit Scene

The farm’s new “Circus & Supper” dinner theater opens to rave reviews. Featured act: The Great Whiskerton escapes from a locked treat jar (with 80% success rate).

Best Lines:

“I’ll write off my existential dread as overhead!” – Taxman Ted, unhinged
“Acorns are legal tender!” – Mr. Ducky, shady financier
“We’re not avoiding taxes—we’re artistically redistributing wealth.” – Bessie the Cow

Starring:

Taxman Ted (Fallen Number-Cruncher)
Mr. Ducky (Shady Acorn Broker)
Sir Whiskerton (Feline Forensic Accountant)
The Entire Farm (Co-Conspirators in Chaos)

Key Jokes:

The Farmer’s “office” is just a hay bale with a “Do Not Disturb (Unless You Have Snacks)” sign.
Rufus the Dog files his taxes as a “Good Boy™” (deducts belly rubs).
Lucifer the Chipmunk protests: “The revolution is not a 501(c)(3)!”

P.S.

Remember: If your W-2 smells like hay, consult a cat. Or a clown. Or run.

The End.

Audit-proof yours truly,
The Sir Whiskerton Team 😼

What’s one must-eat food from your hometown for tourists?

I’ve always avoided answering this one.

In Malaysia, there isn’t really such a thing as “tourist food.” Our dishes are made for locals, not created or adapted for visitors.

While Malaysian cuisine is widely celebrated for its rich diversity drawing from Malay, Chinese, and Indian influences, foreign tourists sometimes shy away from it. It’s not that our food lacks appeal, but some travelers may have concerns about street food hygiene, find the strong or unfamiliar flavours overwhelming, or simply struggle with dishes that don’t align with what they’re used to eating.

That’s why, when I hosted friends visiting from Switzerland, England, and Japan, I brought them to proper restaurants instead. Most of the time, we went for Chinese Cantonese or Peranakan Chinese meals in KL ‘Chinatown’ and Melaka – places where the food is authentic, the ambience better and the settings clean and comfortable… these are more approachable for visitors.

I have hinted of a ‘one food’ which can be good eating for foreign tourists – Peranakan/Nyonya cuisine.

The term Peranakan is best described as ‘Chinese with Southeast Asian influences’. It refers to descendants from Mainland China to the Malay peninsula including the Malacca Sultanate during the 15-17th century.

Peranakan cuisine or Nyonya cuisine comes from the Peranakans, descendants of early Chinese migrants who settled in Penang, Malacca, Singapore and Indonesia. Tourists to Malaysia can find this distinctive food in Nyonya restaurants in Penang and Melaka – historically Peranakan places.

Some Pictures

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Screenshot

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Crispy Chicken Dijon

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Ingredients

1 pound chicken breast, boneless
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
1/3 cup bread crumbs
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Instructions

Coat chicken with flour, shaking off excess.
Spread chicken with mustard.
Roll in bread crumbs.
Over medium-high heat in large skillet, cook chicken for 4 to 5 minutes per side until done.

How To Build A Tin Can DIY WiFi Antenna

Are you looking to extend the range of your current WiFi network? You can build your own DIY wifi antenna out of a tin can.

And it will only cost you $5! It’s easier than you think and can be a serious game-changer in times of disaster.

This is perfect if you’ve been experiencing home WiFi issues.

Instead of going out to buy a new internet modem, why not try out this easy DIY project first? Are you ready to learn how to make your own homemade long-range WiFi antenna?

This DIY build could also be great for post-disaster communications when WiFi signals are limited.

The more range you have, the better you are going to be able to use your technology. Your technology is a force multiplier in disasters.

There are a number of reasons why this might be beneficial to you.

It could be that your daily living situation and your location put you in a place where the WiFi signal strength is less than optimal.

Maybe you don’t have the internet at the moment and want to use your neighbors’ WiFi but can’t seem to get a good signal.

It might also be something that may help during a power outage. If you know how to make a WiFi antenna to get free internet, this is also useful.

As you can see, there are a number of reasons to try out this DIY WiFi antenna, or a cantenna, also known as a tin can WiFi antenna.

Tin Can DIY WiFi Antenna (Cantenna)

This is so frugal, it may just put Belkin out of business if we all make one of these bad boys! Use an old tin can from dinner and have the range you need for less than a meal at McDonald’s.

This really is a simple DIY project that we all can do any time of the year to make the most of our modems at home.

Understanding antennas is a very helpful skill. You know, antennas affect many things outside of WiFi signals. You can even make an HDTV antenna that can get you FREE TV!

Although this DIY project involves creating a WiFi antenna, it’s important to point out that understanding antennas is a very helpful skill. You know, antennas affect many things outside of WiFi signals.

Did you know you can even make an HDTV antenna? An antenna for HDTV might not be something you need during a survival situation, but it could be some fun until then.

Every skill you learn right now will make you a better prepper and a better survivor.

A tin can DIY WiFi antenna improves your WiFi range so much that the modem companies tried to hide this little hack for years.

So, let’s get started!

Collecting Your Supplies for Your DIY WiFi Antenna

The things you are going to need for this DIY home project include:

A tin can (minimum diameter of 3 inches)
An N-type female jack panel mount connector
About 1¼” of 12-gauge copper wire
Four nuts and bolts
Drill
Ruler
Permanent marker
Soldering iron
Internet modem

Step 1: Drill Holes in the Can

The first step is drilling holes into the tin can. Sounds easy enough, right? It is, but it’s a little bit more methodical than you’re thinking.

The N-connector needs to be mounted in the side of your can.

To do this, you need to drill holes in the right location to place the connector in the right spot on the can. This involves finding the right formula.

You can calculate your measurements using an online cantenna calculator.

The ¼ guide wavelength number determines how far up from the bottom, or metal, end of the can you should put the center of the hole. Using a ruler, you’ll measure up from the metal end and use the permanent marker to mark the spot.

When you use the drill to form the hole, you’ll want to choose a bit that matches the size of the connector. It’s ideal to start using a smaller bit to make the hole larger.

An alternative method is to make a small hole with a hammer and a nail, then use drill bits. If you don’t have a drill, that’s okay. You can start out with a nail hole and then use a file to get the hole as big as it needs to be.

If the connector needs to be bolted on, you’ll need to make four more holes for the bolts. You can use the connector as a guide for where to drill the holes.

Step 2: Attach the Connector to the Can

Next, you’ll use the soldering iron to cut the copper wire.

You’ll need to cut the wire so that the total length of the brass tube and wire stick out 1.21” past the N-connector. You’ll want to get as close to this length as possible.

When you have the wire at the right size, you can solder it into the N-connector. You’ll want to keep the copper wire as straight and upright as possible.

Once the copper wire has cooled, you will secure the assembly into your can using bolts or screws.

You will want to put the bolt heads inside the can and the nuts outside the can in order to reduce obstructions in your antenna.

Step 3: Connect the Antenna

The next step is to connect the antenna you’ve just made to your wireless card or access point. You’ll do this using a special cable that’s commonly known as a “Pig Tail.” The cable will connect the wireless card or access point to your antenna.

The cable has an end known as the “N” Male connector. The other end has a connector that works with your wireless card or access point.

You’ll want an access point that has an external antenna connector or a wireless NIC.

Finally, you’ll want to hook up your cable. Point the antenna at one of your neighbor’s houses and see how far you can get your network to reach.

It’s worth noting that the WiFi antenna has what’s known as “linear polarization.” This implies that how you rotate the antenna will affect the strength of your WiFi signal.

The connection will generally work best when it’s straight down, but be sure to experiment with your can to see how it affects your WiFi reach.

Final Results

If you’ve followed this guide, chances are you’ve probably greatly improved your WiFi reach. This is such an easy, effective life hack.

If you’ve tried out this DIY WiFi antenna, how did it work? Did you find that it greatly expanded your reach? What measurements turned out to be successful for you?

Fresh meat

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

James Larder

‘Why don’t you go back to your own planet? Ya gangly E.T cunt!’The alien waved back at the heckler, to try and diffuse his apparent distain and demonstrate that no hard feelings were held, but this appeared to make things worse. The alien still had not worked out why it was that humans got offended by the alien wave. Would the alien stop waving though? No. It was important to keep up with the local custom, as a sign of respect. Also, there was no way of them speaking Earth languages, just as it was not feasible for humans to speak Krotonian.The ill wisher continued- ‘Comin’ over ‘ere, stealin’ our jobs! I ‘ate you!’The alien had a ballpark idea of what the disgruntled chap was saying, it was commonplace slur. The alien could have retorted, minus the language barrier and explained, rationally, that they were both in the same boat, so to speak. Downtrodden. After thoughts. Oppressed. Making them kindred spirits. Brothers in the quarrel against tyranny and comrades in the fight for justice. Alas, however, all the alien was able to do was nod. Again, this didn’t go down well at all.‘Ya scab!’ The human yelled, as he removed his shoe and threw it at the alien. The shoe was a size ten. Brown. It bounced off the alien’s shoulder. Given the size of the alien, the shoe was no bigger than a pack of cards, comparatively. The alien instinctively stooped to retrieve the errant footwear but this only served to anger the offended party further.‘Don’t you touch my property, ya filth bag scum!’ The man was hysterical.There was a general consensus amongst the humans that the aliens carried with them some kind of disease and that the mere act of contact would cause infection. Cross contamination. As a result, the humans kept their distance physically. The alien stood upright again and left the shoe in place.‘Everythin’ were perfect before you came ‘ere!’ The man continued ranting whilst the alien took leave. ‘Paradise! Like a postcard! Everyday were like heaven! You ruined it, ya purple freaks!’The man was still going as the alien turned the corner. This street was a known route for aliens, coming back and forth from the main factory, and was frequented by unemployed townsfolk on a daily basis, who had nothing better to do than shout at the Krotonians, blaming them for all their problems. Any perceived ill was now designated to the cosmic visitors- Cancer. Broken limbs. Alcoholism- All attributable to the aliens.The next street the alien wandered onto was even more lively than the one before. A pastor of some sort was stood on an upturned, wooden crate and was preaching to a small group. ‘And I tell you, if you renounce all worldly sins and accept the Lord God Jesus into your hearts and souls, there will be salvation. For this cesspool we are festering in today is nothing more than a purgatorial nightmare, whereby we have been sent to, for punishment, for the misdemeanours committed in our previous life. It was the Apps, my brothers and sisters and everyone in between- Created by Beelzebub himself. The pixels. No man, woman, child or beast could escape the Lord our God’s vengeful wrath for our slovenly purge of the senses. We must pay- We all must pay!’The pastor then noticed the alien skulking past and quickly turned his attention towards the extra terrestrial. ‘There’s one now! One of Satan’s henchmen! Sent to spy on the righteous! A messenger for the Devil. Orders from bellow to rock our boat of peace and tranquillity and tempt us with the sins of the mind! Well, not today, you demon child! Not on my watch- Begone with you, you salamander- The power of Christ compels you!’ The pastor took a glass of water out of a cardboard box and threw it over the alien’s face. The crowd cheered as the alien recoiled and the water went in it’s eye. The pastor was satisfied with the coverage he’d achieved but was reluctant to take full credit. ‘I am no perfect marksman, my friends, my hand was guided by the Lord! See how the holy water burns through the beast’s flesh that is not flesh. See how it writhes as it’s dowsed with the juice of God!’The alien picked up the pace and got to the far end of the street, out of reach of the mental priest, who’s hand was now being kissed by several of his constituents. His throwing hand. Sacred it was to them now. Possessed they perceived it to be, with some kind of absent, remote divinity.Despite the aliens being nine foot tall and as strong as Rhinos, the humans had no qualms over abusing them, for the threat of retaliation did not exist. The aliens were subservient pacifists. However, just in case one of the aliens lost the plot in a red mist fit of rage, the world government struck a deal with Kroton 14, stating that if so much as one strike was cast towards any human, all the Krotonians would be deported instantly, via the way they came aka teleportation, and their Earth visas would not be renewed. The leaders of Kroton 14 had also issued a stark warning to all its representatives on Earth and told them, in no uncertain terms, that any Krotonian found in breach of the strict government guidelines would be punished with one thousand years of solitary confinement, followed by a public execution. A messy one- Hung, drawn and quartered. Old school.‘Spare some change, please?’ A homeless woman asked, as the alien passed her house- An upturned barrel used originally for the transportation of clams. The aliens were not exposed to money and so never carried it. The homeless woman knew this but was likely on autopilot. The alien ignored her accordingly.The arrival of the aliens had been timed to coincide with the unveiling of gated communities on Earth. It had been common knowledge amongst the elite that the fuel would run out by 2050 and so, a twenty year plan to build the exclusive havens for the rich and the powerful and their bloodlines commenced. By the time the mass population realised what was happening, it was too late. By 2049, the Earth switched to renewable energy and all harvested power from wind, solar and wave automatically funnelled into the gated communities. Anyone outside the communities had to go back to basics. ‘We’ve left you plenty of wood.’ The leaders declared, as they sailed through the skies in blimps. ‘It’s character building. For you. Like a Robinson Crusoe adventure.’Humans were obviously furious about this shift in dynamic but they were powerless, annoyingly. ‘If you don’t like it, you can leave at any time.’ Was the company line, touted amongst the leaders, like a slogan. To coincide with this, Euthanasia kits were free and available from all drugstores. The aliens had brought with them the secret of life and death and so, many humans simply chose to commit suicide rather than suffer the increasingly harsh conditions, knowing that it really didn’t matter whether they lived for another hour or another century. Drowning babies at birth was common practice.The world government was more than happy for the aliens to take on the vast majority of planet Earth’s manual labour, meaning that the working class were mostly unemployed. It was no longer necessary to keep up the pretence that the majority of the human population were anything other than slaves. Now, however, they were worse than slaves, in a way, for they were useless. At least BA (Before aliens), there was a convenient veil of pretence- Illusion- Where everyone went about their lives, as if their made up jobs mattered. Roles such as sales executive, customer service representative, brand manager, Human resources, insurance etc were all commonplace. All absolutely pointless, of course, but all accepted pass times. But now that the lid was off Pandora’s box, it was impossible to be expected to get paid for anything that was not absolutely necessary for survival and nearly all these jobs had now been given to the aliens. Manufacturing. Food production. Maintenance- All alien roles. But here’s the kicker- All goods produced were ferried directly to the gated communities and so, anyone outside was left to essentially fend for themselves. Pets were not a thing anymore- All animals were eaten on sight. You’d kill and skin a cat soon as look at it, these days. Dogs were considered a rare treat. The plump ones like Pugs and French Bulldogs were eaten only on very special occasions and bread for this reason alone. Needless to say, the blame for the human’s dire predicament was placed almost exclusively on the aliens, for no government officials were left in the vicinity.

The aliens were compensated for their valuable services by receiving basic accommodation and a modest allowance of tokens that could be exchanged for Earth goods like body lotion or magnets or deodorant- Whatever they wanted. In return, they were expected to work seven day weeks, twenty hour days. This sounds a lot to us humans but the aliens did not require sleep or water and they tele-imported their own food, which only needed to be eaten once monthly. What’s more, they needed to be constantly moving, like sharks, and so the more work they were given the better. Even if they were sat down, they would need to tap their foot or shake their hands, else they would cease up and lose circulation. After two minutes of inactivity, they would harden like a log. After five minutes, they would crystallise and after ten minutes, they would shatter into a million pieces. A risk that no Krotonians were willing to take.

The alien finally reached it’s humble dwellings after navigating the gauntlet of terror that was the three streets walk from the factory to it’s house. It breathed a sigh of relief as the latch went on the front door and it took off it’s alien coat, which to us humans, could closely be described as plasma. The alien’s wife was sat on the sofa, wagging her finger. Not out of distain but in the interest of not perishing from stagnation. ‘You’re late.’ The alien’s wife said, as the alien slunk over to the couch. The alien sat beside it’s wife. ‘Urgh!!!’ The wife recoiled. ‘What’s that?!’

‘Some crazy man threw Earth water on me.’ The alien explained. ‘Well get it away from me!’ The alien’s wife pushed the alien. ‘It’s all me, me, me with you innit?!’

The alien patiently moved away from it’s wife. It may sound like the alien’s wife was a total bitch, from your perspective, cause you’ve only just met her, but she wasn’t always like this. On Kroton 14, she was the sweetest alien in their respective town. All the aliens were smitten with her, due to her kind disposition and youthful glow but being on Earth had sent the alien’s wife West and she one eighty’d into this battle axe you read before you now. The alien was prepared to stick it out though, as this living situation was only temporary and it was confident it’s wife would return to normal, once they were back on Kroton 14. If not, the alien would simply kill the wife, as was the local custom, given that divorce was prohibited but murder was perfectly fine. A simple procedure.

All the aliens were told they would only need to stay on Earth for two hundred years, after which they could return to Kroton 14 and live the rest of their lives in comfort and harmony. The average lifespan of Krotonians was around 10,000 years, so 200 years was nowt to them, the equivalent of around three human years.

The alien changed the subject. ‘What’ve you been up to?’ It asked it’s wife, as it dabbed it’s face with a tea towel.

The alien’s wife scoffed. ‘What do you think?’

The alien glanced at the telly. The hologram humans were sat in Central Perk. ‘Ah lovely.’ The alien said, with veined enthusiasm.

‘Don’t patronise me.’ The alien’s wife replied, as it turned up the volume, presumably to drown out the sound of it’s husband’s breathing. The alien’s wife was obsessed with the TV show ‘Friends’. Even though New York had long since sunk, the alien’s wife kept banging on about taking a trip there, saying it wanted to know what it would be like to be Rachel and insisting they go to Bloomingdales, where the alien’s wife planned to re-enact a shopping spree, by hiring a boat and floating over the rough spot of the underwater department store. Sometimes, the alien’s wife made them do Ross and Rachel roleplay, in the bedroom, where the alien would have to pretend to be on an archaeological dinosaur dig but then uncover ‘Rachel’ (The alien’s wife) who had been buried under the soil for millennia, yet preserved. Shortly after the discovery, they would copulate. The alien went along with it, even though it had absolutely no interest in dinosaurs or ‘Friends’. Or sex for that matter. Happy wife, happy life- That was the moto amongst the Krotonian husbands and a code of honour it would take to the grave. Not that they had graves, for the aliens instantly spontaneously combusted upon death.

The alien’s wife went into it’s daily tirade, like clockwork. The alien braced itself. ‘If we had a child, that would keep me occupied. Whilst you’re at work.’

‘We’ve talked about this, sugar head- This is no world to bring a new life into.’

‘Well God damn it, Dave- I’m bored out of my freakin mind!’ All aliens were given human names on arrival, to make the admin easier, as the Krotonian names were impossible to pronounce and could not be written in alphabetic letters.

‘Why don’t you try one of the Earth hobbies?’

The alien’s wife laughed hard. ‘What would you suggest? Archery? Badminton? Knitting?!’ The alien’s wife lit a cigarette. It now smoked twenty fags a day, despite the fact that the aliens did not have lungs and so, the smoke would simply seep out of their orifices, rendering the expensive habit completely futile. However, the alien’s wife had discovered that Jennifer Aniston was a smoker around the time that ‘Friends’ was being filmed and thus, endeavoured to do just the same. The Krotonians didn’t have hair in the traditional sense but nevertheless, the alien’s wife had managed to source a human wig and get it fashioned into a ‘Rachel’ hairstyle- Proper layered like she had in Seasons 1- 3. The alien’s wife chugged on it’s Marlboro light as it jeered it’s husband. ‘You’re pathetic, Dave.’

The alien sighed and put on it’s coat again.

‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ The alien’s wife asked.

‘I have to go back to work. Overtime.’

‘Oh great,’ the alien’s wife stubbed out it’s cigarette on a its own palm- The pain reminded it that it was still alive. ‘Go on then. Leave me again- Like you always do. You’re just like Ross. Coward.’

‘Duty calls, Pumpkin tears.’ The alien said, as it skulked out of the front door again. The sound of ‘The Rembrandts- I’ll be there for you’ could be heard from the street, as the living room window was open. In truth, the alien did not have to go back to work again for another three and a half hours, but being outside was preferable to being stuck in the house with it’s spiteful wife.

‘Kiss my arse, you thieving stardust prick!’

A bone hit the alien in the head. By the looks of it, the bone had originally belonged to a human thigh. It didn’t hurt though. The bone. The aliens were very thick skulled. The bone had a similar effect that the impact of a matchstick would have on you or I. The alien picked up the bone and held it up to the assailant, asking if he wanted it back, to which the offender let out a blood curdling scream and sprinted in the opposite direction. ‘This place is fuckin weird.’ The alien thought to itself, as it dropped the bone and crossed the road.

The alien made it’s way to it’s favourite hiding place- A sturdy tree nearby. The branches were robust enough to handle the weight of the alien (Around three quarters of a ton) and high enough for the alien to stay out of view of the angry mobs. It climbed the tree and there it stayed for the next three hours, until it was time to go to work again. ‘Only one hundred and ninety eight years left.’ The alien gave itself a pep talk, as it slid down the trunk. ‘Piece of piss.’

The alien landed on the soft mulch at the base of the tree.

‘Get ta fuck, ya tree lovin alien monkey spaz!’

The Krotonian waved at the screaming loon, who promptly ran away.

The alien set off to the factory. It would be early for work today but as they always say on Kroton 14- Better to be a day early than a second late. Not that time was a thing on Kroton 14. All demonstratives of Krotonian time throughout this short story have been created solely for ease of reader understanding.

What are some crimes that seem pretty harmless that can actually land you many years behind bars?

No. 1

If you make the simple mistake of being angry with somebody that does not live in your state and you tell them that you’re going to come get them and beat the shit out of them you have just committed multiple felonies at the federal level.

So not only have you committed a crime by threatening physical bodily harm on a person. (you best hope they’re not either a minor nor an elderly person or that’s an additional felony)

Here is where it becomes Federal: when you are threatening to cross state lines to find somebody and hurt them, to locate them and make them pay for whatever transgressions they did, every state line you plan on crossing is a different and additional felony.

So there you have committed multiple Federal felonies that will see you do years in prison, and you don’t have to do anything but make a phone call while angry.

No. 2

Nebraska is zero tolerance and a shithole state. Actually the state is wonderful but the governing bodies and the police force are horribly behaved and beyond measure with their strict punishments. For instance:

I was friends with a young lady about 24 named Brooklyn. A good girl. Smoked weed. Big deal huh.

She was on probation for possession of marijuana but caught a felony because it was the concentrated version; or dabs. But that’s not the meat of the story-Brooklyn just so happened to be standing at a car window talking to the driver who she knew. But Brooklyn did not know that the car was stolen and the driver did not tell her. The police just happened to pull up on the car and long story short, the cops arrested the driver, the passenger, and Brooklyn. My friend was simply standing outside the driver’s door…outside the car, talking to the driver. But because Brooklyn was on felony probation she spent four years in prison, as tho she stole the car herself. And all because she stood next to her friends car that she didn’t even know was stolen. Go figure.

That’s Nebraska’s brain right there. I hate Nebraska for that type of draconian ways.

One day perhaps I’ll tell my tale of why my hatred would run so deep for that state. Especially Seward.

Pictures

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Romero, The 8-Year-Old Killer…

Why does China keep expanding its war machine, on the pretext that it is a deterrent, when no one has any wish to invade China or its territories?

This question is a classic logical fallacy: confusing cause and effect. The reason no one is willing to invade China now is not because they “love peace,” but because China has the ability to protect itself. If China stopped developing its national defense capabilities as you suggested, do you really think they would still be so polite to China? Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?

To be honest, China hasn’t done enough. The US has always regarded China as an opponent, which has been particularly evident in recent years. Just look at their military strength. They have 19 active strategic bombers, the most advanced in the world, with each costing as much as 3.4 million dollars per month in maintenance.

They also have 11 aircraft carriers, each of which is nuclear-powered and capable of carrying more than 75 fighter jets. Though the number will drop to 10 next year, it will still be an extremely powerful navy.

The 2024 report released by the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) shows that the US currently has 1,770 nuclear warheads in deployed status, 1,938 in storage, and 1,336 that have been decommissioned but not yet dismantled. Do you know what they intend to do? Some fricking warmongers are already assessing how much damage a nuclear attack on China would cause.

As some answers have pointed out, although China is separated from the US by the Pacific Ocean, China is surrounded by US military bases. If the US were to deploy its massive military power and launch a joint attack on China, what do you expect China to do? Appease the invaders with love? When it comes to whether 1.4 billion people can live a happy life, China must take this issue seriously. It’s really puzzling that some people don’t demand that bullies abide by international order, but instead find fault with the bullied.

In fact, unlike some Western countries, China consistently pursues a national defense policy that is defensive in nature. No matter how much China’s comprehensive strength and military capabilities grow or to what extent it develops, it will never pose a threat to other countries. Some people insist on criticizing or questioning such a policy—either they are misled by propaganda, or they harbor ulterior motives and feel guilty deep down.

What are some unexpected hazards of a job?

This lady thought it would be just another day working as a mermaid at a zoo.

She forgot that sturgeons find mermaids rather delicious:

Fortunately, it wasn’t a great white looking for a snack. And she got out without any major injuries.

You have to wonder how this will change future performances per feedback from corporate.

But I can’t say we should blame the sturgeon. If you go into a tank with giant predatory fish and start acting like a helpless fish, what do you expect?

Take Me To Your Leader

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Chris Campbell

“Greetings! We come in peace. Take me to your leader.”James “Dinky” Murray stood motionless with his jaw dropped and mouth agape at the eight feet tall man towering over him on his front porch. Being seven years old and two-fifths the size of the stranger, caused him to strain his neck trying to look up at the man’s face, and the more he strained, the more his face distorted and stretched into a look of unintelligence.“Mom!” Dinky shouted – without breaking eye contact. “It’s for you!”“Who is it, dear?” Dinky’s mother shouted from the kitchen where she was preparing dinner.“He’s some big Mo-Fo selling world peace or something.”“James Alabaster Murray, where did you learn that word?”“From Dad.”“I’ve never heard your father speak like that?”“Yeahhh! He does that when watching the Internet.”“Greetings!” Repeated the stranger at the front door.“Hi,” Dinky replied nonchalantly. “What do you want?”“We come in peace.”“Mom, I think he’s one of those Jehova Witness assholes, dad’s always tellin’ to get lost.”“Young man. There’ll be no more of that kind of language in this house,” Dinky’s mother scolded. “I don’t care what your daddy calls them. You are not to use profanity.”“Greetings, Earthling,” the stranger repeated. “Take me to your leader.”“She’s in the kitchen,” Dinky explained. “Making me my dinner.”Stooping low to avoid hitting his egg-shaped head on the mantle of the doorway, the stranger gently brushed past the small human, but was quickly halted with a tug on his long cobalt-coloured cape that loosely dragged behind him.

“My mom says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“What is your name, Earthling?”

“Dinky. On account of my size.”

“Well, Dinky on account of my size. I am Five Magger Orit. A name earned on the number of maggers I own. Now that we’ve been introduced, you may talk to me. From what I have studied in the great hall of cosmic wisdom on the customs of your people, upon introduction, strangers become friends. So, I am no longer a stranger to you.”

“What’s a magger?” Dinky innocently asked.

“It is what you would call, a starship.”

“Like, in space?”

“Where else, Dinky human?”

“How many have you got?”

“Five. But I already explained that to you, small brainchild.”

“You talk funny.”

“That is because I do not come from here.”

Attempting to continue his advance into the house, the stranger was once again halted by another tug on his cape.

“Where do you come from, then?” Dinky wanted to know.

“Five parseps and three wormholes from here.”

“Is that far?”

“It is – when the solar wind is against you.”

The interstellar and intellectually distanced conversation was abruptly halted by the crash of a glass bowl smashing on the dining room floor. Dinky’s mother, Alice, had come to investigate the unfamiliar voice in her house. Seeing a giant man with an odd-shaped head wearing a gold jumpsuit and a richly deep blue coloured cape flowing from high on his neck to his feet and one shoe size further, shocked her senses beyond reasonable acceptance. However, the smashing sound of the glass contacting hard floor, snapped Alice out of her momentary trance.

“Who… who who are you, mister?” Alice demanded to know.

“This is Ori, Mom.”

Dinky devilishly laughed as he finished his jovial introduction.

“He says he’s from where they eat parsnips and worms.”

“No, that is not what I said, small Earthling,” the stranger tried to correct the boy.

“Can he stay for dinner?”

Turning his attention to Alice, the stranger greeted her, repeating his earlier introduction.

“Greetings! We come in peace. The young sapling here, says you are his leader.”

Thinking the wide-eyed woman’s similar expression to her son’s earlier agape mouth was an Earth greeting custom, prompted the stranger to mimic her look of surprise, revealing a disturbing view of a third eye in the middle of his throat. Panicking, Alice swiftly clutched at Dinky, pulling him into the protection of her arms.

“You better be gittin’ mister. My husband is due home any second now, and he don’t like canvassers, salesmen, or bible thumpers knockin’ at our door.”

“Husband?” Asked the stranger.

“Yes, the man of the house. The bread winner.”

“You are not the leader?” The stranger confusedly asked, lowering his chin to conceal the extra eye.

“Dad’s the leader,” Dinky volunteered. “He bakes bread and brings it home to eat.”

“Then, take me to your leader, Earth midget.”

“Alice?”

“Ray!” Shrieked Alice at the sight of Dinky’s dad appearing at the front door.

“Dad! Come meet Ori. He wants to talk to you.”

Placing a basket of baked goods onto the couch, Ray cautiously entered his own home.

“Listen, Mister. If you’re selling something, we’re not interested.”

“Greetings, Leader,” the stranger reiterated. “We come in peace. There are many things to be discussed,” he tried to explain.

“Can Ori stay for dinner, Dad? He’s been eating worms and parsnips and sounds hungry. Maybe, you could give him some of your cakes from your shop?”

“That true, Mister? You homeless?”

“That is a term I do not comprehend. I have a home. All my people have a home. I am but a simple traveller passing on a message from the stars, who has been tasked to bring you great news. We would like to share our technology with you that will end all hunger, poverty, and war.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ray realised. “You’re from that new church in town. The one with the science name. Oh, what is it?”

“Scientology, sweetheart.”

“That’s it. The Church of Scientology. Well, I can categorically tell you, Mister?”

“Ori, Dad.”

“Mister Ori. We don’t have the kind of money your people require to join your little space club.”

“We desire no recompense. I come bearing gifts.”

“Yeah, heard that one before, ain’t we, Alice.”

“Uh huh,” Alice concurred. “Like that time Waylon Huckstable down at the bank, offered us an interest-free loan that needed to be paid back before we could afford to. Then, the bank added twenty percent interest compounded daily. It was about all we could do to pay it off before it ruined us.”

“Don’t no-one get somethin’ for nuthin’ in this life,” Ray added. “There’s always a price to pay. We may live in the backwoods of Tennessee, Mister, but we’ve got the Internet now, and we read a lot of its free knowledge on that there Wikipedia web site. So, we ain’t no fools.”

“Cept, it ain’t free, is it, Hun. We still have to pay for access to it.”

“Fair point,” Ray agreed.

“Yeah,” Dinky interjected. “My daddy has to pay for some of the things he likes to read on the Innernet. Specially, that one called Hooters, Hooters, and More.”

“Dinky, that’s not what I’m talking about, and you shouldn’t be spying on people.”

“Ray?” Alice’s one-word chastisement made its point.”

“He didn’t see anything bad.”

“You know I don’t tolerate cussing and immoral behaviour in this house.”

“Come on, Alice! You ain’t with the Baptists no more. Free your mind.”

“Earth Woman, you would be wise to listen to your leader,” the stranger advised.

“Listen, Mister. He ain’t my leader. He’s just my Hornery husband and nuthin’ else.”

“But I was led to believe that…”

“Who said he was my leader?” Alice defiantly asked.

Without replying, the stranger turned to look at Dinky, then stretched a very long index finger in his direction.

“Shucks, Mister Ori,” Ray half-apologised. “He’s only seven years old. That’s a very impressionable age, and Dinky here is like a sponge soaking up information without processing it. Everything just gets thrown into whatever bucket he wants to fill. He then interprets it with the minimum of experience and with hardly any knowledge to make any real sense out of it.”

“If that is what you Earth people call an analogy,” the stranger derided. “It fell several parsecs short of the planet Logic.”

Trying to decipher the stranger’s criticism that bore an alien style of facetiousness, Ray felt a pang of impertinence course through him.

“Where you from, Mister?”

“Now that I have discovered you are not whom I seek,” the stranger’s dismissive reply rang out. “I am bound by intergalactic code to offer no further information until you take me to your leader.”

“I work for myself,” Ray adamantly pointed out. “I am my own boss. I lead myself and I am led by myself.”

“It is contradictory terminology to be your own leader,” the stranger emphasised. “The Proletariat must have guidance. It is a universal understanding.”

Ray paused a moment, searching his head for the unfamiliar word just mentioned. With raised eyebrows asking Alice for a little help, Ray was enthusiastically enlightened.

“He means, the working class, Ray,” Alice nudged. “I think he’s a Socialist.”

“What religion is that?” Ray ignorantly asked.

“It ain’t no religion, Ray. It’s a movement. A kind of downtrodden and repressed social class of people who have lost faith in their leadership, and struggle to find a way out of their oppressed predicament.”

“Your female cook displays wisdom beyond her menial position in your small kingdom,” the stranger opined.

“Yeah,” Ray proudly agreed. “She’s a college girl with two years of sociology under her belt. Had to drop out early due to getting in the family way. Heck, it was either baby or education, weren’t it, Alice.”

“Uh huh. This cook got brains, Mister,” she defiantly stated, prompting Ray to bring the explanation to a close.

“We just couldn’t afford both.”

“Poverty does not exist amongst my people,” the stranger boasted.

“Yeah?” Ray belligerently snapped back. “Then, you must be from another planet, coz it’s a way of life among our people, bub!”

“But that is why I am here,” the stranger insisted. “I bring the knowledge to end misery and suffering and…”

“…and you’re beginning to sound like one of them-there preacher men. Did you not see the sign on the door?”

The stranger turned to Dinky for a sign of affirmation – that came in the mimicking gesture of Dinky pointing an index finger at the front door.

Curious as to Ray’s double-negative question, the stranger glided over to the door like a skater on ice, smooth and without modulation, to read the small notice pinned above the door knocker.

“I see a written scroll in a script unlike any other I have witnessed since the advent of hieroglyphics,” the stranger pointed out. “What is this language?”

“It’s American, Ori,” Dinky’s clarification shouted out.

“It looks like sanskrit scribble,” the stranger critiqued.

“I’ve always said, my Ray has got doctors writing,” Alice explained.

“I spend so much time sending emails and texts,” Ray clarified. “That my fingers have forgotten how to write cursively,” he sheepishly explained – embarrassed by his identified shortcoming.

“Translate, please.”

Joining the stranger at the door, Ray read the note.

“It says, No salesmen, No canvassers, and strictly No religion on threat of insult.”

“I am none of those. I am a messenger. An apostle of redemptive technology. I bring forth great news.”

“You keep sayin that, Mister. But you ain’t volunteering anything more than promises.”

“It is only for your leaders to hold the knowledge of power.”

“But knowledge in the wrong hands can corrupt,” Alice pointed out. “Plus, this is just one country society in a variety of social structures, that make up a nation, that belongs to a group of like-minded nations – that make up a global family of cultures, that we all call home.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Hun. We’re just one big global village of similar ilk,” Ray added. “So, if you need to pass on this groundbreaking knowledge, then it must be shared with all the world’s leaders. Not just one. That’d be dangerous.”

“You have more than one leader?” The stranger obliviously asked.

“Heck, Bub. What rock have you climbed out from under? Every country has a leader.”

“But there must only be one supreme leader,” the stranger argued. “It is what our system needs to work perfectly.”

“Then, it is a flawed system, Mister,” Alice’s evaluation dented the stranger’s enthusiasm.

“Yeah,” added Ray. “And if it’s flawed, no-one will be interested in listening to you. But you know who will? All those trees out there in the woods,” he chuckled – like a dismissive country hick laughing at his own joke. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got things to do, so…”

Attempting to guide the stranger to the front door, the mention of trees that listen, tweaked his interest.

“Trees? But are they not just mere inanimate limbs of the Earth? How do they communicate?”

Like a lightbulb suddenly switching on inside Dinky’s head, a trigger word compelled him to speak out.

“My teacher at school, Mrs. Updike, says trees are living beings and that they listen all the time for pollution to eat. She says without trees, we would choke, because we’d have no air to breathe, and that trees have been here long before us. Mrs. Uptight says….”

“James…” Alice’s displeasure at any form of bullying, strictly corrected him.

“Mom, that’s what everyone calls her – including Principal Jones.”

“I find that hard to believe but go on.”

“My teacher… okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“…Says that trees and plants like it when we talk to them. It stim-lates em’ into growth, is what she says.”

“Fascinating,” the stranger pondered. “If trees are the pre-dawn of humankind, then they must hold a wealth of knowledge.”

Gliding out onto the front porch, the stranger bid the family farewell.

“It appears that I have taken up too much of your time already. I came in peace. I now leave in peace. Farewell, Ray and Alice, and small human that is known as Dinky on account of my size.”

Heading into a clump of local trees, the stranger illuminated an area with a bright beam of light hovering above his position.

“Is he comin’ back, Dad?”

“No, I reckon he’ll be busy out there for a while, son. Then, who knows. Peculiar fella. Seems a little lost in life. Poor guy.”

“Right,” exclaimed Alice. “Ray, did you get a pumpkin?”

“On the porch, Alice.”

“Well, you best get to carving it, then, while I get Dinky here into his costume.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna be this year, son?”

“Buzz Lightyear. To infinity and beyond!”

Stepping back into their house, Ray shut the door behind them, and had only taken a few steps, when the door knocker announced another visitor. Thinking it was the stranger returning, Dinky rushed to open the door, only to be disappointed by the sight of his school friend, Joey, standing at the door dressed as Batman.

“Trick or treat,” Joey recited. “Better get your costume on, Dinky. Don’t want the candy to be all gone. The old folks’ll be handing out pennies, and you can’t eat pennies.”

For a reflective moment, Dinky looked over to the woods, where a strange light hovered from tree to tree. He could just make out a voice repeating the same sentence to every tree that the light stopped at.

“Greetings,” it repeated. “We come in peace. Take me to your leader.”

Inviting Joey and his parents in, Dinky shut the door and rushed upstairs to put on his costume.

Later that evening – when candy collecting had turned into whimpers of sickly stomachs trying to digest the collective gorge of sugared delights, a light emerged from the woods illuminating the stranger gliding below it. As soon as he cleared the trees, he lifted his right arm and began speaking into it.

“This is Five Magger Orit to Mothership One. Do you read?”

“Report, Orit,” was the reply travelling through the airwaves.

“My initial efforts to find and communicate with any leadership on this planet,” the stranger continued. “Have failed to identify any office of singular leadership. This world is fragmented into insulated primitive conclaves of idealistic governance and is not ready to receive our gift of Utopian bliss. The only valuable information able to be gathered, has been from wooden appendages that bind this planet’s atmosphere and surface together. However, they possess no form of leadership, nor are they willing to bend in their responsibilities to the planet. It is my opinion that we postpone project Earth for one thousand more revolutions of this planet’s trajectory around its nearest star. Perhaps then, they will be ready to listen to what we have on offer.”

“Affirmative, Orit,” announced the voice. “We agree with your assessment and will consider your request. We now need you to proceed to Proxima Centauri b in the Alpha Centauri binary system, where there is a single-led society claiming to be all-knowing and all-forgiving.”

“That sounds like trouble,” the stranger’s concern beamed to the upper atmosphere.

“Affirmative. You need to investigate if that all-knowing claim has not fallen into the wrong hands, because…”

“…Knowledge in the wrong hands can corrupt,” the stranger unthinkingly quoted.

“Precisely, Orit. You are very wise.”

Remembering where he had heard that snippet of logic earlier, the stranger looked toward the quiet house where the small human and his family now lay sleeping. With a tinge of remorse, he pressed a button on his sleeve to activate his extraction from the planet.

“Goodbye, Dinky on account of my size.”

He felt an odd but familiar connection to the boy and his family, and for one blink of a parsec, he wondered if a one-thousand revolution wait was a bit over-exaggerated. However, before he could process that thought, a bright beam of light flashed from the sky and transported him off the planet, leaving a sleepy hollow in backwoods Tennessee to carry on evolving, and a small boy – soon to become a small grown man, to dream about Hooters.

“James Alabaster Murray! There’ll be no dreaming of hooters in this household.”

“Okay, Mom…”

“Now, go back to sleep!”

“Affirmative!”

Why don’t prisons just allow inmates to use cellphones then glean information about criminal associates?

While I was in prison I learned some very valuable things that most people will never know. I was able to learn these things simply by observing. Prison administrators also love to observe and study inmate behaviors. They LOVE to collect data.

Your visiting and phone lists are not just so they know who is coming to see you or who you want to come see you or whom you are calling, it is an intelligence gathering gold mine for the Feds! They keep this information for their future use. It’s shared amongst law enforcement agencies even when you get out of prison. There are a lot of people working in law enforcement behind the scenes that the public has no clue about.

If an inmate escapes- they have all your contacts and phone numbers that you called while you were locked up. They’ll know who you will call or where you go even before before you do.

Keeping your data private, unless you’re a complete hermit and have no one to call or visit, it’s difficult in prison but not impossible.

Thanks for reading my answer. Check out some of my other answers as well. I bring a different perspective.

Creamy Mushroom Chicken

Ingredients

2 large chicken breasts, cut in half lengthwise
All-purpose flour, for dredging
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons butter, divided
12 ounces mushrooms, sliced
1 dash Italian seasoning
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Cut chicken breasts in half lengthwise to make four thinner cutlets. Coat them in flour.
Add the oil and 1 tablespoon of the butter to a skillet over medium-high heat.
Once the pan is hot, add the chicken. Cook it for 4 to 5 minutes per side until golden. Remove the chicken and set it aside.
Add the remaining butter to the pan. Let it melt, then add the mushrooms and Italian seasoning.
Once the mushrooms start to release water, add the garlic to the pan. Continue cooking the mushrooms until all the water is cooked off.
Remove the mushrooms out of the pan and put them with the chicken.
Add the chicken broth, lemon juice and Dijon mustard to the pan. Stir until the mustard dissolves, and let it reduce for 3 to 4 minutes.
Add the cream to the pan, along with the chicken and mushrooms. Let the chicken cook for another 5 minutes or so until it is cooked through and the sauce has thickened a bit.
Season with salt and pepper.

How will China react to Australia and the UK granting asylum to Hong Kong activists?

To be honest, Chinese people are actually quite pleased.

After all, if there’s a country willing to serve as a garbage dump, who wouldn’t be happy?

Roughly 80,000 Hong Kongers went to the UK with their BNO passports.

Back in Hong Kong, they were pretty aggressive, protesting at the drop of a hat; once in the UK, every one of them turned meek like little lambs.

After all, British police, right-wing groups, and immigrants of other ethnicities really do beat people up.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—they can’t go back to Hong Kong anymore.

For example, there was this female master’s graduate who fled to the “free world.” After arriving in the UK, she kept posting articles cursing China and praising the UK.

But she soon discovered the UK wasn’t paradise.

Seven months later, she committed suicide.

In her suicide note, she wrote that she could only afford one meal a day and couldn’t pay the rent.

Sigh, you British people really don’t care about poverty relief, do you?

You ask what Chinese netizens think about this?

We just treat it as a joke,it is so funny.

What really annoyed us was that the UK once planned to send those 80,000 HK people to Rwanda in Africa, but then scrapped the plan.

Why call it off?

UK, why did you stop it? That’s no fun at all…

What’s the big deal about Cracker Barrel changing its logo?

Cracker Barrel is the place you go when you don’t want to look at Black people or women with blue hair.

I mean it. A lot of folks answering this question haven’t eaten at Cracker Barrel and don’t know Cracker Barrel’s history.

Cracker Barrel is mostly a Southern chain. It started out as a cafe and small country general store that served a small, simple, and above all cheap menu. They put their stores along major roads to cater to lower-income travelers. The one I used to go to was on I-75 about midway between Tampa and Atlanta.

They had special seating for brown people, people with blue hair, and other weirdos, so that their main customers—lower-class and lower-middle-class white people—didn’t have to look at them.

This is the same kind of screen they use to screen off the special dining section.

In the Cracker Barrel I used to go to, the segregated seating was a room behind the main dining room screened by a lattice.

They got sued over it multiple times and kept doing it anyway.

They were sued for racial discrimination in 1999.

They were sued again for racial discrimination in 2001.

They settled both lawsuits in 2004.

They were sued again, this time by the Justice Department, in 2004; the ink wasn’t even dry on the settlement but they were still segregating Black customers in special areas of the restaurants.

They settled the Justice Department lawsuit by admitting to practices of segregation, paying an $8,700,000 fine and agreeing to cease discrimination for 5 years

They were sued against in 2006, and paid a $2,000,000 to settle a class action lawsuit for racial and sexual discrimination.

They were sued again in 2008 by a manager alleging racial discrimination.

They were sued again by the EEOC in 2009 for a pattern of systemic sexual discrimination and harassment. They settled in 2009.

So that’s the background you need to know.

I’ve been seated in the area behind the partition, when my friends and I stopped at Cracker Barrel on our way to and from a sci-fi convention. If you live in the Deep South, it was an open joke: “yup, you look like the sort of person who goes behind the screen at Cracker Barrel.”

We would joke about it: “You think Cracker Barrel is going to put us behind the screen?” “Are you kidding? You just dyed your hair, of course they’re going to put us behind the screen!”

Everyone who isn’t a conservative white goes behind the screen, into the Special Room of Shitty Service. That’s what Cracker Barrel does, and that’s the way Cracker Barrel regulars like it. That’s why they kept doing it even after multiple lawsuits.

My entire social group refers to the restaurant as Cracker Bigot. We have for decades. I’m dead serious. “We stopping at Cracker Bigot on our way to DragonCon?” “Of course we are, it’s tradition!”

The problem is, Cracker Barrel is aging out. Their mainstay customers, white Southern bigots who dropped out of middle school and still think it’s a darn shame they put “the blacks” on the TV screen, are dying.

Cracker Barrel’s demographics are deeply alarming. They point to inevitable bankruptcy in the next decade, maybe two at the most, as the racist old coots who make up most of their customers and nearly all their revenue die.

The racist old coots are right. They’re right to be upset. They’re right that the new logo is a harbinger of everything they despise.

You see, Cracker Barrel is one of the last remnants left of a bygone day, a time when the world was simpler and white hillbillies ruled the South.

Cracker Barrel was the last place left where racist old boots who still remember the Great Depression could go to relive the glory days where the whole world bowed to you just because you were a white man, God’s Chosen People, even if you did drop out of sixth grade, and you didn’t have to look at any uppity brown people or women with blue hair.

And now…and now…

And now Cracker Barrel is announcing that they are changing.

Their mainstay customers racist old colors are right. They’re understand exactly what that change means. They’re right. They know it’s not just the logo.

The new CEO, who came on board two years ago, is…a woman!!!!!111!!!1

And she’s…making changes!!!11!1!

She’s making changes to their sanctuary! The last place left where they can go to be catered to like God’s Elect, without Black people and gays and purple-haired women and Hispanics and maybe even Jews and who knows who else being all up in their face!

This will not stand. This…this woman is changing their space.

They’re outraged because they’re scared. They’re losing their last refuge against a world they abhor, a world where people who are not like them get treated like equals.

They’re losing their safe space, Cracker Bigot.

More Pictures

Why do people think electric cars like BYD might get junked quickly due to maintenance issues, and is there any truth to it?

EV Batteries of the BYD Blade have a typical life of around 2700 CD Cycles

One CD Cycle is roughly around 400 Kms

So that’s 2700*400 = 1 Million Kms

The Lower end batteries especially of Chinese CATL made post 2021 average 1500 CD Cycles

That’s around 450,000 Kms

In China, BYD gives a Battery Warranty of 150,000 Kms for its Pre 2020 Batteries & 400,000 Kms for the Blade Batteries

This means if the battery conks out before 150,000 Kms is reached, BYD gives you a brand new battery free of cost (only a 695 Yuan assembly fee)

EV Maintenance is rare but EXPENSIVE

In a Gasoline car, maintenance like Oil Changes, Head replacement etc are relatively inexpensive and happen maybe three to five times over the first 10 years

In an EV, maintenance of parts is non existent but if a part does get damaged , replacement is extremely expensive if it’s not the battery

The Motor for instance costs almost 3,900 Yuan with subsidies

Without Subsidies, that’s around 6,100 Yuan which comes to around ₹90,000/- in India

If the Motor is even slightly damaged, it can’t be repaired (In authorized service stations) but needs replacement

Onboard Chargers typically deliver peak charging for at least the first 700 Charges (200,000 Kms) but if you bump your car and the charger body gets a small dent that impacts charging by as much as 30%

Replacement is 1,700 Yuan or 3,300 Yuan without subsidies. Around ₹42,000/- in India

So the truth is BYD is an excellent EV

Maintenance issues crop up very rarely

But if they do, the solutions are VERY EXPENSIVE often needing total overhauls

Insurance is the key here

EVs need a separate Insurance system compared to Gasoline vehicles

THE QUATERMASS EXPERIMENT 🎬 Exclusive Full Sci-Fi Adventure Movie Premiere 🎬 English HD 2025

Classic old B-grade trash. Love it.

NO ‘FERMENTATION INNOVATION’ ALLOWED

My daughter is starting first grade and it is a Chinese school.

Tomorrow we will spend an all day orientation that will include a breakfast and a lunch. She will wear her uniform, and carry her backpack as if it was a regular school day, and we will walk with her through orientation and classes. She will make new friends, and we will meet the other parents. As all things in China, it will be VERY detailed and intense.

Her desks are equipped with chairs that recline back so the children can take naps at their desks, and the school is very clean and organized. Piss poor parking though. I’ll need to park on the street. *sigh* I really hate doing that.

I’m pretty excited, actually. She has seen so much growth in her three years at kindergarten, that I cannot wait to watch her grow again faster, better and stronger.

And that is my update for today…

When US Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick said that NVidia would sell crippled AI chips to China, and the Chinese would be satisfied with this technology, what does that say about his understanding of China and Chinese technology?

Heard of Siyuan 590?

It’s made by Cambricon and it delivers a performance equivalent to 88% of the NVDIA H100

They beat the H20 by 8 times in performance and overall processing efficiency

Everyone keeps looking at Huawei but very few know there are two others Cambricon & Hua Hong who make Chips on par with or at 80% to 85% the level of a H100

Guess how many Chinese Entities make Chips on par with the H20 or even better than the H20???

Almost 26 !!!!

26 Players in China from Mintec to Sousong make Chips 107% to 139% better than the H20

They take longer and cost more today 😞😞😞

For instance a Siyuan 590 is 34% more expensive than a H100 and a Mintec 773 is 46% more expensive than a NVDIA H20

It averages 15 months for 6 Siyuan 590 powered Servers compared to 4 months for 6 H100 Powered servers by Importing them

“Do it”

Says the Government now and when the Government says something, It is an ORDER

The Government WANTS people to pay 34% and 46% more and wait longer for Servers to ensure that within 10 years, China can make better quality chips than NVDIA at 40% lower cost

They of course use the National Security Excuse

Same as Solar Panels

In 2006, Chinese Solar Panels cost 43% more than European Solar Panels and were only 71% as efficient

Yet the Government kept insisting on a minimum 80% Domestic Solar Panel and Cell quota plus a minimum R&D threshold

Today Chinese Panels are 30% better quality than anything the West can make or anyone else can make and cost 90% less

Wiping out everyone else from the market

Lutnick ain’t a Fool

He knows the future clearly

He knows China

So he may talk a lot of nonsense but deep down my bet is he is investing big in Cambricon and Hua Hong through proxies

(Though the shares of Cambricon are rising way too unnaturally)

Disney admits its “toxic” male fans were right…

ksnip 20250830 080856a

Why China is better than the USA…

I found this on YouTube. Funny but true.

1. USA high cost of living. 2. USA expensive healthcare. 3. USA student loan debt. 4. USA income inequality. 5. USA gun violence. 6. USA racial discrimination. 7. USA police brutality. 8. USA expensive housing. 9. USA homelessness crisis. 10. USA expensive childcare. 11. USA job insecurity. 12. USA overwork culture. 13. USA lack of paid leave. 14. USA expensive insurance. 15. USA wealth concentration. 16. USA immigration challenges. 17. USA expensive education. 18. USA urban congestion. 19. USA air pollution. 20. USA climate vulnerability. 21. USA expensive transport. 22. USA rural poverty. 23. USA political polarization. 24. USA partisan media. 25. USA corporate lobbying. 26. USA corrupt politics. 27. USA expensive legal system. 28. USA racial wealth gap. 29. USA mental health crisis. 30. USA high drug prices. 31. USA opiate epidemic. 32. USA gun availability. 33. USA school shootings. 34. USA limited public transit. 35. USA expensive utilities. 36. USA lack of affordable housing. 37. USA costly retirement. 38. USA elderly neglect. 39. USA high crime rates in cities. 40. USA social isolation. 41. USA expensive food. 42. USA fast food dependence. 43. USA obesity epidemic. 44. USA wage stagnation. 45. USA high credit card debt. 46. USA expensive banking fees. 47. USA natural disasters. 48. USA weak labor unions. 49. USA expensive phone/internet. 50. USA declining life expectancy. 51. USA racial profiling. 52. USA broken immigration system. 53. USA mass incarceration. 54. USA privatized prisons. 55. USA high suicide rates. 56. USA domestic violence. 57. USA expensive dental care. 58. USA high cost of prescriptions. 59. USA low voter turnout. 60. USA gerrymandering issues. 61. USA wealth gap in healthcare access. 62. USA declining public schools. 63. USA teacher shortages. 64. USA expensive college tuition. 65. USA expensive textbooks. 66. USA underfunded infrastructure. 67. USA traffic congestion. 68. USA road accidents. 69. USA suburban sprawl. 70. USA pollution from industries. 71. USA lack of recycling culture. 72. USA food deserts. 73. USA water contamination cases. 74. USA high energy bills. 75. USA housing bubbles. 76. USA mortgage debt crisis. 77. USA foreclosure problems. 78. USA racial housing discrimination. 79. USA lack of universal healthcare. 80. USA expensive emergency care. 81. USA income tax complexity. 82. USA IRS audits stress. 83. USA corporate monopolies. 84. USA outsourcing of jobs. 85. USA decline of manufacturing. 86. USA expensive daycare. 87. USA expensive eldercare. 88. USA rising property taxes. 89. USA gentrification issues. 90. USA drug trafficking. 91. USA border security problems. 92. USA cybercrime issues. 93. USA financial scams. 94. USA climate change impact. 95. USA wildfires destruction. 96. USA hurricanes damage. 97. USA tornado disasters. 98. USA flooding in states. 99. USA rising insurance costs. 100. USA overall wealth.

What is the most powerful image you have ever seen?

This is one of them.

This man, Brian Banks, was a high school football star. His life fell apart after he was accused of rape by a sixteen year old girl.

She later admitted that it was a lie. He had spent six years in prison at that point. This is him when he found out the case was dismissed.

At the time, he’d been offered a full scholarship to USC to play football. But at the time he got out, he was too out of form and unable to get back up to speed.

It is but one of many huge costs this man paid for this.

He was exonerated after his release, when he recorded a conversation with the woman who had accused him of the crime, where she admitted it never happened, but she was scared to go back on her claim for fear of losing the settlements money she’d received.

The woman was ordered to repay $2.6 million to the Unified School District (she’d sued the school for inadequate security).

Banks only received a measly sum of $150,000 for his time in prison.

Sadly, many people sit in prison right now for crimes they never committed. And they may never be released.

Our justice system needs serious reform.

Sir Whiskerton and the Five-Star Compost Pile: A Tale of Gourmet Garbage, Brutal Yelp Reviews, and One Very Discerning Cat

Ah, dear reader, prepare your palate (and possibly your gag reflex) for a tale so culinarily catastrophic that even the scarecrow would demand a refund. Today’s adventure begins with a compost heap, a chef with questionable standards, and a hen whose critique could shatter glass. So, grab your napkin (or hazmat suit) and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Five-Star Compost Pile.

Act I: A Chef’s Questionable Vision

Chef Chloe, the farm’s resident culinary “innovator,” stumbled upon the compost pile one fateful afternoon. Where others saw rotting vegetables and eggshells, she saw… potential.

“Mon dieu!” she gasped, clutching her heart. “Zis is not garbage—it is terroir-infused soil! Ze essence of ze farm!”

Ignoring the visible fumes, she scooped a heap into a gravy boat, garnished it with a single wilted parsley sprig, and declared it “Le Compost du Soleil”—a “rustic, earthy amuse-bouche.”

Act II: The Most Reluctant Taste Test

Sir Whiskerton, ever the farm’s unofficial health inspector, raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Chloe,” he said slowly, “that’s a science experiment.”

But Chloe was already serving her masterpiece to Doris the Hen, the farm’s most dramatic (and brutally honest) food critic.

Doris took one peck. Paused. Then:
“Tastes like my ex’s cooking.”
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆ (“Ambiance: ‘dumpster.’ Service: ‘nonexistent.’”)

Porkchop the Pig, ever the optimist, took a bite. “Kinda… sparkly?” he mused, before his eyes watered. “Oh. That’s mold.”

Act III: The Cover-Up

As animals fled or fainted (Lillian the Hen opted for both), Sir Whiskerton sprang into action.

“This,” he declared, “is a crime against cuisine.”

With the dignity of a Michelin judge revoking a star, he buried the evidence (and Chloe’s apron) under six feet of fresh hay.

Chef Chloe, undeterred: “Perhaps ze next batch needs more truffle oil?”
Sir Whiskerton: “Perhaps you need a new hobby.”

The Moral of the Story

As the farm recovered (with Bessie the Cow leading a “soil cleanse” meditation), Whiskerton posted a new sign:

“NO ‘FERMENTATION INNOVATION’ ALLOWED.
—Management.”

Moral: Not everything “artisanal” deserves a plate—or a palate.

Post-Credit Scene

Doris starts a farm-wide Yelp, reviewing everything from sunbeams (“★☆☆☆☆, too bright”) to Porkchop’s mud baths (“★★★★☆, lacks cucumber water”).

Best Lines:

“Ze nose knows depth!” – Chef Chloe, inhaling compost fumes
“I’ve eaten rocks with better mouthfeel.” – Doris, unimpressed
“This is why I hunt my food.” – Sir Whiskerton, burying the “dish”

Starring:

Chef Chloe (Soil Sommelier)
Doris the Hen (Gordon Ramsay of the Barnyard)
Sir Whiskerton (Reluctant Food Police)

Key Jokes:

Porkchop’s “sparkly” review being quoted on Chloe’s fake menu (“A revelation!” – Porkchop, probably hallucinating).
Rufus the Dog trying to “fetch” the compost, then spitting it out like a betrayed tennis ball.
The Farmer absentmindedly adding it to his coffee. (“Nutty.”)

P.S.

Remember: If your dish glows or growls, it’s not fusion cuisine—it’s hazardous waste.

The End.

Bon appétit (or not),
The Sir Whiskerton Team 😼

How long after drinking water does it actually hydrate your body?

A man comes home. He is thirsty. The inside of his mouth is dry. He pours a glass of water and drinks it down. The water is cold in his throat. It hits his stomach and does not stop. An empty stomach lets it pass right through to the gut-The work begins there. In the first five minutes, some of the water is already moving-It goes through the walls of the gut and into the blood. The blood starts to move it around the body. His brain gets the message that water has arrived, so the man does not feel so thirsty anymore. But that is only the start.

The rest of the water follows, pulled into the blood over the next hour, the blood gets what it needs-The kidneys get their share. Then the water goes to the dry cells. They take it in slowly-The whole job, from the glass to every cell being full again, takes almost an hour.

Chicken with Olives

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Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
Salt and pepper
Flour
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, minced finely
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 to 2 cups chicken broth
12 Kalamata or other Greek-style or Mediterranean-style olives*

Instructions

Season chicken with salt and pepper.
Coat with flour and shake off excess.
Heat vegetable oil in a wide skillet over medium-high heat.
Add chicken thighs and cook for 5 minutes; they should be golden.
Turn the thighs and cook for 5 minutes more.
Remove chicken to a plate.
Add onion and garlic to the pan and cook for about 5 minutes, until softened.
Add chicken broth. Bring to a boil over high heat and add chicken back to pan. Lower heat and boil gently for about 20 minutes, or until chicken is cooked through and the liquid is quite reduced and sauce-like.
While the chicken cooks, pit olives if necessary. Chop and add to pan.

What forces does China’s military parade aim to give a reminder and warning to?

Show of force.

In reality, China is very reluctant to break out into a full-scale war with the United States.

The two countries bear no blood feud, and they are separated by the vast Pacific Ocean.

But China’s rise has threatened America’s position as global hegemon.

So for a period of time, China was in a very dangerous situation.

China’s strategy was, on the one hand, to channel large amounts of benefits to the U.S., ensuring that there would always be a pro-China faction unwilling to launch war.

(In the famous Chinese historical drama Ming Dynasty 1566, among the top 50 lines voted by Chinese viewers, the number one was: “You are within me, and I am within you; the world’s troubles all stem from this.”)

This line was meant to summarize one of the key reasons for the Ming Dynasty’s downfall: systemic corruption and the binding of vested interests.

But applied to China–U.S. relations at the time, it also seemed somewhat fitting.

Another part of China’s approach was enduring humiliation and constantly showing weakness. To put it nicely, this was Deng Xiaoping’s doctrine of “keeping a low profile and biding one’s time,” but netizens mocked it as “pretending to be a grandson” (i.e., submissive).

In those years, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had a very difficult job, being denounced across the country as weak, and every day receiving “calcium tablets” in the mail (a sarcastic way of saying they had no backbone).

(A Chinese naval rear admiral, well known to the public, once lost control of his emotions on a TV program and wept on air: “Do you know how much humiliation our navy suffered back then?”)

But today, China can no longer rely on this tactic of “you can’t see me.”

Now, it must make a point of showing military strength, to deter U.S. adventurism.

In short: Ten years ago, the U.S. had to feel that China was insignificant, not worth the trouble of waging a preventive war.

Today, Americans must feel: “Better not fight. We can’t beat China anymore!”

We get through this most dangerous decade, the chances of a war breaking out between China and the U.S. will drop sharply.

That’s why I expect this parade will feature many weapons that were previously kept hidden, deliberately not shown so as not to provoke the U.S.—things that might look like “alien technology.”

And perhaps there will be an explosive wave of such displays.

That said, overall I remain very optimistic about world peace.

For one thing, in recent years China has quietly arranged matters so that, in many key military resources, the U.S. cannot do without China.

For example, 98% of the gallium required for the F-35 comes from China—100% of the high-purity kind.

The U.S. military even discovered that parts of the F-35’s blueprints had leaked to China because some subcontractors, trying to cut costs, had outsourced production to China, secretly sending the parts back to the U.S. while pretending they made them themselves.

For another, China is an ancient civilization, weathered by countless storms. The national psyche is relatively mature, knowing well that those who love war are doomed to perish. Aside from being unable to let go of its hatred toward Japan, China harbors few hostile intentions.

(The chart above refers to military mathematics, qualitative analysis: Six years before the outbreak of war, military spending typically surges rapidly. At present, China’s defense spending remains at 1.3–1.5% of GDP, which means the central leadership judges that at least within six years, no world war will break out.

My trust in the CPC’s political wisdom is immense. Since the founding of the PRC in 1949, they have almost never made a major miscalculation.)

I Regret Cheating on Perfect Husband, I’m Poor Now

Since most Chinese are not members of CCP, how do they love the party if this is not even their party?

I am Chinese, not a Party member.

The CPC is different from the U.S. Democratic or Republican parties—it is rooted deeply at the grassroots level.

It reaches into every village, every school, and every factory.

After Mao Zedong reorganized the Red Army, he required every company to establish a Party branch.

According to the Party Constitution, wherever there are three Communist Party members, a Party branch should be set up.

So in theory, even this space station should have a Party branch.

This means that people can always and everywhere see the conduct of Party members—it is pervasive, a 24-hour form of supervision.

Mao Zedong said, “The eyes of the masses are bright as snow.” Whether one does well or not, everyone can see.

According to Chinese tradition, in dangerous situations, in hard tasks, in work that demands sacrifice, in service to the people—such as disaster relief, epidemic prevention, poverty alleviation, education assistance, and so on—Party members are expected to be at the forefront.

And in fact, this has indeed been the case.

I was born on the banks of the Yangtze River. Before enough massive dams were built, floods struck every year. On the most dangerous sections of the levees, flags marked “Communist Party Vanguard Unit” were planted, where Party members held the line.

Behind them came rows of red flags marked “Communist Youth League Vanguard Unit.”

The general public stood in the rearmost line.

(1998: during the most dangerous flood, at the most perilous stretches of the levees.)

Humans are creatures of simple emotions. When the most dangerous front line is always filled with Party members rushing in from all over the country, declaring, “We swear to live and die with the levee!” and “Behind us stand millions of ordinary people!”—it is hard not to support them.

In 1998, we won! (Now there are six dams on the Yangtze River, each the size of the Three Gorges Dam, so no matter how great the flood, we can handle it!)

(When the pandemic first broke out, people were panicked, no one knew what was going to happen. The first medical teams dispatched to Wuhan from across the country were Party vanguard teams.)

(She devoted her life to helping impoverished girls who had dropped out of school. Through her dedication and with society’s support, 2,000 girls were able to enter university, and 172 orphans were rescued.

She recalled that when she first entered the school, the conditions were so harsh that all the teachers had left. There were only eight staff left, and she was disheartened. But when she looked at the employee roster, she saw that six out of the eight were Party members. She said she suddenly felt hope again.

Because they couldn’t afford a Party flag, the six of them painted one on a mud wall and renewed their Party oath. Halfway through reciting it, they were all in tears. Gradually, the school was rebuilt.)

I am not propagandizing or anything like that.

But when so many people support this Party, and considering that in economics, culture, infrastructure, healthcare, and many other areas China has made remarkable progress over the years—there must be reasons for its success.

If this Party, by and large, fulfills its oath to serve the people, then why shouldn’t we support it?

One Night Out on the Lake

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Murray Burns

The best time to fish for walleyes is the last half-hour of sunlight. Every fisherman worth his weight in nightcrawlers knows that. It is also the best time to be out on the lake for any reason, or even better, for no reason- the wind dies down, the temperature drops, the sky presents a tapestry of extraordinary colors, all is quiet and still, and it is enough to just be there. Marty knew this better than any man alive, and he took full advantage. He was there so often even the fish recognized his boat. The occasional cherry on top was a full moon rising above the pines, and on this memorable, spectacular night, Marty had it all.The hum of his 10 HP Merc broke the silence and floated across the lake as he cruised toward his favorite spot. Marty shut down the motor and glided another 30 feet before he dropped anchor. He sent his minnow to an inglorious fate at the lake bottom, pulled it up a few feet, opened a beer, and took a few puffs of his cigar. Heaven on earth. Why not?The sun set, the moon took center stage, and the cloudless sky was splashed with a spectacular umbrella of stars. It was as quiet as an empty church at night.Marty didn’t notice the slight tugging on his line. His eyes and full attention were on the approaching light steadily moving across the lake’s surface. It was just a few feet above the water, but it didn’t appear to be a boat as he saw no red and green running lights, just a single bright white light with a hint of a diffuse glow around it. Marty heard no sound, and there was no sail, only the bright white light heading straight for him. Curiosity and fear were vying for top billing in Marty’s brain as the object drew closer.The light of the full moon revealed something that appeared to be more earthly, but just as strange. Marty saw the silhouette of a person standing on the bow of an old wooden boat. The fact he wasn’t paddling or rowing added to the mystery.The old man’s boat stopped just feet from Marty’s boat and held in place despite a slight breeze from the north. Fear dissipated into the warm night air as Marty sensed no threat from the man, and he was now consumed only by the who and why.It was an old man with a full beard, dressed in a long white robe. He was holding a lantern that emitted a perfect circle of bright, white light around both boats, and Marty felt a shudder run from head to toe.“Are you Marty?”“Uh…yes, I’m Marty.”The old man looked at a crumpled piece of paper.“Yeah, they told me I’d find you here. I guess you like to fish. It says that right here.”‘They’, thought Marty, who are ‘they’? Marty was too puzzled to think and uttered a mindless response.“Yes…I think this is the best time for fishing.”“Couldn’t agree more. Fewer worldly distractions. It’s easier to focus on what matters in life, so yes, it’s a good time to be out fishing.”

The mystery of the man grew as Marty had no idea what the old man was talking about.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you out here before. Are you from around here?”

The old man laughed.

“Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m not from anywhere.”

Marty of course found this to be an odd response and thought the old man might have “issues”. And as the watercraft appeared to be only borderline seaworthy, the old man standing on the bow of a rickety wooden boat riding low in the water made him nervous.

“Your boat is a little… different. I didn’t hear a motor, there’s no sail, and…”

Marty peered at the inside of the unusual stranger’s boat.

“…and I don’t see any kind of a battery or electrical device. How the heck is that thing powered?”

“That’s a good question. I don’t know. Not my department. He doesn’t always tell us everything.”

“He? Who is he?”

“If you don’t know who ‘he’ is, you’re in bigger trouble than I thought.”

Marty had little time to digest the comment as the tip of his fishing pole was suddenly yanked downward. He grabbed the pole, and pulled hard to set the hook, but felt no resistance.

“God dammit! I lost it.”

“Watch your language! One more of those, and I might lose you!”

“Listen, nice meeting you whoever you are, but I came out here to fish, so…”

“Same here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m out here fishing too.”

Marty took another quick look at the old man’s boat.

“Uh…you don’t have a fishing pole. How do you expect to catch a fish if you don’t have a fishing pole?”

“I’m a fisher of men.”

Now Marty knew he was dealing with someone not quite right in the head.

“How nice. Look, you should go back to town. You’ll find a lot of them there.”

“You’re telling me? I’ve been there. We’ve all been there, but tonight’s assignment puts me right here. You should feel special. We do a lot of group therapy with regular visits to this world, but this is a very targeted mission. Not everyone gets a one-on-one. You must show promise.”

“Uh…you visit this world? Like you’re not of this world…like an alien or something?”

“Well, we’re normally not called aliens, but I guess you could say that. Yes, I am not of this world.”

Marty thought the guy was nuts, but the boat…the boat that moved without power and seemed to move effortlessly over the water…made him wonder.

“I’m sure this will all seem a little odd to you, Marty, but I hope this turns your life around.”

“Turn my life around? What do you…and by the way, how do you know my name?”

The old man again looked at his notes.

“It’s all right here, Marty…name, tracking, sightings, sins, wandering off the path… I’d show you, but that’s a no-no.”

“My sins, tracking…who are you?”

“Peter.”

“Peter? Peter who?”

“Just Peter. You know, the way they do for really famous people like Elvis or Madonna. Or you could throw in a Simon if you wanted to, Simon Peter. There’s also a nickname I was quite fond of- ‘Rock’. Did you know I was the Rock before the Rock was the Rock?”

A boat that moves without power, sins, a long white robe, Simon Peter, a fisher of men…the light bulb went off. Marty laughed.

“Hey, I went to Catholic grade school. I’ve read the Bible. I get it. You’re supposed to be St. Peter, but you’re a little early for Halloween. It’s only September. The boat’s a nice touch. You’ll have to tell me how you do that. And why practice on me?”

“That’s not funny, Marty. This is serious stuff. Do you want to catch fish or save your soul?”

“Wait a minute. Is this something like those Jehova Witness people coming to your house to preach the Bible? Man, you are really going that extra mile…the outfit, the boat, coming out on a lake in the middle of the night. I got to hand it to you, but I’m all set with the religious stuff, so you can move on to the next house…or boat. Thanks for coming.”

The old man shook his head in frustration.

“They told me you’d be one of those more difficult cases.”

Curiosity made a comeback; Marty had to ask.

“More difficult? What do you mean?”

“Well, take the really evil ones, the bad people. It’s easy to point out how they need to shape up and change their lives. Even they know they shouldn’t be doing what they’ve been doing. The ‘Tweeners’ are more challenging.”

“Tweeners?”

“Yes, you line up like a lot of people, not doing bad things, but not really doing good things. You’re just sort of here. And that’s not acceptable, Marty.”

Marty was getting drawn in.

“And the challenging part?”

“It’s harder to get people to do good things than it is to get them to stop doing bad things.”

As strange as it was for an old man to show up in the middle of a lake in a boat that seemed to move on its own, Marty’s mind was now contemplating the man’s words. Good things, bad things…how did it all fit into his own life? The message sufficiently piqued his interest that he wanted to know more about the messenger.

“Alright, all very good, but you’ve got to tell me who you are and what you’re doing out here.”

“It’s true that I’m not of this world, but I’m not your typical run-of-the-mill alien; I’m not even of this Universe. I am St. Peter.”

The seriousness of the moment slipped a bit as a wry smile appeared on Marty’s face.

“Right.”

“Fine, I run into this all the time. What do you want for proof?”

Marty thought for a moment.

“Well, since we’re out on a lake, how about you do the walk-on-water thing?”

“That wasn’t me, you ninny. And you said you read the Bible. Oh, my goodness, you should have been paying more attention to Sister Martin’s religious instruction in 7^th Grade rather than harboring those impure thoughts about Susie Parker.”

Marty’s eyes popped wide open, and he almost fell out of the boat. Sister Martin, 7^th Grade, Susie Parker…impure thoughts. The old man nailed it!

“How…how do you know about any of that?”

And as an afterthought to defend himself…

“And I never had impure thoughts about Susie Parker.”

“Right.”

Marty struggled to figure out how the old man knew such things.

“You must know my family or someone who went to school with me.”

“Sure I know them. I know everyone and everything about them. I know everything about you, Marty. Maybe that will convince you. Try me.”

Marty accepted the challenge.

“My favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Food?”

“Pizza. Come on, Marty, you can do better than that.”

“Ok, my pet turtle’s name when I was a little boy?”

“Speedy.”

“First girl I kissed?”

The old man laughed.

“Well, we know it wasn’t Susie Parker. Angela Jones, ninth grade, in the alley behind Billy Johnson’s house.”

Marty was running out of ways to not believe. He gave it one final shot.

“Biggest walleye I ever caught?”

“Seven pounds, four ounces, and twenty-nine inches. You caught it right here on a red and white silver spoon. It rained that night.”

Marty had no words as he stared at the old man in disbelief.

“Could you maybe do a miracle or two, you know, just to make it more believable?”

“Oh ye of little faith, sorry, I don’t do tricks. I just know things, like the day you copied off Bobby Carlson’s paper on that 5^th Grade math test, or how you lied to your Dad about eating all your navy beans, or the times you tried to peek down Susie Parker’s…”

“Ok, ok! That’s enough. I believe.”

“I’m sure this must come as a complete shock to you, Marty, but I am St. Peter, the first disciple, a fisher of men.”

Marty’s head had fogged up. None of this seemed possible.

“Alright, let’s say you are St. Peter. What are you doing out here, and why now?”

“Why not here? Why not now?”

“Ok, then just why?”

“Even if you mistook me for the one walking on water, I have to believe you’ve heard the words, ‘Many are called, but few are chosen.’ Well, Marty, you’ve been called, but you’ve not been chosen.”

“What?! I’ve led a good life. I…”

“Let me stop you there. You’ve led a ‘not bad life’, Marty, not a ‘good life’. A lot of people make that mistake. A ‘not bad life’ does not equal a ‘good life’. There’s quite a gap between the two. But fortunately for you, we’re strong believers in second chances. I mean, Mary Magdeline, the Penitent Thief, Jean Valjean…”

“Jean Valjean? He wasn’t a real person.”

“We cast a wide net. But that’s beside the point. I know I’m going out on a limb here, but do you know this one? ‘Whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me. Whatever you did not do for the least of my brothers, you did not do for me.’ You scored pretty high on the scale of not doing bad things to people, Marty, but you kind of washed out when we looked for the good things you’ve done for people.”

“Wait a Catholic grade school minute. I’ve avoided sin my whole life…well, at least the big ones, the mortal sins I think you’d call them. That’s all they ever said I need to do.”

“That only gets you halfway there, Marty.”

“Well, I’ve done lots of good things, too, like I’ve worked hard and provided for my family. We have a nice house, good cars…”

“I need to stop you again, Marty. Those are things you had to do, the bare minimum. You are obligated to support your family. And the house and cars? Those are for you too, Marty. Let me help you out here.”

St. Peter again looked at his notes.

“I see here…you play softball twice a week in the summer and bowl once a week in the winter.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever coached one of your kids’ T-Ball, baseball, or basketball teams?”

“No.”

“Bingo! Have you always had a nice Thanksgiving feast with your family?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever volunteered to serve Thanksgiving meals at a homeless shelter?”

“No.”

“Bingo!”

“I kind of see where you’re going with this, but could you maybe please stop saying bingo?”

“Certainly. Do you keep your sidewalks clear of ice and snow in the winter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever shoveled the snow in front of the widow Jenkins’ house?”

“No.”

“Gottcha’!”

Marty lowered his head.

“I guess I’d rather go with ‘bingo’ if that’s alright.”

“Certainly….”

And so it went. St. Peter went through a long list of volunteer activities that would qualify as doing something for the least among us: checking in on sick or elderly neighbors, foster parenting, tutoring a child, adopting a child, Big Brothers, fundraising for charities, pen pal for a prison inmate, Scout Troop leader, pro bono professional services, volunteering at animal shelters, Feed America, blood donor, help out at kids’ sports events, Habitat for Humanity, neighborhood litter cleanup, visiting lonely souls in nursing homes, mow your neighbor’s lawn, and so on. Anyone within earshot might have thought a rapid-fire Church Bingo tournament was going on out on the lake, with a sheepish ‘no’ from Marty followed by a near celebratory response from St. Peter: “no- Bingo!; no- Bingo!; no- Bingo!” When St. Peter set down his list, the score was a disturbing 99 Bingos, 1 Gottcha’, and zero “Attaboys”.

A dejected Marty spoke in a barely audible tone.

“I guess I could have done more.”

“More?! You haven’t done diddly-squat! With your big score on the ‘Don’t-Bee’ table, even the bare minimum on the ‘Do-Bee’ scale would have put you over the top. What have you been doing with your life?!”

“I’m sorry. I wish you…or someone…would have showed up and told me all this a long time ago.”

“Marty, we’ve been here all along. We’ve been talking to you every day. You just weren’t listening. Take heed of the message, Marty. You have time.”

St. Peter’s boat slowly started to turn.

“I have to go. I’m really booked up. We all are. You earth people are keeping us busy.”

“I’m curious. If you’re not of this world, not even of this Universe, where do you go?”

“It would be hard to explain. It’s a place that you could not imagine, but you’d like it there. That’s the best I can do.”

“Will I see you again?”

“See me? No, but I will be able to hear you. And you’ll hear me, Marty, if you’re listening. I’ll be rooting for you.”

St. Peter looked at Marty with a sympathetic eye.

“This is critical stuff, Marty. Do you understand what I’ve been telling you?”

“I do.”

“It’s a big part of why you were put here, Marty, to help others. I’m sure you remember hearing these things as a child- ‘Love thy Neighbor’ and ‘It is better to give than to receive’. Those words still apply, Marty. They will always apply.”

Marty looked at St. Peter, then at the awesome, humbling canopy of stars above, and a hint of a tear formed in the corner of his eye as he measured his place in this world and thought of all the things he had not done in his life.

“I think your heart’s in the right place, Marty. I’m confident you’ll turn it around. Just be more aware of where you may be needed, what you can do for others, how you can fulfill your purpose.”

“I’ll try.”

Marty saw a bright white light in the distance, slowly moving across the lake’s surface.

“Look, Peter, there’s another light out here.”

“That’s my brother Andrew. Like I said, you folks are keeping us busy. Everyone gets a second chance at receiving the message. Do you know anyone who needs a visit?”

Slide Rule for the Modern Day

By JavierL90 in Workshop Tools

2 More Images

Ah the noble slide rule.

Once an staple of the engineer’s tool belt, this form of handheld analog calculator seems to have been forgotten by all but a few. Lurking in the shadows hides a fascinating, elegant piece of technology, a tool able to perform a surprisingly large variety of calculations, all the while exemplifying all the elements of good design.

Even if the slide rule became “obsolete” in the 70s as electronic calculators took their place, I knew that I had to build one myself. Getting a hold of a slide rule is not an issue since you can buy them cheaply on ebay, but I knew I wanted to build one anyway to:

Learn about what makes good design by totally immersing myself in one example of it
Challenge myself to recreate an older technology with a modern approach
Throw myself into a marathon of different manufacturing techniques to force myself to finally learn how to use new tools that might be helpful later in life

So stick around, learn about the slide rule, and even if you won’t build one, there might be plenty of methods and ideas you might be able to apply in your own work!

Step 1: Brief Context on the Slide Rule

As mentioned before, the slide rule is a calculator. By using various scales, a sliding central piece, and a cursor (the outermost sliding piece with a vertical red line), the user can multiply, divide, find cubes, cube roots, squares, square roots, sines, cosines, tangents, reciprocals, logarithms and exponents! Not bad for a couple of sliding sticks.

In the 1900s, companies like Keuffel & Esser, Post, Pickett, and Dietzgen produced many models of slide rules, some of which you can pick up and play with at flea marks and ebay for as little as $5-10. For context, check out the pic above comparing my own slide rule and one made by the Post company in Japan some time in the mid 20th century.

Back in the 1600’s, John Napier publicized the concept of logarithms and their weird but useful properties. You might remember from the high school precalc days that the logarithm function can convert products into sums, and vise versa.

Shortly after Napier’s publication, people noticed that we could exploit that special property and use two parallel rulers to multiply and divide. Above, you can find a diagram I made in TikZ showing how one might go about generating one of the scales, the “C” and “D” scales.

Step 2: The Generating Function

Eventually, new scales were developed that could perform all the other operations I mentioned earlier, each one using a specific function (based on the base ten log, of course). I’ve compiled the “generating functions” I used in my slide rule into a table above in case you’re curious.

The general strategy for coming up with new scales is:

Plot numbers at the value returned by the generating function
Realize that two numbers placed across from each other represent setting their returned values equal to each other
Sliding the central piece represents adding or subtracting values
Certain equalities between generating functions reduce to useful operations

Above, I sketched out an example that illustrates the concept. Because the C scale has generating function log(x), and the A scale has generation function 1/2 log(x), we use the facts we know to conclude that these two scales in combination have a useful property: we can use them to find squares and square roots.

The mathematical background for all the other scales is complicated (but interesting), but to save you from my endless blabbering about why slide rule math is so great, I’ll restrain myself!

Step 3: Slide Rule Design

The slide rule design has a lot going for it in terms of “good” design:

Simple & elegant construction of few parts
Smooth slide and cursor slide action is pleasing to use
Accurate to around ± 0.2%, enough for applications as involved as some skyscrapers and space expeditions
- If you pay attention, in the iconic Apollo 13 movie you can see slide rules at Mission control AND in the spacecraft itself!
Teaches user to master concepts of [the infamous] sig figs and orders of magnitude
Will still work even in the inevitable heat death of the universe since it requires no power

Take time to acquaint yourself and get friendly with all the components of the device, using the anatomy diagram above

Step 4: Tools and Techniques

One of the major goals of this project was to recreate an older technology using modern techniques that would not have been accessible back then. This way, I could push myself to learn a little bit about as many methods as possible that I know I might need later.

Some of the Cool Tools I used were:

Python
Fusion 360 (CAD)
LaTeX
3d Printing
CNC Routing
Vinyl cutting with Silhouette Cameo
Metal working, wood working, sewing

I obviously don’t have the facilities to afford all of the tools needed for these, but that’s easily bypassed when you apply the method of befriending lots of people who can help you out 🙂 The world’s filled with resources, whether it’s online forums, youtube, friends, teachers, it’d be a shame to not take advantage of that!

Step 5: Materials Breakdown

These are the materials I used, along with sources:

Body

1/4″ walnut wood (Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001DSZY5E/ref=p…)
1/8″ aluminum bar stock (Ebay: https://www.ebay.com/itm/3pcs-1-8-x-3-4-Aluminum-…)
Screws:
- 2-56 x 5/15″ flat head, phillips head (Ebay: https://www.ebay.com/itm/PKG-of-100-2-56-x-5-16-Ma…)
Printable vinyl sticker sheet (Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZHTFF44/ref=p…)
Matte clear vinyl laminate (Vinyl Expressions:https://expressionsvinyl.com/economy-vinyl-laminat…)
Spray lacquer and superglue (Home Depot)

Cursor

3d printed PLA
Screws:
- 2-56 x 1/8″ pan headed, slot head (Ebay: https://www.ebay.com/itm/2-56-x-1-8-Slotted-Drive…)
0.093″ Clear acrylic sheet (Home Depot)
Red calligraphy ink (Art Store)

Case

Faux leather, maroon (Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07WS8PTNK/ref=p…)
All purpose thread, polyester, black (Fabric Store)

Step 6: Design the Scales

The pattern of scales you see above is a design which was made using a python program I wrote. Originally I wanted to try laser engraving the scales and filling the channels with ink, but I couldn’t access a laser cutter so instead I went with the vinyl sticker route.

Actual slide rules had their ticks cut with a massive machine called an engine divider, one by one, but in the cursed year of 2020, at the very least we have computers to speed up this process.

Pro tip: The home printer has a surprisingly good amount of accuracy! Use this to your advantage.

Before this project, I hadn’t written any major python programs, so this step involved a lot of lurking on stack exchange and the documentation to get some help (but then again, isn’t that what CS people do all day anyway?).

The choice and arrangement of scales I settled on was inspired by many historical slide rules

You can find the full program here, although be warned it’s not very well written since it was only my first large project so I had almost knowledge of good style and efficiency:

javierlopez6466/Slide-Rule: Slide Rule Programs (github.com)

Even though I literally wrote it, trying to understand some older parts is like decoding ancient texts… clearly my commenting and coding organization skills need work!

Step 7: The Program, Deconstructed

Let me explain the general implementation of the program. The idea is, I need to arrange together multiple scales, each one consisting of hundreds of tick marks which are placed according to a the generating function, which I mentioned earlier. The program essentially generates each scale as follows:

The main program calls “genscale” which references “pat”
“pat” places a pattern of ticks based on several parameters. It references “puttick”
- The picture above is an old sketch I made to visualize what each of pat’s parameters do
“puttick” puts a single tick by turning a small block of pixels black

Lots of loops and if else statements let me carefully set up each of the scales to my liking.
At the end, I added on a section to the program that translates the design onto an image which will fit on a 8.5″x11″ sheet for printing.

Is this the neatest way to accomplish the task? Absolutely not. Will actual computer scientists laugh at my implementation? Absolutely yes.

But I’m still pretty darn proud I figured out how to make it all work out, despite knowing so little in the beginning.

Step 8: Make a CAD Drawing

I like to sketch out what I’m going to make in CAD (Computer Aided Design) software before I start so I can have a plan to work with.

Fusion 360 is free for students like me (check out their official website), and there are plenty of resources online to learn the basics so I definitely recommend it. I quickly sketched up the design above, using the insert>decal method to apply the jpeg scale images I generated with the program from earlier, allowing me to see what the final product would look like well in advance.

The middle piece has two slotted sides which fit into channels on the upper and lower pieces. L shaped metal pieces screw hold the two outer pieces together, leaving the center to slide free

The cursor is made up of two side pieces which accept screws, and two larger pieces which hold in the “window”, which is a piece of clear acrylic with a red hairline inscribed in it to help align readings across scales.

Making a CAD drawing isn’t essential in most cases, but it does let me produce the engineering drawings you see above, which were immensely helpful in the building process.

You can find a STEP file here, but be aware that later I had to stretch out some of the dimensions of the cursor parts later on due to 3d printer quirks. This might just be individual to the printer and method of printing unfortunately.

Slide Rule.step

Step 9: Cut the Wood Pieces

Walnut is a good sleek looking, durable wood, so I got some pre-planed 1/4″ stock. I don’t have an electric planer and planing stock by hand is REALLY annoying so this was the easiest way.

The pieces are cut to size according to the diagram above.

Step 10: Route the Channels

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The middle piece needs two protruding “tongues” which interface with two channels in the side pieces. It seemed the best way to do this would be with the cheapest possible router from Harbor Freight (because routers do be expensive 😐 ) and a 1/16″ straight bit.

Or rather two 1/16″ straight bits because obviously I ended up busting one of them.

I assembled a rickety little jig by clamping some scrap boards onto the table as seen above. Then, the process just involved making many many test cuts and adjusting the horizontal distance and vertical depth of the router until the cuts were adequate.

Making the pieces slide together just right is really difficult because they must:

Not be so loose they fall apart by themselves
Not be so tight they can’t be moved

Getting the friction fit right literally depends on a tolerance of tenths of a millimeter. Still, after many failed attempts, some of which may or may not have been chucked across the room, I arrived upon a decent little set of pieces.

Step 11: Sand and Finish the Wood

The wood is sanded using 220 grit sandpaper until smooth, then brushed off thoroughly and coated with 5-7 layers of spray lacquer, applied with several minutes in between each coat.

After letting the lacquer dry one full day, a light sand with 440 grit and a final pass with fine steel wool brings the product to a smooth, satin finish.

This finish is easy and not very time intensive, but gives a good result.

Since sand is bad for your lungs, and because lacquer fumes are probably- definitely poisonous, wear a mask when sanding, and do your spraying outdoors or in a ventilated booth.

Step 12: Cut the Metal Brackets

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The metal brackets are made from 1/8″ aluminum stock. I marked out the shape by scribing lines into the metal using a sharp knife, then proceeded to cut just outside the lines using a hacksaw. Yes, I know it’s a “kid’s size” hacksaw but it really does work well for precision work.

Change the blade often since they wear down quickly.

After that, the metal is filed down to the exact size required using a file and a cheapo vice. This whole process was kind of time consuming, so I recommend you settle down with a dust mask and a podcast while doing this type of work.

Step 13: Drill Holes

I then scribed the positions of the three holes using an adjustable combination square (I think that’s what it’s called?) and a sharp knife. I mimicked an awl punch by hammering a random screw lightly into where I needed the hole. That lets the drill bit naturally fall into place. For these screws, to allow a tight pass through fit I used a 5/64″ drill bit on the drill press.

To let the angled head of the screws sit flat into the metal pieces, I followed this with a countersink, using a depth stop to make sure all the countersinks were perfect, not too deep, not too shallow.

Life Hack: Don’t have a countersink bit? Me neither. Just chuck up that 45 degree angle router bit you never use into the drill press and countersink to your heart’s content

Step 14: File the Bevels

I thought the metal would look better and feel smoother with some simple 45 degree bevels on all upper edges.

The sharp corners were taken off once again using the trusty file.

Step 15: Polish the Metal

I don’t know much about metal finishing, so I went with a simple low fuss method.

The pieces were sanded progressively with 180, 220, 400, 600, 800, and 1000 grit sandpaper, moving on to the next grit when no scratch marks from the last grit were visible.

At the very end, a rub down with a pad of extremely fine steel wool (Grade #0000) rounds out the job.

The result is a semi reflective smooth finish. Those more skilled with metal may like to apply a mirror finish, though what I arrived at here is more than good enough for my standards.

Step 16: Drill Holes in Wood

Using the newly made parts, the wood pieces and metal pieces can be lined up in place, and the positions for holes marked on the wood. I once again used the trick of hammering in the end of a screw into the wood to get an awl mark / punch for the hole position.

To hold the parts in the right place while marking the hole positions, a little jig is built and a small piece of wood is used to offset the upper piece just the right amount, since the upper stator is shorter than the other parts and is meant to sit in a certain position.

On the drill press, a 5/64″ drill bit is once again good to allow for a decent grip of the screw threads.

You can go all the way through, since the metal piece on the other side will cover up the holes

Step 17: Print the Scale Decals

To make the scale stickers, I used the print and cut feature on the Silhouette Cameo, a common home vinyl cutting machine my brother bought once and never used again. After swooping in and collecting the machine, I set to learning how to use it.

It turns out, the method is to generate the scales onto an image which fits onto a sheet of printer paper, which is done in python. 677.33 pixels per inch is plenty good for these purposes. The image also includes blue guide lines. You can find the image above.

After importing the image into Silhouette Studio (the software used with the vinyl cutter), we need to trace out each rectangle the machine needs to cut, using the blue guide lines as reference. The blue lines can be deleted later so they don’t print on the sticker sheet. In the picture above, the orange-red lines on the screen indicate where I have told the program I want to cut.

Clearly this process is too complicated to really describe well in one step of an instructables, so I would refer to other online tutorials on how to cut your own stickers with a vinyl cutter.

Important Tip: If you’re ever printing a sticker that has a design that goes all the way to the edge, include a “bleed”. That means: extend the pattern past the cut line, so you definitely don’t end up with annoying unprinted parts on the sticker edges due to imperfect cutting.

Step 18: Cut the Scale Decals

The final design is printed onto a vinyl sheet that has special registration marks – black marks which will let the vinyl cutter know the position of the sheet, so it can cut each sticker perfectly in position.

The sticker sheet is then placed on the cutting mat and cut on the Cameo. For those interested, I found that the following settings were optimal to give a precise cut:

Blade depth: 3, Force: 20, Speed: 2

Brush all the dust off the sheet when it’s done cutting.

At this point I might mention that because the scales are longer than a sheet of paper, I had to make the stickers in sections. Unfortunately, this does mean there are seams, but I tried to put them on blank spots where there wasn’t any design anyway

The seams aren’t that visible, and don’t affect the functionality in any way.

Step 19: Apply the Sticker and Laminate

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The easiest way to apply the stickers was to dry fit all the parts and screw on all the metal parts with screws too. Then, each scale is placed, making sure they line up exactly right. Parts of the stickers include holes for the screws.

The idea is, once all three stickers are placed for each face, the clear laminate can be applied, which provides a smooth final layer which also adds a lot of useful scratch and water resistance.

Step 20: Flush Trim

To finish off, the pieces are turned around, and a razor blade is used to shear off the excess, leaving a nice flush edge. For the central piece, the weird angle of the tongue meant that cutting from the up side was easier, though still difficult.

As expected I messed up multiple times. If your alignment is wrong by even 0.1mm the scales don’t line up correctly. If you place the clear laminate where you don’t want it, you can’t peel it back, since it will take with it lots of the printed ink. Etc. But in a moment of pure wisdom, my past self thought it was a good idea to print 2 extras full sheets of the stickers, and so I was able to peel off the failures and replace them.

Making extras of components in general is a good idea.

Step 21: Assembly (Minus the Cursor)

Finally, I assembled the pieces with the metal pieces screwed in, noticed more errors in alignment, corrected them, then once I was satisfied I screwed in the screws once again but with a drop of superglue in the holes.

Super glue in screw holes is by no means a permanent hold, and they can be taken out if you really try. But it does offer a decent hold, preventing the pieces from wiggling loose.

Up next is the cursor, an important part we can’t forget

Step 22: Cursor Design

The design of the cursor is something I came up with after looking at several preexisting slide rules. The red lines in the plastic (or glass) let you compare readings on two scales. The cursor must slide to any position on the scale. Ideally, the fit is tight enough so that it stays in one position when you need to make a reading, but loose enough that it can moved to any position with ease

As you can see, this project is full of those difficult to make friction fits

Anyways, above you can see the CAD model, whose measurements are based off of a sheet of clear acrylic I found at Home Depot.

The spring is a piece of bent metal inserted into one of the side pieces. When the cursor is attached, the metal should flex slightly, providing a gentle force which holds the cursor in one position where it is needed.

Step 23: 3D Print and Process the Parts

Since my neighbor is a master of 3D printing, he was kind enough to produce prints of the parts I needed from PLA plastic. Some refinement was needed to make the fit and look just right.

3D printing is a whole subject, which you can find plenty of information about right here on Instructables.

Raw 3D prints are a little rough, so I sanded them down and drilled out the holes to size since many came out a little small.

Step 24: Window CNC Routing

Though I was originally going to cut the window piece by hand, my neighbor of the 3d printers also had access to a CNC router at the time, and offered to cut the plastic using that.

After one busted router bit (relatable) and a couple trial runs, the machine was able to cut out the plastic to the perfect size, along with a small ledge which helps the piece fit into the 3d print.

Though these machines are expensive, they amount of precision they can achieve is unbeatable, and I’ll definitely be saving up to get them some day, if I have the space for them.

Step 25: Window Hairline

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To get the hairline on the window, I found a good method was to scribe a perfectly perpendicular line on the plastic using a razor blade, a ruler, and a steady hand. Then, I filled the cut line with some red calligraphy ink I found lying around, and wiped off the excess on the surface immediately with a paper towel before it dried.

The hairline must be on the surface of the window that touches the scales, otherwise you will get some weird parallax issues. (Meaning, if the hairline is on top, the angle from which you view the cursor will change where the hairline lands on the scales)

A small bit of ink got into scratches I didn’t know existed on the surface of the glass, but I quickly realized they can be wiped away with a Q tip dipped in alcohol since this ink is alcohol based.

Know your solvents!

Step 26: Spring!

The spring was no more than a job for a small pair of pliers and some patience making it fit just right.

Originally I used a stiff piece of wire, but I switched to a piece from a large paper clip because the original wire was way too stiff. Paper clip material is not ideal since it doesn’t have the resilience properties of spring steel, but it does work, and is really easy to work with.

Step 27: Assembly (this Time WITH the Cursor)

At this point, I could assemble the cursor components, after supergluing the spring piece into the hole on one of the side pieces. Eight teeny tiny screws hold the whole cursor together

Step 28: Make a Case Because Why Not?

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Most slide rules back in the day came with leather cases. I had a little too much free time and figured I could make one too, to protect the final slide rule.

It might make sense for me to make another instructable on how to do this, since it is a process. For now I’ll briefly summarize.

The material I used was this really nice faux leather which has a maroon dyed leather looking outside and a soft tan backing on the inside, and I used typical black thread.

I came up with the pattern above, which is sewed inside out. A strap placed at 1/1.618 of the length of the case accepts a long flap which closes the case. The upper part of the case has open sides to accommodate the protruding cursor. The corners at the bottom are deliberately curved to account for a weird stretching effect that occurs with this fabric in sharp corners.

The case tends to look floppy when empty because the fabric doesn’t really take to ironing flat, but is the perfect size once the slide rule is placed inside it.

Step 29: Final Thoughts

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And so, with a final bit of assembly and fine tuning, the slide rule was done. Although the concept isn’t extremely complicated, many of the steps were frustrating and time consuming since I was using techniques I wasn’t familiar with. Still, I know that by pushing myself to learn, I’ve come out of the project having learned so much, ready to apply the skills later to even more ambitious projects.

I hope you might have gained something too, maybe learned about a new technique, a new tool, gained some inspiration, or even just learned a little about vintage math technology you’ll never need to know!

Long live the slide rule,

Javier

Step 30: Bonus: Calculation Example

In the future, I will see about making a demo video so the slide action and functionality is more visible. Until then, take a look at the example calculation 2 x 3 = 6 to see that the slide rule is just as functional as expected.

Mother Abandons Family To Be A “Pron” Star, 14 Years Later She Back, Wants To Be A Mom Again…NOPE

Pictures

SHORPY Niagara Buffalo Panorama 1.preview

What is your next step in your life?

I’ll write about my next step at the end of this answer, because the next step only makes sense in the context of the previous steps.

Chapter 1: Beginnings in the USA (2014–2025)

In February 2025, I quit my job as a Laser Designer for integrate photonics at Intel after working there for almost 7 years. I quit for two reasons: (1) I achieved all that I set out to achieve, with 3 journal papers and 3 patents which involved new measurement techniques, record-performance devices, and first-ever demonstrations, and (2) I felt the environment, energy, and morale to be weighing on me, as one would expect from a declining power. Furthermore, I viscerally felt all kinds of power (economic, spiritual, moral, etc.) shifting out of the USA, so I did not want to be left in a desert.

This is also seen in the largest semiconductor companies in the USA.

Intel is bleeding talent, suffers from inexplicably low morale, and missing all roadmaps. The Intel I left was nothing like the Intel I joined, and I am incredibly grateful for my time there. But things change.
Nvidia is basically only propped up by Wall Street through artificially high share valuations. They outsource the most difficult parts of their product—wafer fabrication and processing
[1]

. All they do is design, and Huawei’s designs are not too far behind. China’s recent move to ban/discourage Nvidia chips is another blow, and if anything happens to their relationship with TSMC, it is game over for Nvidia. Your value-add is questionable when you can’t make your own stuff.
AMD falls in this same boat.
Apple is also having a bad time in every segment, and they are fully dependent on TSMC, Foxconn and China for everything. They have taught Chinese companies everything they knew over the past 20–30 years, and now Apple look largely irrelevant in the future. Again, this is because they cannot make their own stuff, while plenty others can design such products if they have access to manufacturers trained by Apple.

I think I caught the end of the great American wave of innovation, with my PhD advisors being pioneers in their fields and knowing the importance of collaboration and of students being aware of every facet of the project—design, crystal growth, fabrication, and testing. All these 3 different groups owned their own areas of expertise, and each of us got to see that and talk to each other because our offices were next to each other

[2]

. There were no blackboxes for anyone on the project.

This is the same reason I chose to work at Intel—one company owned the design, fabrication, packaging, and testing. Coordinating and collaborating between teams was easy.

Both these experiences are different from the current trend of outsourcing, offshoring, and remote work, where every team or company is siloed and disconnected from the larger picture.

Chapter 2: The horror of R&D in India (April-October 2025)

I returned to India thinking that the environment here could be better and people more optimistic. I thought I could bring my experience and work with people here to bring up an integrate photonics industry in India, but what I saw was worse than I could have imagined.

India is a low-trust society, so no one is working together. Each professor and university want to be the kings of their tiny tents, so everyone is secretive and collaboration is nonexistent. This is why the state of research is so primitive and uninspiring. No one is doing anything interesting or world-class, because they are fundamentally limited by what one person/team can do. The professors all fight each other for grants, the students are dispirited and unmotivated, and nothing moves forward. But you would not know this if you only read professor’s websites. They will casually drop “state-of-the-art,” “excellence,” and “cutting-edge” while in reality they do not know the meaning of any of these phrases. As far as I could see, they have not made a single device or written a single paper which is “cutting-edge” or world-class. They are too busy trying to be best in India to compete at a global level

[3]

Then I thought that maybe the private sector has some hope, particularly given the government of India’s new “Semiconductor Mission,” “Make in India” initiative, etc. But this was also disappointing once I realized that the major players getting funding are Tata who make everything from clothes to cars to jewelry, a real-estate company (Hiranandani), and a cement and infrastructure company (L&T)…

That’s when I remembered something about India—that oligarchs rule the roost because they get special privileges from the government. Everything is just a phone call away for them. These large companies will get into any industry for which the government has funding, just to grab the cash. It doesn’t matter that these companies don’t even know the difference between an extrinsic and intrinsic semiconductor, but they will rush into semiconductors just because the government has announced 32749723942 lakh crore gazzilion rupees or whatever. Expertise and passion does not seem to matter to greedy people.

I also realized that the students in India are woefully under-trained, and even PhDs from India mean nothing and have to be fully retrained to do anything useful. But what else can be expected when the professors are lacking in any industry experience, and when there is no industry to raise standards? Engineering is about making useful things, and not only publishing papers, but a strong industrial presence is needed to enforce this philosophy.

I quickly realized that India is in a phase where they believe that quantity can overpower quality—the belief that if you throw enough money and manpower at a problem, you will succeed. My experience of over 10 years in cutting-edge R&D has shown me otherwise. I have seen that a team of even 5 world-class experts can solve problems which teams of 100 or more with infinite money cannot solve. True passion and curiosity can access vistas which are impossible for countless masses of people motivated by fame and money to even envision, let alone conquer. I quickly realized that India is not for me, at least not at this point in time. It is presently all about showmanship and loud proclamations, and less about actually doing anything meaningful. All bark, no bite.

Chapter 3: Adventuring in China (October 2025-)

My wife and I are planning to move to China, where she will focus on traditional textile arts in rural China, while I will get learn martial arts and step up my meditation techniques in temples and monasteries. So far, my mediations have only involved my mind and heart, and I now feel ready to add my body into the mix.

During our travels, I hope to meet some young people whom I can mentor and train to reshape the world once it recovers from the current state of chaos. I will be looking for young kids who have not been corrupted by insecurities relating to money and fame, and who have not been rendered stupid by the use of AI. I would like to prepare them to be the leaders of tomorrow in any field they choose, without any of the bad mental and emotional habits of people in cities, or of older people who have been corrupted/disillusioned by the world. The training I hope to impart will be independent of any specific field because it will relate to how one thinks and processes information to interact with the world, which is applicable to any field the student cares about.

The world is currently in a state of chaos, so there is nothing I can do about it until things cool off, so the best use of this time is to train and nurture the next generation and to work on myself, and an adventure in rural China might be the best place for this. China is a high-trust society and a community-oriented culture, so I can be sure that kids won’t have the general sickness of individualist cultures like the USA and India, so I have good material to work with. My job will be to nurture the individuality and uniqueness in a small set of individuals, who can then provide outsized returns to the collective based on the strength and vision of their individual personhood.

This also presents an opportunity for my own personal growth. I have mastered Fire-bending from my time in the USA, Air-bending from my childhood in India, so now it is time to learn Water-bending in China. I think that some day in the future I shall move to South America to learn Earth-bending. But now is the time for Water.

Footnotes

[1]

Karan Mehta’s answer to What are your thoughts on Nvidia’s historic ascent from a $360 billion market cap to a $3 trillion goliath?

[2]

Karan Mehta’s answer to What was your experience in getting your PhD from a famous university?

[3]

Karan Mehta’s answer to Why don’t Indians come back once they go abroad?

The Unspoken Rules Cats Expect You to Follow

A fine Kitty cat video.

Why would a navy choose a 20mm Vulcan over a 40mm Bofors for their CIWS if the Bofors has more range and hitting power?

I’ll tell you a dirty little secret: As others have noted, hitting power doesn’t mean much. Hit chance does. And until recently, the only effective way to ensure a high chance of a hit was high rate of fire. The traditional 40mm Bofors has only 1/15th the rate of fire of the Vulcan. For most of the history of CIWS, that just didn’t cut it.

But more importantly, the 20mm system is the most widely used non-Russian/Soviet one out there, and the existing support goes a long way, as does its nearly unrivaled low footprint.

You’re clearly familiar with this guy:

The Mk15 Phalanx CIWS uses a 20mm M61 Vulcan rotary cannon with a rate of fire of around 4500 rounds per minute (75 per second). It has an effective range (against missiles) of just under 1500m.

As to why it had the 20mm? One reason was that it was not only widely used by aircraft, but already in use as an air defense gun:

The M163 VADS had been around for nearly a decade by the time the Phalanx started development, and was the standard AA gun for the US and several client countries. There was also a towed version. By using an existing AA gun, both development and logistics were helped immensely.

Now, some people actually did think this was a bit weak, and while the Phalanx was still in development, the Dutch opted to try for something a bit, well, bigger:

Yes, it’s the famous gun from this:

Upping the ante, the 30mm GAU-8A Avenger from the A-10 attack aircraft was chosen instead. Its rounds weigh about 3.5 times as much as the 20mm. With similar muzzle velocity, the Avenger hits about 3.5 times as hard as the Vulcan.

The result of the project was this:

The Goalkeeper CIWS actually debuted before the Phalanx, and fires its more powerful rounds at a still-impressive 4200 rounds per minute (70 per second). With high-end ammunition, it has over 30% greater range than the Phalanx (2000m), though it’s typically rated as about the same (1500m).

However, the Goalkeeper weighs about 50% more, and requires below-deck support like a traditional naval gun, whereas the Phalanx, and this is a huge advantage, is completely self-contained and can be bolted onto any piece of deck or superstructure that can support it. Or even on trucks:

You can’t do that with Goalkeeper. And this means countless ships that can’t mount a Goalkeeper can mount a Phalanx. In fact, very few CIWS systems are truly self-contained like Phalanx is (that’s a big selling point!).

Furthermore, while often more effective, it was found that in most situations where the Phalanx was inadequate, so was the Goalkeeper. Hence the move to an even longer-ranged CIWS system:

Yes, a lot of navies are opting for systems like the RIM-116 Rolling Airframe Missile. which also has one of those few self-contained systems for smaller vessels:

They have up to 10 times the range of even Goalkeeper, and several times the firepower of any AA round. Well, they also cost several times more per kill. But you get what you pay for.

And the Bofors? Well, it actually did get a CIWS (eventually):

The Italian DARDO provides a twin-40mm Bofors L/70 gun mount. While not completely self-contained, it is similar to Phalanx in that it can be placed in any location with sufficient space and support (though there are versions with below-deck support). 2 variants of the gun are available: 1 with the standard rate of fire of 300 rounds per minute and one with an improved 450. This is per gun, so the total is 600 to 900 (10–15 per second). Single-barrel versions also exist.

In theory, the lower rate is compensated by the weapon’s air bursting shells. This works similar to the missiles previously shown, and is based on the idea that one does not need to completely destroy the missile if it’s hit far enough out – just damaging sensors or control surfaces can cause it to miss or crash into the sea.

According to what I’ve seen, DARDO appears to work fairly well. But, while the basic 40mm naval mount has been around for decades, it’s only with recent improvements in computerized fire control that it’s become truly competitive as a CIWS. Until recently, accuracy at long range just wasn’t adequate to make up for the lower rate of fire. Despite a range of 4000m (twice the Goalkeeper’s), and proximity-fused air-bursting shells, it still had a very limited engagement window, and the main advantages disappeared at distances closer than 700m since direct hits were far less likely.

But, the biggest reason for Phalanx over DARDO is that self-contained nature. The second is its already wide proliferation that makes it easier and more cost effective to integrate and support.

EDIT: added some relevant info on the 20mm gun’s prior history as an air defense weapon.

Collision

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

⭐️ Contest #210 Shortlist!

Anya Dylan

Dysus drove west, obeying the speed limit, and he trembled as he tried to light his seventh cigarette of the morning. His lips tingled around the filter. He smelled his own stale breath, captured in the palm he cupped around the lighter’s weak flame. He swallowed against the sticky thudding of the pulse that beat too high in his throat.The cigarette caught the flame and smoldered. Dysus cracked his window, and the smoke that drifted up to burn his eyes was sucked away into the cold morning. He coasted under yet another green light. He’d encountered only green lights; insistent go, go, go signals from the universe.Heavy slugs crept in his bowels. He sucked greedily at his cigarette, crossing his eyes to watch the ember glow. Flecks of ash dusted his lap.Another green light. Dysus flicked a quick gaze to the dashboard clock, cursing his good luck, slowing down, willing the minutes to move.He was running early for his appointment, so many factors having contributed to the unwelcome streamlining of his journey. He still hadn’t gotten used to the lack of traffic on the Rue – everyone took the new Magway now. The perimeter gates of his settlebloc had been open already, and he hadn’t needed to wait for security to buzz him through. The sobriety checkpoint had been unmanned. His trip had taken ten minutes fewer than he’d planned.Another green light. The car’s rusted axle scraped a deep pothole in the middle of the intersection. Dysus thought about pulling over to kill time, but he knew if he stopped the car he would not be able to start it again.He inhaled a huge, head-spinning drag of smoke and opened the window a bit more. His hand shook as he poked the tip of the cigarette out the window to tap its growing column of ash onto the street.A nervous tremor rippled through him, and the stick fell from his nicotine-stained fingers. He fumbled instinctively, knocking his knuckles against the glass, and the drafting air pressure caught the cigarette and blew it back at him.He didn’t see where it landed. The car was full of kindling: fast food wrappers flammable with grease, sun-brittled paper, dirty clothes. He imagined the backseat catching fire and tried to reach behind him, patting, feeling for the errant ember, grimacing at the green light visible above the next empty intersection.Dysus felt a huge, hot bug bite his left elbow and reacted by slamming his foot against the gas pedal. He yelped and smacked the sleeve his cigarette had fallen into. It burned as he ground it into his skin. The car veered. He shook his sleeve out, flinging the still-smoldering cigarette out of his cuff and made to stamp it out on the floor mat, wincing and checking the time and still accelerating under the last green light, and when the flustered panic retreated beneath his original anxiety he finally looked back at the road just in time to watch a man disappear under the front of his car.He braked, far too late, long after being gently jostled by two soft thumps below him.Dysus never got to find out if he possessed enough cowardice to pull off a hit and run.

The pitchy squeal of badly maintained brakes and the crash of chassis on curb alerted supplicants of the Tor Vah’Gaar. They streamed out of their temple to investigate, their white ceremonial robes billowing in the morning wind.

Dysus sat still, his hands locked in grip around the wheel as if he meant to strangle it. He wished he could let go and light a cigarette, but that would mean he’d next have to open the door, step into the morning, and face the red squeezed-tube of a body on the road behind him. Would it be wet, steaming in the frigid air? Was his car heavy enough to squelch organs from orifice, or would he find less messy blunt force trauma? He pictured dirty tire tracks on a crushed throat. Might the man still be alive?

It was that thought that loosened his grip and allowed him to move, sludgy slow, on shock-cocooning autopilot. He reached for his cigarettes and felt a flood of relief when he found that two smokes remained in the worry-crumpled package. His hands were steady when he lit one.

He got out of the car and watched the white robes flock to the stillness in the street.

A woman stood over the body and cried, while another tapped off a message on her handheld. A man knelt, the pristine hem of his robe drawing road dust up through fabric capillaries. He reached for the body with tentative, gentle fingers.

They all saw the gun at the same time.

It had been knocked several feet from the dead man. A scratched-up bootleg particle cannon. Tech from an old empire, illegal and devastating, primed and still pointing at the temple of Tor Vah’Gaar. Dysus thought ridiculously of that old game, spin the bottle.

He sat on the curb and smoked, not wanting to bother the Vah’Gaarans with his stink, not wanting to yellow their robes with his residue. Sirens wailed, melancholy and distant, approaching via the Magway.

The crying woman ran back toward the temple, calling a name in an alien language as she flitted inside. “Baaraana!”

Realization of their narrowly-escaped victimhood widened the eyes of the Vah’Gaarans on the street. Shock ran through them like a contagion, vulnerability dawning like a weak sunrise. They stepped away from the body, their eyes on the gun as if it might come to life and shoot them on its own.

More Vah’Gaarans exited the temple, joining the congregation that formed in the road, keeping a safe distance from the downed would-be gunman. They discussed in hushed voices, asked shrill questions of each other, and gradually their attentions diverted to the silent, smoking man sitting on the curb by his ruined car.

The man with the dirty hem approached Dysus and crouched.

“Sir,” the Vah’Gaaran said. “Sir, are you alright? Are you injured?”

Dysus blew smoke away from the man’s intent, searching face. “Don’t think so.”

“Don’t think you’re alright, or don’t think you’re injured?”

Dysus blinked. “Both, I guess.” He wanted to laugh. He’d killed a man. He would not be making his appointment.

“He saved us!” A woman rushed over, the one with her handheld out, the one who’d presumably summoned the emergency vehicles that were now speeding down the Magway’s off-ramp onto the Rue. Blue and red lights spun halos in the morning fog around them. Sirens muffled the increasingly frantic voices of the Vah’Gaarans as their attentions closed in on Dysus.

He stubbed his cigarette out on the concrete and pocketed the butt. He didn’t want to litter in front of these pristine, holy people. Saviors have to keep up appearances, he thought.

Admiration was foreign to Dysus and at first he mistook it for suspicion.

When the responding officers were finally able to pry him away from the Vah’Gaarans, the media, and the tangle of emergency vehicles, they took him to the police station and parked him in an interrogation room. They gave him a cup of hot chocolate. They shook his hand. Short, neatly groomed Officer Kayata led him outside to smoke when he requested it, though she wrinkled her nose while she waited for him to finish.

He caught a glint at her throat, noticing the stylized Tor Vah’Gaaran saucer pendant she wore on a delicate chain. An icon of worship, veneration of the alien hands that cradled Earth, mending it from its human-inflicted wounds.

“You should really stop that,” she said, squinting her eyes against the smoke as he exhaled. “It stinks.”

They’re my lungs and I’ll ruin them if I want to, he thought. He narrowed his eyes at her pendant. Not that you’d understand.

Officer Kayata took a call on her handheld, walking a few yards away as Dysus blew smoke into the still-cold early afternoon sky.

“This is about to get a lot bigger,” she warned him as she strode back to him, her call concluded. “A Tor Vah’Gaar ambassador was supposed to be at that temple today.” She maintained her professional demeanor, but Dysus didn’t miss the sparkling hint of tears at the corners of her eyes.

Back in the interrogation room, Dysus sat on his hands to both hide their trembling and warm them up. Officer Kayata brought him another hot chocolate and sat primly in the metal chair across the table from Dysus. Fluorescent lights clicked above, probing and harshly bright, the better to scrutinize you with.

“This is just a formality.” Officer Bosqov, gruff and bushily mustached, shuffled incident reports and witness statements on the metal table. “You’re not in any trouble, we just want to get our facts straight. As you can imagine, the entire Vah’Gaaran community stands behind you. You told him about the ambassador?” Officer Kayata nodded. “They’ve offered their best lawyers but I don’t think you’ll need them. They’ve also set up a donation hotline.”

Dysus clenched his stomach against the tide of bile that threatened to rise. He wanted a cigarette, but his pack was empty. He felt the deprived addict’s headache peeking around the corner, waiting to ambush.

Officer Bosqov’s voice took on a serious tone, and he asked the question Dysus had been dreading.

“Where were you headed when you saw the gunman?”

Dysus swallowed, pausing for a moment too long.

“Going to the doctor. My lungs,” he said, freeing a hand unconsciously to reach for the empty pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He thumped a tightly closed fist on his chest. He thought a cough might be too much, too performative.

“Will your doctor verify that?” Bosqov clicked a pen, made a note.

“I was hoping they’d see me as a walk-in. I was coughing up blood last night.”

“I see,” Bosqov said. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his mustache as he regarded Dysus. “Now, I know this might be hard to talk about and you’re probably still in a bit of shock. But I need you to describe what happened again, with all the detail you can remember. Start with when you first saw the man on the street, what caught your attention, and what made you act. Again,” he said, his eyebrows raised with kind concern, “you aren’t in trouble. Fact is, you’re a hero whether you see yourself as one or not yet. You prevented what could have been an absolute massacre. That gun was modded and energized to Gaar and back. You saved a lot of lives. But we need to get everything on record.”

Officer Kayata twisted the Tor Vah’Gaar pendant she wore, her expression thoughtful, thankful. Dysus tried to keep from hyperventilating.

He cleared his throat. He spun his tale. He’d seen a furtive, suspicious man crossing the street, with hunters’ eyes narrowed and predatory, a gun hefted and steady, striding with obvious, murderous intent toward the temple. Dysus told the officers how he’d accelerated without hesitation, careening for the terrorist without fear for his own life, steering to kill and damn the consequences, it was the right thing to do! He had been out of his body, righteous instinct taking over, and all he’d felt was relief when the man’s rampage was aborted under his balding tires.

He’d almost convinced himself the story was true, until he found himself absentmindedly scratching the blister on his left elbow.

Vivette, the Vah’Gaaran PR representative, was a harried woman with two briefcases and a shaved head. She wore glasses and chewed gum like it fueled her, and her frantic productivity agitated and exhausted Dysus. He tried to pay attention to the several trains of thought she conducted.

“Tor’Baaraana will want to join you for some press conferences,” she said, typing a proposed media circuit schedule on a shiny laptop. She checked the official Vah’Gaaran forums. “Four independent congregations set up charity pools to cover any legal expenses. Gifts are coming in from all over the place. Is there any weird stuff about you online that I should know about?”

“I don’t think so,” Dysus said. He sipped tepid coffee and forced himself to take a bite of his rubbery omelet.

Vivette had wanted to meet him at his home, “to make you feel more comfortable, and for privacy”, she’d said, but he suspected she’d really wanted to scope out his situation and avert any potential PR crises before publicly canonizing him into the Vah’Gaaran sainthood. He’d refused, citing embarrassment about his messy bachelor’s apartment. She’d looked at him suspiciously, but had caved and met him at a cafe downtown. Time was of the essence for a story like this, she said. Already his face was plastered across screens and papers, his full name emblazoned in impact font under epithets like ‘The Hero of New Hartford’ and ‘A Savior’s Savior’.

Vivette checked a text message on her handheld, an email on her laptop, a notification on her watch. Information about Dysus assaulted her while he watched, tapping a nicotine-withdrawal beat on the table with his fingertips.

“Oh look, the Massippi branch got you a new car.” She turned the laptop around and showed Dysus a photo of grateful, white-robed zealots smiling next to a state-of-the-art Magcar. Dysus sneered. He hated those identity-stripped husks of bland futurism.

“You don’t like it?” She asked, catching his expression before looking down to respond to another text message.

“If I’d had one of those today, I wouldn’t have been there to run down Corsican.”

Trent Corsican, the other face of the day, the lone terrorist with a grudge against the benevolent aliens and their worshipers. A Regressivist with a raided apartment full of heretical literature and Macgyvered weapons. Dysus couldn’t picture the man’s face as having belonged to the body he’d smeared on the road. The visage and the corpse felt like two different men. Dysus felt like two men as well: the one who’d been anxious about an appointment earlier, and the paragon of righteous bravery he’d become.

He needed to get home. He had to clean his apartment.

“It is a bit ironic, isn’t it. The Tor Vah’Gaar give us MagTech and then you go and save them with that pollution machine relic. Oh, your ‘Reward a Hero’ fund is up to seventeen million credits,” Vivette said with an uncharacteristic awe.

“Wow.”

“I’ll say.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do you feel about joining a Vah’Gaaran chapter? It’s a great organization. And it would look great.”

Dysus clenched his teeth.

“I guess I could do that,” he said, thinking of seventeen million credits. He felt a piece of his principles snap off inside him.

“Great. A conversion might seem pandering if we do it too soon…” She checked her calendar for a good baptism date.

“Okay.” He really needed to get home to clean.

“And you’re going to need to stop smoking.” Vivette gave him a disappointed mother’s face. “It’s terrible optics and it smells awful.”

And it’s bad for me, I know, Dysus thought, and he’d never wanted a cigarette more.

He pictured himself smoking in his new Magcar. The two versions of himself, collided. The rebel and the hypocrite.

Is there anything so sacred as a being’s right to self destruct? Dysus wondered as he finally lit a cigarette. The smoke collected in the dark room, his comforting blanket of reckless autonomy.

Dysus had waited for the MagCab to pull away before unlocking the door of his apartment. He’d wondered how many more times he’d go through that familiar motion; he was now the owner of sixty million credits and could already taste the fresh air of a new settlebloc, a skyscraping penthouse with windows that opened to let in the cleanest clouds.

It was dark, the grimy settlebloc quiet, secured for the night against the scavenger sects. Dysus had slipped inside the apartment already feeling estranged from it, a trespasser, and he’d locked the door behind him quickly. He’d gone straight for his stash of smokes, navigating the clutter without needing to turn on a light.

He sat now on a ratty couch full of cigarette burns. He touched the circle on his elbow. “We match,” he said out loud, and laughed. He thought of the new couch he’d buy. Something soft, pillowy, something not pulled from a dumpster, something he might try to fall asleep on without a lit cigarette between his fingers.

Maybe it would be nice to live in the world the Tor Vah’Gaar race was trying to build.

Dysus exhaled, and he couldn’t see the smoke in the darkness. He never felt the drags as effectively when he couldn’t see the evidence of them; he saw emissions as proof of life. Was a sterile world a lived-in world? He’d believed destruction was inevitable, and more insidious if hidden.

He coughed. It was too dark to see any blood.

Maybe it was good he’d missed his appointment.

He imagined his beautiful, freshly painted penthouse again, then he thought of its opposite: a run-down safe house in a derelict settlebloc across town, sitting empty. He hadn’t had a chance to give the houses’ rusted key to Corsican; it was still nestled in his pocket alongside a pamphlet containing encrypted contact numbers, meeting coordinates, and credit stash codes. He’d lusted after the assassination bounty before, but now it seemed pathetic, an insult. Hardly enough to rise from ashes with.

A getaway driver was supposed to provide a new life, but not for themselves. He wondered if the Tor Vah’Gaar ever felt that way, rerouting a civilization from its path of shit, finding themselves Gods when they finished.

“Sorry, brother-in-cause.” Dysus raised a fresh cigarette in salut. “To new lives.”

He lit the cigarette, wondering if it would be his last, and used the same flame to burn the Regressivist pamphlet.

Why is China embracing pariah status by supplying Russia with what it needs in wartime in return for cheap oil?

China does business equally with any country that is willing. In fact, China is the largest buyer of Russian oil and gas. But at the same time, China is also the biggest buyer of Ukrainian grain. You may not know this, but when it comes to Ukrainian drones—maybe not 100%, but about 98% of them either come from China or are assembled using Chinese components.

China has already made its stance very clear: we are not aiding Russia—otherwise, the war wouldn’t look the way it does now.

Is it really wrong to sell civilian goods to Russia?

Oh, by the way—70% of the nitrocellulose used in the artillery shells Western countries are sending to Ukraine is produced in China.

The most amusing part is that the Secretary General of NATO once blatantly said, “First deal with Russia, then focus on China.” (That video is now hard to find on any website, but I truly saw it myself—he probably regrets saying it.)

In response, a Chinese netizen commented:

I feel Europeans are approaching this with a kind of childish naivety—thinking that just by saying something, others are obliged to obey. And if not, they start whining and throwing tantrums.

Frankly, my child stopped doing that after turning 6.

More importantly, even when my child throws a tantrum—it sometimes works!

Well then, here’s another idea.

Does this place look familiar?

Probably not. Let me tell you: over a hundred years ago, the British and French forces landed here, marched on Beijing, and then burned down our grandest imperial garden.

Want to try that again? Just make sure to bring more people this time.

This is one of our brigades. Currently, there are 89 active units. All of their funding combined only uses 1.3% of our GDP.

If you come with too few troops, I’m afraid there won’t be enough to go around.

~~~~~~

Let me make this clear: Europe’s little scheme is nothing more than hoping the war escalates so both China and the U.S. get involved, right?

That’s not going to happen. The U.S. isn’t stupid!

As for China—if Russia starts to falter and the U.S. still stays out of it—China will definitely step in.

Would 10 million drones be enough?

Even if troops are sent, it would be a fast in-and-out operation. By the time the other side realizes what happened, China’s forces would already be back home. It might not even require ground troops—just long-range firepower. (Our rocket artillery can hit targets 600 kilometers away.) We could rely on missile forces or the air force.

What do the EU leaders have inside their skulls? Coca-Cola?

Americans Can’t Afford To Live in Florida Because Insane Cost of Living

If you are about to get in a fight, what is your opening intimidating line?

Not my opening line but an all time great one from my long time karate instructor in a dangerous situation he faced.

He was about 6′3″ and 220 pounds of all muscle. He’d served as a US Army Ranger in Viet Nam. He was a 7th degree black belt and had won championships at the state, national and international level.

One afternoon he was alone in his dojo when three big, young gang-banger type guys walked in.

Sensei asked if he could help them.

They asked if he owned the place and he replied that he did.

One of them asked, “So are you pretty tough?”

Sensei replied, “I guess so.”

The one continued, “Well, we think we’re tougher than you.”

Sensei replied, “You guys are big and together you might be tougher than me.”

The leader continued, “So if we whip your ass then we’ll own this place?”

Sensei replied, “No that’s not how it works.”

They stared at him and he stared at them.

Then Sensei calmly said, “You might beat me but I will kill at least one of you. So if it’s worth dying today go ahead.”

They looked at him, then at each other, turned and walked out.

And to save anyone from asking, yes, he would have killed at least one of them.

I guess it wasn’t worth dying that day.

Curried Chicken over Orange Rice

Ingredients

Chicken

1/2 stick butter, divided
1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
5 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tablespoons finely grated ginger root
1 or 2 teaspoons curry powder
2 3/4 cups canned evaporated milk
1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 cup dry white wine
Salt, to taste
White pepper, to taste

Orange Rice

2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup finely chopped onions
1 cup water
1 cup fresh orange juice
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup converted rice
1 1/2 tablespoons grated orange zest

Condiments to pass at the table

Raisins
Minced scallions
Diced apple
Chopped candied ginger
Chopped sugared dates
Chopped dry roasted peanuts
Toasted coconut
Chutney or Jalapeño-Cranberry Jam

Instructions

Chicken

Place half the butter in a large skillet and melt it over medium high heat.
Cut chicken into chunks about 1 1/2 inches square and add to the pan. Let it brown lightly on the bottom before moving it.
Turn pieces over and brown the other side.
Remove to a platter and set aside.
Add remaining butter to the pan. Stir in flour, ginger and curry powder and cook until bubbly and smooth.
Gradually stir in undiluted milk, lemon juice and wine.
Add salt and pepper to taste.
Add cooked chicken back to the pan and cover. Turn heat very low to barely simmer. If it gets too thick, stir in a little water.

Orange Rice

Melt butter in a saucepan.
Add onions and cook until tender but not browned.
Add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then turn to simmer and cover. Allow to cook about 20 minutes or until all liquid is absorbed.
Remove lid and let stand for 5 minutes before serving as a bed for the curried chicken.

If gambling is a game of probability, why aren’t mathematicians the richest people in the world?

This person is Chris ”Jesus” Ferguson.

Ferguson, whose parents are both mathematicians, holds a doctorate in information engineering from the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). He has developed his own playing style in poker. That’s entirely due to mathematics and “theory of the game” (a field of research that mathematically analyzes the decision-making process of multiple actors), rather than reading other players’ hands. He uses computer simulations to test and develop strategies.

What do you think Ferguson’s total winnings as a professional poker player are? 9,241,683 dollars (approximately 1.3 billion yen). In the World Series competition, where professional poker players compete, they have won five championship bracelets (equivalent to boxing championship belts), including the premier competition, the Main Event (played only by the best players).

Whoa,but he’s still not a (dollar) billionaire,you say?

Now let’s move on to the world’s largest gambling den. It’s Wall Street.

This is James Simons.

Simons earned a doctorate in mathematics from the University of California, Berkeley, and had an illustrious academic career.

In his 40s, he left academia and started a hedge fund called Renaissance Technologies. He is a pioneer in using probabilistic methods for financial investment.

The fund he manages called Medallion has generated staggering annual returns of 72% over 20 years, making Simons one of the world’s richest people. He remains the highest-paid hedge fund manager in the world for seven～eight consecutive years. Basically, he’s the richest gambler in the world.

The Phantom Planet (Sci-Fi, 1961) Dean Fredericks, Coleen Gray | Movie

Classic old SF. Have fun you all.

(Repost) Preventing personal starvation

This article is not for everyone. If you are just doing fine and don't think you will ever face losing a source of income or intermittent food supply then you can ignore this article. 

But for 90% of the MM readership, you all should at least read it.

I generated this article after noting that a number of my friends back in the United States, as well as a number of MM participants were having trouble.

Serious, serious trouble.

While not life and death situations, they did involve discomfort. Because people, you have no idea what it is like when you haven’t eaten a decent meal in a few weeks. This is real starvation. And not a good situation to be in.

And so I just cannot post anything else until I get my thoughts “off my chest” and onto MM.

Introduction

One of the things that has happened to me, time and time again in the United States was massive layoffs without notice on or right before the holidays. Last total was around five on Christmas Eve. And because we were living paycheck to paycheck (with no savings), and no secondary sources of income we were often thrown into uncomfortable situations.

Like being out of food, or running out of food, and having to wait weeks (or sometimes months) for the local government agencies to provide us support and assistance.

And being a “white collar” professional, as soon as we obtained food stamps, monetary awards or help, the first thing that we would do is try to replicate our habits. When we would get money, we would go to a fast food restaurant or a local diner.

And when we would get food stamps we treated it as “play money” and bought the more expensive frozen food, and snacks that we normally wouldn’t buy.

These latent responses to a catastrophic situation were not good for us.

But you know, we learned and adapted. And here are some of my tricks to make sure that this kind of situation would never occur again.

Basics

Let’s get started.

[1] The woman is in charge of household finance and meals / food.

This is the first and most important aspect of this entire post. Listen up!

Call me an old fashioned man, or whatever you want. But the most important thing that you can do is put the “woman of the house” in charge of finance, and meals.

She will budget the meals, and the finances, and do a very good job at it.

And the ONLY reason why I did not implement this very simple change earlier in my life because I was far too egotistical, and taken in by the progressive “everyone is equal” beliefs.

Men and women are NOT equal. We each have certain strengths and weaknesses. And women are natural financiers, and managers.

Do not waste that resource.

The most important thing that you can do is put the “woman of the house” in charge of finance, and meals.

If you want to forever prevent this kind of situation from ever happening again, then learn how to delegate.

The woman (whether working in a career or not) should ALWAYS be in charge of the finances and the meals.

Period.

This is the first, biggest and most important change to your life that will really seriously prevent these kinds of emergencies from ever happening ever again.

Oh, and one more thing. Don’t ever disagree with her (his, if there are gender issues) on the allocations. Creating this kind of division of responsibility should be automatic, painless and should be the last thing to contribute to family strife.

[2] An emphasis on healthy food.

The second thing, also of equal importance is that the domestic management must be such that well budgeted meals, both tasty and healthy be emphasized. This will occur automatically (in my experience) but it does need to be spelled out specifically so all will agree to it.

I am advocating, good healthy simple food. With an occasional restaurant visit or special “date” or event to improve your quality of life.

You should be eating healthy delicious meals.

Expensive gourmet chain coffees are out. So is ice cream. This should be dedicated for special events. Not regular meals as dessert. No snacks. Zero Doritos, and potato chips, pretzels, and and fried pork skins.

Zero.

Am I clear on this?

The idea is that you can still have these things, but in moderation and only on special occasions. If you want to have snacks then opt for the far cheaper salted peanuts than a bag of Doritos.

Let’s look at the third element of “the basics”.

[3] Grocery budget must be heavy on staples, fruits, and vegetables.

Oh, you have heard that before.

Right?

But I am going to really underline this point. If you break down the costs for groceries you will find that staples such as rice, potatoes, flour, and eggs are very surprisingly cheap.

You can buy huge bags of the items for very little, and they alone can make very bland and tasteless meals for a long long time. Of which you can convert into very tasty meals with some salt, and some other seasonings.

For instance, in America we used to just eat rice with soy sauce. 

In China they think this is insane. 

Here's a try. Take some soy sauce, olive oil, cooking wine, and vinegar.  Mix it together, add salt and pepper. 

Then cut up tomatoes and onions. 

Mix together with the sauces and eat over the rice. 

Not a gourmet meal, but it tastes fresh, and will not be all that terrible.ANd it will fill you up. Total cost is probably under 10 cents.

Staples of rice, bread, potatoes, and other vegetables can diversify the meals, fill you up, and really do not cost much money.

Vegetables are also very cheap. But you will need to be able to buy them twice a week as they perish easily. Fruit tends to be expensive. I argue that everyone should have some fruit in the house (it helps you shit and aids in digestion) but you don’t need to buy the most expensive fruit. Get whatever is on sale, and cheap. In the Summer like now, peaches are cheap. So is watermelon.

Less than 5% of the weekly grocery budget should go to condiments, and frozen food.

…

Didn’t quite “get it” did you? Let me repeat.

Less than 5% of the weekly grocery budget should go to condiments, and frozen food.

Yah. If you are not following this rule you are setting yourself up for trouble. You as a man, or as a woman have a responsibility to your family and your beloved pets. You need to proved for them. You NEED to manage your grocery shopping.

So let me repeat.

Less than 5% of the weekly grocery budget should go to condiments, and frozen food. The rest goes to staples, vegetables, and fruit (On sale).

[4] Start building a larder

You do not need to be a Prepper or a Mormon to start having a “Larder”. A larder is a long term storage of foodstuff and elements that enable that your family will have food during the ups and downs of economic uncertainty. If you start small, but religiously contribute to it, after six months you should have a very sizable larder that you can use to make good, tasty and delicious meals.

A basement larder full of home canned vegetables and fruits.

A larder should be in the coolest part of your house. Preferably a cellar, basement or garage. It should store staples and cans. You should make sure that you have mouse traps nearby as they tend to attract rodents. If you are doing better, you can add a deep freezer; just make sure that it is new and reliable. Do not skimp and get a used one. All it takes is one breakdown that will ruin your entire stock of frozen supplies.

[5] Know your local resources for food.

You don’t need to go to chain supermarkets for food. You can go to old food warehouses, enormous structures that contain out of date cans and boxes.They sell out of date products. Almost all the canned goods are fine. Boxed goods are hit and miss. Be careful. So what if the cans are dinged. Just makes sure they are not broken.

You can also go to bakery outlets, and look at their end of day specials. You can go to local farmers’ markets and scoot into grocery stores at the end of the day for the best prices.

Better yet talk to the owners and managers. Know them on a personal basis. You might be surprised. I know that Panera Bread gives its end of the day bread out to local organizations and people that need it instead of throwing them away. Just communicate. Build relationships. Contribute to your community. Be local.

If you are uncomfortable going to the wharf, and the fishing vessels yourself, you can access some establishments that do all the leg work for you. Like this one in Panama City, Florida.

The same thing goes for local small farmers and such. You would be amazed at the prices you can get at a local egg farm, or the milk at a diary at the farm. You just need to get up, find out where they are and visit them. Talk to the people. Know them personally. Become a customer, and when times get hard, you might be surprised the help you will get back in return.

[6] Know your emergency services

We are surrounded with Rufus’s. We just are so busy dealing with our day to day lives that we do not realize that there are all sorts of emergency services all around us. Many are in “the Yellow Pages” or whatever constitutes for them on the internet. All are run by Rufus’s. These vary from all sorts of services and can include…

County social services
Private social services
Religious (Catholic, etc.) social services
Food banks
Volunteer organizations
Salvation Army
Animal Shelters

[7] Contribute your skill sets to others

I once had a long time high school friend who suddenly started having really strange cramps and pains. But he was poor, living on the edge of poverty and couldn’t afford a doctor’s visit, and since he worked (and owned a house) he could not qualify for free medical care.

So he asked me what to do, and I reminded him that he used to be the groundskeeper for a local doctor a few towns away.

I told him that what did he have to lose, but to go up and ask him for help.

And you know what? He did exactly that.

Surprised me. No Shit!

Most people never listen to MM. They just want sympathy. Not real help and advice.

But sure as shit he called him up and visited him at his house. The doctor was so happy to see him, and was more than willing to look at him. He did it for free, and then wrote some prescriptions for him. Called them into the pharmacy and paid for them himself.

You never know.

It never, ever hurts to ask.

You might be surprised at the response.

We need to be part of a community and help each other.

Be part of the community. Smile. Be kind and helpful. Contribute what you can. And when you need help, the community will give it back to you.

Valuable skills that you can contribute to society (just connect with any local social service and tell them that you want to offer free support to those in need) include

Medical profession
Machining, metal fabrication
Mechanic work / shop repair
Handyman
Electrician
Plumbing
Translations Services
Teaching

And even more! And if the first social service isn’t interested, just go down the line until you too are hooked into a local community participating and helping those in need nearby.

[8] Local options

I knew a man who gave free gasoline to various social service organizations and vouchers to those in need. I also knew individuals who did this out of their own wallets. I also know that there are large networks of Rufus’s that lie hidden all around you.

What you need to do is start getting out and talking to the people. Go to the fishermen and where they unload their daily catches. You will probably end up with a garbage bag full of fish. Take it home. Freeze most. Cut off the heads and give to your cats. They will forever love you for that.

Offer them a few bucks (dollars) for some fresh fish Put them in a plastic bag and carry them home. Or whatever is local to your area.

My ex-wife would get her car fixed for free by a local “grease monkey” mechanic who had a garage in his backyard. All she would need to do was pay for the parts, and buy him some marijuana from time to time as she could. People work out deals in a community.

In Pennsylvania there were orchard farms full of trees with apples, pears, plums, and nuts. Walnuts, chestnuts, and others. There’s blueberry farms, strawberry farms. Pecan orchards, and many more. There’s catfish farms in the deep south, and shrimp harvesting in the gulf. Shellfish collectors all over the coast, and everything in between.

We need to start thinking like our grandparents instead of adapting our new reality to that of what we have grown accustomed to having.

[9] Soup Kitchens

I have eaten at numerous soup kitchens. The very first one that I went to was located in New Iberia Louisiana, and I was surprised by the great diversity of people there.

Sure there were some “riff raff”, but there were single mothers with children, a group of marines that lost their money in a game of poker and got stranded, some folk laid off and in between jobs, and others dealing with all sorts of issues.

The soup kitchens in most Salvation Army’s hold two meals a day. Lunch and Dinner. Be on time, as they close the doors and don’t let others in after a set period of time.

There is a soup kitchen in just about every American city, and the larger the city the more numbers the kitchens. You must be aware of the operating times. Some only operate between 11:00am and 2:00pm, while others operate at 5:00pm to 6:00pm. You come early and if you are in a distressed neighborhood be safe, careful and come early.

The meals are good, solid fare.

Not just a big tureen of soup as depicted in the movies. But rather a full meal with a main dish, vegetables on the side, bread, a soup, a dessert, and a drink. It’s often cooked by volunteers, who come out and devote their time and energy to make good tasty meals for those in need.

Rufus’s all.

Old and young.

If you are in a situation, maybe between jobs. On unemployment. On food stamps, or just worried about the job situation, you need to seek the local soup kitchen out, and start supplementing your meals.

Once a week at least.

That one meal will expand your home food bank by 1/7 automatically. And it will connect you to others.

Then, maybe… maybe ask if you can volunteer.

You will get a free meal out of it in exchange for work and you will be helping others. It’s a win – win!

[10] Stop eating out American style

Telling that to an American will result in blank stares. But it is true. Same with Starbucks coffee, donuts, and all the rest. We all know about how unhealthy these foods in restaurants actually are, but it’s more than that. They are expensive. And they tear up your body.

I’m in my mid to late 60’s. Do I look my age?

It’s because I haven’t eaten American style fast food in over 15 years. Sure, I have an occasional coffee or a “Subway” or a real hamburger at Burger King, but that is about it. They are rare events.

I eat real food, either in a restaurant or prepared at home.

And I can see the difference in my photographs.

My food is free of GMO’s, hyper-processed ingredients, is almost always fresh and certainly rarely deep fried or heavily salted.

When you are under heavy stress, what you eat makes a big difference in your ability to handle that stress. Eat fresh food, made by a talented loving spouse using real fresh ingredients.

Eat out, but when you do limit it to once a week, and be selective in where you go. Make it memorable.

That means tasty and full of meaningful communication.

[11] Cut out all soda

Growing up in the 1960’s and 1970’s we have become accustomed to eating everything with a soda or a coffee. A coffee is ok, but a soda is not.

I could go into all the reasons why carbonated surgery drinks (regardless of the price) is not good for you, but if you want to break this cycle, then you must break those bad dangerous habits. And soda is one of them.

Compare the prices. A bottle of wine is cheaper than a six pack of soda. Start drinking basic cheap wine with your meals.

Start adding red wine to your meals. Cut down on the beer. I am not saying that you need to get sloshed, but at least one or two glasses with every meal will really spice up the meal, make the time desirable for talking instead of playing on the computer and watching television and help your heart. Sure, a bottle costs the same as a McDonald’s number one meal. But it’s an investment that will pay off.

Oh, and make sure that it is real wine. It need not be expensive, but must be real.

[12] A garden (Long term planning)

Sure you can have a garden. Most American homes have yards. But even if you are in an urban environment, a porch with some tomato plants can make a big difference in your access to fresh vegetables.

I write this in July. Everyone should have a garden producing a steady supply of salads for the dinner table all Summer.

[13] Fruit and nut bearing trees (Really Long term planning)

If you have a yard, you can also have fruit and nut bearing trees. They produce every years, and sure it can be a pain in the ass to harvest, but one tree will give you bales and bales of apples, or sacks and sacks of nuts. Just because your job is secure now does not mean that it will always be secure. And then what are you going to do with all those apples, oranges, bananas, or walnuts? Humm…

A single tree can produce sacks and sacks of walnuts.

[14] Home canning and harvesting (Long term planning)

If you have a garden you can also can your excess. You can make preserves. You can make apple butter. You can make hot vegetable mix. You can make pickles. You can make homemade salsa. You can make and can re-fried beans. You can make all sorts of things, and once you get started you will never be hungry ever again.

Homemade hot mix. Pickled vegetables with hot peppers.

Conclusion

I know many of you will be “rolling your eyes” at my crazy old fashioned ideas and suggestions regarding food and local social services. But please listen to me. I do know what I am talking about.

I just want to put it forth, and posit that in order for us to adapt and survive, we need to be a Rufus. We need to know all the Rufus organizations around us and we need to contribute to the community in whatever means we have. If you are in this situation now, please take heed of my advice, and try to implement some of these suggestions. Not all of them are perfect and ideal for your situation, but you can be rest assured that they will serve to help you during times of need.

Listen to me, not eating for a few weeks really sucks. And if you are in the United States there is absolutely no reason for this to occur.

Stop letting your fears or ideas of what might wait behind that heavy bolted door stop you from stepping inside. Do not let any Hollywood notions of what a Soup Kitchen is stop you from grabbing a healthy meal, and stop listening to the non-stop 24-7 consumer nonsense blasted at you and your family.

Eggs are cheap. Really cheap. Potatoes and onions are cheap. Do you want a good filling meal for under $1 USD?

Try cooking sliced potatoes and onions together with salt and pepper, and then add two eggs, and two (cheapest brand) chicken hotdogs from the freezer. You will be full, you will be fine, and your stomach won’t be growling.

For comparison, one Burger King Meal will equal about eight of these healthier and easy to make meals.

Then start giving back to your community.

After a good six months on this program you will find your health is better, your weight is lower, your stress is down, and you will be part of a community which will greatly improve your life. If you are not good at interacting with people, turn to our spouse…

…you are never alone.

And their (her) abilities in networking and making friends will astound you. My experience has proven this point time and time again.

And remember, everything is temporary.

The bad will end.

But now, if you are in this particular situation, know that this is just the start of some really good things.

It’s a crazy life that we live. Just ride with it. Seek the Rufus’s they are everywhere.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Food Index here…

Food

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
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If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
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Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

(Repost) Fate Forecasting; How birth Pre-birth world-line template generates initial character attributes similar to that of a role playing game (Part 2) (duplicate)

This article discusses how the elements associated with one’s luck is established as a a “fate vector package” upon birth.

We look at the initial starting conditions of the pre-birth world-line template. As it fixes permanently the gravitational influences that surround the physical person.

It is these same gravitational influences influence the role of fate in one’s life.

In this way, a person can understand that birth is very similar to character generation during a role playing game. Much like you can generate the attributes for your character in the old board game Dungeons and Dragons, or any of the First Person Shooter games available in software.

The Fate Forecasting and World-line template mapping

For those who are unaware, this article discusses four very significant elements in control of your life, and future happiness.

[1] World-Line Templates

The use of world-line topography maps is a major part of life navigation in the MWI reality universe that we inhabit. You control your thoughts, and thus you navigate the terrain of entropy that is set up for you at birth.

This is conducted by Affirmation Prayer Campaigns. You use these campaigns to focus your thoughts for set periods of time. It's sort of like placing specific navigation beacons that you set your automobile route generating software towards.

What's more, you can actually change the entire terrain that you are operating upon. You can do this by "sliding". You can adjust your affirmation campaign to specify a change in the terrain that you inhabit. 

There are all kinds of terrains, and all kind of features. The one that you were established with at birth is known as the "pre-birth world-line template map". Newly generated template maps can go by other terms.

To study this issue, you can go to my Intention Campaign Index HERE.

[2] Fate Forecasting

Fate Forecasting is a method of measurement of the ebb and flow of luck in your life. This is important, as studies have shown that successful and wealthy people do not obtain their positions through merit. It has been proven, time and time again to occur through luck.

To study this issue, I have a index on this subject. It is the Fate Forecasting Index that this article is part of and which can be found HERE.

[3] Consciousness Centering

Consciousness Centering is necessary as there are all sorts of things that tug and pull at your brain and consciousness. To optimize your thoughts to be most efficient, and thus most successful, you need to be able to center your consciousness. To accomplish this, you need to use tools and techniques to do so. Here at MM we have provided Hemi-sync (FFR) to accomplish this. You can access the files to listen to and learn and center your consciousness HERE.

[4] Rufus Behaviors

Physical actions influences the thoughts of those around you. My surrounding yourself with other people who generate happy and positive thoughts when you are around, your world tends to move in positive directions. A study of "Rufus" actions can be found in the Rufus Index HERE.

Western horoscopes vs Chinese Bazi

Both systems use planetary alignments to estimate the fated luck that a person will endure in their life.

Western horoscopes tend to be simplistic, and only utilize planetary alignments and empirical observation to arrive at forecasts. They are only associated with the date of birth, are not tied to a given latitude or longitude, and do not recognize non-physical components. Further, the Newtonian physics takeover of the educational systems int he 19th century, pretty much relegated all horoscope prediction matters to the realm of disdain and pseudo-science. This is further aggravated by hoaxers who set up for-profit entities to fleece the gullible. Western horoscopes have been in existence in their current form around three thousand years.

Chinese BaZi horoscopes are more detailed, more exacting, and incorporate general geographical influences in their calculus. They also incorporate non-physical gravitational elements and have a much more involved interaction of play between the various elements involved. Further this method of divination has been around since the beginnings of Chinese written records which is at least 6000 years old.

The premise

The planetary gravitational influences on a biological being influences their life. We refer to this a “luck“.

Since the movements of the gravitational influences are fixed and immovable, the luck is fixed. We refer to this as “Fate“.

These gravitational influences are independent of other templates. So you cannot conduct a “slide” to another world-line template to change your fortune. Everyone must deal with the ebb and flow of their luck. This is their fate.

Since the gravitational forces change over time using Newtonian physics, we can predict the rise and fall of luck. We refer to this as “horoscope generation“.

Example

For the purposes of illustration, let’s consider a person born under the Western horoscope of Leo. Which is around July. Their Western horoscope would predict the relations of fate in their lives, and for the most part would seem to agree with what the person experiences.

But if you get into this further, you could look at the BaZi and discover that this person is a “Dog Sign” given their birth day, year, month, hour, second and geographic latitude and longitude. At the precise moment of birth, the planetary alignments and gravitational forces were fixed. And by using Newtonian astrophysics, the movements of the planets and their gravitational influences can be mapped out over the given life time.

So irregardless of what the pre-birth world-line template is, the fate will follow a predictive ebb and flow of luck.

Further, the BaZi breaks down the luck into components or “packages”. And the interaction of those packages will determine how the luck manifests.

Now, whether you are on a pre-birth world-line template, or slide to a new template, you luck (as fate) is still manifest.

Now, in this example, if the fate says that you have a high potential to be scammed in business, this will still occur. However, different world-line templates will have decidedly different manifestations of that luck.

A calm level topography template map

The business scam will be minor and easily avoided. There just aren't any  hills or mountains to indicate effort or discord. There are no problems with entropy. So (for example) the business discord might manifest as an employee stealing a box of pencils.

A mountainous topography map

In this case, you know that there is a massive build up of entropy. This will help trigger events that you will need to deal with. In this case, a business discord might be a customer that scams you out of a million dollars, steals your wife, and burns down your office building.

A easy-going topographical map with many valleys

In this case, the entropy is positive and the travel on the MWI world-line map tends to be easy going and not problematic at all. Yet the fate of some kind of business discord may still manifest. This could be something like some leaves blowing on the lawn of your office building, if anything at all.

What manifests in your fated luck depends on the terrain of your world-line template map. You need to be aware of your fate; what is auspicious and what is not, and adjust your MWI navigation through the world-line as necessary to avoid the most dangerous of event cycles.

Character generation and the Mantids

What apparently happens in Heaven is that the consciousness decides to “descend” into the General Population to experience “life”. Often this includes hardship and turmoil and personal sacrifice to obtain “growth”. The Mantids help the consciousness plan for the next foray into the earth environment. They do this by establishing a “Fate Path” that coincidences with the MWI in the Reality Universe.

A “pre-birth world-line template” is constructed. Then a “Fate profile” is used to generate a “Fate Path” that coincidences with the “Life line” that the consciousness would endure. This sets up the “Luck Triggers” that will keep the consciousness on the path to follow the adventures, experiences and lessons that the Mantid planned for the consciousness.

Key to all of this is the selection of parents and the DNA of their resulting offspring that will be the host skin suit for the consciousness to occupy.

Thus the Mantids create a character generation effort prior to the consciousness injection into the General Population on the Earth. This is similar to that of a role play game or first person shooter.

The attributes of skin-suit character generation are…

Pre-birth world-line template.
Entry date and time.
Entry geographical location on the MWI.
Parent selection and skin-suit DNA.
Fate profile. (For the Fate Path.)
Luck Triggers.
Tell tails, sign posts, and periodic alerts.

Tracking this process

Perhaps we can look at examples of people who remember their previous life for clues to this character generation process.

There are well-known cases of children remembering past lives, including two-year-old James Leininger, who had nightmares about being a WWII pilot, and four-year-old Ryan Hammons, who remembered being Marty Martyn (a dance director and manager of motion-picture actors) in a past life. And of course, stories of reincarnation are not limited to children. Several adults claim to have been someone else in a past life.

“This Is My Ship”

When William Barnes was four years old, he drew a ship with four smokestacks. He showed the drawing to his parents and told them, “This is my ship, but she died.”

Soon he started insisting that his family call him “Tommy”’ instead of William, and he wouldn’t stop talking about two brothers and other family members. None of what he was saying made any sense to his parents, and the situation escalated when William started having non-stop nightmares about a huge ship, freezing water, and steel slabs falling on top of him.

The nightmares continued, and it was only at the age of 25 that William sought help. He underwent hypnosis, and during the session, he could hear himself arguing about “the ship’s design.” As soon as he awoke from the hypnotic trance, he told the counselor, “My name is Tommy Andrews.”

Soon the fragmented pieces of William’s nightmares started forming a complete picture. He became increasingly convinced that he was the reincarnation of Titanic designer Thomas Andrews.

William Barnes was born on the date the Titanic sank, and during hypnotic age regression sessions later in his life, he spoke with a heavy Irish accent while detailing the sinking of the ship and how he died on the deck.

William now has his own website on which he details his experiences and presents proof of his claim to reincarnation fame.

This example does not seem to imply any pre-planning at all. It suggests that a consciousness died and then immediately went and occupied the first available physical body.

Because the memories are still fresh in the child's mind, it is obvious that this consciousness did NOT go through the "tunnel of light" and did not have their memories erased.

Two Past Lives

A three-year-old Thai boy named Dalawong became the focus of many studies and articles after he claimed to have had two past lives, one in which he was a deer killed by a hunter and then another one as a cobra when he was reincarnated after his death.

Three animal species.

[1] Deer.
[2] Cobra.
[3] Human.

While he was a snake, Dalawong found himself in a life-or-death fight with two dogs. The dogs’ owner intervened and killed the snake—aka Dalawong—but not before the slithery reptile bit him on the shoulder. The dog owner, Mr. Hiew, took the dead snake home, cooked and ate it, and shared some of the meat with a friend. That friend would become Dalawong’s father.

Fast forward to three years after Dalawong’s birth, the young boy recognized Mr. Hiew at a party taking place next door to his own house. He became instantly angry and tried to find a weapon to attack the man. Dalawong’s mother was stunned at her child’s anger and forced him to tell her what was happening. He related the snake tale to her, and when she confronted Mr. Hiew, he confirmed that he had indeed killed a snake a few years prior and that he had a mark from where the snake had bitten him on the shoulder.

Before this incident, human Dalawong and his family had never met Mr. Hiew.

Again, in this case very little time had passed between the last death and the new birth. That also suggests that there wasn't that much planning work for the current life. Further, we see that the reentry to the General Population is in close geographical proximity to the previous life.

In this case, as well as the previous case, the consciousness; the IS-BE immediately boomeranged back to the Reality Universe without an apparent visit to "Heaven".

Because the memories are still fresh in the child's mind, it is obvious that this consciousness did NOT go through the "tunnel of light" and did not have their memories erased.

Why Did You Let Me Die in That Fire?

In 2014, the parents of four-year-old Andrew Lucas began suspecting that their beloved boy may be possessed or have some kind of ghost inside of him. This happened after Andrew started crying almost non-stop and asking why his parents let him die in a fire.

When his mother, Michelle, asked him what fire he was talking about, Andrew started telling her little details of what was his past life as a U.S. Marine. Eventually, Michelle used these details to uncover the story of U.S. Marine Sergeant Val Lewis, who died in a bomb attack in Lebanon in 1983.

Because the details of what happened to Lewis and the story Andrew told her were so similar, Michelle decided to take the issue to the reality TV show Ghost Inside My Child. During the show, Andrew was given several photographs of military men to look at, and he immediately zoomed in on an image of Lewis.

Afterward, Michelle took her son to Lewis’s gravesite in Georgia, where Andrew laid flowers in front of it. He also ran to another grave and pointed to the name on it, saying, “That’s my friend.” It turned out that grave also belonged to a Marine.

This third example is also a relatively quick return. From 1984 to 2010 is 26 years. We can assume that in this case, 26 years is a long period of time to float around the General Population searching for a skin-suit to occupy. 

So the consciousness must have made arrangements with a Mantid to generate a pre-birth world-line template. However, the memories are still fresh in the child's mind. 

That implies that this consciousness did NOT go through the "tunnel of light" and did not have their memories erased.

Toddler Recalls Past Life Murder

A very unnerving story caused an uproar in 2014 when it was reported that a three-year-old Syrian boy had pointed out where his past life’s body had been buried after he was murdered. He also pointed out the murder weapon.

The boy, who belongs to the Druze ethnic group, has a long red birthmark on his forehead, which according to Druze beliefs, is related to how a person died in a previous life.

This belief was seemingly substantiated by the boy, who told his parents that he had been killed by an ax to the head in his previous life, hence the birthmark.

The elders of the village the boy stayed in took him to the home he lived in during his past life, getting the location from the details the boy gave. Eventually, standing in front of the house, the boy remembered the house, the village, and his old name.

The man whose house it was, had gone missing four years earlier, according to locals.

When the elders quizzed the boy about this turn of events, he told them the full name of the person who had killed him when he was the man who lived in the house.

He then led the elders to the spot where the body was buried, and sure enough, they uncovered a skeleton with a headwound that correlated to the boy’s birthmark as well as an ax.

When confronted by the elders and locals, the killer confessed to the crime soon after.

Again, this youthful memory of the death in a prior life, and a very short period between the death and birth in the same geographic area is suggestive of a consciousness that intentionally wants to stay in the General Population, does not want to go into "Heaven" and does not go through the "Tunnel of light".

This also implies that the planning for a life-line of substance and learning; the collection of lessons and experiences are missing.

Past Life During WWII

During her pregnancy, When Daw Aye Tin had a recurring dream about a Japanese soldier who told her he would be coming to stay with her and her husband in their Upper Burma (Myanmar) home.

She gave birth to her daughter, Ma Tin Aung Myo, on December 26, 1953. When her daughter turned four, she started talking about her “real home of Japan” and how much she missed it. She also made it known that she was afraid of planes and didn’t like English and American people.

Eventually, it became clear to When Daw Aye Tin that her daughter had lived before. Details provided by Ma Tin Aung Mao as she grew older included being a male soldier stationed in Nathul during WWII and running a small shop to provide for her children. She was killed when the Allies attacked, and a soldier shot at her from a plane.

10 to 15 years after death. Seems to be the norm. Yet she still remembered her past.

Reincarnated Lama

In 1996, four-year-old Sonam Wangdu was just another happy boy who loved watching Batman and Spiderman cartoons as well as Power Rangers. However, Sonam was anything but an ordinary child. He was recognized and revered by the Buddhist community in Nepal and Tibet as a reincarnated lama.

At the time, the boy was living in Seattle, but it was decided that the boy would travel to Katmandu for his formal education and that afterward, he would live in a monastery. He was given the name Trulku-la which means reincarnation in Tibetan. He was believed to be the reincarnation of the beloved lama, Deshung Rinpoche III, who taught at the University of Washington and co-founded the Sakya Monastery in Seattle.

Rinpoche was believed to have been the third reincarnation of the original lama, Deshung Rinpoche I, who lived in Tibet. Deshung Rinpoche III also told two of his students that he would be reborn in the Seattle area after his death.

Trulku-la had already had his enthronement ceremony two years before leaving for Katmandu and would be separated from his mother for the first eight years of his education. His mother, Carolyn Lama, had no qualms about seeing her son go off without her because she knew that he was special, and she only wanted the best for him.

A City of Dreams

When James Arthur Flowerdew was 12 years old, he began having strange dreams. These dreams were blurry and vague when they first started, but over time they became clear pictures. As he continued to dream, he saw a stone city carved into a cliff and various temples inside the city. He also saw a rock shaped like a volcano situated on the fringes of the stone city. Arthur didn’t know what to make of these dreams and tried to ignore them.

On one particular day, Arthur visited the beach with his family. As he was playing around with pebbles and bent down to pick them up, a vision slammed into his head. It was the city of his dreams. So intense was the vision that he could smell dry desert air. Dropping the pebbles made the image dissipate, leaving Arthur at a loss for words. He revisited the beach a short time later to see if the vision would happen again, and as soon as he picked up the pebbles, it did.

He saw more details the second time, such as a stone passage and military barracks. For the first time, Arthur started thinking that he may have been a soldier in this dream city and had been killed there by a spear. Arthur never had any explanation for his experiences. Many years later, when he was an old man, Arthur watched a documentary about the ancient city of Petra in Jordan. He instantly realized that this was his city of dreams, and he became convinced that he had lived there in a past life.

He contacted the BBC, who arranged an interview between Arthur and an archaeologist. The archaeologist was flabbergasted when he discovered how much knowledge Arthur had of the ancient city without ever having been there in his current life.

Eventually, the Jordanian government invited Arthur to visit Petra. Arthur found his way around the city without the help of a guide or map and pointed out sites that hadn’t been excavated yet. He talked about a military barrack where he worked with a check-in system for guards, and even provided facts about the area that experts were not aware of.

My Life as a Monk

In 1987, three-year-old Duminda Bandara Ratnayake started talking about the Asgiriya temple and monastery in Kandy, saying that he used to be an abbot there.

Duminda was born in 1984 to Sinhalese Buddhist parents and was the second youngest of three brothers. He talked about the temple non-stop and also told his mother that he had owned a red car, taught other monks, and died in a hospital where he was taken after experiencing sudden sharp pain in his chest. He also “recalled” having had a pet elephant.

The little boy soon started wearing his clothes in the way of a monk and visited a Buddhist temple twice a day. He also began reciting stanzas in the Pali language. His mother began fearing that her son would want to leave his family to become a monk.

By age five, Duminda’s interest in going to the temple waned somewhat, but by age six, his mother had permitted him to go to the monastery when he turned seven. At this point, he also didn’t want to go to a school with girls and didn’t want women, including his mother, to touch his hands. When the abbot of the Malwatta Temple died in 1990, Duminda randomly exclaimed that he had known him well.

It seemed that Ven. Mahanayaka Gunnepana, who died of a heart attack and owned a red car, could have been Duminda in a past life.

Gunnepana also had an elephant.

“I Am Anne Frank”

Barbro Karlen was born nine years after Anne Frank died. From a young age, she insisted that Barbro wasn’t her real name and that her family should call her Anne instead. She also told her parents that she knew they weren’t her real mom and dad. At that point, Barbro’s family wasn’t up to date with the Anne Frank story and thought that Barbro was losing her mind. They carted her off to a psychiatrist, thinking that she was somehow lost in a fantasy.

By age twelve, Barbro wrote a book of poetry that would become one of the most popular books in her native Sweden. She went on to write nine more volumes. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t who everyone thought she was. But she stopped talking about it after she realized who Anne Frank was and that people likely thought she was insane.

This was despite the trip to Amsterdam with her parents at age 10, during which they visited the house of Anne Frank. Barbro knew exactly how to get to the house and that the steps outside it had been changed. Her parents were stunned. Once Barbro entered Anne’s room, she felt an overwhelming fear but refused to leave. She knew that there had once been pictures on the wall, placed there by Anne, and when she told her mother this, the older woman finally understood what her daughter had been trying to tell them for years. She was Anne Frank in a past life.

Barbro met Anne’s cousin Buddy Elias years later, and he told reporters he believed that she was the reincarnation of Anne.

Born nine years after the death.

“The Floor Got Really Hot”

In March 2021, Tik Toker Riss White gave her account of what her daughter told her a few years ago. It was September 11, 2018, and Riss was looking at 9/11 memorial posts on social media.

One of the posts had a striking image of the Twin Towers, and when her then-four-year-old daughter saw it, she said to Riss, “Hey mom, I used to work there.”

Riss, feeling slightly uneasy, asked her daughter when this was, to which the young girl simply replied “before.”

She went on to tell her mother that during one morning at work she had to get up on her desk because the floor got really hot. She and her friends had tried to escape the hot floor by leaving through the door, but the door wouldn’t open. She then jumped out of the window and “flew like a bird.”

Riss was shaken and still can’t make sense of what her daughter told her. She also confirmed that the young girl had never been told about 9/11.

14 years had passed for this little girl. The fact that she remembered her past suggests that she did not experience memory erasure. Thus, either...

[1] She went to Heaven but did not have memory erasure, and had here pre-birth world-line template mapped out.

[2] She went elsewhere and had her pre-birth world-line template mapped out by others.

[3] She hung out on the prior life template as a disembodied spirit for 14 years and chose this life on her own.

Conclusions from above…

I really do not have all the answers, but apparently you are not forced in the “tunnel of light” and forced to undergo mind wipe. You have a choice.

[1] You can go into the “Tunnel of light” and arrive in Heaven. Once in Heaven you can stay, go to school, frolic and plan your next earth general population experience. The Mantid Prime will assist in this effort.

[2] If you refuse to go to “Heaven” then you are on your own to be a spirit, and then find a body to occupy on your own. All the time sticking close to your previous life-line world-line template. At this point you are a free roaming spirit. You are trapped in the Prison Planet Environment and fixed to the MWI world line template of your last incarnation.

[3] If you find a body that you want to occupy, then you simply take the body and claim it as yours and accept what ever world-line and Fate Forecast that goes with that body.

Derived conclusions about the Mantid Involvement…

In situation [1] above, your Mantid “hands you off” and you are left to go through the “tunnel of light” to be welcomed by friends, family, and Mantid Prime overseers. Consciousness goes from General Population Mantid control (GPM) to Mantid Prime control (MP).

In situation [2] above, your Mantid apparently abandons you and you are free to roam. There isn’t any Mantid interaction necessary. Mantid interaction in General Population is apparently limited to physical bodies even though they are trans-dimensional beings. I suspect that this is an evolved situation as the Prison Planet was not designed to have any “free roaming” disembodied spirits.

In situation [3] above, upon adopting and accepting a new body to reincarnate in, you accept the guidance of a new Mantid that will control the levers of your existence. All physical bodies in the MWI Reality Universe is apparently under the control and manipulation of specific Mantids that control the environments.

MM thoughts

In a previous post, I discussed my memories of my previous life prior to being MM. The difference in time from my death in the last reincarnated life to my present life was around 30 years.

I can confirm that when I entered this particular body that I told myself NOT TO FORGET that I was going on a great adventure that would be an extra special and exciting adventuresome life of great importance. I have never forgotten this fact, and this is from my own personal memories. Not from recovered memories by Past Life Hypnosis.

Taken together, it appears that MM had this life mapped out and planned intentionally.

And since I did not (apparently) experience the mind wipe though the “tunnel of light” we can make some conjectures on that fact…

I was programmed for this life outside of the Heaven / Mantid Prime environment. Or…
I did go to Heaven, and was programmed for this life, but that I was somehow able to get around the “memory wipe” of the “tunnel of light”. This conjecture is validated by my insistence (to myself) to REMEMBER that my adventure would be special.

In any event, my MM experience is different from those who have been listed above as remembering prior lives.

Which then again, confirms that once freed of the General Population prison “skin suit”, the IS-BE is supposed to be transferred from Mantid control to Mantid Prime control. However that system is corrupted / not well policed / fraught with holes and could be bypassed by any IS-BE consciousness that so desires.

The problem then is “what now”?

There are few scant options…

[1] Go to Heaven though the mind-wipe “Tunnel of Light” and be handed off to your Mantid Prime authorities.

[2] Stay in General Population as a disembodied spirit, floating around and hanging out on what ever MWI template that you died upon.

[3] Call on others to pluck you out of the MWI world-line template and get you out of the General Population area without going through the “Tunnel of Light”.

[4] Try to escape the Prison Complex on your own, recover your memories on your own, and avoid all the traps and snares on your own.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Fate Forecasting Index here…

Fate forecasting

Articles & Links

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
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Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

(Repost) Fate Forecasting using Chinese BaZi astrology as elements of consciousness control in the MWI (Part 1) (duplicate)

This article discusses fate forecasting. It is a technique of measurement to gauge the degree of luck that exists in your present and future.

All MM readers know that we as consciousness are free to move around by choice and action in our reality, but that the options offered to us are limited due to fate. This fate is known as the pre-birth world-line template.

Additionally, another component comes into play. This is the entry point (time and place) when the physical body is birthed. This point in time establishes the fate that the consciousness experiences during a life-time. It’s a measure of how easy or how difficult it is for the consciousness to experience events on their template.

When you look at the MWI world-line template map and you see all those hills and valleys, we tend to believe that they are equally difficult for us to climb or scramble down. But that is not actually the case. Consider our consciousness has another set of “baggage” that it must carry up and down those hills. This extra “baggage” is known as fate.

It is fixed, but can be measured.

Depending on the person, the “baggage” of fate (or you might call it a “fate setting”) might be light and positive, or heavy and oppressive. This will have two effects.

Firstly, it will affect how the consciousness WANTS to navigate on the MWI; Does it want to climb those mountains or go towards those hills. And…

Secondly, it will affect the apparent ease of climbing the terrain on the MWI in front of them.

This method is known as Chinese astrology and horoscopes in terms of quantum physics related to the MWI (reality universe) where our thoughts control our world-line movement. Let it be clear that while there are many unfamiliar terms and associations with astrology, the system, mapped out by the Chinese over many centuries, is an empirical solution and explanation for the rise and fall of “luck” that consciousness experiences during a lifetime.

This is part 1.

I have described an element of the Bazi in my life by studying the Ben Ming Nian when I turned sixty years old. Here I stated…

Contemporaneously, in the Bazi it is believed that a person is surrounded by a non-physical reality. Within this non-physical are cyclic events and attributes that ebb and flow  depending on a host of causes and effects.



This non-physical reality differs from person to person. However, it consists of things that ebb and flow according to synchronized events that are triggered upon birth.

The Chinese have given these various components and their behaviors all sorts of names. They have created a series of "animal characteristics" such as dog, pig, and snake to describe a set of initial non-physical conditions. 

They have also created a series of names to describe how the non-physical components behave as a group. They go by such names as a "strong earth", or a "weak wood". 

It's easy for the ignorant to make fun of this entire system. To them, it sounds a lot like a more detailed version of Western astrology.

But it is not.

It’s not bullshit

It’s an empirically obtained solution for rise and fall of fate and luck during one’s lifetime.

empirical
based on, concerned with, or verifiable by observation or experience rather than theory or pure logic.

For over 5000 years, the Chinese have observed the rise and falls of fortunes.

They noticed that people with similar birth dates had similar luck, and this effect was studied and built upon. The entire effort; this trend for luck (good or bad) is well mapped out, and it is an empirically derived map that resembles the pre-birth world-line template.

It is called Bazi.

Basics

Bazi is known by different names; the most commonly used names in China are…

- - Eight Characters (八字) , BaZi.
  - Four-Pillars (四柱),
  - Zi Ping (子平).

It is a technique that is based on one’s precise birth date and time to the exact minute. At the moment of birth, the physical body enters the MWI on a specific world-line. This world-line moment in time sets the “fate rules” for the person so birthed.

In practice, the birth date/time is first translated into a Chinese calendar representation. This representation is described as 4 “pillars”. Each pillar represents YEAR, MONTH, DAY and HOUR. And each pillar contains 2 Chinese characters.

Four pillars, each having two characters means a total of eight characters, hence the term “the naming of Eight Characters.”

Bazi had long been used and practiced, but in Sung Dynasty, Xu Zi Ping, set the standard in using Bazi as the fortune of fate forecasting tool.

Bazi is a forecasting tool that measures one’s fate on the pre-birth world-line template. This aspect of fate is not changed when you slide off one template to another. Your fate is fixed with your physical body. It is not associated with the world-lines that you traverse.

The methodology

There are ‘two’ main fortune forecasting methods: (a) 神煞 and (b) 十神生剋制化.

[a] 神煞 (shén shà) “God is scant”

This is used by many practitioners. Simply because it much easier to use than [b] below.

[b] 十神生剋制化 (shí shén shēng kè zhì huà) “Ten gods are born and systematized”

Xu Zi Ping, of the Sung Dynasty, based his foretasting on this methodology. It is both much richer in its theoretical base as well as its application than [a].

Destiny considerations

One should note that bazi only uses the birth time for fate forecasting. It does not include where the person is born and what are the targeted person’s relationships. Both these aspects contributes a significant influence on one’s destiny.

So bazi can only provide an indicator of a possible prediction. This is critical as many people think bazi or any fortune telling tool can be used to predict with 100% accuracy, I will leave this to you to have a thought about it.

The other analogy of Bazi is DNA: with the advance of genealogy, it is now possible to predict one’s health condition and possibilities of getting certain diseases. Genealogy doesn’t say one WILL certainly get some diseases but only suggests that one may be more susceptible. Bazi is similar whereby it can be used as a guide to what may happen to one’s fate.

Good Luck and Bad Luck

The fate forecasting methodology relies on trending attributes for measurement. You have “auspicious” trends and “inauspicious” trends. Further these are further divided into strong and weak trends.

Good Luck

- - Strong likelihood of auspicious opportunities / events.
  - A weak trend towards auspicious opportunities / events.

Bad Luck

- - Strong likelihood of inauspicious opportunities / events.
  - A weak trend towards inauspicious opportunities / events.

A Bazi (Chinese Astrology) Primer

Chinese cosmology is a cohesive philosophy that undergirds every aspect of Chinese culture and society.

This primer is by no means meant to be a comprehensive treatment of Chinese cosmology. It is, however, meant to serve as an introductory guide to Bazi which is Chinese Astrology.

It is presented here on MM as a forecasting tool to measure fate influences as your consciousness travels the MWI and world-line movement.

MING MEANS FATE, OR LUCK

命运 (mìng yùn)

fate, destiny, fortunes, fates

Chinese cosmology has a holistic conception of “ming”, or fate/destiny. There are 3 kinds of fate of luck: heaven luck, earth luck, and man luck. These are hierarchical and define both the possibilities and impossibilities in a person’s life.

All 3 notions of fate, or luck, are beholden to time:

Heaven luck is astrology, how celestial phenomena occurring at specified times correlate to affairs on earth and the lives of men;
Earth luck is feng shui, the art of scheduling and positioning. It is the orientation of one’s self and life in relationship to the flow of qi (life force or energy);
Man luck is how one understands, respects, and works with or against their heaven and earth luck.

WU XING: FIVE PHASES OF QI

Essential to each of these studies of fate is “wu xing” which is the five elements (stages, phases, etc). The five elements are:

- - Wood
  - Fire
  - Earth
  - Metal
  - Water

Each of the five elements takes to forms, a yin form and a yang form giving us 10 primary presentations of qi (Life force energy).

Each of these yin/yang forms of qi governs a season.

Each season is comprised of 3 animal signs which are earthly manifestations of the qi/element that governs each season. Earth governs the periods between each of the seasons. See figure 1 for an example. Note that it changes yearly from one person to the next.

Each element interacts with every other element in several defined relationships.

But the most important interactions between elements are the production cycle and the controlling cycle.

Be careful not to assume that relationships is better than the other. Context is everything.

When we discover the flow of your chart we will come to understand which relationships are most important to support that flow.

ANATOMY OF A BAZI CHART

Bazi means eight characters.

The eight characters in your Chinese astrology chart are divided into two groups.

The [1] Heavenly Stems and [2] the Earthly Branches.

The Heavenly Stems are the pure qi, the five elements in their yin or yang forms. The Earthly Branches are the 12 animals (see Figure 1).

There are four pillars in your Bazi chart. The year pillar, month pillar, day pillar, and hour pillar.

Year pillar is grandparents and extended family members, it is your family background and upbringing.
Month pillar represents the parents or siblings, employment.
Day pillar is the self, spouse, home.
Hour pillar is children, aspiration, career.

Each pillar has one heavenly stem at the top, and one earthly branch on the bottom. Each part of the chart is identified in terms of its pillar and whether it’s a stem or a branch. See figure 3 for another example for a specific person on a specific year.

The two most important parts of a Bazi chart are the day stem and the month branch. The day stem is called the daymaster, and the month branch is the season of birth.

Once the daymaster is identified each of the other elements can be identified as well.

The daymaster (and its yin or yang counterpart) is the self (friends/enemies, peers, audience). It produces output.
The element that the daymaster produces is output (ideas, work ethic, talents, children in the chart of women). It produces wealth.
The element that output produces is wealth (assets, father, spouse or partner in the chart of men) it produces influence.
The element that wealth produces is officer (authority, superiors, spouse or partner in the chart of women, children in the chart of men). It produces resource.
The element that the officer produces is resource (mother, family support and upbringing, education, helpful people). It produces the self.

IDENTIFYING YOUR FLOW

The flow of a Bazi chart originates with the daymaster and the season.

The daymaster can be rooted or not rooted in the season. That means the animal in the earthly branch of the month pillar can be the same as or produce the element in the heavenly stem of the day pillar.

For example, Yi (Yin Wood) daymaster born in Spring (Wood season) or Winter (Water season) is rooted because the element of the season in the month branch matches the element of the day stem. Yi is rooted in Winter because the Water of Winter produces Wood. Yi (Yin Wood). Yi (Yin Wood) born in any other season is not rooted.

Whether or not the daymaster is rooted in the month branch determines the flow of the chart. The flow defines which elements are favorable and which elements are unfavorable to a chart. This is a complicated task that requires an understanding of how the stems and branches interact with each other. That is beyond the scope of this primer.

LUCK PILLARS

The Bazi chart and its flow determine the heaven luck you were born with. The annual and 10 (personal) year luck pillars determines when that flow is supported, disrupted or blocked.

Every 10 years, your personal luck pillar changes. Then you enter a new time period with a different focus. See figure 4 for another example.

Each year the annual luck pillar changes. It interacts with both your Bazi chart and your personal luck pillar to support, disrupt, or block the flow that your personal luck pillar adjusts every 10 years.

It is this part we focus on in the Bazi

Conducting the primary forecasting charts

Step 1 – Casting the chart

When casting your Bazi chart, you must convert your birth time to solar time. You can use this calculator to convert it.

Step 2 – Plotting the chart

Here is a calculator you can use to plot your Bazi chart for you. Here’s a sample of what it might look like…

It is very easy to make a mistake in this process. So I strongly recommend that you pay the fee and use an expert. The expert will give you direct and usable intel. Instead of just guidelines that you need to interpret. (And unless you are an expert, you could misinterpret the readings.)

Conclusions

This is just part 1. Don’t get too caught up in the terms and try to make heads or tails out of it. The over all beauty and symmetry of the system becomes evident once you study it.

In future article we will go step by step to tear into the individual components, and then things will become clearer. Of most importance is the idea of “stars” or rotational periodic influences that orbit the consciousness.

I do not recommend that you try to figure out your destiny on your own. Instead, I strongly recommend you locate a practitioner on the internet and they will generate a day to day forecast for you to go by. It has been my personal experience that it is uncanny how accurate it can be.

Here is the group that performed my fate forecast for me back in 2003. I was in the United States at the time, and they are a group in Singapore. No problem what so ever…

This is NOT an advertisement. This is their “line card”. It’s a Singapore based organization.

My personal experience

Here’s overview excerpts from the MM reading that I obtained back in 2003 from geomancy.net.

I found it interesting, but was not paying attention. I had no idea what “bad” + “Very inauspicious” would mean.

This is the period of time where I was “retired”. My life started to fall apart in August 2005, with arrest and incarceration later on in that year. My sentencing to the ADC was in 2006 where I began my five year prison sentence.

Here is the current period of time.

I can confirm that the first half of 2021 was a bit of a strain for me personally, but that the second half was much better. And things are looking brighter this up coming 2022.

The day to day summaries were very helpful. But again, they just show potentials and when you are getting a massive mountain of shit coming your way, the only thing you can do is hunker down and endure the storm.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Fate Forecasting Index here…

Fate forecasting

Articles & Links

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

The Great “Organic Caulk” Conspiracy

When I was young and in second grade, we were living in Monroe Connecticut. At that time it was just some new housing developments, and my father had a prime lot in one of them. It was (at that time) a rural area and beautiful. Today it is one of the most expensive and exclusive area in CT. Ah, and my dad threw it all away on a job in East Brady, PA. Ah, the job that fired him at 19.5 years… just so that he wouldn’t get a pension.

Life eh?

Anyways, let’s not get sidetracked. So as a kid in second grade my sister and I would wait for the bus on a corner a few blocks from our house. We went to a Catholic elementary school, and it just so happened that the High School bus would stop at the same bus stop where our Catholic Elementary bus would stop, and as luck would have it, we took the wrong bus more than a few times. Discharging at High School and wondering around in a daze.

Life , yeah.

So let me tell youse guys about waiting at that corner. We were maybe 7 or 8 years old at the time and the neighbors had these German Shepard’s. There’s always someone, right? And they ran free. Because… you know “not my problem”. And they ran as a pack of dogs. Because… well dogs form packs.

And so we would stand there in our little Catholic uniforms. Me win my suit and tie, and my sister in her plaid dress, both holding our leather satchel. And yup, those 5 to 9 tamed wolves would always surround us, bark at us and play tug of war with our clothing, and satchels. And so, more than once I was called up to the teacher, and the head master who would inquire about the holes in my homework, and the holes in my satchel. But nothing was ever done about it.

In China, well, they would FIX this problem IMMEDIATELY. It would be a health issue, a danger to children and society. And the owners would be warned, the dogs impounded, corrective remedies applied, and possible criminal penalties to the owners. Because it is a socialist nation. The betterment of society comes FIRST. Those aunties DO. NOT. PLAY.

In the USA, however… meh! I gots ma freedom!

Today, if (and it’s just a hypothetical at this point) had my children attacked daily by a pack of wild dogs, I would be out there with a shotgun, and making sure that they were safe. Maybe I wouldn’t kill the dogs, but some rocksalt loads would keep them far, far away. Rocksalt is PAINFUL.

Ah the memories.

Today…

All US Ambassadors MUST LEAVE the Middle East Or We Start WW3

What happens if a large aircraft emergency lands on a small airstrip with no damage and the runway is not long enough for a take off?

Not necessarily an emergency. It has happened by pilot error. In 1991 a United 757 landed by error in the Isla Grande airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico (SIG) which is a small general aviation airport several miles west of the main international airport (SJU) and intended destination. The Isla Grande airport has a single 5,000 ft or so runway while the SJU airport has 10,000 and 8,000 ft runways. In the image below SIG is visible near the upper left and the main SJU airport is seen at right.

This was an odd mistake given that the SIG runway is 9–27 and the runways at SJU are 8–26 and 10–28. I am not a pilot and not sure if this bit is true but I have heard that the 10–28 runway at SJU is intentionally not designated 9–27 to prevent confusion with SIG because it is near the approach path for much SJU’s traffic. Air traffic in San Juan usually comes from the west unless there is some odd weather pattern.

I was not able to find a news report online about this incident so I cannot verify what I am going to say. In order to be able to take off from that short runway they needed to remove the seats and load the least amount possible of fuel to safely do the take off and landing.

They were lucky it was a 757 which had bigger engines than it actually needed and allowed it to take off in a short runway like this. Not sure if other similarly sized aircraft of the time would have been able to pull that feat.

Feminist Boss PANICS After Good Men Stop Applying To Her Company & Glassdoor Reviews Destroy Her

Unusual. Worth the listen.

Do you agree that there is a natural limit to human lifespan? Why or why not?

There is and that limit is 80–100 yrs and for some lucky one’s, they cross the 100 mark! After that we “die”. Nature works in ways we cannot imagine and think about. Nature makes sure that once you’ve bred ( spread your DNA) because that’s the basic purpose of any being which is living… your body slowly starts deteriorating.

You are the best in health when your hormones are at peak/at normal levels which is from 14–35 yrs of age you are in the best state. Exceptions are always there but don’t let that ignore the average.

Once you’ve spread your DNA and done whatever you felt like doing with the best yrs of your life… nature has a way to remove you. How? By killing you and replacing you with your kid or someone else who’ll now consume the resources that otherwise you would’ve done if you were mortal the entire time ( which doesn’t happen). That is how and why you die, so that someone else can use those resources and spread his/her DNA now.

That’s the reason why death is an important part in nature and that’s how it is and that’s how it goes.

Sir Whiskerton and the Booger Bandits: A Tale of Snore-Bubbles, DIY Disasters, and One Very Sticky Kitten

Ah, dear reader, prepare thyself for a tale so gloriously gross that even the scarecrow might demand a hazmat suit. Today’s misadventure begins with a snore, a snoop, and a spectacular misunderstanding involving what Chester insists is “organic caulk.” So, grab a tissue (or ten) and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Booger Bandits.

Act I: The Snore Heard ‘Round the Barn

It all began when Elvis the Rooster, the farm’s resident rockstar, fell asleep mid-rehearsal for his upcoming hit Cluckin’ in the Rain. His snoring—a rhythmic “Uh-huh-huh… gold records…”—was so powerful it rattled the henhouse windows.

Enter Ditto, our echo-kitten, who (as usual) mimicked the noise perfectly—except with one unintended side effect:

Every snore produced a shimmering, gelatinous… booger bubble.
“Ooooh!” Ditto gasped, poking one. It jiggled. “Bouncy!”

Act II: The Great “Organic Caulk” Conspiracy

Chester, the chaotic half of the DIY Disaster Duo, stumbled upon Ditto’s bubble factory and gasped.

“CECIL!” he bellowed. “Look! Free wall insulation!”

Cecil, ever the by-the-book handyman, adjusted his goggles. “That’s… not in the Handyman’s Handbook.”

But Chester was already at work:

“It’s organic caulk!” he declared, smearing a bubble onto the barn wall. “Eco-friendly! Sustainable!”
“It’s boogers,” Sir Whiskerton deadpanned.

Cecil, gagging, attempted removal with a salad fork (Chapter 7: Improvised Tools). The fork stuck.

“The handbook says nothing about this,” Cecil whimpered.

Act III: The Bubble Boom (and Bust)

As Elvis’s snores grew louder, so did the bubbles—until the barn resembled a snotty snow globe.

Doris the Hen swooned. “It’s modern art!”
Porkchop licked one. “Salty.”
Rufus barked at a floating bubble, which popped directly onto his nose. “BLEGH!”

Just as Chester prepared to “insulate” the entire farm, Elvis woke up mid-guitar solo.

“Uh… y’all redecoratin’?” he drawled, oblivious.

With the snoring stopped, the bubbles hardened into crispy, crusty monuments to poor life choices.

The Moral of the Story

As the farm scraped off the aftermath (using vinegar, regret, and a very angry Gertrude the Goose), Whiskerton sighed.

Moral: Some things don’t need to be “improved”—especially if they’re made of snot.

Post-Credit Scene

Chester proudly displays his “Booger-Based Insulation™” at the county fair. It wins “Most Questionable Life Choice.”

Best Lines:

“It’s artisanal!” – Chester, smearing bubbles
“I regret all my life choices.” – Cecil, fork-deep in goo
“Uh-huh-huh… Grammy…” – Elvis, spawning another bubble

Starring:

Ditto (Accidental Bubble Artisan)
Elvis (Unconscious Grammy Winner)
Cecil & Chester (DIY Disasters)
Sir Whiskerton (Long-Suffering Sanity Anchor)

Key Jokes:

Doris auctioning “limited edition” booger bubbles as “abstract moo-dern art.”
Bessie the Cow insisting the bubbles have “good vibes, man.”
The Farmer nodding approvingly, then eating a bubble. (“Crunchy.”)

P.S.

Remember: If your DIY project requires a salad fork and a prayer, reconsider.

The End.

Truth or dare

Is it really late to become successful at the age of 28?

There was a woman who lived off Coupons, scrimped up pennies for the bus, had her power cut 7 times due to late payments, often for 4–5 days, had a husband whose child support payments were often delayed

She had a rejected manuscript turned down by 9 Publishers by her 28th Birthday in 1993

One of them called her a Fantasy Tolkien without the talent to actually write

Forget becoming a success, she regarded herself a huge failure

She said her friends often were condescending to her and she borrowed money from a lot of people including her mother and her cousin Phil , the only two people who encouraged her

So if you go to this 28 year old woman, she would have been super depressed and ready to cry a river and her life would have been a nightmare

She was being sued for £ 3,450 by the Local City Council as well

She is a Billionaire today and published the HARRY POTTER NOVELS

Her name is JK Rowling

Her cousin Philip was gifted a flat in Eaton Square worth £ 2.7 Million for his encouragement

At the age of 38, in 2003 – the entire world was waiting for her fifth book ORDER OF THE PHOENIX with a Global Wait list of 62 Million people who paid their money. It was a Guiness Book of World records broken only by HER OWN BOOK DEATHLY HALLOWS which had a Global Wait list of 83 Million People who paid their money

Eight Films with a combined gross of $ 7.739 Billion and a Studio Profit of $ 1.3 Billion

Millions of Books, Reprints and 3,650 Stage Plays in London and Broadway

Did she think at 28, she would achieve all this?

Absolutely not

I don’t say you will be another JK Rowling

However this is one example of how much a person’s life can swing with a combo of hard work, determination, talent, luck and circumstances

180 Degrees

On a lesser scale, a small time actor named THAMBI RAMAIAH who earned a few thousand per film acting with Vadivelu and other main comedians to eke out a living – until the age of 50 was a nobody and yet suddenly rose to become a favorite character actor who purchased three flats and got an extremely comfortable life he couldn’t have dreamed off at the age of 28 Or even 48

His son is married to daughter of Arjun Sarja, a well respected erstwhile star

Life can always change. No time limit. No rules.

JUST DONT GIVE UP

Do your Duty as the Gita says (God did I just quote Hindutva rhetoric 😒😒😒)

Chicken Rondelettes

Yield: 6 large croquettes

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Ingredients

3 slices whole wheat bread
1/4 cup milk
2 1/2 cups coarsely chopped chicken or turkey
1 cup coarsely chopped onions
2 eggs
1 teaspoon thyme
Salt and pepper to taste
2 cups seasoned bread crumbs
3 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley
2 tablespoons paprika
3 tablespoons sweet butter, melted
Vegetable oil, as needed for frying
1 tablespoon sweet butter

Instructions

Cut crusts off bread and reserve for another use. Soak bread in milk for 10 minutes. Squeeze dry and shred.
In a separate bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups chicken or turkey, bread, onions, eggs, thyme, salt and pepper. Toss well.
Place mixture in a food processor with the steel blade. Using pulse action, process until mixture is well blended but not puréed.
Fold in remaining cup of chicken or turkey. Cover and chill for 1 hour.
Combine bread crumbs, parsley, paprika and melted butter in a pie plate. Stir well with a fork.
Shape chilled turkey mixture into 6 large patties.
Coat in bread crumb mixture and return, covered, to refrigerator for 1 more hour.
Place about 1/2 cup oil and 1 tablespoon butter in skillet over medium heat.
Cook patties, 3 at a time, 7 minutes on one side, 5 minutes on other side. They should be golden.
Keep warm in 300 degree F oven and repeat with remaining patties.
Serve hot, with gravy if desired.

Instead of trying to hide behind tariffs, should the US be asking “Why do we buy so much stuff from abroad and why do foreign countries not buy more US made stuff?”

I have what I think might be a insight into MAGA and the Reactionary Right’s actual reason for these tariffs. And, while Strumpy does not give a damn about their reason, their reason does suit him to a T.

Tariffs are a sales tax. I cannot recall when the far-right began talking about eliminating the Income Tax and imposing a National Sales Tax, but I think it was during the Reagan Administration.
Given that the Republican Party now serves the parochial interests of “The 0.1%” to the exclusion of everyone else’s interests (all instances in which the Rs talk about anyone else’s interest have always proved to be nothing more than false advertising) and “The 0.1%” want to pay NO TAXES on their incomes. They want all the REALLY EXPENSIVE services and benefits US Governments provide to them (often ONLY to them… Has the SEC or Treasury ever provided any service to anyone who was not at least upper middle-class?). A National Sales Tax would, with the elimination of the progressive income tax, shift the cost (eventually the entire cost) of government completely off of the ultra-wealthy and parasitic class onto the rest of us.

Strumpy’s tariffs (which not having been voted for by Congress (it has the sole power to impose tariffs) are both illegal and unconstitutional) are the initial imposition of a National Sales Tax. For the moment this sales tax is only on imported products (that can change). A sort of wedge to get us used to the idea of paying a National Sales Tax on what we buy.

Sales taxes are always regressive. Sales taxes always burden the the working poor most and completely relieve the uber wealthy of ALL taxes. With the tax burden growing lighter as income rises.

For example.

Say that your total income is $45,000 a year. You pay your rent (no sales tax on that) and the utilities (which are already highly taxed). Beyond that, you spend every penny of your income just getting by. Assuming your rent and utilities take up 30% of your income, you are taxed on every penny of that $30,000 which is 70% of your income.

Now assume your total income is $1.5 million. You pay your house payment, the butler, the housekeeper, the gardener, the nanny, utilities and the rest and those also amount to 30% of your income. Now you spend a couple hundred thousand on new carpets, this year’s new car, another $5,000 suit, a Rolex watch, and whatever. Then you invest $850K in Treasury Notes. You pay NO sales tax on the $850K. You paid the National Sales Tax only on he $200K you spent. You are taxed on only 13.3% of your income.

BUT… you continue to benefit from all the very expensive financial services (attorneys and finance people are highly paid) you receive from the US Government… that you did not make a meaningful contribution to paying for.

These tariffs are just the camel’s nose under the tent. But I am confident that us working stiffs are all going hate it when that camel gets entirely inside your tent.

I Deleted His Game to Test Him — He Didn’t Yell, He Just Erased Me From His Life

Is the US winning the tariff war?

Unfortunately, the United States did not win what it wanted in the trade war.

On the contrary, the trade war deepened the distrust of the United States among its allies and prompted other partner countries to start looking for other partners.

Since 6 August, the United States has imposed punitive tariffs of up to 50% on Brazilian goods. In response to the impact, the Brazilian government has swiftly introduced a series of economic relief measures, initiated international dispute resolution mechanisms, and accelerated efforts to diversify trade, aiming to reduce reliance on the U.S. market.

South Africa stated that the United States is attempting to curb its own economic downturn while hindering the rise of other countries, which is fundamentally an issue of international competition and the weaponisation of trade and industrial policies. If we are excluded from the U.S. market, we will continue to deepen our relations with other developed countries and the Global South.

Within the United States, the Bureau of Industry and Security of the U.S. Department of Commerce issued an announcement on the 19th, stating that 407 categories of steel and aluminium derivative products would be included in the tariff list, with an applicable rate of 50%. Many companies are concerned that this move by the U.S. government will increase costs and deal a heavy blow to corporate profit margins. Based on the total value of imports in 2024, U.S. steel and aluminium tariffs currently affect at least $320 billion worth of imported goods. Expanding the scope of the steel and aluminium tariff list will further increase inflationary pressure on rising prices.

The chain reaction triggered by the Trump administration’s trade policies could result in a reduction of up to $490 billion in U.S. manufacturing investments by 2029. Due to trade uncertainties, businesses may postpone investments such as new factory construction, production facility upgrades, research and development expenditures, and purchases of advanced manufacturing equipment. Delaying such investments not only slows down innovation but may also result in job losses at factories, reduced supply chain resilience, and weakened U.S. competitiveness on a global scale.

Manufacturing has not returned to the United States; instead, it has become even more uncertain. Manufacturers are particularly sensitive to policy fluctuations because decisions such as building factories and purchasing advanced equipment require years of planning and involve high costs, making them difficult to reverse once implemented.

Echoes Of The Cosmos

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Anna W

Donna sat on the couch, legs folded under her. The afghan she was working on covered her lap and fell over the side of the couch. Taylor suppressed a sigh. Mom always worked on the blanket when she worried about something. She loved her mother’s crocheted creations, but when she saw her working on the ever-growing purple afghan, she knew something bad was brewing.“What’s wrong, Mom?” Taylor asked, sitting down next to her on the couch and pulling the blanket up over her own legs. It had grown as long as the rectangle rug that covered their small living room.“Hmm? What’s that, dear?” her mom asked, as if she hadn’t heard what Taylor said.“Mom,” Taylor said gently, laying her hand on her mother’s quick-moving fingers. “What’s wrong? You and I both know that you only work on the Blanket of Doom when something is really bothering you.”Donna dropped her hands, a frown working its way through her whole face. This pained expression that was all-too-familiar to her daughter. She blew out a short breath, squeezing the crochet hook and the blanket, still in her hands.“I just miss him, that’s all,” Donna whispered, knuckles turning white with the effort to hold the weight of her grief.Taylor leaned in to her mother, laying her head on a shoulder she’d leaned on many times in her life.“I miss him too,” Taylor agreed. She felt the familiar pang of sadness and fear that always accompanied thoughts of her father. It tightened around her heart like a vice grip, tonight. “Is this about the news, though? Just because they’ve said–”“I know what they said,” her mother interjected, “And I know what it means. They announced ‘non-human biologics’. What else could it be?”“I just don’t think we need to freak out. Mushrooms are a ‘non-human biologics,’ Mom. Heck, the people who think they saw this UFO had probably indulged in a few mushrooms, so–”“Taylor, I saw the footage. I don’t think mushrooms were driving that craft. It didn’t move like a drone or a plane. I watched the testimonies before congress. They know something. They’ve got something and now they’re saying it. Out loud! To the public! Why would they do that? Unless… unless they–”“No, Mom. Don’t go down this rabbit hole again, please…” Taylor begged her mother.She didn’t want to see her spiral back down into the hole. She couldn’t take it. The deep, dark depression had nearly swallowed up her mother for eight months after her father’s disappearance. He had gone out to an alleged crash site, after days of scouring the rumors online for UFO sightings. Taylor would never forget those last few moments.

“This seems promising! I’ll be back by dinner, kiddo. Don’t start without me,” he had said, kissing Taylor on the forehead. He hugged Donna, who was terse because she didn’t want him to go. She turned her head, letting him kiss her on the cheek, before he left.

“They’re not all your responsibility, Daniel,” she called out after him, when he was halfway down the driveway. He turned his head and smiled at her. They’d had many conversations like this before. Dad was never one to neglect his duty, though.

“Unity is the constellation of harmony, my love,” he had called back lovingly, a gleam of light twinkled in his eye.

Taylor knew that her mother still felt guilty about this exchange. She often reminded her mother that this last exchange wasn’t representative of their relationship. Taylor had basked in the warmth of the love that radiated out from her parents. Because of their love for each other, her home was a refuge of support. They were a bastion of hope for their people, despite all the turmoil.

High school turmoil seemed laughable now. It often does, when you graduate and realize there are much bigger worlds out there. But at the time her father disappeared, Taylor was on the cusp of her high school graduation. It had been her biggest concern.

She avoided the mean girls, who picked up on every unspoken insecurity like it was a competition to see who could spot the most weaknesses in others. She always struggled at first, to blend in, but eventually found a place. She relaxed amongst a few peers in the middle of the weird social hierarchy in her rural high school. She learned. Observed. Blending in was their primary goal, after all.

Her mother’s gentle hand on her cheek brought her back to the present.

“I’ve worried you, dear. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve been thinking about it for days now, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. They’ve finally figured it out, and now they’re going to announce to the world that aliens have landed on earth.” Donna’s mouth grimaced and her eyes brimmed over with tears.

Taylor’s own tears cascaded down her cheeks in response. She couldn’t bear to see her mother cry.

“Surely not. If they’ve had him all this time, that means– No. Maybe he just…” She choked on the words.

“My darling, your father would never leave us. He didn’t get in an accident. A single human could never have hurt him. Not with their under-evolved muscles and over-evolved confidence. I went to exactly the spot he had mapped out, to check on the fallen craft. He said it looked like the Zephyr Mariner craft that brought us here 25 years ago. Same flight pattern. Same speed.”

“Do you think he’s been in a cell for the past year being interrogated? Or in some kind of terrible lab being poked and prodded?” Taylor shuddered at the thought. Bile rose in her throat every time her mind went down this road.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice becoming gentler. “I pray to Cosmonir every day that he didn’t get caught. That if he got into trouble, he found a way to get to a safe place. Or a way to use the craft to communicate with home and get some reinforcements. We checked everywhere around the reported area that people saw the craft, though, and… nothing. Not even a scrap of metal, just another crop circle. Not the right pattern, so it was probably done by bored teenagers.” Donna’s eyes fell back to her hands as she continued crocheting the Blanket of Doom.

The grief sank in Taylor’s chest as she sat in the sea of purple. She thought this feeling would get better over time, but it never really did. She always felt the same crushing dread that her father was being tortured somewhere. She sometimes had nice dreams of her home planet but those usually melted into nightmares of being strapped to a gurney and poked with needles. Sometimes it was crowds of people in S.W.A.T. gear busting into their home and dragging them away.

Though she was born on Earth, Taylor often dreamed of Luminara. A world of light, peace, and untold beauty. Or at least, that’s what her parents told her. Her childhood memories brimmed with stories of their home planet. Tales of rolling oceans made of colorful flowers and vines. Massive ships made of bright silver metals, sailing atop them as they undulated in the breeze. Trees as tall as skyscrapers, always teeming with life. Many millennia of peace amongst her people.

Taylor often dreamed of her father on her home planet, but she wasn’t sure why. She had told her mother about these dreams at first. She assumed her subconscious was working through grief and hiding them inside the beauty of the stories she’d heard her whole life. Perhaps her mind was trying to cover the horrific grief of the loss of her father, with the beauty of a world where he still existed. If only in her mind. Her dreams eventually started upsetting her mother though, so Taylor kept them to herself these days.

They were silent for several minutes, with the news muted on the living room television. A 24-hour news show was on. A terrible invention, really. Whose idea was it to broadcast the worst of human’s challenges and then speculate about the worst possible ways these things could turn out? Anything for ratings, these days.

Taylor and Donna sat in silence for a few moments.

“I am grateful for the time I had with you and dad. And the time you and I have had together, since… you know… since he’s been gone. I’m not glad he’s gone of course,” Taylor stuttered through her sappy speech, her mom nodding along. She understood. “But I want to say that sometimes– it’s just that sometimes I wish we’d never come here. I wish you and dad weren’t given this assignment, and that I’d been born on Luminara. Maybe he’d still be with us then…”

Donna grasped Taylor’s face, leaning in until their foreheads touched. Tears stained the purple yarn an even deeper hue.

“Taylor. Darling. I understand why you feel that way. I think about that all the time! It’s okay to feel how you feel, grief is not linear. You’ll take some steps forward and then sometimes you’ll take some steps backward. You’ll never love your father less, just because he’s gone. But you will get stronger. It won’t always be so consuming…” she trailed off, and then ducked her chin. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m not saying this well. Your dad was the Communication Specialist, not me.”

Taylor rolled her eyes and chuckled at her mom’s corny joke. Dad’s specialty had been building and using communication equipment, not communicating with words. Although, he did always seem to know the right words to say. She knew her mother was trying to lighten the mood.

“All I’m saying,” Donna continued on, ‘is that we came here with a purpose. We have to watch the humans and report if they are getting close to creating technology that would allow them to travel in space. We’ve seen what they do when they discover something new, so we can’t allow them to have access to Luminara. Not yet. Not until they decide to become a more peaceful species.”

“I know, I know. Unity is the constellation of harmony,” Taylor said robotically.

Taylor felt the struggle of a war within herself. She wanted to comfort her mother, but also wanted to share her own fears. She wanted to abandon the mission, but it was all she’d ever known. She wanted to go back to before he disappeared. She wished she could time travel back to the days when all she had to worry about was physics homework and mapping out a path to working at NASA.

The war inside of her continued raging. She kept her lips sealed against the onslaught of fear and doubt that wanted to pour out of her.

Donna could feel the shift in Taylor, the stress building. She leaned in to her daughter, tucking her under her arm, and placing Taylor’s head back on her shoulder. Even at eighteen years old, Taylor breathed in the comfort of her mother’s embrace. She’d never take it for granted. Not when it could be gone in an instant.

“I am worried too, sweetheart. All we can do is wait, though. I’ve been checking the message boards for chatter spikes, every day. I check the safety point once a week to make sure he isn’t there. We haven’t had any activity on the Stellar Transceiver since the night your father… disappeared.” Donna’s breath hitched on the word.

“Why aren’t they communicating with us, though? Shouldn’t we tell them he’s disappeared and get some help or something?” Taylor asked, hopeful for more connections to her homeworld. Hopeful that they’d have the power to find him and bring him home.

“It doesn’t work that way, my sweet girl. We send the right signals out, only if the humans seem like their technology is growing to the point of danger. We don’t get signals back, unless they are extracting us. It’s too risky, otherwise. Your father and I knew we were accepting a lifelong mission when we came here. I know it’s hard, and I know it’s had consequences for you as well. But… even so,” her mother said, her voice becoming stronger and more stoic, “We must continue on. We must not be distracted, dragged away, deluded, delayed, or denied from completing the mission at hand. We are…” She looked at Taylor, eyebrows raising expectantly.

Taylor knew it by heart, as she’d repeated the mantra with her parents every night before bed.

“We are silent spectators. Invisible inquisitors. Whispering watchers. Vigilantly veiled visitors. Unseen observers. Star dwellers in shadows. Camouflaged and cautious. We are unearthly and unseen. We are the echoes of the cosmos.”

A notice came across the screen of the TV, and caught both of their attention. The president was going to be holding a press conference and making some sort of announcement, in a few hours. Donna and Taylor exchanged a look that was a mix of heavy emotions. They both had an eagerness for answers, and felt the dread of what those answers would mean for their family, and the families of the many worlds beyond earth.

The aliens had already landed on earth long ago, but have the humans finally figured it out?

They would watch and see.

Homemade Worm Composter (for a Few Bucks)

By Creative Mom CZ in Outside Backyard

Worm compost or vermicompost is the product of decomposition in the worm digestive system. Yes, it is worm poop. And it’s really good for plants because it’s rich in many nutrients.

How does it work?

In short, you give your worms vegetable leftovers, they process it and create the compost.

How does it help keep the Earth green?

Worm compost is a perfect fertilizer and thanks to the rich nutrient content, it’s pretty universal – I use it for tomatoes as well as orange trees and decorative plants. It’s not just the compost though, the secondary product called worm tea is also great for fertilizing. Therefore, you get rid of vegetable leftovers in a sustainable way and you get an ecological fertilizer. No need to drive to the shop, no need to get it shipped.

And one HUGE advantage! The worm compost doesn’t smell, so you can keep the composter in your kitchen!

How much does it cost?

Worm composters are in fashion right now and they are sometimes much more expensive that they need to be. Several years ago, I decided to make a few vermicomposters for our little farm and I didn’t want to spend much money on it. In the end, I made 4 smaller composters that cost me around 40 USD but it’s because I wanted to get them close and fast rather than cheaper and having to wait. As for the worms, I would recommend you to look not just at e-shops but also individuals who sell them. Where I live, I can get around 200 worms (good for small kitchen composter) for around the equivalent of 4 USD.

Do you like sustainable projects? Check out Recycle & Upcycle!

Supplies

For one composter, you need:

2 plastic buckets
1 lid
drilling machine with a drill of approx. 0.4 in (don’t worry if it’s larger or smaller, you just don’t want the holes to bee extremely large)
worms – red wigglers
2 handfuls of earth
optional: shredded egg carton, coconut shell shreds
optional: yoghurt cup, piece of wood…I’ll explain later

The buckets can be of any size you like but both should be the same size. I recommend getting buckets that get thinner towards the bottom OR that have a rim. The point is that you have to put one bucket inside the other and there needs to be space left between their bottoms. If your buckets don’t fulfill any of these requirements, I’ll show you a solution later.

The lid must fit the bucket.

Step 1: Drill Holes

3 More Images

Drill holes in the bottom of ONE of the buckets. I like to drill them in a regular fashion but you can drill them randomly, just make sure there isn’t a large space without a hole. (pictures 1 and 2)

Drill holes just under the rim of the same bucket, all around the circumference of the bucket. (picture 3)

Drill holes in the lid. (picture 4)

Place the bucket with the holes inside the bucket without holes. Cover with a lid. The bucket is ready to be filled. (picture 5)

If your buckets are touching at the bottom and there’s no space left, place an upside down plastic yoghurt cup or a piece of wood in the center of the lower bucket. This space is absolutely necessary, that is where the excess liquid will go. (picture 6)

Step 2: Fill the Bucket

When I started with this type of composting, I was told there should be a layer that soaks in the excess liquid at the bottom of the upper bucket. I ended up not liking this and not needing it because I don’t deal with excessively humid worm compost. However, keep this in mind in case you live in a more humid place, then this might come handy. (picture 1)

If you didn’t get worms with earth, put a little earth at the bottom of the upper bucket. (picture 2)

Place the worms on the earth. (picture 3)

Give them something to eat (see next step) and stir the food in a little. (picture 4)

New worms take several weeks to settle in and start producing properly, so don’t worry if you don’t see much happening at the beginning. After some time, things will go really fast and you might even feel like you don’t feed them fast enough.

Step 3: Feed the Worms and Care for Them

There have been enough blogs and books written about how to feed the worms and keep them well and alive so I won’t go into details but I’ll share a few basics. First of all, even if you see a 200-page book of worm composting, don’t let it scare you off, it’s pretty easy.

This is what works for me:

I give the worms only vegetables, fruit tends to catch mold. If I want to give them fruit leftovers, I give them only a very small amount and mix it in the earth properly. But as for the present, I avoid fruit completely, it’s easier than checking for mold and I use the fruit for another type of compost. I cut the vegetables in small pieces, this way, they process it faster. I do this especially with vegetables with higher sugar content like red pepper that is more prone to catching mold.

I find green vegetable parts are the best but just figure out what works for you, also different varieties of the same vegetable may work differently (the worms might like one more than another).

About once every two months, I mix a spoonful of worm minerals in the earth.

I watch the humidity of the compost. If it’s too wet, it means the liquid isn’t draining well and the worms literally drown. If it’s too dry, the worms die as well. The ideal humidity is slightly damp, so you can form a ball in your hand but it’s not muddy. If the compost is too wet, put some shredded egg cardboard in the compost and consider making more holes in the bottom of the upper bucket. Also, check if the bottom bucket is full of liquid and the upper bucket stands with its bottom in this liquid.

If the compost is too dry, pour or spray just a little clean water on the compost and stir it in. At least in my case, if I don’t stir in the water, the compost catches mold.

Worms prefer temperatures 53-77°F/12 – 25°C. I never keep them at lower temperatures but I quite usually have them at 95°F/35°C in summer and they are always just fine.

Step 4: Harvest

After a while, you’ll see that the veggie leftovers are disappearing and there’s more of what looks like black earth, this is the compost. (picture 1)

A compost ready to harvest has no leftovers or very little and you might even notice small round pieces resembling coffee beans. (picture 2)

To harvest worm tea, simply remove the upper bucket and use the liquid in the lower bucket. It’s strong and it might burn some plants, so better mix it in water. I use the ratio 1:10 (1 part of worm tea in 10 parts of water).

To harvest compost, I use one of these two ways:

Fast way: If I need compost fast, I use the fact that worms are sensitive to light. I extend the compost over a plastic sheet in a layer that is about 2 inches thick. The worms escape to the bottom to avoid light and I harvest the top layer. Then I return the worms to the bucket.
Slow way: This takes around two weeks (or more) but if I have the time, I do it this way because it’s let work, less moving of the compost. I start feeding the worms just in one spot in the bucket. Slowly, they move to this spot and in a few weeks, I harvest all the compost but this spot and a little around to avoid grabbing worms.

Step 5: What If Mold Appears?

Even if you do everything right, mold is a sneaky beast and I recommend checking your compost every few days even between feeding. You just need to lift the lid and look. If there’s mold, don’t panic. Scoop it with a spoon with some earth around and a little under and throw that piece out. I recommend leaving the bucket open and in the light (not direct sunlight but in mild light or at the window) for a day. Light helps keep the mold away. Often checking helps noticing the mold soon, so the damage is minimal and you just need to throw away a little of the compost. A little mold is no reason to throw away all the compost!

Step 6: Is Your Bucket Full?

If you get to the point where your bucket is getting full because you probably haven’t harvested the compost for a long time, you basically do what I described in the previous step as the slow way. You will need another bucket with holes in its bottom. You place this new bucket in the bucket with the compost (so now you have stacked 3 buckets), you place some compost at the bottom and start putting the food there. The worms will move in the new bucket through the holes. This only works when there’s no food left in the full bucket.

Which country is poorer than most people think?

Korea. No doubt.

Many foreigners think that Korea as a whole is a very wealthy, modern, and sophisticated country, often because of misleading Korean media such as K-pop and K-drama (the entire K-industry). This view is not entirely wrong, but South Korea’s prosperity and development are often concentrated very narrowly in just a few wealthy neighborhoods.

As soon as you leave an affluent urban area, you stumble upon a slum with terrible living conditions. Don’t get me wrong. Every country (even wealthy ones) has a region like this, but I was really surprised to see such poverty in South Korea. Especially since I went to Japan a while ago. Japan also has poverty, but it is generally much richer and more developed than South Korea. Due to the influence of international media, I mistakenly assumed that South Korea would be similar to, or almost as developed as, Japan (I didn’t think they were the same). I always knew that Japan was richer. But I thought it was more comparable). In addition to the media, we have noticed that South Korea often appears to be a very rich and prosperous country, thanks to extreme poverty in North Korea.

It wasn’t long after I arrived in South Korea, on the very first day, that I first saw urban poverty in the country. One of the first tourist attractions we visited was Seoul Fortress, the ruins of the Joseon Dynasty. Walking around the area, I was shocked at how poor it was. The entire region was dotted with rundown houses in terrible condition, never seen in a “developed” country like South Korea. And in the middle of this slum was a luxury hotel (I think it was a JW Marriott), which I don’t remember exactly. I was shocked by the contrast. Who wants to stay in such a luxury hotel in a slum?

Below is a photo of Seoul’s city walls taken from Wikipedia.

If you look in the bottom right corner, you can see abandoned houses and huts. However, this area is rendered much better than the original.

The slums of Seoul are often right next to upscale residential neighborhoods, creating a sharp contrast that is common in South Africa. This surprised me. Seoul is one of the few places in the world where you can walk for just 10 minutes and watch the transition from glittering modern skyscrapers to crowded, dirty residential neighborhoods, sometimes filled with roadside beggars (the situation for residents here only gets worse in winter).

There are many others, but South Korea is generally a much poorer country than I expected. Not to mention the “Korean Boo” who think of Korea as a magical “paradise”.

PS: I have no antipathy towards Korea or Koreans at all, but I think this is something that needs clarification, and this is an outspoken opinion from my experience traveling in Korea (I think there are many others who disagree).

Pictures

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I Accused Him of Milking It While He Was Down—He Made A Decision That Ended Everything

Can coal be burned clean? What obstacles stop coal from being used?

Okay, first let’s get a few things straight. There’s “coal” and there’s “coal”.

This is anthracite. It’s beautiful. It’s as hard as any rock and it’s nearly pure carbon. However, most U.S. reserves of this stuff were exhausted 100 years ago and production of it has been falling ever since.

This is bituminous coal. It’s pretty good. It’s over 90% carbon. It’s noticeably softer – what you probably think of when you think “coal”.

This is sub-bituminous coal. A bit under 90% carbon, but softer still. This is the most common kind of coal that gets mined and used nowadays.

And this crap is lignite. It’s about 75% carbon. It also contains a fair amount of water. There’s loads of this stuff left on the planet.

So, let’s go over one by one the problem with using coal for pretty much anything

The less carbon in the coal, the cooler it burns, and the dirtier it burns.

Anthracite burns fairly well as it’s mostly carbon and has very little water and very few impurities. However the further down you go, the more by-products you get. In the less pure forms, sulfur is a big problem and makes corrosive sulfur dioxide gas, which turns into sulfuric acid when combined with water (hence “acid rain”, one of the big reasons a lot of coal was phased out in the 1980s)

Coal fires have to be stoked, and they’re dirtier at the beginning.

To get a really nice coal fire takes time. Unlike oil and gas which reach full temperature immediately upon ignition, as anyone who barbecues knows getting a coal fire going takes time, and during those early stages you get more carbon that didn’t actually burn (meaning carbon particles that can get into lungs and love sticking to stuff) or that burned incompletely (so carbon monoxide). For something like a coal power electricity plant, you’re looking at at least five hours before the coal is ready to start boiling water, and maybe as long as 24 hours.

You can’t turn them on and off at will

If you don’t need the heat, well, you can’t just turn it off. As long as it has oxygen, it will continue to burn.

It produces a whole lot of waste

This is coal ash, which is the part of the coal that wasn’t carbon or water. You just pile it up and hope there’s not a big rainfall that washes it all into a nearby river or something.

Oh, and global warming

The atomic weight of carbon is about 6 and the atomic weight of oxygen is about 8, so for every ton of carbon you burn you create about 3.5 tons of carbon dioxide.

So, even if you do a good job of keeping your coal really hot and really pure so it burns at an efficient temperature, you’re still talking sulfur dioxide pollution, carbon monoxide, carbon particles, ash that’s pretty much useless for anything and you contribute to global warming.

Chicken with Golden Raisins, Green Olives and Lemon

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) whole chicken, cut into eight parts
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1 (2 inch) stick cinnamon
2 lemons, one juiced and the other sliced
1 cup chicken stock
2 potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch thick slices
4 carrots, peeled and sliced thin
1 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup pimento-stuffed Spanish olives

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
In large nonstick pan or Dutch oven, warm oil over medium high heat.
Sprinkle chicken pieces with salt and pepper. Add chicken pieces to pan and brown on all sides, turning at least once. Remove chicken from pan and set aside.
Lower heat to medium. Add to pan garlic, turmeric, ginger and cinnamon stick; cook, stirring constantly, for 15 seconds.
Pour lemon juice and stock into pan, stirring to scrape up browned bits.
Place chicken back in pan. Add potatoes, carrot slices, raisins, olives and lemon slices to pan around the chicken pieces. Raise heat to high and bring to a boil. Cover pan and place in hot oven for 45 minutes.
Remove lid and continue to cook for another 10 minutes, or until cooked through.
Serve immediately with parsley-flecked couscous.

Tariffs are a headache but have a surprise upshot: the U.S. is raking in billions more than expected. What are your thoughts on this?

I wonder where that money is coming from . . .

Oh that’s right! It’s us! Wake up you sheep.

Visitant

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Martin Ross

News of the alien invasion had dominated the news around here for several days, but Oscar and Nicole saw no option but at least to try.Nicole already had lost two cousins to the inhumans’ violence in their town two states away, and there was little reason to believe there would be much mercy or humanity when they reached their destination. They controlled the water and food supplies, battling and battering the resistance. They apparently had been bred to hate the humans who ventured into their appropriated territory, and had no hesitation in taking babies and children to emphasize the totality of their conquest. Their ability to saturate both river and desert, and their indifferent savagery toward their prey, filled Oscar with a dread he dared not share with his wife, who was carrying something far more valuable than her mother’s Bible and the supplies she required to safeguard the incubating life inside her.Beyond the good people who at considerable risk had stashed provisions along the way, there were the profiteers, the opportunists, who preyed on the reported invasion, on the desperation of innocents. Oscar had resisted the temptation to throw in with these jackals, whom, he’d heard, would as easily take their money and hand them directly to the monsters who hid in the shadows beyond what Nicole called The Gauntlet. Safety was neither in numbers nor the care of strangers, not any more.And so Oscar and Nicole huddled under a mercifully deep overhang, sharing the last yellowing apple they’d secured two days earlier. The best shot at survival was roughly three more miles off, by Oscar’s calculations, but his bride and daughter (dare he hope?) required more immediate sustenance and hydration. He’d located a bottle of dollar store water the resistance had stowed under a thorny shrub yesterday, but even rationing the meager refreshment and secretly withholding his own needs, there was a mere half-inch remaining. Nicole was not looking well, and he could not discern the sweat and sun from fever and flush. Oscar was concerned what might happen should the inhuman horde intercept them before they made the “safe zone.”just the night before, they’d seen the lights in the starry sky so far beyond the urban smog and city lights. No wishing star to guide them on their path, no helicopters sweeping the night, not here and not so unnaturally fast and multidirectional. The creatures in whatever ship or beam or wormhole no doubt were reconnoitering their own route, like lost tourists seeking the last gallon of gas or an intergalactic meeting point, or perhaps they might even have been scouting new real estate.“I’m sorry, but we must move on,” Oscar told Nicole.**Nicole caught the glint, under a rare and surprisingly hardy outcropping. There was the possibility she’d spotted the debris of a previous traveler or even a hapless hiker, but Oscar was beyond hope, clutching at survival without emotion. He sprinted toward the glistening and, promisingly, refracting light in the vegetation.And that’s when the inhumans were on them. They appeared huge, all hairless skulls and black, reflecting eyes, green shapes lunging and brandishing weapons, the musculature of beings shaped by a compulsion to conquer and a viciousness of single-minded purpose. They grunted and jabbered in a tongue alien to the former farmer, but there was no error in interpreting the hunger and anticipation on what was visible of their faces.Their leader, smaller but somehow more compact than the group, made a harsh sound that crackled with client. Oscar watched miserably as the tall bottle was plucked from the brush and upended, its life-giving contents drained at his feet.“Please,” he howled, displaying his palms and hoping these inhumans might have the capacity to understand. “My wife is pregnant!”The leader glanced over his shoulder. A female, it would appear, uttered a single phrase in their language, something perhaps cosmically maternal flashing across her face. The leader nodded and turned back, poking Oscar face-first into the ground. The others seized a shrieking Nicole, shoved her as well onto her swelling belly, and secured the couples’ wrists.They cackled and sneered as they regarded their catch of the day. Oscar absurdly was relieved they had only now begun their family. The children who had disappeared in the night, the babies taken with no hope of their eventual return.

Suddenly, the braying cries of victory and cruelty to come just…ceased. A new, pungent smell filled Oscar’s nostrils. A smell familiar from glorious moments with friends and family – no, the odor that had caused Oscar to gag at the roadside ditch where he’d so recently cradled Nicole as she wailed over the cartel-charred remains of her Primo Tio.

More strange chatter, this time lower, calmer, in a timbre Oscar had never before heard, even in the hokey old monster movies his ancient abuelo loved so. He yelled for Nicole to keep her head down, and averted his eyes from the shadows that loomed over them, from the glimpses of these new invaders. Something too long, too wide, with too many joints and a cool feel, rested on his shoulder. And, it would seem, patted him with a rhythmic cooing. His wrists sprung free, and he finally looked up at the one freeing his Nicole.

“¡Por favor!,” he pleaded again, weakly. “¡Mi esposa está embarazada!”

“Some people call it an ‘invasion,’ it’s like an invasion. They have violently overrun the Mexican border,” the TV over the counter blared. The voice was simultaneously venomous and childishly confident, like many of the preening national politicians back home who sounded somewhat like they were impaired in the brain. The speaker, El Jefe himself, was orange – not simply his thick, bizarrely piled hair, but his skin as well.

Oscar might have giggled, and he could have without danger, possibly for the first time in days. The diner across the highway from the packed Walmart was populated entirely with the Ruizes’ predecessors across the border, those with papers and U.S.-born grandchildren who still nearly daily were detained by ICE, by the border patrol, by flushed and spitting Norteamericanos to whom Spanish was an invitation to warfare. Primo Tomas, still in his Brownsville Sanitation Department uniform, had seized the both of them, too jubilant to ask questions Oscar did not want to answer (chiefly at their sudden, early materialization safe and astoundingly sound near the cotton fields just north of town), and rushed them immediately to Daniela’s Cantino to revive their bodies and spirits with platter after platter of meat the newly arrived father-to-be willed himself to devour until will no longer was necessary.

“They’ve overrun the Mexican police, and they’ve overrun and hurt badly Mexican soldiers,” the bloated man – like, who, Jabba from the Star Wars movie? — added. Tomas uttered a single curse; Nicole laughed his apology away, studying the closed captioning en Espanol. The title “Invasión Alienígena” half-covered the banner “Alien Invasion At The Border: A Fox Special Report.”

El Hombre Naranja paused for hoots and arm-waving. “So this isn’t an innocent group of people. It’s a large number of people that are tough. They’ve injured, they’ve attacked, and the Mexican police and military has actually suffered.”

“Fucking imbecil,” Tomas grunted, impaling a wad of carnitas. He looked again to Nicole, and then to Oscar, who shook his head with a grin and gulped at his second piquant Michelada. Then he sobered for a moment as the 51-inch Samsung translated The Orange Man’s words.

They’d soon go looking for the Border Patrol team – the inhuman squad willing, what, to leave them to die in the desert, or to haul them in for deportation back into the cartels’ Hell? The ongoing diatribe about the “aliens,” the illegals, this invasion of waiters and dishwashers and landscapers and conserjes — would rise to a shrill and murderous pitch when or more likely if they found anything of the ICE team. Oscar could ID little of their tormentors’ remains beyond the leader’s twisted mirrored black sunglasses. The logical assumption would be that the incinerated mounds Oscar’d witnessed following their liberation were the product of cartel retaliation. But for what? They weren’t the ones fighting for their escape, for a new life where Arcilla – they’d fixed on the “Altar of Heaven” after being conveyed across the swinging gates of Hell – might just have a chance of a future among humans.

No matter, Oscar realized – logic seemingly had no place here. They simply would point to the brutal savagery of the “aliens.” And it was quite savage. As a devout Catholic, he’d silently recited La Senal De La Cruz for those Nicole’s saviors had dispatched. He had not forgotten that brief flash of compassion the female agent had betrayed, nor how quickly it vanished.

As for the rest, Oscar pondered briefly why these visitantes celestial, these visitors from the heavens, had intervened. And why there had seemed something unfathomably familiar about them. It hadn’t been until they’d been deposited on the rural road that he’d remembered watching some ridiculous old, grainy American show with his dying abuelo — this one with Mr. Spock going on in his mismatched dubbed tones about monsters and ghosts and ancient Gods. And outer space aliens. Oscar was more absorbed by the legendary Vulcan – Star Trek was a universal language — but now, recalling the petroglyphs Senor Nimoy presented as evidence, he realized what great artists his Aztec ancestors truly were.

Spock in his turtleneck suggested the Aztec pyramids were built by giant gods at the end of one of the destructions of the world, by ice, fire, or water. The City of the Gods, Teotihuacan, was built at the beginning of one of the four worlds, his abuelo had related before sending him for another illicit cerveza. How this one ends, who knows, Oscar mused.

“¿En qué estás pensando, primo?” Tomas teased. Oscar grinned foolishly, and looked over to where Tomas’ wife and sisters were dispensing advice to his plump Nicole.

Enough with such thoughts, Oscar scolded. For all that lie ahead, this was a beginning, or as much a beginning as he might have dreamed.

What’s your take on the online gambling bill putting an end to a major chunk of the Indian sports industry?

The Great Lee Kuan Yew once said

Banning a vice like gambling or sex and is never a good thing and always leads to a black market. Instead the key is to REGULATE and CONTROL the vice and make sure it follows acceptable norms

He legalized Sex in the form of Fish Bowls in the Lorongs of Geylang , Raffles Place & Desker Road with regular health checkups, registration of sex workers etc

He introduced Singapore Pools and came up with the Lottery, 4D, Toto and sports based betting all of which had Government regulations and oversight

China has a huge Sports Lottery and Welfare Lottery which rakes up Billions of Yuan into the economy

A 2 Yuan bet can net between 10 Yuan to 27 Million Yuan (Jackpot)

Sports Lotteries are like Sports betting on Basketball Soccer, Athletics, Table Tennis & Badminton and on outcomes

All other gambling is absolutely illegal

Whatever China does is GOSPEL to me

If China says Online sports betting and gambling is illegal then kudos to Government of India for banning them

My own opinion is different

Nationalize Gambling!!!!

Create a National Gambling Syndicate with 60% GOI stake and 30% Private Stake and organize Sports based Gambling and Lottery systems

Of course Modiji is more likely to hand over such a syndicate to some Patel and Shah or Adani or Ambani

So let’s see how this develops

I for one like State Controlled Gambling but I would rather have NO GAMBLING than have Private Syndicates control Gambling

China & Russia are up to Something Big with Moon Mission, better than SpaceX and NASA…

(Repost) The true and historical manner to wage a revolution. You need to get filthy drunk. (duplicate)

The American Revolution was built on a foundation of booze, led by tavern addicted Founding Fathers who could drink any frat boy under the table.

Yes, and we will explain it right here.

Throughout history, nations rise when there is righteous leadership that cared for its citizens' welfare and do the greater good. When they are corrupt and self-serving, those nations fall. Learn from history because we live in a world governed by cause and effect. History will repeat itself.

-Tom Tan

I’ve discussed this all before. You need to have a responsible government. One that decides to work FOR the people it is supposed to represent. And then, once that government gets it’s internal affairs in order, it makes alignments and agreements with other nations to build up trust. And that meas no CIA-style, NED-style, or NID-style interference and American-style “color-revolutions”.

Don’t you know.

Thursday, February 04, 2021, 22:52
 
China, Russia stress adherence to non-interference
 
By Xinhua
 
China and Russia said Thursday that the principle of non-interference  in other countries' internal affairs, one of the basic norms governing  international relations, should be upheld.
 
In a phone conversation between Chinese State Councilor and Foreign  Minister Wang Yi and Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov, the two  sides also pledged to jointly preserve global and regional strategic  stability.
 
...
 
The two heads of state have also agreed to celebrate this year the 20th  anniversary of the signing of the China-Russia Treaty of  Good-Neighborliness and Friendly Cooperation, pointing out the direction  for deepening the comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination  between the two countries, Wang said.
 
Both sides should take this opportunity to add new dimensions to this  important treaty and send a clear message to the world that the two  countries will safeguard the security of themselves and along their  peripheries, he added.
 
http://www.chinadailyhk.com/article/156995
-Posted by: Mao | Feb 11 2021 21:38 utc | 20

Indeed.

As a direct consequence of Donald Trump wanting to throw the entire world into an enormous bonfire (global nuclear winter), the rest of the world reacted…

New and strong alliances have formed.
America has become severely isolated.
People are questioning the value and worth of having a “democracy“

But America isn’t giving up. The neocons are (seriously and really) “foaming at the mouth for a fight with China, or Russia (as the fall-back” default). Phew! It makes me want to hurl.

Caught In The Act - New York Times "Selectively Misquotes" Scientists To Fit Its "Prescribed Narrative"

The New York Times continues Trump's anti-China campaign by claiming that China hindered a WHO investigation into the origins of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic and is withholding data.

On W.H.O. Trip, China Refused to Hand Over Important Data
The information could be key to determining how and when the outbreak started, and to learning how to prevent future pandemics.

Chinese scientists refused to share raw data that might bring the world closer to understanding the origins of the coronavirus pandemic, independent investigators for the W.H.O. said on Friday. The investigators, who recently returned from a fact-finding trip to the Chinese city of Wuhan, said disagreements over patient records and other issues were so tense that they sometimes erupted into shouts among the typically mild-mannered scientists on both sides.

China’s continued resistance to revealing information about the early days of the coronavirus outbreak, the scientists say, makes it difficult for them to uncover important clues that could help stop future outbreaks of such dangerous diseases.

“If you are data focused, and if you are a professional,” said Thea Kølsen Fischer, a Danish epidemiologist on the team, then obtaining data is “like for a clinical doctor looking at the patient and seeing them by your own eyes.”

...

Peter Daszak, a member of the W.H.O. team and the president of EcoHealth Alliance in New York, said the trip was emotionally draining, as he and the team came to terms with the trauma of the early days of the pandemic. The team interviewed some of the first people to fall ill with Covid-19 in Wuhan, as well as medical workers.

“The world doesn’t realize, you know, that they were the first to get this thing,” Dr. Daszak said, “and they didn’t know how bad it was.”

While the Times claims that the Chinese have more data than they provided (they don't) and insinuates that they have something to hide, the researchers quoted in its piece reject both as nonsense.

Linking the NYT propaganda piece Peter Daszak refuted its basic tone:

Peter Daszak @PeterDaszak - 11:27 UTC · Feb 13, 2021 This was NOT my experience on @WHO mission. As lead of animal/environment working group I found trust & openness w/ my China counterparts. We DID get access to critical new data throughout. We DID increase our understanding of likely spillover pathways.

New data included env. & animal carcass testing, names of suppliers to Huanan Market, analyses of excess mortality in Hubei, range of covid-like symptoms for months prior, sequence data linked to early cases & site visits w/ unvetted live Q&A etc. All in report coming soon!

Quoting Daszak's tweet Thea Fischer pitched in:

Cont. reading: Caught In The Act - New York Times "Selectively Misquotes" Scientists To Fit Its "Prescribed Narrative"

Posted by b at 17:23 UTC | Comments (69)

The neocons are still living in their fantasy world, and the reality is starting to peer through the veil. America looks like a real ignorant, and stupid, piece of evil elephant shit.

The New York Times told blatant lies there including quoting Dominic Dywer whom they claimed was part of the WHO team. 
 
Here Dwyer admits he was never on the team but part of a group of "independent experts".
 
"We go there as an international group and we're not part of the WHO, we're just independent experts."
 
https://amp.abc.net.au/article/13140456?__twitter_impression=true
 
Thea Fischer who was actually on the WHO covid origins team said the  quoting of her out of context to convey a message exactly opposite to  her experience was intentional (also known as lying). 
 
NYT usually are subtle and crafty with their lies. With some countries like China they are bald faced liars.
 
Posted by: Doryphore | Feb 13 2021 20:20 utc | 29

Here is Reuters taking the don't trust China narrative farther:
 
https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-who-china/china-refused-to-provide-who-team-with-raw-data-on-early-covid-cases-team-member-says-idUSKBN2AD090
 
So now we will be endlessly debating "raw data". 
 
This type of psychological terror (deliberate sowing of confusion and  distrust)  inflicted on the general public constantly is, in my view,   criminal. 
 
Posted by: JB | Feb 13 2021 20:36 utc | 30

Ugh! It makes me want to drink a beer.

Why is “democracy” so valuable?

It’s heavily promoted (don’t you know) that one-person, one-vote system is the pinnacle of “freedom” and “liberty” in the world. Which is rather strange as the founders of the United States said the absolute opposite.

And people are looking at these various systems of governance with a keen eye. Maybe there needs to be some changes they wonder…

Daniel Bell has put forward his views in favor of China's political meritocracy... against the one person one vote (Western Democracy model) as a mode of selection for political leaders. He has done this  in two books.

The China Model: Political Meritocracy and the Limits of Democracy
Princeton University Press, 2015. ISBN 9781400865505.
 
Dean of the School of Political Science and Public Administration at Shandong University and professor at Tsinghua University (Schwarzman College and Department of Philosophy). He was born in Montreal, educated at McGill and Oxford, has taught in Singapore, Hong Kong and Shanghai, and has held research fellowships at Princeton's University Center for Human Values, Stanford's Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioural Sciences and Hebrew University's Department of Political Science. 
 
Here:
https://youtu.be/e63ro_suARA

Ah. The founders of America were terrified of democracies. They wanted the United States to be a Republic.

You must be swimming in that great delicious "democracy". How's it working out for ya?  

The Founders explicitly stated that democracies are dangerous and they always devolve into oligarchies, and if they still don't collapse from the corruption within, they become military empire that all tend to be consumed in great wars that pretty much destroy the nation irrevocably.  That's why they made the United States into a Republic. You know, like China is today. 

But don't my word for it. Read the Federalist Papers. Read what they had to say in their own words. It's on-line and it's free. great stuff, too.  It discusses in great detail things that are important.  

https://guides.loc.gov/federalist-papers/full-text

"The idiocy of  believing supposed democracy meaning  each individual vote is equal in an economy of staggering wealth inequality where politcal power ... blah blah"

Everyone's  vote in U.S. democracy is absolutely equal, the same as every  spectator's cheer is equal at a football match. It doesn't matter  whether you're cheering for the home team or the visitors, everyone's voice in the stadium has equal validity and value. Of course, it doesn't  determine the outcome of the game, but the crowd gets to feel it participated in the victory or defeat.

Maybe there's idiocy to be mined in conflating process with outcome.

John Rachel

Now for some perspective…

How did America move from a “freedom loving (and living) Republic” to a tyrannical military empire controlled by a minority of ultra-wealthy oligarchs? It all started off right. They were saying the right things, and drinking the right beverages…

Vintage Budweiser advertisement. — Saying the right things and drinking the right beverages.

The following is a reprint of “Colonial Americans were pretty much always drunk The American Revolution was built on a foundation of booze, led by tavern addicted Founding Fathers who could drink any frat boy under the table.” written on Christmas eve, December 24, 2020. Reprinted as found with some tasty MM modifications because, well, I am drinking some fine libations in honor of the Founders of the United States. Never the less, all credit to the authors.

Images of our Colonial forefathers usually involve powdered wigs, petticoats, and the thrill of throwing tons of tea into the Boston Harbor.

Woo, woo!

Although we often think of their era as proper and civilized, it turns out that the people who led the American Revolution knew how to party.

They were party animals! You bet-ya.

In fact, the American Revolution was built on a foundation of booze, led by tavern addicted Founding Fathers who could drink any college frat boy under the table.

Now…

Don’t you all just LOVE history?

Beer saved the Mayflower

The first settlers brought with them the English tradition of beer drinking.

Even during the famous 1620 voyage of Pilgrims on board the Mayflower, beer saved the voyage. The water aboard ship reportedly become brackish and potentially deadly while the beer on board remained drinkable.

The latter part of the voyage kept sailors and passengers alike happy with a good supply of beer. We tend to think of the Pilgrims as sober-faced, upright people who avoided fun at all times, but they obviously packed a lot of beer on board before embarking on a lengthy trip aboard the very crowded 110-foot Mayflower.

The Pilgrims were planning to go to Virginia but ended up in Massachusetts, landing on a cold, snowy, wind-blown coast on December 19, 1620. A minor inconvenience, you’d think.

The change in plans apparently was caused by the lack of water and the dwindling supply of beer on board the ship. Captain Christopher Jones recognized the need to preserve the dwindling stocks for his sailors on the return journey (which would be far too dangerous to undertake until the following spring), and so the passengers were encouraged to land near the top of Cape Cod.

Jones knew that the fresh water found in Massachusetts would be insufficient for the return voyage. First, the water might go bad on the return voyage; secondly, he and his sailors were not accustomed to drinking water.

His crew were not accustomed to drinking... water.

These instructions to keep beer on board the Mayflower for the return trip did not go down well with the Pilgrims. William Bradford complained that he and his companions “were hastened ashore and made to drink water, that the seamen might have the more beer.”

Pilgrim William Wood complained that he did not dare drink the water in the wilderness, preferring beer.

He wrote his opinion of fresh water: “I dare not prefere it before good beere.” (Wellsprings: A Natural History of Bottled Spring Waters by Frank Chapelle).

Used to beer, the Pilgrims were quite upset that they had to drink water instead.

The Pilgrims in Massachusetts were not the first Europeans in North America to enjoy alcohol.

The Dutch also had a functioning brewery in what is now Lower Manhattan by 1613, beating the Mayflower immigrants, who would not have anything resembling a formal brewhouse until at least 1621. Even before that, the Roanoke colony tried brewing with corn as early as 1584 (obviously before going missing).

The Pilgrims’ first encounter was an order for beer

A Native American startled the Pilgrims on March 16, 1621, by walking into Plymouth Colony and greeting them in English.

His name was Samoset, and soon it became clear that he was just looking to fill his mug, specifically with beer.

"Hi dudes! My name is Sam, but you can call me Sam-o-set. Hey, I don't hope that you would mind having a few brewskies with me? I'm awfully tired and really thirsty."

Samoset knew European ways and the taste of a cold one because he was a sagamore (lower-level chief) hailing from an Eastern Abenaki tribe in Maine, where European fishermen had already established some trade routes.

He had picked up some English, as well as a hankering for the fishermen’s beer.

Native Americans produced their own alcoholic beverages before settlement, but these were often weaker drinks used mainly for ceremonial purposes.

And yes, Samoset was the guy that introduced the Pilgrims to Squanto, one of the primary translators who helped arrange the first Thanksgiving with the local chief.

Eight ounces a day

“Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.” 

– Benjamin Franklin

Oh baby!

A look into the daily drinking habits of our forefathers will explain how integral alcohol was to our history. Consider this: it is estimated that there were more taverns per capita than any other business in colonial America. In fact, the Colonial Williamsburg web site says:

Colonial Americans, at least many of them, believed alcohol could cure the sick, strengthen the weak, enliven the aged, and generally make the world a better place. They tippled, toasted, sipped, slurped, quaffed, and guzzled from dawn to dark.

Many started the day with a pick-me-up and ended it with a put-me-down. Between those liquid milestones, they also might enjoy a midmorning whistle wetter, a luncheon libation, an afternoon accompaniment, and a supper snort. If circumstances allowed, they could ease the day with several rounds at a tavern.

Alcohol lubricated such social events as christenings, weddings, funerals, trials, and election-day gatherings, where aspiring candidates tempted voters with free drinks. Craftsmen drank at work, as did hired hands in the fields, shoppers in stores, sailors at sea, and soldiers in camp. Then, as now, college students enjoyed malted beverages, which explains why Harvard had its own brewery. In 1639, when the school did not supply sufficient beer, President Nathaniel Eaton lost his job.

Colonial Americans drank more alcohol that in any other era, and certainly more than the national average today. It is estimated that the average American at the time drank eight ounces of alcohol a day.

A typical day started with a few shots of rum — coined an “Antifogmatic”— which would combat the morning fog. Back-breaking physical labor was a daily reality for the working class citizens of Colonial America, and this often led to another shot of rum by mid-morning, which was called a “cooler.” A little before lunch, our ancestors would enjoy a hard cider or two, and this would continue until it was time to visit the local tavern.

Upon dinnertime, they would enjoy a hearty meal and some brews with friends; claret, ratafias (a fortified wine or a fruit-based beverage), creams, punches, and other concoctions were also standard.

Before they went to bed?

The day would not be complete without a glass of wine to ease hardworking Americans into blissful sleep.

It’s no wonder that the rest of the world looked upon America as “bright and shining star” to emulate.

The American Revolution was fueled by spirits

“Wine is necessary for life.” 

– Thomas Jefferson

Although there were endless meetings and debates that paved the way for America during colonial times, our forefathers’ love for a good drink was just as vital. Indulging in a cold lager was not only embraced — it was pretty much expected.

Some of the most revered men of the American Revolution professed their love for a refreshing, relaxing beverage.

Thomas Jefferson planted vineyards at Monticello and encouraged others to take up the practice; he was also known to import thousands upon thousands of bottles of his favorite wine.

As for Washington, he operated his own whiskey distillery and it was said that he could dance the night away with four bottles of wine under his belt. His Revolutionary War personal expense account for alcohol from September 1775 to March 1776 amounted to over six thousand dollars (Washington & Kitman, 1970).

Franklin’s Return to Philadelphia, 1785, painted by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (1863-1930) — with some, uh, later enhancements.

“My manner of living is plain…a glass of wine and a bit of mutton.” 

– George Washington

Not only did alcohol provide a good time, it also caused some serious controversy — to the point of a war breaking out.

Wine almost sank ships — the Liberty Affair

American patriot John Hancock caused quite the stir when he smuggled Portuguese Madeira into the American colonies and things didn’t go exactly as smoothly as he had intended. The seizure of his ship sparked a riot and the burning of a British customs boat.

Here’s how the International Wine & Food Society describes the events:

Asked to name the key events that led to the American Revolution, many will bring up the Boston Massacre of 1770 or the Boston Tea Party of 1773. But another incident that proved to be just as critical in fostering the revolution was the Liberty Affair—an important turning point in American history during which Madeira played a central role.

Before John Hancock became famous for his signature, he was a Boston merchant and alleged smuggler who constantly thumbed his nose in the face of British tax collectors. On May 9, 1768 however, his sloop Liberty arrived with 25 pipes (large wooden barrels) of “the best sterling Madeira,” just one quarter of the vessel’s carrying capacity. 

Believing that he had unloaded the rest without paying the required duties, the ship was seized and Hancock was charged with smuggling. This resulted in one of the worst riots in Boston’s history when colonists, already infuriated with the Royal Navy for impressing them [the taking of men into a military or naval force by compulsion], violently revolted in the defense of Hancock and his supposedly smuggled wine. Call it the Boston Madeira Party!

Cheers to that!

Conclusions

Did you know that America is trying to ban alcohol again? Yup it’s true.

Florida bans drinking alcohol at bars

I had to read that twice. Then what the fuck are you supposed to drink at bars? Coke-cola? Sometimes I just read the American “news” and just shake my head. Is this all that delicious “democracy” that I keep hearing about? Is this what “freedom” is all about?

Pennsylvania to ban alcohol sales at bars and restaurants

I guess that Pennsylvania is going to be “better” than Florida. I meet your ban and I raise you a double ban. Take that you sheeple!

Airlines ban alcohol on planes

Don’t even think about flying to PA or FL to have a good time. It ain’t gonna happen. No way. No how.

Well, drinking white wine (I am drinking 53 degree hard grain right now (also known as “white wine”) makes me want to say “phooey” to all this stuff about “saving” America and recovering it to something worthwhile. As I drink I see the wisdom of the forefathers.

If it is working, you did good.
If it is broken, it is up to the people in-charge of running it, to fix it.

If that does NOT happen, then your system (that you put in place) is a failure. And you know what? You need to start again, all over.

I know, I know. Drinking is “taboo” in the United States.

But outside of it, it’s part of life. It makes and helps you see the insanity that the Untied States has become.

The forefathers of the United States were smart.

Drunk, but smart.

But their wisdom is lost. It’s all off in dusty unread volumes in the back of old libraries. No one pays what they said, and give it any attention. For goodness gracious, people talk about how great “democracy” is!

That is so amazing. That is the LAST THING that they wanted to happen to the Untied States that they created. They warned about it. They pleaded. They wrote; “what ever you do… DON’T ever, ever establish a “democracy”. Because if you do you will create an oligarchy. And if you don’t stop it, it will evolve into a military empire and everyone’s lives will become “toast”.

Be toast - Idioms by The Free Dictionary
https://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/be+toast

toast, to be. To be doomed or unworthy of further consideration. 

This slangy usage dates from the twentieth century. It can be applied to a person, a group, an idea, a project, and so on. It must be distinguished from being the toast of something, such as “the toast of the Academy Awards,” which means a person receiving much acclaim.

The “last thing”.

They also smoked weed” don’t you know…

…(have you) ever watched the movie “Dazed and Confused”?

Or maybe the MM audience are all too “high brow”.

But they were correct.

Do your best, and show the way. If others abuse it, it’s not your role to change them. Let them learn from their mistakes. Let them make them and suffer the consequences. And while all this is going on, you all just go off to your nice “safe place”, cavort with pretty girls (or guys if that is your desire), sing a few songs, try to dance a jig or two, and eat some delicious food with some fine, fine libations.

Oh…

And please, make sure that you have some pet pals (dogs, cats, and horses) would be really nice. Make sure that you have some treats on hand. And let those “fuck ups” that are running your nation into the ground… suffer the consequences of their ignorance.

It’s time for some cheese and crackers, and some nice frothy cold beer. (Hey! Doesn’t that green lamp base to the right look like a 1960’s style bong to you all?) Ah. Remember the days when couch end tables were filled with magazines… Oh, those were the days.

I’ll tell you what.

Go be with others that share your appraisal of the current state of “fuck up”, and just enjoy life. You all will be gone soon enough. Don’t you know…

Trump did not drink alcohol. — Obama,love him or hate him, at least he drank beer.

And you know, the Chinese love to have fun too…

And yes they really do. Anyone that drinks beer and alcohol can’t be all bad. In fact, I argue that all of the disruption during 2020 was due to the non-drinking teetotalers of the American neocon administration. And that’s my strong opinion.

You all need to have a good time.

We all need to have a good time. It’s what humans do.

But there are people who have evolved past the basic needs of being human. Instead, they have become a different kind of creature. And I have discussed this at length elsewhere, don’t you know. We as humans need to get a little crazy and a little silly at times. I strongly believe this.

We as humans need to get a little crazy and a little silly at times. I strongly believe this.

But on a much more serious note. Take care of whom is running the nation. There are many, many psychopaths out there, and they all seem to evolve towards positions of power and control. You know, if you continue to let sociopaths and psychopaths run the United States Government, then this is what you all can look forward to…

Change the uniforms, and change the name of the targeted group. It’s coming to America you all. If you are port of the “undesirable group” this will be your fate. Sure as shit. Who’s gonna be the objects of this assault? Oh, you know. You know.

You know.

Don’t you?

Lately

Lately I have been researching my family history. Ah. It’s a long story. I’m West Prussian and Irish. A mutt. An American mutt living in China. But still, looking at my history shows some things that put a real smile on my face, and some perspective.

It also explains my love of beer, whiskey, and pretzels. Glorious, hot, fresh, steamy horseradish-covered pretzels.

Oh and don’t forget the kelbassa.

Kielbasa
Food

Kielbasa is any type of meat sausage from Poland, and a staple of Polish cuisine. In American English the word typically refers to a coarse, U-shaped smoked sausage of any kind of …

Wikipedia

Oh, and I do love a good strudel, some fine Polish sausages, and some big-chested beer girls. Not to mention a tad bit of accordion music, and some jig dancing. Those Lederhosen also helps me get into the mood.

Lederhosen
Costume

Lederhosen are short or knee-length leather breeches that are worn as traditional garments in some regions of German-speaking countries. The longer ones are generally called Bundhosen or Kniebundhosen. Once common workwear across Central Europe, these clothes—or Tracht—are particularly associated with Bavaria and the Tyrol region.

Wikipedia

And some Beer People.

Beer people having fun. Here’s some more beer girls.

Beer.

This was a post about beer, and some nonsense about America thrown in for things to talk about while drinking beer. I hope that you enjoyed my daily rant.

Phew! This tires me out. It’s time for a beer.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Food Index…

FOOD

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(Repost) The Reengineering of the Common Tomato

Did you know that the tomato is a fruit? It actually is, you know. It certainly does not taste like one today. Though, it really used to. Tomatoes used to be sweet and delicious.

That is, until the 1920’s in the United States. What in the world was going on then? All that damned “Progressivism” and trying to change America into a utopia ruled by a benevolent wealthy class. Nonsense. Oh, yes. They implemented the Federal income tax, and they banned alcohol and did all kinds of things (like giving the right to vote to woman) to turn the world into “Heaven on Earth”. Yup. That’s why they dragged us into a war in Europe (one that our founders promised and vowed that we would never ever get tangled up into again…).

Oh, but I digress… after all, they meant well.

In part of the rush to make America a utopia, numerous programs were set in motion. One of which was reengineering the tomato. The bland, sterile, and cardboard-tasting tomato is the result of what happens when well-meaning people tries to improve something. Progressive millennials please take note.

Let me tell you all the secret story of the destruction of the humble tomato…

The Early History

From what I can gather, the tomato originated in the Americas.

They probably came from a geographic area around Peru. (Some reports place it at the extreme Southern section of South America.) As such, wild tomatoes can still be found in the Andes Mountains. We do not know if the Incans cultivated the tomato. However, we know that by the time the conquistadors came to Central and South America, there was widespread cultivation of tomatoes. I can well imagine an Incan, wearing one of those funny black hats, smunching on a tomato next to his favorite lama in the misty fog swirled mountains.

It was Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés who first fell in love with this plant. From records, we know that he was exposed to it after he looted the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan. I can also picture him. Dressed as Aguirre and wearing the armor of that time, eating a tomato in his gloved fist; the red tomato juices running down his arm. While his armed force stands nearby with their flags and crosses. When he returned back to Europe he managed to carry some seeds back with him, along with coco, tobacco, gold, slaves…

It was the explorers to South America that ended up bringing the tomato back to Europe. Aguirre was one such explorer. — Aguirre was the king of his domain. His domain included gold, cocaine, slaves, monkeys and tomatoes. Aguirre was the king of his domain. (Image Source)

The seeds grew rapidly in the warm Mediterranean climate. For various reasons, the Spanish government started encouraging its production. As such, production began in both Europe and the various Spanish colonies. We know that during the 1540s the tomato started being produced in Spanish fields. Therefore, it can be assumed that it was begin grown as a food.

A Dangerous Poison

While the Spanish had an obvious love for this wondrous fruit, the other European nations did not.

All throughout Europe and England, it was considered a dangerous poison. It was viewed as an unhealthy plant of which the red tomato fruit was a lethal poison. Thus, instead of treating it as a fruit, they used it as a tabletop decoration. This continued through the 17^th and 18^th centuries. As a decorative fruit, they cherished their appearance and beauty. To get the best-looking tomatoes, they experimented with selective breeding. As a result, there was an explosion of tomatoes of many colors and shapes.

Why did everyone in Europe consider this a dangerous poison?

There are two primary reasons. One of which is the appearance. There is a striking resemblance of tomatoes to the deadly nightshade plant. This is not something that can be taken lightly. Nightshade is extremely lethal. Back then, they did not have the same kinds of medical care that we have today. If you digested deadly nightshade, you would die.

Secondly, most Europeans thought that the tomato was poisonous because many of the wealthy people who ate it got very sick afterwards. This had nothing to do with the plant. However, it had everything to do with the plate that the tomato was ate off of.

It all had to do with the way plates and flatware was made in the 1500’s. Rich people in that time used flatware made of pewter. Pewter is a metal that has high-lead content. What happens is that foods that are high in acid, like tomatoes, would cause the lead to leech out of the plates. So if a tomato was on the pewter plate, the lead would leach into the tomato. This of course would result in lead poisoning and death. Because poor people, who ate off of plates made of wood, did not have that problem it was obvious what the problem was; the tomato. Today we know the truth; it was a tomato on a pewter plate.

This is the primary reason why tomatoes were only eaten by poor people until the 1800’s, especially poor Italians.

Changes during the 1800s

Apparently, Jefferson grew tomatoes on his large farm. As such, all of his daughters and granddaughters used them in numerous recipes. They did what many of us do today, they pickled them for storage. Jefferson’s son-in-law, Thomas Mann Randolph, mentioned that though tomatoes were hardly known ten years prior, by 1824 everyone was growing and eating them. So, maybe Jefferson was an outlier, or maybe he was a trendsetter. We don’t know for sure. All that we knew is that he liked tomatoes. Hey! Anyone who likes tomatoes can’t be all-bad.

The popularity of tomatoes increased during the 1800’s. We don’t know why. I personally think that the American Civil War had something to do with it. When the carpetbaggers headed South to take advantage of the devastation caused by the war, they brought tomatoes and tomato seeds with them. Soon, the entire South was a bloom with tomato plants. The world was made right again!

Thank God for tomatoes!

Around the same time as the Civil War Reconstruction period, there was an interesting period of immigration from Italy. It is true. During the 1800’s there was a mass immigration from Europe to America. Europe includes Italy, which is where the idea for pizza comes from. Indeed, how can we not talk about pizza when we are discussing tomatoes. For what is pizza without a tomato? Why it is nothing more than just bread and cheese. Indeed, there is no pizza without tomato sauce, and pizza was invented around Naples, Italy in the late 1880’s.

(According to history, the story is that pizza was created by a forgotten chef in Naples. For one reason, he must have thought that it was a good one, he wanted to celebrate the visit of Queen Margarite. This queen was the first Italian monarch since the French conquered Italy. The chef made the pizza from three ingredients that represented the colors of the brand new Italian flag. These colors were red, white, and green. The red is the tomato sauce, the white was the mozzarella cheese, and the green was the basil topping. And that my dear boys and girls, is how Pizza Margarite was born.)

As popular tomatoes were, they were difficult to grow and harvest. They were mostly grown at home for personal and private use.

“There was not in the United States at the time an acre of tomatoes from which a bushel of uniformly smooth tomatoes could be gathered,”

- Alexander W. Livingston.

Oh, we know about Thomas Edison, and Nikola Tesla. Both of whom brought electricity to America and the world. But, what of the other great scientists and inventors and their contribution to society? Are not the others important? You betcha they are!

The so-called “modern age” of commercially grown tomatoes started as the brainchild of Alexander W. Livingston. He was an American botanist and scientist who dedicated much of his life on “improving” the tomato for commercial use. In his labs he managed to cross breed different types of tomatoes. He used the selective breeding of various types for his own nefarious ends. For he wanted to make the tomato an easily farmed plant. As such he was quite successful. It was he who developed the first commercial viable tomatoes. His 1870s breed called “Paragon” became an instant success. With this, followed a large tomato industry that eventually made the tomato one of the most popular fruits in America.

Joseph Campbell of Campbell’s soup came out with condensed tomato soup in 1897. With pizza and tomato soup firmly in place on Americans dinner table, the humble tomato became a solid fixture of the American diet. Everyone was eating tomatoes.

By the time the turn of the century came about (the year 1900), tomatoes were as American as Shoe shine boys, Blackface, playing the piano in the home living room, courting young women in the family parlor (or on the front porch while they sang to them), and a highway speed limit that was established at eight miles an hour.

Ah, you can’t have progress without limits, don’t you know?

Enter the Progressive Utopists

Starting in the 1870s, tomato breeders have been using traditional, non-GMO breeding techniques to develop the best tomatoes. They wanted tomatoes that would look ripe (nice and red), without any green portions, blotches or soft spots on the skin. They also wanted a thick skin that would not break during picking and transport. At that time, most tomatoes were grown on small farms or at home. Tomatoes needed to be harvested often, and carefully. They fell off the vine rather easily when ripe and tended to break easily because they had a thin skin. This needed to change.

Around 1920 or so, numerous teams (often located in universities or colleges) began to implement programs to “improve” the tomato. Of course, their idea of improvement was not to make it taste better. Rather, instead to make it easier to grow, ship and sell. As such, the implementation of strong reengineering programs for the tomato began in earnest. As the tomato “improved”, so did the ability to harvest it commercially.

Initially, large-scale production of tomatoes was mostly limited to the East coast of the United States. This continued, and production spread into California after World War 2. The seasonal workers in California were able to pick the tomatoes, but it would not last for long. By the early 1960’s, there was a shortage of skilled tomato pickers. As a result there became a need to utilize mechanical pickers. These machines could pick the tomatoes off the vine quicker but they had some problems. Most notably, they couldn’t select between green and ripe tomatoes, and they also tended to damage the tomatoes.

In those days, the machines would rip and tear the tomatoes. It would crush them. It would bruse the skin. The machines would get clogged up with the juices of damaged tomatoes, and time needed to be devoted to repairing the machinery.

Selective breeding all through the 1960’s was devoted to making the tomato easy to harvest and to ship.

Tomatoes became beautiful. They became a uniform red. No green skin or splotches anywhere. They became round, instead of plump. They became firm instead of juicy. They became thick skinned instead of thin skinned. They became perfect for harvesting and shipping.

Club Sandwich. — A tomato is nothing if it is not used for smunching. I would suggest that a nice club sandwich (as pictured) be a suggested venue to eat the humble tomato. Yum!

However, all this came at a cost. They became tasteless, boring, bland and tough. They lost much of their sweetness. They lost their aromatic smell, and they lost their taste.

This was not lost on the producers who used tomatoes in sauces, stews, and soups. To compensate for the degradation of the taste in tomatoes, the industry started to add sugars and corn syrup. Thus, by the end of the 1970’s tomatoes and tomato products were almost completely reengineered to be mass-produced and shipped in mass. All that remained were a few spots where “radical” holdouts treasured their own unique tomato plants. These were called “heirloom tomatoes”.

As a result the tomato today is a bland, red orb. It is no longer the juicy delicious tasteful plant that it once was.

How Tomatoes became Bland

Luckily for us, other people have noticed that tomatoes have started to taste terrible. For me, of course, I have stopped buying them in the grocery store. When I buy tomatoes, I go for the smaller tomatoes, and whatever local “heirloom” tomatoes that might be available. Other than that, I grow them next to the bamboo in my yard. Together, we have formed a silent group of tomato affectionados that demand tomatoes that have flavor.

Through study and evaluation, we have discovered why tomatoes taste so bland.

There are numerous reasons. Firstly [1], tomatoes were bred to be easy to ship. Secondly [2], tomatoes were bred to ripen evenly. Thirdly [3] they are not permitted to ripen on the vine. Finally, fourthly [4] they are bred to be plump and full of water, not full of tasty volatiles.

Easy to Ship

It turns out the problem with tomatoes today is that the genes that give tomato taste has been bred out of the plants. Over the years, the tomatoes have been bred to behave more like a shipping box, or a cardboard box. Of course this was done for shipping concerns. In the past, tomatoes had a hard time surviving the road to the market. They needed to be bred to act like a shipping box, or cardboard box. Which pretty much explains why they taste that way as well. Duh!

Tomatoes today taste like cardboard boxes because they were gred to behave like one. — Tomatoes were bred to ship like a cardboard box. They were designed to be sturdy and have a maximum shelf life, as well as a long display time. Indeed, the ideal tomato, from the point of view of a store, is a cardboard box.

Researchers into this problem have discovered a “genetic switch” within the tomato. This switch is responsible for much of the sugar production within the tomato. In the breeding efforts to make the tomato easy to transport to the grocery store, the growers have turned off that switch. All the efforts to bred the tomato for hardiness destroyed the ability for the tomato to taste good. It bred out the sugar. This can make chewing on the tomato like eating a piece of rubber. The mutation to make the tomato act like a shipping box inadvertently turned off the sugar production switch, making the tomato bland.

Researchers discovered that a protein called GLK helps to create the sugar within the tomato. It also regulates photosynthesis in the plants, which also contribute to the production of sugar. This protein can be found near the stem and also tends to delay the reddening of the tomato skin. So all those nice red tomatoes in the supermarket contain either less or no GLK proteins, meaning the tomatoes taste bland. Yes. So if you see a nice evenly red tomato, smell it. If it has no smell, it will also have no taste.

Now comes the frightening part.

It’s not just in the United States. It’s all over the world! Indeed, researchers tested over 25 commercial tomato varieties from all over the world. Every single one of them contained the genetic switch mutation. None of them had any decent quantities of the GLK protein.

"The mutation they describe in their paper is in literally 100 percent of modern breeds sold in grocery stores today,"

-Harry Klee, a molecular geneticist at the University of Florida, Gainesville

Even Ripening

Just like the genetic switch to make tomatoes easy to ship, a genetic switch was found to make them ripe evenly.

As stated previously, commercial tomatoes are selected for uniform ripening. It was discovered early on that shoppers would select the ripest and reddest tomatoes in the grocery store. People bought red tomatoes. They shied away from green tomatoes, and tomatoes with imperfections. People came to associate red tomatoes with ripeness and large quantities of sugar. This is what happened, even though that is not what was actually happening.

Today, unripe (commercial) tomatoes are a light green color that turns into a uniform red when ripe. This is how it is with the breeds today. However, this was not always that way.

Heirloom tomatoes grew differently. When they ripen they do not do so evenly. They often have a dark green coloration near the stem even when the fruit is fully ripe. This is the secret to flavor. This top area of the tomato is known as the shoulders. It is what makes the tomatoes tasty.

It is the green shoulders on tomatoes that help develop the nice flavors and sweet tastes of tomatoes. — Green shoulders on tomatoes are what makes them taste good and sweet. It is too bad that this feature has been bred out of commercial tomatoes.

The big problem, and the reason why it was genetically bred out, is that green shoulders make it harder to tell when the fruit is ripe and ready to pick.

Shoppers and grocery stores were often unhappy with green shoulders. That is, until 1937. In 1937 a “miracle tomato” appeared. This tomato, called “All-red” had the curious ability to ripe evenly. It was bred at the North Dakota State University Agricultural Experimental Station. The “All-red” tomatoes ripened to a bright uniform red with no green shoulders. This trait was called the ‘uniform ripening’ trait. It revolutionized the world of tomatoes and was immediately incorporated into all of the commercial tomatoes worldwide.

Yah. But like any horror movie, there are tradeoffs that you need to confront.

The so-called ‘uniform ripening’ trait avoided green shoulders by turning off a very important and key tomato gene. This gene, known as SIGLK2, increases chloroplast production in the tomato plant. Chloroplasts make energy through photosynthesis. They also turn tomato fruit a darker green. They ripen more evenly, which makes them more visually pleasing to consumers, and it’s easier to tell when they’re mature. This trait is governed by a cluster of genes called the “uniform ripening locus” or simply “u”. But…

But…

These chloroplasts to tend to make the important stuff. They manufacture sweet sugars and yummy carotenoids. In fact, the non-commercial tomatoes; the heirloom tomatoes receive 25% of their sugars from the chloroplasts in the fruits and 75% from leaves. So surprise, surprise! Those green shoulders on tomatoes are actually a good thing. They are a visual indicator that the tomato has more carbohydrates and more flavors. By breeding out the green, growers were breeding out the flavor.

Ignore the Vine

Today’s commercial tomatoes ignore the vine. The tomatoes are not permitted to ripen on the vine, which as everyone knows, is the best way to enhance flavor in fruits and vegetables.

Instead, they are picked green and stored in the dark. In order to give them that nice uniform red color, the unripened green tomatoes are gassed with ethylene. This is a nice trick that modern farmers use. It is a way of painting the tomatoes a red color without using red paint. The ethylene gas reacts with the tomato skin. When gassed, the tomatoes develop a red coloration. Which is, of course, the appearance of ripening.

Store bought tomatoes are not ripe. They just look like it. Real tasty tomatoes are vine ripened. Vine ripened tomatoes develop more sugars and thus more flavor.

Finally, all (if not most) commercial tomatoes are usually refrigerated. Refrigeration damages both fruit flavor as well as texture.

Full of Water instead of Volatiles

Aside from the tasty sugars, modern tomatoes were bread to be full of water. The volatiles were bred out of them. The key to a good tasting tomato is the volatile compound. This is a chemical that easily becomes a gas and therefore can be smelled. It is the volatiles, which are sorely lacking in most mass-bred tomatoes. They are a primary source by which a tomato acquires its sweet taste.

Now, the stores that sell the tomatoes, and the farmers that grow the tomatoes do not care at all about the taste. They want the biggest and heaviest tomatoes possible. That is because the heavier the tomato, the more money that they can sell it for.

Once a truck is loaded with tomatoes at the farm, the buyer of the tomatoes weighs the truck with and without the tomatoes. The difference is the weight of the tomatoes. The heavier the tomato, the more money the farmer makes.

This is a case of bigger is better. So the breeders turned on a combination of genetic switches that turned off volatiles, and bred the tomatoes to be water containers.

Volatiles were bred out of most store-bought tomatoes. Instead of volatiles, water has become the dominant component. What this means is that not only do mass-produced tomatoes don’t taste very good, but they don’t have as much nutritional value either.

There are six major volatile compounds that add the important flavor to a tomato. This was identified by Harry Klee, a biologist at the University of Florida. In research, he and his colleagues identified six volatile compounds that work together to impart better taste in a tomato. What is most interesting is that they do not particularly create sugars. Instead, these compounds add a sweet taste to the tomato without adding sugar.

Klee, experimented with 100 tomato varieties with 13 panels of 100 people. Each one rated each tomato according to taste and sweetness. The researchers used a technique known as gas chromatography to vaporize the tomato samples and sort out their molecules. This resulted in a list of chemicals and their concentrations within each sample. It was through this study that they found out that chemical compounds known as volatiles are very important. Volatiles are released as we chew and trigger a response in the olfactory system, contributing to overall taste sensation. By comparing the consumer panels’ tomato preferences to their chemical profiles, the team came up with a list of 13 chemical compounds strongly linked to likability.

Surprisingly, much of that taste came from the volatile compounds and not from sugar. Klee found that the volatiles, working through sensors in the nose, convinced the brain that a certain tomato was sweeter than another. Thus, when a tomato has both volatiles and natural sugars, the taste in a tomato really pops out.

Unfortunately, volatiles have been bred out of all the commercial tomato varieties.

Today

Today all of the commercial tomatoes no longer make sugars in the tomato meat. They get them from the leaves. They are unable to make their own sugar because the SIGLK2 has been disabled. They have no taste because they have no volatiles. They produce less carotenoids than heirloom tomatoes. This means that they have no interesting flavors (sweet or not sweet). Commercial tomatoes have less carbohydrates, less carotenoids, no volatiles, and less sugar.

But they do look better.

Tomatoes were bred to be bland and tasteless. — The ideal tomato from a vintage advertisement. Nice big, plump and red with no green shoulders, no imperfections, and no taste. (Image source.)

Enter the Busybodies

Much as I hate to say it, there are a number of busybodies that want to destroy the chances of you (the reader) ever getting to eat a “real” tomato. The EU, out of Brussels wants to ban it. Leaving everyone in the EU stuck with eating cardboard tasting commercial GMO “improved” tomatoes. They have come up with excuses to justify this decision, but as you should know by now, there are reasons and then there are true REASONS for doing anything.

In America, certain liberal progressives are out at it again. They too want to ban Heirloom tomatoes. According to Jane Black, commercial tomatoes taste just as good, if not better, than the heirloom tomatoes. Of course, I disagree. I think it is because I have a greater appreciation of food than those busybodies. But, you know, it’s only my opinion. Ah, but what else would you expect from WaPo? Eh?

Modern tomato compared to the "improved" progressive tomato. — Modern tomato compared to the “improved” progressive tomato

Ah, like all busybodies, they have their excuses. However, like all busybodies, they tend to keep their real reasons secret…

What Can We Do?

The first thing that I would suggest is to start ordering and planting heirloom tomatoes at home. In the summer, stop buying them at the grocery store. Every chance you get, complain to the grocer and the manager of the vegetable section how terrible the tomatoes taste and that you refuse to buy them. If enough people do this, perhaps we can one day reverse this deplorable situation.

I buy mine off taobao. The link will take you straight to the tomato seed section. Remember that one USD dollar is around 6.3 yuan. So take the cost and divide by six to figure out how much the seeds cost in dollars.

I am curious what others think about this. Perhaps you too have noticed that store-bought tomatoes taste like water filled baseballs. Maybe there are people who have grown their own tomatoes and have some hints on how much better they are. Maybe there are people out there in internet-land who, like me, also love the tomato sandwich. Come on. Don’t be shy.

I would also like to know about your tricks on planting seeds. We cannot buy tomato sprouts here in China, and I am just having a real dickens’ of a time trying to get them to grow. I’ve followed everything recommended here, and here, but they just sort of never make it past germination. Right now, today at the time of this writing, I have a plastic egg container filled with chicken poop with various Chinese heirloom seeds in it. I keep them moist and in the sun. It’s been ten days, and still no sprouts. Why?

—UPDATE—

It turns out that seeds in China are all coated with a plastic paint. This prevents the seeds for germinating in hot and humid weather. You need to scrub the paint off prior to planting the seeds. You let the seeds soak in warm water for around ten hours, and then you rub the paint off. Then once the paint is off, you can then plant them.

—END UPDATE—

It’s a tough world out there, and tomato lovers need to stick together against the onslaught of tomato haters, busybodies, and the armies of ignorant fools.

I believe, and I say, there are certain things that we need to fight for. These things are important to us, and we need to draw a line in the sand. I say that if we cannot have a tasty tomato, then what is the point of eating them! Gosh Darn It!

Conclusion

One of my all-time favorite things to do, in the summer, is to enjoy a tomato sandwich. This is a very simple affair. It is just a big slice of a big juicy “Big Boy” or “Better Boy” tomato between two slices of plain white sandwich bread and gobs of Miracle Whip salad dressing.

Unfortunately, tomatoes have been getting less tasty over time. Initially I didn’t notice it so much. But when you taste a “real” tomato and then experience a “commercial tomato” the difference is astounding. Look, I don’t just mean “Hey, that’s a pretty tasty tomato.”, I mean “WTF! WTF! Holey Heck! What is the Friggin’ heck going on with this tomato! “ It is that noticeable.

Bacon really enhances the flavor of a tomato sandwich. — Talk about Heaven on Earth! How about properly cooked bacon on rye bread, with fresh heirloom tomatoes, with salt and pepper and Miracle Whip . Yum! (Image Source.)

Those that have written about this phenomenon tend to down play the significance. They shouldn’t. It’s a serious issue.

While I might joke about the millennials who want a utopia where unicorns prance about on fields of clover in the bright sunny light, I too wish for a perfect life. However, my idea is a much simpler one. I dream for a nice fresh heirloom tomato sandwich on Miracle Whip slathered bread and an frosty cold bottle of a good golden beer. I can only pray that this becomes a commonplace reality.

There is Hope

From an article from Sci-News;

Tomatoes are one of the most eaten vegetables — although they actually are fruit botanically — with a worldwide annual production of 182 million tons, worth more than $60 billion.

U.S. tomato consumption per capita was 9.2 kg (20.3 pounds) for fresh tomatoes in 2017 plus an additional 33.2 kg (73.3 pounds) of processed tomatoes eaten per person. They are the second most consumed vegetable in the United States after potatoes.

While cultivated tomatoes have a wide range of physical and metabolic variation, there have been several severe bottlenecks during its domestication and breeding. This means today’s tomatoes have a narrow genetic base.

The tomato pan-genome helps identify what additional genes beyond the reference might be available for crop breeding and improvement. It includes all of the genes from 725 different cultivated and closely related wild tomatoes, which revealed 4,873 genes that were absent from the original reference genome.

“The pan-genome essentially provides a reservoir of additional genes not present in the reference genome. Breeders can explore the pan-genome for genes of interest, and potentially select for them as they do further breeding to improve their tomatoes,” said co-lead author Dr. Zhangjun Fei, a researcher with Boyce Thompson Institute for Plant Research and the U.S. Department of Agriculture-Agricultural Research Service.

“One of the most important discoveries from constructing this pan-genome is a rare form of a gene labeled TomLoxC, which mostly differs in the version of its DNA gene promoter,” added co-lead author Dr. James Giovannoni, a molecular biologist with Boyce Thompson Institute for Plant Research and the U.S. Department of Agriculture-Agricultural Research Service.

“The gene influences fruit flavor by catalyzing the biosynthesis of a number of lipid-involved volatiles — compounds that evaporate easily and contribute to aroma.”

In addition, the researchers found a new role of TomLoxC — it facilitates production of a group of apocarotenoids that work as signaling molecules influencing a variety of responses in plants including environmental stresses. The compounds also have a variety of floral and fruity odors that are important in tomato taste.

The rare version of TomLoxC was found in only 2% of older or heirloom cultivated large tomato varieties, although the version was present in 91% of currant-sized wild tomatoes, primarily Solanum pimpinellifolium, the wild predecessor of the cultivated tomato. It is becoming more common in newer varieties.

“It appears that there may have been strong selection pressure against or at least no selection for the presence of this version of TomLoxC early in the domestication of tomatoes,” Dr. Giovannoni said.

“The increase in prevalence of this form in modern tomatoes likely reflects breeders’ renewed interest in improved flavor.”

The results are published in the journal Nature Genetics.

_____

Lei Gao et al. The tomato pan-genome uncovers new genes and a rare allele regulating fruit flavor. Nature Genetics, published online May 13, 2019; doi: 10.1038/s41588-019-0410-2

Take Aways

Tomatoes are a fruit.
Tomatoes taste like a vegetable because the sweet taste was bred out of them.
The reason that tomatoes taste this way is due to greed.
Mast people, and science agrees, that heirloom tomatoes are tastier than commercial tomatoes.
Liberal progressives in the EU and America want to ban tasty tomatoes.
I like fresh tomato sandwiches and icy cold beer.

RFH

How about a Request For Help? I tire of busybodies and statists who poke fun at the ideas and theories of others. They offer no constructive dialog. Rather they just make fun, ridicule, and then scurry under a rock.

I use this forum as a way to disseminate some of the things that I learned though my years of life. I like to talk about things as I have experienced them, and I am always willing to listen to what others have to say. (Though when it comes to tomatoes, I do have some very strong opinions.)

So, if you, the reader, were so interested, I would welcome your stories. Tell me how you came to love tomatoes, and how to grow them. Tell us your secrets on getting the sprouts started, because that is one thing that I am having a very difficult time doing. Tell us all how you use them, and why you think that it is just “OK” to ship and sell cardboard tasting tomatoes in stores. Share with us your theories as to why the EU is trying to ban any seeds that are not being used by the top food-producing mega-corportations. Share with us, because we want to know.

This is my callout, to you the reader, to assist all of us in solving these mysteries. After all, this is a far better use of the internet than for looking at Justin Bieber videos.

FAQ

Q: What is a “heirloom tomato”?
A: A heirloom tomato is a tomato variety that was NOT bred for mass consumer sales and distribution. As such, it was bred for taste, appearance, and smell. Because heirloom tomatoes are difficult to pick and ship for the mass market, they are seldom found in grocery stores. They can (for the most part) be obtained by growing them yourself by planting seeds.

Q: What is the history of the tomato?
A: Tomatoes originated in South America near Peru. They have been bred over the years as a consumer product. As such, they are now treated as a vegetable instead of as a fruit. This is because the sweetness and volatiles have been bred out of them. They are used in the most important food dishes in America; the pizza and hamburger.

Q: What is a tomato festival?
A: A tomato festival is a place where people display and sell their own (often non-commercial) tomatoes. These are various home-developed heirloom tomatoes. It is an excellent place to sample different types of tomatoes, chat with other tomato lovers, and buy and trade tomato seeds.

Q: Why do you like beer?
A: Icy cold beer tastes great after a long hard day of work and labor. It relaxes you. It lets your tension go away, and it tastes really, really good with fresh heirloom tomatoes. (Oh, so does wine, but you drink it differently. Hillary Clinton is a big Chardonnay fan. I can’t fault that, she does have good taste in wines. Though I am a dry red wine fan, myself.)

Q: Can I drink wine with a tomato sandwich?
A: Let me say this clearly. Tomatoes taste good anytime, anywhere, and prepared in any way. Wine goes great with just about everything. Hillary Clinton is a big Chardonnay fan. I can’t fault that, she does have good taste in wines. Though I am a dry red wine fan, myself.

Q: How do the Chinese eat tomatoes?
A: The Chinese people love tomatoes just like Americans do. They use the tomatoes for all sorts of dishes, but the most important one is the “tomato with egg” dish. This is an AMAZING dish that every single American who has visited China has fallen in love with. It is not what you think; just scramble eggs with tomatoes. No. You prepare the tomatoes with some special spices and then mix in eggs. It is glorious!

Q: What is the best use for a tomato?
A: I think that the best use for a tomato is to eat it. I really don’t think that it can compete against the rose as a decoration. When eating it, I would suggest that it be picked off the vine fresh. I do prefer vine ripened tomatoes. A good tomato tastes great just as is. I often add a pinch of salt and pepper for flavor, but that is just me. If you need to add sugar, then you know that the tomatoes you are eating are a commercial variety.

FR Posting

This article was posted on free Republic on 5AUG18. You can read the comments HERE.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Posts about the Changes in America

America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.

What is planned for American Conservatives - Part 2

What is going to happen to conservatives - Part 3.

What is planned for conservatives - part 4

What is in store for Conservatives - part 5

What is in store for conservatives - part 6

Stories that Inspired Me

Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.

Articles & Links

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

The Tail-Fibonacci Fiasco

When I grew up I had a long array of personal heroes.

Of course, they were all generated out of Hollywood and fiction that I would read. From Diver Dan, to Captain Grimes, to Gumby (and really Pokey… my personal favorite) to actors such as Charles Bronson, and Clint Eastwood.

I would imagine taking on their personas and living the lives that were portrayed in the fiction of the time. Mostly, but not everyone. Jerry Luis, and Soopy Sales were entertainers, but nothing that I wanted to emulate.

So today, I will present some iconic moments from the past…

Today…

What happens to corrupt officials in China, and why is their punishment so visible compared to some other countries?

Corruption in China is different from anywhere else

There are two types of Corruption

Corruption that does not affect the image of China, Chinese People or impact the Great Rejuvenation of China
Corruption that impacts any of these – Image of China, Chinese People or Great Rejuvenation of China

The Former is tolerated for everyone EXCEPT PLA, PARTY OFFICIALS & CIVIL SERVANTS

The Latter is ruthlessly crushed with brutal punishments

The Latter is called PUBLIC CORRUPTION and is punished with death, life imprisonment or 10–25 years jail.

The Former is punished for everyone except PLA, Civil Servants and Party Officials with Fines, Blacklisting and occasionally 1–3 Years Jail

For PLA, Civil Servants and Party Officials – any corruption is bad and attracts a harsh punishment

Doping

Doping in China is seen as a heinous crime because a doped athlete disgraces China and it’s Image

So a Doped Athlete in China gets 3–7 years Jail, Blacklisted from sponsorship and participation for at least 12 years which may extend to 20 years, banned from acquiring a passport and forced to minimum distance of 2,000 Km from home for 3 years minimum which may extend upto 10 years

In the West, a Doped Athlete gets banned and that’s that

So NO CHINESE WOULD EVER DOPE INTENTIONALLY IN THEIR WILDEST DREAMS

If they do, the next 13–27 years of their lives are finished

Corrupt Politicians

If the Pawar family had been in China and if Ajith was proven to have embezzled ₹70,000 Crore of public money as alleged or even ₹ 3 Crore (500,000 RMB equivalent in Real Standards)

Ajit would have been executed or imprisoned for life with no parole

His wife, kids would have been forced to live in the North for 15–35 years, monitored, restricted from having a passport or being allowed to work in the Civil Service

His brothers, sisters, parents, in laws would all be HUKOU restricted meaning they would be investigated and if it was proven that they knew the money was embezzled and yet took gifts, loans etc – they would face 1–3 Years Jail and permanent ban from business ownership, company directorships, civil service, public positions and leasing any Hukou property and NO INTERNET ID

Basically a lifetime of house arrest

Plus ALL THEIR MONEY WOULD BE TAKEN BY THE STATE

Why?

Because Corruption by a Party Official Or Leader is AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF CHINA

It is a crime against the PEOPLE , PARTY & STATE

This is what keeps the PRIDE IN THE CIVILIZATION

When Chinese people see this, they feel PROUD of their State

Bribes become “Incentives” & Official

If an Official demands 2500 RMB for quickly processing your documents in 2 days instead of 5, CHINA MAKES IT OFFICIAL instead or a Bribe

They call it FAST SERVICE

The Office charges 2500 RMB more and pays 1000 RMB as bonus to the official

If an Engineer finishes a project within time, he gets a bonus which is usually between 20 days fee to 7.5% of the fee (For a 300 Million Yuan fee, that’s between 26,000 to 130,000 Yuan bonus)

What Corruption is Tolerated

Party Officials taking advantage of inside information to invest in stocks or having their families invest in stocks but capped to a maximum
Party Officials families getting the pick of the plots during a Hukou Auction
Local Government Officials demanding a Gift for quick approvals for factories as long as this Gift is REASONABLE and doesn’t compromise quality

For instance, you can demand 600,000 Yuan gift from a factory for quick approvals to set a manufacturing unit

However if the unit produces defective products which causes loss of life or pollution, you and your family will pay the price

Most corruption today is confined at Provincial Level with National Government being almost 100% Clean

Unlike Cesspit India 😞😞😞😞😞

Sir Whiskerton and the Tail-Fibonacci Fiasco: A Tale of Twisted Tails, Overzealous Coaches, and One Very Confused Kitten

Ah, dear reader, steel thyself for a tale so mathematically absurd that even Pythagoras would clutch his hypotenuse in horror! Today’s misadventure stars Ditto, our favorite echo-kitten, as he faces the ultimate challenge: the Kitten Gaokao Physical Exam, administered by none other than Lucifer the Chipmunk—self-proclaimed “Revolutionary Gymnastics Coach.” What followed was a whirlwind of tail acrobatics, questionable scoring, and a Fibonacci sequence that somehow became a knot. So, grab your protractors and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Tail-Fibonacci Fiasco.

Act I: The Revolutionary’s Demands

Lucifer the Chipmunk, perched atop a podium made of acorns and sheer ego, addressed his “students” (Ditto and a very reluctant Porkchop).

“Comrades!” Lucifer barked, waving a tiny flag that read TAIL POWER. “Today, we crush the bourgeois limitations of feline flexibility! Your tails shall spiral like the proletariat’s unstoppable rise!”

Sir Whiskerton, observing from the sidelines, muttered, “That’s not how tails—or revolutions—work.”

Ditto, ever eager to please, wagged his tail. “Okay! Like this?”

“Pah!” Lucifer scoffed. “A mere wag? The revolution requires geometric perfection! Behold!”

He unrolled a scroll depicting the Fibonacci sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8…), which, when graphed, forms a spiral.

“Your tail must mimic this! Or face re-education!”

Porkchop squinted. “My tail’s a curl. Like a cinnamon bun.”
“Then you are counter-revolutionary scum!” Lucifer hissed.

Act II: The Tail Trials

Ditto, trembling, attempted the impossible:

First try: A wobbly loop. “1…?”
Second try: Two loops. “1, 1…?”
Third try: A tangled mess. “2, 3, 5, help—”

By the eighth attempt, Ditto’s tail resembled a pretzel dipped in existential dread.

“Help! Help!” he squeaked, wobbling in circles. “I’m stuck in math!”

Enter Lady Quacka, the farm’s resident artistic judge (and self-proclaimed “Diva of Duck Aesthetics”).

“Darling,” she sighed, tapping Ditto’s knotted tail with a fan, “your form is… adequate. But where’s the passion? The drama?”

She scribbled on a scorecard: 9.5 for “emotional resonance.”

“But—but it’s a knot,” Ditto whimpered.
“Art is suffering,” Lady Quacka replied, wiping away a theatrical tear.

Act III: The Moral (and the Untangling)

Just as Lucifer prepared to declare Ditto “a failure of the state,” Sir Whiskerton intervened.

“Enough,” he said, calmly unknotting Ditto’s tail. “Tails are for balance, not algebra.”

Lucifer gasped. “This is revisionist tail propaganda!”

But the animals had spoken:

Porkchop: “I’ll stick to cinnamon bun mode.”
Bessie the Cow: “Groovy spirals are, like, energy, man.”
Rufus: “I just chew mine.”

Moral: Not everything needs to be a masterpiece—especially not your tail.

Post-Credit Scene

Lucifer, undeterred, tries to teach the scarecrow “Marxist leaf-fluttering.” The scarecrow flops over.

Best Lines:

“The revolution requires geometric tails!” – Lucifer, probably on a watchlist
“I’ve achieved negative numbers!” – Ditto, mid-tangle
“Art is pain. Also, this is why I eat worms.” – Lady Quacka, scoring a butterfly

Starring:

Lucifer the Chipmunk (Tiny Tyrant of Tails)
Ditto (Kitten of Knotty Despair)
Lady Quacka (Duck of Dramatic Judgement)
Sir Whiskerton (Voice of Reason, Unraveler of Nonsense)

Key Jokes:

Porkchop’s tail “auditioning for a bakery commercial.”
Lucifer’s “Tail Gulag” for underperforming squirrels.
Lady Quacka awarding “extra points” because Ditto’s panic “had Baroque potential.”

P.S.

Remember: If your tail forms a fractal, consult a doctor. Or a poet. Or both.

The End.

Bonus Teaching Notes:

Math Tie-In: Introduce Fibonacci sequences with Ditto’s tail! (Or just laugh at the chaos.)
Emotion Vocabulary: Frustrated (Ditto), Outraged (Lucifer), Pretentious (Lady Quacka).
Creative Writing Prompt: “If my pet could take a Gaokao, it would test ______.”

Tail-twistingly yours,
The Sir Whiskerton Team 😼

What is the biggest culture shock you have ever experienced?

The biggest culture shock was moving from the US to Japan. Let me give you a few examples that have touched my heart.

Train It’s very quiet on the train. Except for occasional quiet conversations, you’re using your cell phone or something. It’s a far cry from someone in the New York subway who speaks loudly, speaks on a cell phone, plays an instrument, and so on, like an American. Now, a few months after arriving in Japan, you can tell who has just arrived by the loudness of their voices on the train.

The children go to school alone. Every day I see a four-year-old taking a train to school, crossing the street with his hands held high so that those driving him can see him. If you let a four-year-old go on the streets of Los Angelis for even five minutes, people will say you’re crazy.

I pay for my electricity, phone, and water at 7-Eleven. It feels very strange that in the US they did everything online.

Bicycle and walking. The transportation system is so efficient here that I rarely drive. I have a small car, but I’ve only been here twice to get gas in six months.

All in an orderly line. Bus stops, train stations, convenience stores, concerts, etc. Japanese people are good at forming orderly lines. In the US, people stand here and there even if there are landmarks where people should stand and line up while waiting for a bus. Even though you were the first to get a good seat on the bus at a bus stop, someone standing somewhere other than the landmark still blocks you.

Mask!? When people are sick, they wear masks on their faces to prevent others from getting sick, and to protect themselves when others get sick. In the US, when you get sick, you walk around coughing at everyone (though of course not by design)

There is much the world can learn from Japan.

Edit Dear friends of India, thank you for your comments and insight. I didn’t expect to receive so many comments from India in my response.

Chicken in Ginger Cream

Yield: 8 servings

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Ingredients

5 to 6 pounds fresh fryer parts
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
6 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups chicken broth
1/4 cup light cream
2 tablespoons finely minced, crystallized ginger
Parsley sprigs

Instructions

Shake chicken a few pieces at a time in a paper bag with flour, ginger, salt and pepper.
In a 10 or 12 inch enamel skillet or casserole, brown the pieces skin side down in melted butter for about 10 minutes over moderate heat.
Turn and brown 10 minutes more.
Cover pan and simmer until done, about 10 minutes.
Remove chicken and keep warm.
Add 3 tablespoons flour to juices in skillet. Heat and stir for about 5 minutes.
Add chicken broth and cream. Stir until smooth and thickened.
Season with salt and pepper and more ground ginger, if needed.
Pour sauce over chicken on serving platter.
Garnish with parsley and crystallized ginger.

The TRUTH about teaching in CHINA – you’ll be SHOCKED!

Pinder

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Nina H

“Stop breathing on me,” Kerry said through gritted teeth.“Technically, I’m not breathing. I’m filtering. But I suppose it means the same thing here,” Broggo said in reply.“Ok, then stop FILTERING on me!” Kerry snapped and got up from the couch in a huff.“I sense displeasure. And I believe it has been caused by me. Am I correct?” Broggo queried.“Yes, it most definitely has been caused by you! Ugh! How YOU were matched with ME is…is…well it’s unexplainable!” Kerry yelled from across the room of her tiny apartment.“Of course it’s explainable. You see, my kind were all entered into the Pinder database detailing our traits. All of your kind were also entered into the database, and through a series of precise calculations and analysis of data we were matched with each other. It is the most sensible way to account for the influx of population of my kind from Sliggo to Earth. We need shelter, and your kind can help us transition to life here. It’s quite genius.” Broggo explained.“I KNOW the rationale behind it, you slimy, four-eyed, tentacled creature. I just don’t agree with it!” Kerry lamented.“Article 8, Section 12 of the Planetary Habitation Agreement signed by your President indicates that failure to comply with Pinder placements will result in fines, imprisonment, and loss of citizenship,” Broggo reminded Kerry.“That seems better right now than this living arrangement!” Kerry said, grabbing her car keys and heading for the door.“I’m going to class. Do not touch anything. Or break anything. Or explore. I’ll be home in two hours and will make dinner. Do NOT go near the stove again when I’m gone! I still can’t get the left burners to work and I need another fire extinguisher after your last attempt!” Kerry said and stormed out the door.“I believe we are making progress in our interspecies relationship,” Broggo said, turning his blue mouth upwards into a smile.

Kerry slammed her car door, and turned the key in the ignition. It has been over two months since the sky turned an unnatural shade of green, and spacecrafts made of unearthly metals emanating purple lights descended upon Earth. The majority landed all across the United States, with a handful in Europe and Asia. It was uncertain whether more would be coming, but something had to be done. In an unprecedented meeting of world leaders, it was decided that the best way to handle the situation was to welcome the alien creatures, assigning Earthmates to each one. A system was developed and quickly put into place, systematically matching Sliggon and human. Once assigned their Earthmate, they would be able to acclimate to life on this planet in peace. This planet did not need any more help destroying itself, and just maybe the Sliggons could help in an intergalactic partnership.

But some partnerships were a bit strained at the moment. Despite the scientific basis of Pinder, maybe not all matches were, well, well-matched.

Kerry sat in class taking notes on the profound works of various physicists. She couldn’t concentrate, and nothing she wrote made sense upon review. She sighed, set down her chewed up yellow number 2, and rested her head in her hands. She had a headache thinking of what Broggo was likely ruining back at home.

Back at home, Broggo was ruining Kerry’s favorite dresses as he attempted to color code them in her closet. He did not agree with the current haphazard arrangement, which unsettled his thought patterns. As he pulled each dress down, he tore several and slimed up the others. Tide Stain Remover was no match for whatever chemical composition coated Broggo’s exterior.

In an unsuccessful attempt to rehang the clothes, he accidentally tore down the bar in the closet they hung on. He stared with all four of his eyes at the wooden bar his tentacled arms were wrapped around.

“Well. This is not going as I had planned,” Broggo said to the spider plant hanging in the window. He always waited for a reply. He never got one.

Kerry closed her notebook, gathered her things, and steeled herself against the thought of heading home to Broggo.

She thought about his attempt to cook her dinner. He took a cup of strawberry yogurt from the fridge, put it in a pot on the stove, and added Cheerios, three Oreos, and several scoops of corn starch. The plastic yogurt cup melted, everything caught on fire, and her kitchen hasn’t smelled the same since. But he wanted to make her happy. That’s more than most people in her life these days. Maybe she wasn’t giving him a chance. She wasn’t the easiest to live with either. She was messy, unorganized, and a free spirit when it came to chore completion. She had a motto of “why do today what can be done tomorrow?”

Kerry suddenly swiped right into the drive-thru of Dunkin Donuts. She ordered half a dozen assorted donuts, a chocolate frozen coffee, and a vanilla latte. Even Sliggons would appreciate that, right?

She drove home sipping her latte, ready to present her peace offering. She had lost her temper for no reason, and it wasn’t the first time. Maybe being Earthmates wouldn’t be so bad after all if she gave Broggo a chance. And nobody (no creature?) could be worse than her last human one. She still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing her boyfriend right under her nose, then parading him around the apartment. After living in an awkward, uncomfortable sea of tension for two weeks, they both found a new place together. What was she even thinking? Humans can be awful creatures.

Kerry laughed and thought “Hmph, good riddance to both of them! Broggo may very well burn the place down, but he’s never going to backstab.”

And with that, Kerry unlocked the door and went back to her (their) apartment. She watched with a smile as a thankful Broggo inserted three Boston Cremes into his stomach opening.

Maybe Pinder got it right after all.

Moved to Tears in Shanghai.Now Want to Bring Parents to Settle in China？

Pictures

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I’m an autistic 17-year-old girl with no friends, and I’ve never been in a relationship. Everyone treats me like I’m invisible and everyone else seems like robots to me. I hate my life. How do I change it?

Robots. Yeah, I get that. When I was 16 I resigned from the human race, because who would want to be associated with those boring idiots? Come to think of it, I’ve never applied for re-admission…

Invisible. Honestly, I never even noticed how people treated me, so you’re one up on me in that respect. At least I never got bullied (after the age of five anyway.) Nowadays I like being invisible, having to interact with people is a pain.

Hate. Not something I really understand. I can be content with food, sleep, and videogames. Mind you, in my teens and twenties I was more pro-active. I joined clubs, political groups, environmental organizations. I really enjoyed being in a square-dance club. Might not be your thing, but you never know until you try.

Change. Uh, yeah, I got nothing. I have changed since I was your age (although not a lot) but most of it wasn’t by choice. Maybe clubs. Try and find something you’re interested in and join a club about it. I belonged to a fencing club, once. Watch out for the left-handers…

Little Lost Robot – Asimov short story. (1962)

Is it true that an American nuclear-powered supercarrier is faster than any other ship in the world, including other nuclear-powered ships such as destroyers and submarines?

Years ago (as in almost 2 decades now) When I was in the Navy I got to witness a rather interesting race. We were deployed aboard USS Nimitz on something called a Tiger cruise. That’s the last part of the deployment where the ship would invite family members aboard for the final leg between Hawaii and our home port on the West Coast. The cruise was very popular, and many family members came aboard. I want to remember over a thousand and lot of the crew were asked to start their leave early to make room for the “Tigers”.

Anyway, during the weeklong cruise, the ship performed many shows for the tigers, including airshows, mock gun battles, firefighting and damage control drills, and finally near the end, this sort of quarter mile drag race between us and the other ships in our group.

Well, drag race, I guess if you replace sports cars with warships, and the quarter mile is actually more like a few miles, and we all had a slow running start so the ships wouldn’t drift into each other. Most of the ships in our group participated.

With everyone on the flight deck watching, someone said “go” and the cruiser took off fast. That was impressive. I suppose if the race was only a quarter mile, the cruiser would win every time. The cruisers being light and fast, powered basically by *four* modified jet engines (similar to the ones fitted to DC-10s back in the day (remember those?). Rather than using the thrust, they gear it to the shafts to turn their screws. But anyway, they get the best proverbial “0–60” quarter mile win, hands down. And this was an older Ticonderoga class. I Imagine the newer Burkes might be even faster, but feel free to comment your knowledge.

However, after a couple minutes we could see that even though we were behind them, we were at least keeping up, if not slowly catching up with the other ships and *sub safely behind us in the wake. Unfortunately for us, the race ended before we could catch them, so we took second place. But now the plot twist.

The captain then over the 1mc (intercom loudspeaker) revealed that only 3 of our 4 shafts were running, those of us who didn’t already know then learned that number 4, had been offline for much of the deployment. I guess revealing something like that when the deployment only a few days had left, wasn’t really a big deal and helped explain our second-place finish to those were expecting us to win. (Nimitz was scheduled for a major drydock overhaul once we got back and that was already pretty well publicized)

Anyway, we nearly won that race on 75% power. I think if the race was longer, we would have certainly won. In the worst case after couple days(ish?) at flank speed, the cruiser would burn all its gas and loose its advantage while it slowed to refuel (feel free to comment if you know better), while us being nuclear could have just kept going. Looking back months before the show, I think what is impressive was seeing us do regular operations, flight ops and so on at regular operating speeds on only 3 of the 4 screws for most of our deployment. As pointed out in the comments, If any other ship lost an entire shaft, it would be limping, while Nimitz kind of just shrugged off like an Olympic sprinter can shrug off a mildly sore ankle, and still claim a medal.

So sorry, I Couldn’t tell you if an aircraft carrier is the fastest ship (the actual top speed is classified anyway), but if it’s in a race anything longer than a quarter mile, I’m not betting against it.

Below, completely irrelevant photo I took while on a later cruise. being on such a fast ship, sadly we still couldn’t make it home in time for Christmas.

*Modern subs are faster when submerged, so they didn’t really have a fair fight on this occasion.

**Thank you for the correction. Please read Ian McDonald’s comment for a better description of the cruiser’s power plant.

Edit- Wow, I never got 800 votes in one day before! For the occasion I cleaned up the spelling. Thank you for all your votes! (-: .. and I see 2000 now, thank you! Lots of good comments below as well.

Oh, if you ever get a chance to do one of those Tiger cruises, just say yes! It’s like you get to experience life in the Navy for a few days without actually having to join the Navy!

No More Elephants in the Zoo

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

⭐️ Contest #210 Shortlist!

Michał Przywara

Anita Cable never seriously expected to come back from the dead. The forms Dr. Costa had her sign even said: they’d do their best, but the technology to reverse cryonic suspension just didn’t exist yet. And even then, there was still the glioblastoma.To her, it was all the same – bury, burn, freeze. A corpse was just a corpse, after she moved out. But it was little Molly that insisted, and how could Anita deny her anything?“I’ll wait for you, Mom,” Molly said, right before the cryo-capsule closed. As though Anita was just going for a trip. As though she’d actually ever return. The last thing she remembered was pressing her hand against the honeycombed ferro-glass, gasping as a blizzard tore through her veins.“Molly,” she whispered. Blinked. Realized she could see. Before her, floor-to-ceiling windows, the bleary lights and shadows of the city, a daytime rainstorm. Beneath her, a comfortable – was it? Yes, it was comfortable – leather recliner, then fluffy slippers, a fine orange carpet. Around her, some kind of upscale lobby? Low couches, glass tables, tall ceiling. And a strange man.“Hello, Anita.” White, at the far end of middle-aged, in a nice, if strange, indigo suit. He held a clipboard but his expression was kind.“Molly?” Where was she? Where was here? Anita placed her palm on her own cheeks, curious to find she was warm.“How are you feeling, Anita? The reanimation process can be a bit of a shock to the system.”“I’m… fine.” No headache, no blurry vision, no trembling. She was surprised to realize it was true. “I’m fine.”The man jotted something down. “Good, good. Glad to hear it. My name’s Dennis, by the way.”Her fingers trembled, reaching towards his outstretched hand, but when their skins touched – when she felt the impossible warmth of another living human again – she grasped him tightly, for fear of him disappearing. A nervous hitch, half giggle, half cry, escaped her.“It’s all right,” Dennis said, tone softer. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. You don’t feel any lingering numbness? There’s a gentle sedative still in your system. It’ll be hours before it wears off entirely.”“No. No, it’s like… Actually, I’ve never felt better.” She ran her fingers over her temples, over her jaw. Gently touched the tender bald area where they’d sawed off a part of her skull in the myriad failed surgeries – and shivered when she felt hair. Short, supple, but definitely hair.

“Is the cancer gone?”

Dennis straightened and smiled more broadly. “It feels good to be alive, doesn’t it?” Only, the smile hinted at a sadness, or maybe a dread of things to come. “We must assume the cancer’s gone, yes.”

“Assume? Aren’t you a doctor?”

“No, I’m not.” His breath was measured. “I’m a fellow patient.”

“So they figured it out after all.” She snorted, what might have been a chuckle. Shouldn’t she be happy? Perhaps it was the sedative. Or shock, at coming back to life.

Anita decided to risk standing. She braced herself against the armrests of the recliner and carefully rose – only to discover she had no trouble whatsoever. “They really figured it out.” No weak muscles, no shaky legs, no dizziness. She spun her arms, touched her toes, lunged, jumped. Her heart fluttered and she felt warm.

“So,” she said. “Where is the doctor then?”

Dennis glanced out the window, at rain splattering with a low drum. “A lot has changed, Anita.”

“A lot has…” She let the question trail, narrowed her eyes. “How long was I out for?”

“Come on, let’s go chat in the cafeteria.” He ushered her out of the lobbyish room, which didn’t remind her of the cryonics institute at all. “You mentioned a name when you were coming to. Molly. Is she someone special?”

The warmth in her chest spread to Anita’s cheeks, and she felt herself reaching for a smile. When was the last time she truly smiled? It must have been Molly’s seventh. All her friends did the princess thing, but Molly wanted elephants.

“Real elephants, Mom! Not cartoons.”

They plastered all the walls with elephant posters, and went to the zoo – which was happy, to see them, and sad, to see them imprisoned, and Molly vowed to free all elephants – “No more elephants in the zoo!” – and then when the cake arrived – goodness! Grey was not a good colour for food, but Molly loved it.

Anita hugged herself, imagining holding Molly again. “She’s my daughter. She’s the reason I’m here.” That smile pushed against the sedative. “She was right. And I’m going to get to see her again.”

She stopped abruptly at the cafeteria entrance, glossed right over the size and decorations. Nearly jumped when she saw glowing blue words appear suspended in the air.

13:13. Currently: Free roam. Next at 15:00: Communal welcoming in Hall 17.

“What the hell is that!?”

“It’s a holoserver,” said Dennis. “Only I disabled the ads and retooled it to show our… well, no need for ads, I’m sure you’ll agree. Why – did you not have these, back when?”

“Words floating in the air?” She stepped a little closer to the mystery, fingers creeping. “Can I touch it?”

“Yes, yes, perfectly safe.”

The letters distorted where her finger prodded, but that was it. No cold, no heat, nothing fuzzy. No sensation at all. She withdrew her hand, frowned.

“We didn’t have these, no. Our ads were in print. On TV. On the internet, I guess.”

“Teavey?”

“Television. A box with sound and pictures. And idiots.” Anita shivered. All the warmth she had felt before faded, replaced by a cold deep in her gut. “Dennis – how long have I been frozen?” He looked at the floor. “What year is it?”

Dennis hesitated.

She grabbed his coat and pulled him close. “Tell me!”

“Anita, please, calm down–”

“–What. Year. Is. It.”

“We don’t know.” He guided her to one of the empty tables when she let go of him. “Please, sit.” A polished vending machine produced two steaming cups of something like tea, and he set them on the table.

“How can you not know what year it is?”

“A lot has happened while we were in stasis.” He took a sip and frowned into the distance, walking down a road that never got easier. “I went under in 2101.”

Anita’s eyes widened.

“You were what,” he continued, “early 2000s? The youngest patient – chronologically, not biologically – was suspended in 2248.”

He took another sip. “You might be wondering why you don’t find this more shocking. When the sedative wears off, you will, and we’ll be here for you when you do.”

“And we are the other patients?”

Dennis nodded. “To the best of our knowledge, the year is somewhere in the mid to late 3000s. You’re wondering why we don’t just ask someone, right? Like the doctors or other staff?”

Anita nodded.

Dennis drew himself up, preparing for a particularly challenging sprint. “In short, we can’t. Something… some thing, happened. To the world. To humans. While we slept. We don’t know if it was war, or disease, or what, but.” His throat hitched and he took another sip. “Everyone’s gone. We’re the only ones that are left.”

They sat in silence for a while. Anita felt her heart run maybe a beat or two faster, followed by a dull disappointment that there wasn’t a panic. Rationally, it crossed her mind she’d not see Molly again after all. Never see her again. Shouldn’t that be crushing? It ought to be, damn it.

“Wait,” she said. “If everyone’s dead, who brought us back?”

Dennis nodded, expecting this.

“We’re not alone.”

None of it really sunk in until that evening. She heard the words, they lingered in her now-healthy brain, but they didn’t register until the lights went out. Meeting the others – hundreds of patients, a small town – at the communal welcome in Hall 17 was a blur, a parade of time traveling strangers. And the talk of the aliens that roused them? Incomprehensible.

She started screaming at midnight. As Dennis said, the others were there for her, whether she wanted them or not. They made a human straight jacket, smothered her with shared experience, a common circumstance. Kept her from doing the regrettable thing she yearned to do.

Because what was the point of living in a world where Earth no longer belonged to Man? What was the point of a life without Molly?

“Can I see them?” she asked Dennis a couple weeks later. More than anything else, the idea of aliens felt unreal.

“In time, yes. They are uncomfortable to get used to, and there are biological precautions we must take.”

“They talk to you?”

“In a sense. They have an amazing grasp of our technology, and they’ve been able to communicate via our computers. I don’t know if they actually talk, per se. And… they are hard to understand. There’s little common ground between us. Culturally speaking, that kind of thing. I get the sense they’ve gone to great lengths to understand us.”

“Why are they here?”

“Far as I can tell, just for living. From their point of view, they’ve settled an unoccupied world.”

“And why,” Anita asked, “did they wake us?”

It was another one of those questions where Dennis hesitated. “To see if they could. To preserve the native fauna of their new home. Our de-extinction is of scientific interest to them.”

She was allowed to walk around the tower – for the whole facility was its own skyscraper – freely, but never alone. Never out of sight. No matter how many times she told them she was fine over the first few months, that she’d adjusted and wouldn’t do anything, there’d still always be one or two humans in eyeshot.

They saw through her lies.

It came as a shock to her the first time she saw children. Three of them, about the same age as Molly had been. Shrieking, barreling down the hall, absorbed in a running game. Then came a profound sadness that such tiny, young people had been afflicted with this fate. Cursed with an incurable condition, frozen, and thrust into a future that didn’t make sense, a future without a future.

“But they’re not patients,” said Renee, one of her constant companions. In better circumstances Anita would have called her a friend. In a different world, in a different time. If they hadn’t been born two centuries apart.

Renee smiled. “Those kids are real. More real than you and me. They were born here-and-now.”

Ambivalence. Vague dread. Anita’s other constant companions. “So the aliens are breeding us.”

Renee, too, hesitated. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I won’t lie, procreation is encouraged. And yeah, it did make my skin crawl. Still does. But those little rascals? They don’t care. This isn’t weird for them and they didn’t come here with baggage. Didn’t lose anything in the past. They’re just kids, having the times of their lives.”

She was allowed to walk around the tower, but not outside. Never seemed to stop raining there. Dennis said it wasn’t exactly rain, that there were things in the air that were no longer friendly to humans. Things that evolved without us, passed us by. No walking outside the tower without an environmentally sealed suit, anyway.

“Can I have one?”

“In time,” Dennis said. Because he knew. “We all went through it. It’s hard adjusting to this new world of ours.”

“I’m fine.” Of course, she didn’t really need the suit for what she was planning.

She took to watching the rain from the ground floor. Casually, she placed her hands on the windows one day. Nothing odd about that. Then another day, casually she placed her hands on the door. Still very normal, just a woman lost in thought. Then the next day, she did the same and pushed just a bit. Just until the door gave a little.

Not locked.

Anita smiled, and began preparing for the end. She picked a day the next week. A day everyone decided was Monday. Nobody knew if their new calendar lined up with pre-extinction, but there was something comforting about having regular Mondays. She was pleasant to everyone, played with the kids, embraced the community. And let go. It wasn’t a terrible place, but it just wasn’t for her. Her time had come and gone.

She never saw the aliens, which was a regret. The idea both enthralled and repulsed her, and still seemed unreal. Ah, but life was all about accepting the nevers and moving on.

Finally her day came. Good luck, with Renee being her chaperone. “I could sure go for a coffee,” Anita said, her hands on the door. “Would you mind?”

“Could go for one myself.” Renee left to fetch them, because she trusted Anita. That was an unexpected barb in the heart. But no matter, this had to be done.

And as luck often does, good turned to bad when Dennis came down the stairwell. “Anita! Guess what?”

She closed her eyes and swore under her breath. “What?”

“I found a TV!” Anita glared at him. “Well, I think I did, anyway. There’s a good chance it’s not an original. You know, they constantly tinker with our tech, taking it apart and reproducing it. I think they maintained this building for us, and all the food and whatnot. Doesn’t seem like it would survive thousands of years without help otherwise. Our caretakers.”

She sighed. This Monday was looking to be a real Monday.

Dennis placed something in her hand. A small, flat bit of plastic, looking like a narrow thumb drive.

“What’s this?” she asked. There was a strip of masking tape on it, and in faded pen, “33875 ANITA CABLE”.

“A Q12 drive, I believe. Maybe a Q14? A mid twenty-first century storage medium, anyway.” He grinned. “Often, people recorded messages for their loved ones. For when they woke up. Most of them are holos, but for this older tech, well, it took me a while to track down a way to play it back.”

“Messages?” Her eyes widened. “Wait, you mean – this is for me?” Cold arced along her nerves.

“Would you like to watch it?”

They sat down in one of the myriad empty rooms in the tower, where Dennis had set up a giant, flat monitor. He slipped the drive in the bottom and dimmed the lights. Renee meanwhile joined up with them, bringing the promised coffee.

“Would you like us to go?” Dennis asked.

Anita looked between the two, found her throat dry. “Stay. Please.” The butterflies in her gut roiled.

Dennis hit play.

A mahogany office appeared, bookshelves for walls, a heavy desk, a woman sitting behind it. Her hair, a tight white bun, and her eyes, yellowed, and her skin, scarred by time.

“Hello, Anita.” There was gravel in her voice. “You probably don’t recognize my face, but we used to live together. It’s me, Molly. Hello, Mom.”

Anita clamped her hand over her mouth, but she’d lost all her words anyway.

“Only I’m not Molly Cable any more. It’s Carson now, and it was Gaines for a while too. A lot has happened.”

Anita’s eyes bleared.

“I wish I could tell you in person, but, ah, well. Life doesn’t work that way. I never stopped thinking about you though, and I never stopped hoping. And now, well, I still hope they bring you back one day, and we can catch up. Like this, at least.”

Anita nodded along, and when Renee offered her a handkerchief, she took it.

“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Feels like I have eighty odd years to cover.” Molly chuckled. “Hope you don’t mind, but I recorded a lot of footage. The cryo people were very accommodating. Frankly, it’s helping me remember my own life, which is nice, as the old memory isn’t what it used to be.” She sighed. “I never did save all the elephants, but I did work with them for five-odd decades. Well, time enough for that later. Hey, I’m not alone here – do you want to meet your grandkids?”

Anita nodded, and dabbed away another tear.

“I’ve a feeling you said yes. Good, good. Well, I hope you have some time, Ma, ’cause the family’s grown quite big.”

“All the time in the world, baby,” Anita said. And all thoughts of Mondays left her mind, as she met those who came after her, and those who went before.

Is there any military technology that once became obsolete but bounced back again?

In China’s recent border conflicts with neighboring countries, a large amount of retro equipment has been used.

Both sides have tacitly turned the fighting into something resembling warfare from about 1,500 to 2,000 years ago.

(Heavy weapons used by the Chinese side at the China–India border)

(This one is a bit much—this weapon is 4,000 years old. It was gradually phased out after 220 AD, and now it’s been brought back again.)

Collections of the National Museum of China

Both sides also prepared long-range fire suppression troops

(In the naval clashes between China and the Philippines, you can see Chinese soldiers holding axes.)

(A type of naval combat gear widely equipped by the Chinese side. On one hand, it can hook enemy boats and pull them in to launch boarding combat; on the other, it can be used to fend off enemies trying to board.)

(One can imagine the bewilderment of the arsenal when they received such design specifications.)

(“It’s been many years since I last saw soldiers of the Great Tang.”)

(“Dare I ask, officer—have the soldiers of Qin, Han, Tang, or Ming returned?”)

EDIT

You may not believe it, but over the past few decades, China has disbanded 19 cavalry divisions, yet it still retains one active classical cavalry unit—four companies, with a Mongolian Chinese as the battalion commander.

Their training still follows traditional methods, such as saber slashing and thrusting.

In documentaries, you can see that their training is extremely tough.

I don’t know why this unit still exists, but as a form of cultural continuity, it’s actually quite nice.

Chicken in Peanut Sauce

Quick, easy and full of flavor! This Chicken in Peanut Sauce recipe takes just 20 minutes and is a perfect variation to try to spice up everyday meals. Garnish with fresh cilantro and serve with rice.

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups water
1 cup roasted peanuts
3 Maggi Garlic Flavor Seasoning Cubes
3 tablespoons vinegar
1 tablespoon hot pepper sauce
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken pieces, cut into 2 x 1/4 inch pieces
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped peanuts (for garnish)
Cilantro leaves for garnish
Hot, cooked rice

Instructions

Place water, 1 cup peanuts, seasoning cubes, vinegar, hot pepper sauce and sugar in blender; cover. Blend until smooth; set aside.
Heat oil in large skillet over medium heat.
Cook chicken, stirring frequently, for 3 minutes or until golden.
Add peanut sauce. Cook, stirring frequently, until it reaches a boil.
Reduce heat to low; cover. Cook for 5 minutes or until chicken is cooked through and sauce has thickened slightly.
Top with crushed peanuts and cilantro; serve with rice.

Instead of trying to hide behind tariffs, should the US be asking “Why do we buy so much stuff from abroad and why do foreign countries not buy more US made stuff?”

Oh, that’s easy.

Starting in the 1980s, in an effort to bust unions, the U.S. Department of Commerce actually instructed manufacturers how to move their facilities to other states, and, more importantly, to factories in Mexico and China. This was a great success, made corporations a lot of money, and reduced union membership in the United States from about 30% to 10%. When you look, most of the remaining unionized workers work for governments.

Then there was a ruling that manufacturers could no longer refuse to sell to retailers who wouldn’t sell the product at the manufacturer’s minimum retail price. That essentially meant retailers could dictate how much they would pay for a product at wholesale, which forced many remaining American manufacturers to outsource overseas.

Now, frankly, foreigners buy a lot of stuff from the United States. The U.S. is the #2 export nation after China. The thing is, ordinary consumers aren’t getting those goods – they’re “durables” – things you buy once and use for years or decades – cars, aircraft and industrial grade equipment.

For American consumers, this has been great – cheap clothing from Bangladesh. Cheap electronics from China. Cheap fruit from Mexico.

And, frankly, if you import more than you export, it’s really an indication that you’re a rich economy.

And there’s no money anymore in consumer goods. There are some factories that continue to manufacture high end goods for a specific market, like expensive German colored pencils, but those are few and far between. Consumer goods have razor thin margins.

And, frankly, the U.S. can’t compete on a cost basis because of wages. Mexicans can grow corn cheaper and West Africans can grow cotton cheaper. The only reasons those still get grown in the United States is thanks to heavy subsidies.

Over in Singapore, they’ve never cared about full employments, so they only make high priced goods, like hard drives. They export a lot of stuff. The Netherlands is one of the leading agricultural exporters in the world, and a lot of that is flowers, where they effectively corner the world market.

Meanwhile, the economy in the United States is largely based on financial systems, which pays better than any other form of work.

Wife Said “My Body My Rules, Don’t Touch Me” So I Said “My Money, My Rules, Don’t Ask Me …

Interesting story.

How did families adapt to the Great Depression?

The Good News is at least we are not fighting the Chinese. The casualties will be even 10x higher than Iran. The Chinese is no joke when it comes to military technology. Even their base bleed 155mm Artillery have longer reach than ours. They can push us back to the 2nd and 1st island chain and making the USN never land on their mainland. The Chinese Anti Ship and Anti Air are better than Iranian and Russian. The China is too powerful to even poke it. 
 
I think we should give up Taiwan.

Posted by: KillerDoll | Mar 8 2026 6:46 utc | 554

By the time you all read this, most people will believe that the “recession” is pretty serious. But guys, it’s a full on depression.

I hope you all will be able to adapt and cope because its gonna be a long and deep one.

To survive we need to realize and adapt to the ways our grandparents had during their depression. They grew their own food, stopped all the fluff (like cars, and only used radios and lights on occasion.). For many in the USA its gonna be a nasty change. one that many will not be able to adapt to.

But guys, I believe in you all. You will make it.

Some thoughts…

How did families adapt to the Great Depression?

I can only tell the story of my parents. Both were born dirt poor the children of immigrants and grew up during the Depression. My father was an orphan and lived along with his three brothers and sister with an aunt. My mother lived with her sister and mother. Her father died 1 month after she was born in 1926 of tuberculosis.

My father’s aunt did not speak English and was disabled. They lived in a cold water flat on the third floor of a predominantly Italian immigrant neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side. They received help from the Catholic Church in order to survive and later received help from the federal government (the administration of FDR). They were both staunch Democrats ever since.

My mother’s mother got small odd jobs during the Depression (usually sewing) in order to put food on the table but even so many times she could not pay the rent and so they were evicted on more than one occasion. She was constantly on the move. Many times her mother could not pay the heating bill and so they spent winters in the cold. They also received help from the government in order to survive. Many of her meals consisted of beans or potato stew.

My father along with his brothers hunted rabbits along the railroad tracks in order to put some meat in their diet. They existed mostly on spaghetti (without meat) or polenta (corn meal mush). He had holes in his shoes and wore hand-me-down clothes from his brothers. They shared a bathroom with four other families. It was not until WWII started (1941) that my father received a new pair of shoes (from the Navy) and ate his first good meal in boot camp.

The war also helped my mother as she got a job in a war plant making walkie-talkies for the army. It was the war that helped many people get out of the Depression.

After the war my father went to barber college on the G.I. Bill and became a barber. He cut hair for the next 47 years. My mother met my father at a victory party after the war. My father was invited by a friend from the Navy and the rest, as they say, is history.

Unexploded Iran missile goes off in Tel Aviv moment after IDF arrives – Nobody expected it – OPTM

Iranian “sleeper bombs”?

https://youtu.be/dcARpYAsH5A

Statement from the Chief Rabbi of Iran:

Hakham Dr. Y. Hamami Lalezar
Nasi of the Central Bet-Din of Tehran, Iran, The Chief Rabbi of Iran

“In the name of the God, we shall act and succeed”

“Villains do not know and do not understand; they walk in darkness.”
– Psalms 82:5

“With pride, I offer condolences for the martyrdom of the wise leader, Imam Khamenei (may he rest in peace), to his esteemed household, the noble people of Iran, and all freedom seekers around the world. Although his loss is a great and irreparable tragedy for the Iranian nation, the justice seeking people of Iran indeed will continue to follow his path and guidance, offering their blood in sacrifice. With steadfastness and brave defense, they will bring all enemies to their knees.

Once again, criminal America and the Zionist regime, through a cowardly and dishonorable attack, have sunk deeper into the mire of collapse. Violating all international laws, they committed a heinous crime during negotiations. This behavior is condemned by all free nations and will undoubtedly receive a decisive and regret-inducing response from the armed forces of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

Wishing victory for the Iranian nation and the establishment of peace and tranquility in the world.

With respectful regards,
Hakham Dr. Younes Hamami Lalezar
Religious Leader of Iranian Jewish People.”

Sir Whiskerton and the Universal Translator: A Tale of Shakespearean Raccoons, Misunderstood Clucks, and a Very Confused Farmer

Ah, dear reader, prepare thyself for a tale most wondrous (and slightly ridiculous)! Today’s adventure begins with Chef Remy LeRaccoon, whose latest invention promised true communication between species—but delivered only iambic pentameter and existential poultry. What followed was a symphony of faux-Elizabethan drama, a farmer’s descent into linguistic madness, and a moral so pure even the scarecrow wept. So, don thine finest ruffled collar and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Universal Translator.

Act I: A Most Noble (But Terrible) Invention

Chef Remy, clad in a lab coat made of napkins, unveiled his masterpiece: “Le Chapeau de Compréhension Universelle!”

“Behold!” he proclaimed, waving a spaghetti-stirrer like a scepter. “Zis hat shall bridge ze gap betwixt man and beast! No more shall ‘moo’ and ‘quack’ divide us!”

Sir Whiskerton, ever the pragmatist, eyed the hat (which was, notably, a colander with a feather glued to it). “And how, pray tell, does it work?”

“Science!” Remy declared, then admitted, “Also, I may have used ze ‘Shakespeare’ setting on ze voice box by accident.”

Act II: The Farm Descends Into Bardmania

One by one, the animals donned the hat—and chaos ensued:

Doris the Hen, now a tragic heroine:
“To cluck or not to cluck—that is the question!
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pecks and scorns of outrageous roosters…”
Ferdinand the Duck, suddenly Hamlet’s melancholy cousin:
“O, what a quackèd rogue am I!
My voice, once fair, now cracks like pond ice!”
The Farmer, listening to his cows debate existentialism:
“Methinks yon pasture is more bovine than most,
Yet dost it nourish mine soul as it doth mine belly?”
“…Are they okay?” the farmer whispered, edging away.

Even Rufus the Dog howled sonnets:
“O moon, thou art more lovely than a squirrel’s stash!
Yet less tasty! Verily! Arooo!”

Act III: The Heart of the Matter

As the farm spiraled into poetic anarchy, Sir Whiskerton cornered Remy.

“Fix this,” he hissed, gesturing to Porkchop the Pig, who was soliloquizing about mud like it was Macbeth.

Remy sighed, adjusting his colander. “Zis is not ze ratatouille moment I imagined.”

But then—Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow ambled over, hatless, and nuzzled the farmer’s hand. No words. Just a soft “moo” and a knowing glance.

“Oh,” said the farmer, blinking. “I… think I get it now.”

The Moral of the Story

With the hat discarded (and repurposed as a spaghetti strainer, its true calling), the farm returned to normal—mostly. Though Doris still occasionally muttered about “the slings and arrows of outrageous chicken feed.”

Moral: Understanding comes from the heart, not gadgets (or raccoons with a flair for drama).

Post-Credit Scene

Chef Remy’s next invention: “Le Microphone de Truth,” which just makes everyone shout in ALL CAPS. The scarecrow files a noise complaint.

Best Lines:

“Forsooth, my feed is most unsavory!” – Doris, critiquing breakfast
“O, that this too, too solid cheese would melt!” – Porkchop, staring at the fridge
“I regret everything.” – Sir Whiskerton, watching a goose recite Romeo and Juliet to a fencepost

Starring:

Chef Remy (Mad Scientist of Syntax)
The Farmer (Man of Fewer Words Than Expected)
Sir Whiskerton (Long-Suffering Translator of Nonsense)
Doris (Poultry of Infinite Sorrow)

Key Jokes:

The hat’s “French mode” just adds “hon hon hon” to every sentence.
Gnomeo whispers “Et tu, Brute?” to a garden trowel.
Bingo the Dog howls “ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE”… then falls asleep mid-line.

P.S.

Remember: If thine raccoon giveth thee a gadget, check the settings first.
The End.

Bonus Teaching Notes:

Activity Idea: Have students invent their own “animal language” using comparatives!
Example: “More clucky, less quacky” = “I prefer chickens over ducks.”
Grammar Spotlight: Highlight all -eth verbs (dost, hath, etc.) for a fun Shakespearean twist.
Emotion Wheel: Assign feelings to the animals’ monologues (e.g., Doris = outraged, Bessie = peaceful, Remy = regretful).

Keep inspiring those young minds—thou art the real “Sir Whiskerton” of the classroom! 😸

Is there something like ambushes on helicopters in infantry tactics? For example, when they land?

In the first large scale deployment of helicopters in Vietnam, the VC and the NVA quickly learned that helicopters were very vulnerable to ground fire. Despite the ruggedness of the Huey helicopter (the primary helicopter in Vietnam), they could easily be shot down when low and slow (i.e. landing).

One favorite Vietnamese tactic was to put heavy machine guns on hills overlooking possible LZ sites. Then they would “let” themselves be seen in the valley below. When our troop helicopters would land troops to engage the enemy, the MG’s would open up, actually firing down on the landing helicopter. Often the Vietnamese were in the mouth of a tunnel, so when helicopter gunships would counter-attack, they would withdraw underground.

When the Soviets engaged the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan, they used attack helicopters, including the Mi-24 Hind, a very heavily armored gunship.

An Afghan is reputed to have said, “We do not fear the Soviets, but we fear their helicopters.” However, the US supplied the Afghan rebels with FIM-92 Stinger infrared guided missiles, which were very effective.

The Afghans would employ several different ambushes against the Soviet helicopters. One was when their units were fighting in the valley, and when Soviet helicopters came to support the Soviet forces engaged, they would utilize the mountains (same as in Vietnam) to shoot down at the helicopters, where it was hard for the helo to see the incoming missile, hard to evade it, and the missile has a clear view of those hot engine exhausts. (You can see them in the picture above – the bare metal pipes sticking out of the top of the helicopter behind the main rotor.)

The US would also supply the Afghans with smoke rockets, that would fool the Soviets into thinking a missile had been fired at them. (Helicopter pilots have to honor the threat.) The Afghans would take the smoke rockets, fire them from one side of a valley, and when the helicopter would attack the site where the smoke had come from, another missile team would fire a real Stinger at the helicopter from behind. Again, hard to see, hard to evade, and the missile sensor is looking right at the exhaust.

China Leaked Its Nuclear Submarine Secrets, Here’s Why

What happens to a person who is put in prison when they are 18 and released at 40? How do they reintegrate into society?

Im 41 years old and spent about 12 years in and out of prison and was heavily addicted to opiates. I was offered a program in prison that cut 10 days off your sentence for every college course completed. I was always pretty intelligent (many people said I was the smartest dumb ass they knew) and naturally I started tutoring the other men who were struggling with their classes. Fast forward to now, I have two AA degrees and am currently attending Berkeley and have been sober for years. To answer the posed question, I think higher education or trade school being offered to people like me is a complete game changer. I was released with just 200 dollars and no where to go but, with FAFSA and grants and I was able to buy a very cheap car and get a job waiting tables while attending community college full-time. The recidivism rate is so embarrassingly high in California, and people who get a college degree have a less than 1 percent chance of going back. I hope to pay it back by teaching college courses in prison like the professors did for me and help inmates realize that there is another way.

Apple Raisin Stuffed Chicken Breasts

Prep: 20 min | Cook: 25 min | Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

2 cups College Inn® Chicken Broth 99% Fat Free
1/3 cup butter
1 cup herb-seasoned stuffing mix
1/3 cup apples chopped
1/4 cup raisins seedless
4 boneless, skinless chicken breast
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon tarragon leaf

Instructions

In a saucepan, over medium high heat, heat 1/3 cup chicken broth and 2 tablespoons butter until butter melts.
Stir in stuffing mix, apple and raisins.
With meat mallet or rolling pin, flatten chicken breasts to about 1/4 inch.
Place 1/4 of stuffing mixture on each breast half; roll, enclosing stuffing.
Secure with wooden picks.
In skillet, over medium-high heat, melt remaining butter.
Brown chicken on all sides; remove.
Blend flour and tarragon into butter in skillet.
Gradually add remaining broth, stirring constantly until mixture thickens and boils.
Return chicken to skillet; reduce heat.
Cover; simmer 20 minutes or until chicken is cooked through.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 520 Total Fat: 22g Cholesterol: 131mg Sodium: 1327mg Total Carbohydrates: 41g Protein: 39g

Why has Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang made his second visit to Beijing in three months? What messages does he convey during this visit?

Jensen Huang, Nvidia’s big boss, just made his second trip to Beijing in three months.

Why?

It’s an Asian thing—when stuff goes south, the top dog shows up in person to smooth things over.

It’s like the ultimate sign of respect, their way of saying, “It’s not personal, it’s business.”

Tim Cook and Elon Musk did the same, flying to China to keep things chill.

Tim after the manufacturing pivot to India & Elon , after the virtual cut off of Chinese EVs from the American market through a 100 per cent tariff

—

Jensen’s no dummy.

He sees China innovating like crazy, and any hint of disrespect could cut Nvidia off from a massive market and the raw materials they need from China to keep Taiwan’s chip factories humming

Unlike some folks who don’t get it, Jensen knows business is business, but respect is non-negotiable. The Chinese, being sharp, see his visit as a nod to their pride and won’t pin American restrictions on him personally.

On the practical side, Nvidia’s probably pitching a new H10 chip, a tweaked version of the H20, which China will likely snap up for billions.

Meanwhile, they’re quietly greenlighting Taiwanese and British importers to funnel more H20 chips into China through the grey market

Sneaky, but smart.

Like I said Business is Business at the end of the day and 5.5 Billion Dollars is money that cannot be written off

—

Back in the day, Nvidia’s tech was light-years ahead.

But here’s the kicker:

Today without crippling tech restrictions holding them back,

China could out-innovate Nvidia.

The Chinese know it, and Jensen’s quick visit—right after Trump’s new chip bans—shows he gets it too.

If he thought China was just begging for Nvidia’s scraps, he wouldn’t be hustling to Beijing so fast. It’s a power move to keep the partnership tight while China’s ready to flex its own tech muscle.

The White Toblerones

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Shuvayon Mukherjee

‘Why’d you turn off the news? Do you want to talk about something?’ says Anabela, a restless finger tapping against her coffee cup, a tremor contorting the liquid. Her tone is casual, as if we’re going to delve into our usual lighthearted discussions, or laugh about our alien speculations from yesterday. But I know her tells. Her back is unnaturally stiff against the office chair and she won’t meet my eyes. Her gaze flickers around the office instead.Before responding, I glance around to make sure we’re alone, or maybe to delay the conversation as long as I can. There’s no-one in the waiting room this late in the afternoon. I spy a fresh stain on the carpet where a sick toddler threw up this morning, just before the doctor sent them to the ER. The stain is oddly symmetrical, like an inkblot my psychologist showed me once. I realise I’m feeling queasy myself.‘Okay, here it is,’ I exhale, rubbing my hands on my pants to get the sweat off. In summer we crack the windows open to keep the temperature bearable, and through them leaks the hum of traffic, the beeping of a pedestrian crossing, faraway sirens. Outside the world seems alive, but here in reception we might as well be stuck in time. The only movement is Ana’s finger and the Windows screensaver floating lazily across the computer screen behind her. I sigh again. ‘I’m leaving. I’ve asked to be relocated, and today’s my last day here. They’re moving me to the clinic across town.’Ana’s finger stops abruptly, her knuckles growing white around the cup. She raises it to her mouth, takes a long sip with her eyes closed, and swallows. I fight down a pang of guilt and watch her, distracted by the elegant curve of her neck, the stray waves of dark hair falling across her cheek, the poise she shows despite the pain. When her eyes open again, there’s a hint of moisture in them.Just as she starts to speak, a gust of hot wind rushes into the building, followed by the rolling squeak of the automatic double doors, and the cacophony outside suddenly intensifies, drowning out our conversation. The two of us whirl back to face our computers; she resumes typing, if a bit more forcefully than before, and I turn my attention to the man on crutches limping up to the counter. He wears a wide-eyed expression of excitement.‘Name, sir?’ I inquire.‘Edward Bunton,’ he replies, his rapid breaths condensing on the glass screen between us. ‘Appointment with Dr Jenkins.’‘Bunton…’ I murmur, clicking through my computer.‘You hear the news, son?’I glance up at him. ‘About the aliens? Yes, sir.’‘Extraordinary, isn’t it?’ he gushes. ‘I knew it. I knew they were real.’‘Mhmm.’ My mouse clicks faster.‘You must’ve seen Star Wars, eh? Star Trek? ET? Amazing that we can come up with all this tosh and in truth they wouldn’t look out of place in a bloody zoo. Must be chilly on their planet with all that fur, eh?’‘Dr Jenkins, you said?’ I interrupt.‘Er, yes. For three-thirty. You know, they’re saying they’ve got technology that’ll put us hundreds of years into the future. Help us make spaceships, even. Faster than light! Unbelievable.’I look at him again. His face is beet red with elation.‘You can go in now,’ I direct him.

He hesitates. ‘My appointment’s in fifteen minutes. Bit early, isn’t it?’

I point down the hallway. ‘First door on your left.’

Now looking confused, he nods to me and goes on his laboured way. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I lean over to Ana and, unwilling to touch her, I put a hand on the back of her chair. She pauses her furious typing and looks at me with dried tears etched into her cheeks.

‘Why?’ she chokes out. Another question she already knows the answer to.

Seeing her upset wipes my mind clean of all the words I’d rehearsed over and over again in the shower and in front of the mirror. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I bow my head, unable to meet her gaze.

‘Crosswords,’ I mumble. ‘Too many crosswords.’

Confusion flickers across her features. ‘Huh?’

I clear my throat. ‘Crosswords. How many have we solved together since last year? Hundreds? I love doing them with you.’

Our eyes meet again, and she’s looking at me intently, like there’s something she’s searching for. She doesn’t say anything, so I ramble on.

‘And before I met you, I’d never tried anything Mediterranean before. That salad your mom makes, what’s it called? Tabbouleh? I could eat it for breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, even whatever you call that meal we had at 2am during that night shift.’

‘Din-fast,’ she smiles. My heart skips a beat.

‘I loved our din-fast. And I love the way you don’t take smack from anyone. How many rude visitors did you tell off when I didn’t have the guts to do it?’

‘I told you, you shouldn’t let them just walk all over you.’

I smile back. ‘When you’re around, I don’t need to worry. And as much as I hate this place,’ I gesture to the office at large, ‘I love it too, because it’s our space. I feel safe here. You make me feel safe. And you might be the only person on the planet who thinks I’m funny.’

Her tears take on a different quality. ‘Toby, are you saying – ’

The sound of a door creaking open cuts her off. The stooped form of Dr Jenkins emerges from his office, one hand clutching his stethoscope, the other running a hand through his wild bone-white hair. By the time he reaches reception we’re already back at our computers looking as busy as possible, as if we can somehow shield ourselves from the moment.

‘Have you two seen the news?’ he exclaims.

I glance at the TV on the wall in the waiting room. I’d turned it off just before telling Ana I wanted to talk to her; before that, it had been blaring CNN’s latest on the alien contact.

‘It was getting distracting.’

‘Nonsense,’ he scoffs. ‘Something big has happened. You’ll want to see this.’

He grabs the remote and flips the TV back to life. A reporter is standing in front of the White House, gesturing at some peculiar triangular buildings on the usually pristine green lawn.

The aliens have arrayed their craft in front of the White House in a startling display of power, the reporter says, but so far it appears their intentions are benevolent. Predictably, social media has gone into a frenzy, quickly dubbing the triangular spacecraft “White Toblerones”.

The news report momentarily captures my attention, a brief distraction, the words barely registering in my mind. I steal a glance at Ana from the corner of my eye; her profile is bathed in the soft glow of the office lights. She’s composed now, but her eyes still shimmer with unshed tears.

‘Toblerones? Can’t see the resemblance myself,’ Dr Jenkins grunts.

‘Don’t you have a patient waiting?’ I ask him. Ana loves Toblerones. Last month, after she had a particularly rough day, I surprised her with one of the giant ones they only sell at certain confectionery stores. I recall the way she squealed with pure delight, suppressing a smile at the memory.

Dr Jenkins waves a nonchalant hand at me, his attention fixed on the screen.

‘Edward can wait,’ he says. ‘His appointment hasn’t started yet, anyway.’

The news report drones on for another fifteen minutes, during which I try and fail to avoid stealing glances at her. I click through my computer aimlessly as a whirlwind of emotions tugs me in different directions. Self-reproach slides through my gut like a parasite. My mind chatters incessantly, a constant stream of doubts about the ill-timed confession, at once regretful and relieved.

It took me months to realise and then admit to myself how I felt. Anabela is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before: a firebrand, in the vein of her Latin mother, a romantic, a thinker, an obsessive, a quandary. She hasn’t shown me a red flag yet, but even if she did, I’d charge at it faster than a Spanish bull.

There’s just one problem.

‘How is Lucy, Tobias?’ Dr Jenkins asks, suddenly standing in front of my counter, the TV muted.

‘She’s great, thank you,’ I stammer back. ‘She was just promoted to partner at her law firm. I’m so proud of her.’

He nods. ‘I’m not surprised. She’s extraordinary, that one.’ He looks at Ana. ‘And how is your mother, Anabela?’

She turns around, lashes glistening. ‘Very well, Dr Jenkins. Sounds like the aliens are supplying us with all sorts of medical tech. You and her might both be out of a job soon.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, Tobias, we will miss you here. Some more than others, perhaps.’ His eyes dart between us as he stalks back into his office.

Once we’re sure he’s gone, we exchange another meaningful glance. Heart pounding, my breath catches in my throat, and I have to force the words out.

‘I’ve realised there are some things I can’t avoid anymore,’ I say softly. ‘Even if they complicate everything.’

A dozen expressions dance across her face, each more anguished than the last. At last she settles on a tearful smile. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment, her eyes searching mine.

‘Being friends would be easier than… ’ she trails off.

I feel a warm flush in my cheeks. ‘Sorry.’

‘No,’ she murmurs, her voice carrying a hint of humour. Her chest rises with a deep, steadying breath. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s complicated, and I’ve tried to push it away, but it’s the truth. I feel the same way.’

My animal brain almost takes control of me then. It warms my cheeks, quickens my pulse, screeches that this is when I’m supposed to kiss the girl. But my rational brain wins. It hurts, and part of me doesn’t want to, but I say it in a whisper.

‘And that’s why I have to leave.’

We share a moment of silent understanding, and she inclines her head, a sad smile on her lips. By the time Edward Bunton emerges from Dr Jenkins’ office, we’re both busy at our desks. I’m packing up my stationery, my spare lunch containers from Ana’s mom, my book of crossword puzzles. She deals with Bunton, shutting down his awkward attempts at conversation about the White Toblerones and ushering him out the door with a minimum of fuss.

I look around the office as I leave, a space that holds so many memories, and the lump in my throat returns. We do our customary walk together back to our cars. We stop at hers first, the blue Mazda Demio with a chipped wing mirror. The earlier heat hasn’t fully faded but somehow my limbs and hands are shivering.

She looks up at me uncertainly. ‘You finally told her about me, didn’t you?’

‘Before this, I’d only been in love once.’ Reaching into my pocket, I slip my wedding ring back on. It’s cool, but it slides back into the depression on my finger with comfort, like it never left. ‘And now it’s twice. But I made a commitment to Lucy, and I have to honor that.’

She studies the ring, then shakes her head. ‘You were an idiot for taking it off in the first place.’

‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘No, you weren’t.’

‘Somehow, it made me feel less guilty for feeling the way I do about you.’

‘Sometimes I wonder if your brain is made of tabbouleh,’ she retorts. We share a chuckle.

‘I don’t know Lucy,’ she continues, ‘but I can’t do this to her. From everything you’ve told me, the way you talk about her, the way you love each other. She doesn’t deserve this.’

She takes a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know if it’s possible to love two people at once. Especially with your whole heart. So it’s okay. I understand. Sometimes you meet the right person,’ her voice breaks, ‘but someone else got there first. That’s life.’

‘And that’s why we can’t talk for now.’

‘No,’ she corrects me, ‘that’s why we can’t talk ever again.’

The words make a physical pain in my chest. I always imagined heartbreak would feel like a tearing sensation, or the stab of a dagger, or that it would make me cry out in anguish. Instead it’s a dull ache between my ribs, like someone pulled the fibres of my myocardium and twisted them into knots. At the same time my conscience is beating on the inside of my skull, demanding why this is so difficult when it shouldn’t be. Should it?

We let the silence stretch for a time, unwilling to let the moment end. Then a piercing sound from above makes us both jump and whirl around. A dark triangle emerges from the distance, gradually looming larger, until it takes shape as one of the White Toblerones streaking past at incredible speed. It passes just above us, and the reflection from the otherworldly metal is almost as bright as the sun itself, beautiful and incomprehensible. A few blinks later and it’s a speck in the distance.

We turn back to each other, eyebrows raised.

‘I thought they’d be… more,’ I admit, my voice raw and unsteady. Squinting into the distance, I convince myself I can still see a dot on the fiery horizon. ‘Something more than a bus-sized triangle.’

Ana sniffs. ‘That’s the problem.’

We share one last glance of shared understanding that needs no words. She tilts her head and gives me that slightly wider smile that shows all of her teeth, wrinkling up her nose. The evening sun lights her skin golden, a longing wind caresses her hair, and I know she’ll never look at me that way again.

How did families cope with no money during The Great Depression? Did they still have food on their tables?

Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Typically, if the Dust Bowl hadn’t consumed all your crops, you could barter them for household goods and eat what you couldn’t trade for seed, manure, gasoline, tires, parts, etc., for the next season. The problem with the droughts and the overfarming of Western Kansas, Western Nebraska, Eastern Colorado, the Texas and Oklahoma panhandle, etc., is that it took 50 years to cause the thin layer of top soil to blow away at the first real drought since circa 1880, which coincidentally happened in the early 1930s. Furthermore, there was already a farm Depression that began in the mid-1920s. Combine that with lack of capital in extreme deflation of currency and market manipulation by Wall Street, and you get conditions like what Americans experienced in the 1930s.

Americans Are Giving Up on The Dollar Tree Because of Insane Price Increases

China intends to produce 1,000 J-20 fighters. How is the United States going to compete with this with F-22s of which they have only 100 and which are already 20 years old?

Competition? You can’t imagine how much use these 100 old 20-year-old aircraft can still have. They need a constant-temperature hangar to protect their stealth materials. According to publicly available data from the US military in 2025, the operating cost of an F-22 is as high as $85,325 per hour. Every 400 hours of flight requires a complete repaint of the stealth coating, with a single cost exceeding $5 million. The Pratt & Whitney F119 engine costs $18 million per unit, and needs to be replaced every 500 hours, with maintenance costs starting from tens of millions of dollars. The vector nozzles require 20 hours of maintenance for every 1 hour of operation, and the maintenance complexity is extremely high.

Don’t even talk about going to war. The US military doesn’t even have sufficient budget to maintain these aircraft for normal training. In 2024, due to budget constraints, the US military plans to retire 32 of the earlier F-22s and redirect resources to the F-35.

Don’t even talk about going to war. The US military doesn’t even have enough budget to keep these aircraft in normal training. In 2024, due to insufficient funds, the US military plans to retire 32 of the early F-22s and redirect resources to the F-35.

The combat radius of the J-20 is 2.6 times that of the F-22, and its maintenance cost is only one-third of that of the F-22. The missiles and electronic warfare systems of the J-20 are far superior to those of the F-22. Moreover, the J-20 is constantly being upgraded. For example, the J-20s have dual-seat configurations, allowing the second pilot to simultaneously command 6 unmanned aircraft to work collaboratively.

To tell you the truth, 10 J-20S can down 100 F-22s with zero losses.

Of course, the F22 might never get the chance to see the J20. After all, maintenance costs are too high, and one aircraft is used before another is deployed. If a real war breaks out, the F22s stationed in those bases in Japan won’t even be able to take off. All the runways will have been completely destroyed by China’s missiles.

Pictures

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What is the secret of China’s progress?

Nothing special at all

From 1962–1966, all classes in China were converged and merged into two classes

A. The State

B. The People

This ensures that any reform implemented benefits as many people as possible while any serious blow to the economy is mitigated by being absorbed across a wide section of the economy

Example

In India, we see Ambani and Adani as Billionaires, as people who are ABOVE the rest of the Citizens and who DESERVE A PRIVILEGED STATUS due to their wealth and status

In China, Ren Zhengfei is seen as someone with a RESPONSIBILITY to the State and People of China who holds esteem and respect and MUST DELIVER ON THIS RESPECT

Every progress Huawei makes is regarded as the PEOPLE’S DUE for placing their faith and respect in Zhengfei.

If he doesn’t deliver, HE IS REGARDED AS HAVING FAILED THE PEOPLE and loses face

Nobody gives a damn that he is a billionaire

Chinese DETEST those things in most provinces

In India we regard Modi as a Ruler despite the so called Democracy tag

We hold politicians above us, as someone who DESERVE PRIVILEGES due to the POWER they hold

We are in awe of MPs and MLAs and Ministers

In China, the CPC is not regarded as RULERS

They are seen as holding a RESPONSIBILITY to the PEOPLE OF CHINA in taking the civilization forward

Like the HEAD OF A FAMILY

Children never question their parents as long as the home runs smoothly and their lives are going fine

It’s the fathers job to handle the finances and keep the home running

However if the father doesn’t do his job, he will be criticized and the Chinese openly do so

Its the Civilization mindset

When you regard yourself as part of a larger cause, a larger civilization

The Chinese do so

The Russians do so

The Iranians do so

The Jews do so (Negatively)

Because of Mao, and because it has only two classes, China is able to implement things fast and make most of the Civilization mindset

Others, because they have their own class systems , are unable to implement things as effectively

Iranians for instance have various classes :-

Tehrani Class – Tehran dwellers who regard themselves a cut above the rest , making up the Political Elite
Theocracy class – Religious Class
IRGC Class – Army / Military Class
The Westernized Class – People with Family in America who wear Jeans and love BMWs known as PERSIANS
The Citizen class

This prevents the civilization mindset from forming a smooth path and plan over years

In summary China had the perfect combo of Civilization & Mao to ensure they had the perfect society to implement Deng Xiaopings reforms

And if you say so many died

That’s just cleaning up the dirt in my opinion

Why can’t big retailers like Walmart and Target just switch to American-made products when tariffs hit imported goods?

Sure, let’s look at that.

Product #1: The banana.

Bananas are the most consumed fruit in the United States.

And do you know how many bananas are produced in the United States?

Very, very few. Mostly in Hawai’i. And they still need to import to meet their own demand.

Product #2: Rubber. It is literally impossible for modern society to exist without rubber. And again, zero rubber is produced in the United States. Oh, rubber products are produced within the United States. But not the raw material. It must be imported, because the rubber tree cannot be grown anywhere in the United States. And when the raw material is imported, it is subject to tariffs.

Without rubber, you can say goodbye to refrigerators, washing machines…and gas stoves. Wasn’t the gas stove something that MAGA was concerned about?

Product #3: Electronics. Modern screens, batteries and anything with an electric motor are manufactured using rare earth elements that, plain and simply, do not exist in the United States in usable amounts.

It doesn’t matter if the device itself was assembled in the United States; the tariffs will apply to the components coming across the border. So no cell phones, no laptops, no tablets, no televisions, no internet.

So if Target and Walmart switch only to products made in the US, you can kiss all of that goodbye.

Elvis Has Left the Planet

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

John K Adams

Dean staggered into the kitchen rubbing his bleary eyes.“Coffee. Gotta have coffee. My kingdom for a cup!”His kids, Lucy and Rex, looking at the morning paper, barely reacted. They’d heard it many times. Rex focused on the sports section. Lucy commandeered the calendar page.“Where’s your mother?” He began making coffee.Monica, still in her robe and slippers, stood at the kitchen door. “Here. What a night! Dogs barking. Lights flashing…” Dean rolled his eyes. “You too?”“Like the good old days, huh?”She smiled wanly. “Ready for school, kids?”They mumbled an affirmative. Dean read over Lucy’s shoulder.“Damn! I wanted tickets…”Monica looked at him. “To?”“Taylor Swift’s show sold out…”“Never, never gonna…”“How many people…” Dean grabbed the front page. “Oh my god! Look! Aliens have landed!”Rex ran to look. “Wow! Space aliens, Dad!”Monica shuffled up behind him. “Where?”Dean read, “Just outside Bakersfield! Close!” They locked eyes. “Easy drive.”Monica said, “You mean…?”

Lucy said, “Could we?”

Rex yelled, “Yay!” He began dancing. “Goin’ to see the aliens!”

“What about school?”

“So, they miss a day. Once in a lifetime… Remembered forever.”

“We’ll write a note. Grab your stuff. Oh, I’m a mess!” Monica ran out.

Dean called in sick from work. “RV’s gassed up… Traveling in style!”

“Don’t forget sunscreen!”

Lucy changed into a polka-dot party dress and found favorite lipstick. Rex raced around making sci-fi noises.

“All stocked up. Let’s hit it!”

The kids ran to the RV.

Monica stopped Dean and did a twirl. “How do I look?”

“Out of this world!” They laughed.

Dean pulled onto the highway. Traffic was light.

Lucy asked, “Think they’re friendly, Dad?”

“Of course. We’d know by now if they weren’t.”

“Pow! Pow!” Rex aimed his finger at his sister.

She pushed his hand away. “Cut it out, Rex. Fingers don’t shoot lasers.”

“Mine does.”

“Then be careful picking your nose…”

Traffic bunched up about twenty miles out. Roadside souvenir stands sold t-shirts and google-eye glasses. A sign touted ‘extra-terressed kettle corn,’ and toys. Traffic crawled by a guy selling tin foil hats from the back of his truck. Dean thought, ‘What a geek.’

“Dad! Can I get one of those?”

“There’ll be plenty of stuff to buy, Rex. You won’t wear that.”

“But I will. Promise. They’re cool. I always wanted one.”

Dean pulled over and found parking. A family walked by eating ‘alien’ funnel cakes.

“Anyone hungry?”

Monica and Lucy declined. Rex wanted everything and now.

“Lucy, sure you don’t want a hat?”

“No thanks. Hate hat hair…”

They perused the t-shirt selection at another stand. Lucy held some up for her mother’s opinion.

“‘Take me to your breeder,’ is boxy. ‘I lean alien’ is nice. You like the color?”

“Chartreuse clashes with everything I have.”

They piled back onto the RV and edged into the slow, steady traffic. A billboard featured pictures of classic movie aliens. It advertised the theme park that hadn’t existed 48 hours before.

Lucy looked from her phone. “I just googled,” she said. “They’ve landed all around the world. Say they come in peace.”

“Good to know,” said Monica.

“But what do they want?” asked Dean.

Lucy said, “It says the rocket came from the planet ‘Bop.’”

“Never heard of it.” Monica laughed.

“Good beat. Easy to dance to,” Dean added.

Rex asked Lucy “What are they talking about?” She shrugged.

The traffic began to move as it split into streams for parking.

The giant rocket loomed in the distance.

Rex could only say, “Wow!”

The family found parking and joined the crowd migrating toward the rocket. A ramp came into view. A low stage stood at its base. People gathered as if for a show.

The crowd cheered as a figure dressed in white began descending the ramp. It raised his arms in greeting. A glittering white cape wafted behind him.

Dean stopped. “Wait, what? Did I make a wrong turn and end up in Vegas?”

Lucy said, “Is that…?”

“It looks like…”

Monica shouted. “It’s Elvis! He’s so dreamy.”

Rex said, “That’s not Elvis. He’s fake.”

Lucy bit her knuckle and said, “But he’s still dreamy.”

Cell phones began pinging. Lucy checked hers.

“They’re inviting earthlings to planet Bop.” She summarized. “When they left Bop, Elvis was in style here. Due to the vast distance traveled, their fashion trends lagged.”

Her phone pinged several more times.

She said, “China rejected this invitation. They say Elvis is an American propaganda tool.”

Monica said, “All I know, is he’s dreamy.”

Rex and Dean shrugged at each other.

Lucy said, “They’re desperate to repopulate their planet. Everyone looks like Elvis. They have no females. Everyone’s invited. A good time will be had by all.”

The women surged forward and lined up at the ramp’s base.

As if sleep walking, Lucy joined the line. Monica looked at Dean.

He said, “You must be joking.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. You can’t argue with dreamy.” She took Lucy’s hand and looked back at him.

He nodded. “I understand. Go…”

Monica wiped a tear from her eye and turned away. She and Lucy jumped up and waved to the Elvis alien.

Dean called out. “I’ll miss you…”

“What are Mom and Lucy thinking, Dad?”

Dean watched them. “Good question. You’re a smart kid. I don’t get it.”

“They look happy.”

“I hope so.”

The crowd surged to safety at the sight of another spaceship approaching. Shaped like a saucer, it landed a hundred yards from the rocket. The updraft made the long flaps around its perimeter flutter and fly up.

It settled. A portal opened and a ramp emerged.

A voice like honey announced, “Greetings! We come from the planet ‘Hubba.’”

An alien emerged and walked gracefully down the ramp. Its white dress moved hypnotically with every step. The crowd of men swayed as the alien descended with an alluring smile.

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “Marilyn…”

“Wow! She’s prettier than Mom!”

“Shhh!”

From the line of women, Lucy said, “That’s not Marilyn.”

Rex pulled at Dean’s sleeve. “Who’s Marilyn?”

The men silently lined up to board the saucer. Thousands of people stood in two lines. No one spoke.

Throughout the crowd, I-phones pinged. People broke from the lines and walked to their cars.

Dean called out. “Lucy! What’s going on?”

She held up her phone. “Look, Dad… Taylor Swift tickets!”

“Unbelievable!” He shouted, “Use the app, Lucy. Use the app! Did you get the tickets?”

She tapped her phone and, grinning, nodded.

Dean pumped the air. “Yes!” He waved at Monica and Lucy. “Let’s go!”

They broke free from the crowd and ran to the RV.

The alien Elvis and Marilyn watched as the lines dissolved. Turning, they saw each other. Each stepped from their stages and shimmied toward each other in a silent dance.

Dean’s family boarded the RV. He idled forward as cars approached the exit.

He looked at Monica sitting in the seat beside him and reached out.

“I love you…”

She took his hand and smiled. “I love you too…”

Entering the highway, they rolled toward home. The souvenir stands they’d seen earlier had packed up and left.

Rex said, “Man! I didn’t even get a t-shirt!”

Dean said, “Wear your tin foil hat, kid. I paid good money for that.”

He looked at the solid line of cars leading away from the spaceships.

“Will you look at the traffic!”

Do Americans who have to live in Europe (work, family) miss Freedom?

I am an American who lived the better part of a decade in Germany.

I am back in the US now, despite what my status says.

If you have never lived outside of the US, then I can understand why you are under the delusion that the US is “free”.

In the US, the police pull you over constantly. Not so in Germany. Outside of border crossings, I almost never got pulled over.
If you are a US citizen, you are taxed by the US no matter where you live in the world. Not so in most other countries in the world, let alone Europe. Many European financial institutions refused to do business with me as a US “person”.
Many crypto institutions will also refuse to do business with you inside of the US.
In the US, you cannot enjoy a beer outside. Not a problem in Germany. In fact, many pubs have outside seating, and you can knock back as many beers you want.
In the US, prostitution is illegal in many states. Not so in Germany and may other places in Europe. Not that I go for such a thing, but I’d like to know that I can have the right to engage in consensual arrangements with other adults, even for money.
Drugs are a mixed issue in Germany and The Netherlands, but is generally legal to use. This aspect is slowly changing in the US, but then you have to content with the prohibition at the Federal level, even if some states have legalised it. Again, not my thing, but it’s nice to know that I have the right to put in my body anything I want without going to jail for it.
Guns are heavily restricted in Germany, which is a downside, big time. You can own rifles and what not, but you are not allowed to defend yourself against intruders into your home with them like you can in most places in the US.And this was less of an issue before Angela Merkel flew open the gates to low-brow migrants, who increased the crime rates in Germany by a lot.
The Nazi Salute is illegal in Germany, as is some of the things you might do online in social media. For example, some have had their homes raided just for liking the wrong thing on Facebook. Just a like of a post, not even a post they made themselves.I avoided flagging down taxis in Berlin NY-style, for fear that some might mistake that for my saluting Hitler. I never heard of someone being arrested for that, but, as they say, digression is the better part of valour.

In all, you have many more personal freedoms in Germany and elsewhere in Europe. Some of your financial freedoms are curtailed, being an American citizen, but that is not Europ’s fault. The IRS demands that you disclose all your “foreign” bank accounts as well.

I mean, what business is it of theirs what you do when not on US soil? Are we forever in financial servitude no matter where we go as Americans? Will the same also be true once we establish the Moon and Mars? Will it remain true in the distant future when we travel to other star systems?

Outside of renouncing your citizenship — as many have done — whence the freedom?

Not everything is better in Germany as I illustrated above. But when I got back to the US, I found out out of the blue that my driving privs were suspended in the State I returned to. Why? Because shortly before I left in 2014, I was pulled over for speeding somewhere in NY, and the citation I received there did not list the amount of the fine on it. Since I never lived in NY (except for Brooklyn 3 decades ago), I did not know what to do with that citation, and totally forgot all about it, already in the middle of planning my expitration to Europe.

They mailed a notice 5 years after I was in Germany to my last known address in the US. Why the delay? And then had my privs to drive suspended in my former home state. Why???

I will be fighting this in the courts here pro se. The amounts would not make sense to hire a lawyer for, but I am well versed in court procedure and know how to file motions, etc. with the best of the laywers. I already know what my defense arguments will be. And I will have to do a continuance for the court date in my home state to give me a chance to deal with the court in New York…

What a mess. And this is my “welcome home” present from my home country. I didn’t think I would be doing anything with the courts here anytime soon, as I strove to keep everything squeaky clean legal, all past citations cleared and expunged, etc.

Nope.

Sometimes I wonder if I should return to Europe. I am getting too old for these idiot fights. I just want to enjoy the rest of my days enjoying freedom, not fighting the system.

They say that “freedom is never free”. But I only heard that phrase uttered in the US, where freedom is largely non-existent on many fronts.

Give me liberty or give me death. Or better: Go where you are treated best. Fuck this dying shit.

What are the biggest reasons Canadians prefer international products over U.S. ones, and how easy is it for them to find these alternatives?

Yours is a 2-part question:

Q #1: Biggest reason Canadians prefer international products over U.S. ones:

Q #2: How easy to find alternatives?

From the perspective of finding alternatives to which we can sell our exports- super easy. For example, take Canadian raw materials and resources; China and others have stepped up and requested that we sell our oil, gas, potash, lumber, steel aluminium, rare earth minerals etc. to them instead of the U.S.

It is less easy to sell our electricity to others, so for now, all we can do is charge full market values.

As for the many U.S. food products we import to Canada, we are slowly sourcing local or EU products to replace foods from the U.S. However, many U.S. based companies, like Kraft Heinz, have plants already located in Canada which make food products here. No tariffs apply, so no changes need to be made for those products. We are still buying them. It is surprising how many foods we do not need from the U.S.

Of course, many American food products were never sold here in the first place due to excessive hormone contents and unhealthy additives that Canada’s Health and Safety guidelines prohibit.

Black Walnut Chicken Stir Fry

A divine stir-fry meal, sautéed to perfection, with the bold flavor of wild black walnuts.

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

4 boneless/skinless chicken breasts cut into bite-size pieces
1 green bell pepper, cut into 3/4 inch pieces
2 red bell peppers, cut into 3/4 inch pieces
12 green onions, sliced into 1 inch pieces
2/3 cup Fancy Large Black Walnuts
4 to 6 tablespoons cooking oil
2 teaspoons sugar
4 teaspoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 tablespoons soy sauce
4 tablespoons dry sherry
3/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
Steamed rice

Instructions

In a small bowl, mix together the sugar, cornstarch, grated ginger, and garlic.
Mix in the soy sauce and dry sherry.
Add the crushed red pepper; set mixture aside.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a wok or large skillet; cook and stir the pepper and onions for 2 minutes; remove from wok and set aside.
Cook and stir black walnuts for 1 to 2 minutes; remove and set aside.
Cook and stir chicken in remaining oil for 3 to 4 minutes, or until it turns white.
Add the soy sauce mixture to wok with the chicken and cook, stirring until thickened.
Add the vegetables and black walnuts to the skillet. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes.
Serve immediately over rice.

China fire 2 shots at Japanese warships? Japan crosses China’s red line but is crushed by technology

How did the average family survive during The Great Depression?

Although the unemployment rate was astronomically high — think 25% — it also means that many people were employed. Even if employed, the threat of layoffs and companies shutting down was a real worry. People would have traveled for work, moving in with friends or relatives in hope of getting a new job.

Here are some second hand details about a family that lived in New England,

Mother — received widow’s pension, her husband dying from injuries from WWI. Enough to get by, and the veteran’s organizations were generous at Christmastime.

Son — born about 1915, worked first for the Civilian Conservation Corps in a National Park, later got married and worked for the Works Progress Administration on construction projects. Was a welder in a shipyard in WWII. (Note: The CCC required that a portion of the pay was sent back home to the family.)

Daughter — born about 1920, dropped out of high school at age 16, worked in textile factory, then later in the food service industry.

Daughter’s future husband, worked in textile factories, moving from Massachusetts, to New Hampshire, and later to NYC, wherever the jobs were. In the Coast Guard in WWII.

Why do some Americans feel pressured to make a good impression in Europe, but not so much in Latin America or other places?

I love Americans but I cannot help but notice a definite bias when it comes to international tourists. Americans love sparking conversations with Germans or Dutch (or any Europeans for that matter). Every time I hear German or some language in a hike, there comes the American that starts talking to them. Be it from their time in the military, to their vacation or future vacation they’re planning, to beer, to “long way from home huh?” You name it. No wonder “American small talk” has become such a stereotype in Europe. Because Americans love talking to them.

Even reading reviews on Google I always read “This French family was with us and they had a bad time here… wow I feel so bad for them, I’m still thinking about them and I hope they’re okay!”

Oh but what about the Mexicans that are on vacation?

Why don’t Americans spark conversation with them? Or any Latin American for that matter. Even Indians or Africans om vacation. I haven’t seen it, and I am constantly on the road. I mean, I’m sure it happens…statistically everything always happens. But it’s rare. Only time I’ve seen it was on a restaurant an American and his Mexican buddy that seemed to be working together, were interchanging cringey stereotypes with each other kind of like Hank and Gomez from Breaking Bad. “Yeah, I’m American and this Juan, my sidekick, I love making Mexican jokes about him ha-ha I’m so funny.”

I don’t want to say it’s racism, but it might as well could be.

(Some Americans just really see other countries as inferior. I just watched an interview with a woman saying immigrants are bad for this country (She is White). She gave tons of arguments against them, and was proven wrong every time. She even said “My parents are immigrants but they naturalized.” Really??? She just admitted she comes from immigrant family too. But her whole argument just boiled down to “White people good, Brown people bad.”)

It is really cringey seeing other Americans bend over and try to make impression for some people that think the worst of them. Mexicans on the other hand, are some of the most friendly people in the world and it’s seriously a missed chance that the US and Mexico could be the biggest buddies in the world (more than Canada ever was). Heck, Mexicans make the most uproar over anyone that notices them (this is actually pretty sad too). But they turned Drake Bell into a God just for saying he loves Mexico. They received Katy Perry (who is not really relevant anymore) with a red carper treatment just because she decided to go to Mexico.

Yet even without all the bullying, humiliation and dehumanization Mexicans are still pretty nonchalant toward Americans. I guess because they’re used to the abuse. And they’re still less hostile than say, Scandinavians for example, who receive nothing but praise from Americans, yet they shit on Americans like its a national side hustle.

Racism can be a hell of a drug!

China is Winning! Crushing Student Debt Is Destroying America’s Future

How did families adapt to the Great Depression?

As my mother (born 1917) told me many times, there was a man who lived behind her and my grandparents who starved to death which left my mother focused a lot on being able to have lots of food in the house as that man’s death affected her for life. Her father (who was a sparing partner of Joe Sullivan at one time) had heart disease and died while mom was in high school (1933) leaving her and my grandmother to run a boarding home, as she worked 2 part-time jobs and finished high school. There was NO Social Security—which was something that was ORIGINALLY legislated for the POOR ELDERLY AND WIDOWS after the Great Depression—not all Americans as it is today. She and her best friend (85 years worth of friendship before their deaths) put cardboard in their shoes when the soles wore down as they had to walk to school. The preciousness of food and being able to feed oneself, is a theme that I heard many times by those who lived during that time. There was no health insurance for medical issues so my grandfather was cared for at home by my grandmother and mother. My grandfather had established boarding homes and ran restaurants for the railroad, so they had lived well until illness created financial distress. The other siblings who lived on massive farms in Oklahoma did not have the same challenges. My late father-in-law told a different story of hunger and poverty on a small farm that he lived on. Today there are many social programs that provide for these situations. The Social Programs are NOT a drain on our economy but work to fuel our economy as 95% goes back INTO the U.S. economy.

What are Russia’s weaknesses in Ukraine now?

The primary weakness of Russia is the lack of ability to generate surprise attacks. Due to modern surveillance, both satellite and other forms of electronic and drone observational makes creating a critical mass of force practically impossible without being detected.

Sometimes settlements are taken by as few as 6 people on motorcycles.

In modern military theory until recent times, critical mass is an essential concept. This refers to gathering forces that are so superior to the enemy at a point in the line, that you can not only beat their defenses but also punch through and exploit that breakthrough and destroy and generally wreck havoc in the rear.

In the beginning of the war Russia tried to do exactly this, and while it is possible to gather the force and apply damage, the problem is that since the enemy knows you’re coming, they can hit you every step of the way, often while you en-route or preparing for battle. This means that the traditional approach is simply too costly.

This also means that fast offensives are not possible, and this is a problem because the Russian war machine was very much geared towards this, and their equipment traditionally emphasize it. The Russian approach now is a combination of long range attrition and small unit assaults which only gain very little territory at a time.

However relentless the Russian onslaught is, it means that Ukraine basically always have time to react to battlefield developments. Provided they have reserves there is little chance of Russia doing exploitation warfare.

In essence, Russia’s main weakness is that they simply cannot conduct warfare the way their doctrine dictates they should. While Russia is adapting to this, the end sum is that there is no great way to do offensive operations at all, and they as well as other have not found a good solution to this. Proponents of Russia often will highlight that they are at better at attritional warfare than their enemy, and while this may be true, no one actually wants to have attritional warfare at all, because it’s expensive in both material and lives no matter your relative advantage.

How did people live during the Great Depression?

I will use what my parents told me to give example. The 3 meals a day were oatmeal, cornmeal, and miss a meal. Cardboard in your shoes for when you wore a hole in the sole. Patches on your clothes untill there were patches on patches. If you were lucky enough to have a job you never complained about the hours, pay, or working conditions. However it wasn’t always good times even before the Great Depression. Dad said he didn’t know there was a depression untill 3 years in. His family lived so hand to mouth not much changed. He did notice more of the small rural town living like his family tho. Even as the depression ended things were not that great. When he was drafted in WW2 it was the first time in his life he had brand new clothes and $20 in his pocket.

Is it true that the earth is round?

In 1989 I saw a slightly different proof that our earth is round 🙂

There are many ways to prove that our earth is round. But in 1989 I saw a phenomenon that proved our earth is round.

1989 Thanksgiving day. The 3 of us went to New Orleans to party hard.

After 3 days and 3 nights of partying, we drove back home.

We pass Lake Pontchartrain. This lake is shallow but large. From south to north about 39 km from east to west about 64 km. In the middle there is a highway above the water. As seen in the satellite photo.

And it looks like there is a high voltage electricity transmission pole.

Doesn’t it seem like the earth is round?

These poles are all the same height. but it can be seen that the pole bends downward according to the curvature of our earth.

So in 1989 I saw a new phenomenon (for me) that proved that the earth was round.

Enjoy and stay awesome.

What was it like to live through the Great Depression?

My parents were babies during the Depression so I have the stories they told me to go on. Some facts they passed on to me that happened in their families:

Men became very transitory (even more than in the past), going to wherever they heard there might be available jobs. Most did not bring their families with them. Because they were broke, many jumped trains. This was not only physically dangerous but if were caught by train employees, they were often severely beaten. They took a risk, they got caught and these instances of retribution were not reported to the police (as they would probably side with the railroad company).
My Dad’s family lived in a small mining town but they bought land outside of town so they could grow their own food, have some chickens and other animals. It provided them with food, helped them get by and one source of income for the family was my Dad selling extra eggs to neighbors.
If you lived outside of a city, it was not uncommon to have men knock on your backyard door, looking to see if you would hire them for some odd jobs. This was especially true if you lived near a train route. My grandmother would try to find something for them to do and if she had no work, she would offer them a meal.
It was not considered shameful to go looking for odd jobs or do whatever you had to do to earn some money. There were no unemployment benefits. Any work that was legal, was honorable. Except if you were a strikebreaker.
Man or woman, your first priority was providing for your family. Unless you were used to being rich (and this was a very small minority of people in the 1930s), you didn’t indulge in self-pity because everyone was in the same boat. A few people had family money, most people were poor and then there were the extremely poor.
Although we would now call it recycling, everything was “repurposed”. Even bathwater was used to water plants. Pets, if there owners were kind-hearted, were fed food scraps, if there were any. Most were left to fend for themselves as there was no food to waste.
If there were family farms, children were sometimes sent from the city to live with grandparents to ease the financial burden on their parents. At least, there was likely to be more food on a farm. This continued into World War II.
Christmas was not celebrated in a way we would recognize. My Mother recalls a special treat was when they got an orange. If there were gifts, they were homemade. I know during WWII, they didn’t make birthday cakes because things like eggs were rationed.
Other cultural elements: News of what was going on in the world (or, in fact, in the rest of the country) was sparse. Thank god for radios! They provided a lifeline for families and so newscasters and radio announcers were the stars of their day.
Movies, now as back then, provided an escape. Although we consider movies from the 1930s as “classics”, there were a lot more movies being made 80 years ago than there are now in the U.S. Most were not preserved. In a town’s movie theater, movies (there were usually several shown along with news reels) were changed every 2 or 3 days.

Those are just some stories I grew up hearing and I don’t think they were exaggerations as they were told both by my parents and grandparents.

The main difference from today that has stuck with my parents is that any work is respectable and preferable to not having a job. It doesn’t matter if you have college degrees or what you were accustomed to doing for a living. You do whatever you have to do to earn a living and there is no shame in that. To be honest, I think this is still how people see employment in most of the world.

Target Earth 1954 Film in English, Richard Denning, Kathleen Crowley, Virginia Grey

Another fine B-grade science fiction flick.

(Repost) Probe Calibration and World-line Training (Part Two)

This is part two of a two part post. It concerns the calibration and training that I was part of . I needed this training to complete my mission parameters as part of MAJestic. Now, of course, none of this is supposed to exist. You can go anywhere on the Internet and type in “majestic” or “MJ-12”, and the first fifty or so sites will all be about it being a hoax or something that appeals to the “tin foil hat” fringe. You can believe them, right? After all, everyone knows that you can trust Google. You can trust them like you can trust CNN.

Anyways, if you believe them you don’t belong here. You can go away. Don’t waste your time here. Because it WILL be a waste of your time. There are no “secrets” or extraterrestrials out there in outer space. It is all just delusion. Right? Now, fucking leave. Thank you.

Navigation

This is Part #2 of a two-part blog post. To read Part #1, please go HERE.

Background

This post discusses a period of specialized training that I underwent in support of my role within MAJestic. It concerns “calibration” and “adjustment” exercises for a number of probes and devices that were implanted inside my brain. These devices consisted of three “sets”. One set, was extraterrestrial in nature and performance. The remaining two were terrestrially derived MAJestic implants.

All of the “training” and calibration exercises could ONLY be conducted within a specialized chamber, while all three probe “kits” were engaged.

Programming

There was a certain degree of “programming” I had to be involved in. I do not think that this had anything to do with the terrestrial core kit #1 or #2 probes. Rather, I think that it had to do with the interface with the core kit #2 probes and the base extraterrestrial probes. I was not instructed in the entire programming language. I was only taught the bare minimum of what I needed to know.

Numbers

For starters, instead of numbers, two means of conveyance are used. [A] Numbers were conveyed using a set of funky “O” shaped symbols (It was a base-8 octal system using (from what I can tell) seven symbols plus an “empty” symbol. Though I can be wrong, after all that was all many decades ago.) when used to identify a location or object. When used to convey an amount of a measure, [B] a set of lines were used. The lines looked like a comb, and could be presented in either a straight, curved, overlaid or stacked appearance. The closer together the lines were to each other was a measure of the mathematical power of the value. The height of the lines denoted proximity and / or magnitude. However, at no time were any words or sentences visible. It was all graphic.

The numbers were not based on a base-10. They were based on a base-8 system. (Luckily for me, I learned how to compute using base-8 in Middle School. Seventh grade, maybe eighth grade, I believe.) I suppose that my eighth grade teacher would have a heart attack, knowing what I was using what they taught me, for.

Cut-scene

As strange as this might seem, while under the ELF field, I underwent a “cut-scene” image of why the icons looked like they did. The reader must remember that, at that time, cut-scenes did not exist except in movies. I went through an event that was very much like a cut-scene in a video game. However, as I witnessed or viewed the scene, it was as if it was a memory to me.

This is how I learned. This is how I was taught how to use the symbols.

In the “cut-scene”, I could see a short hand with three very long fingers. (One thumb and three long fingers. The fingers were similar to our own human fingers, but much longer. Perhaps twice as long! They had fingernails, and knuckles, and a smooth complexion.) The hand hovered over some (highly reflective) soft tan sand on a very bright yellowish day.

It was like everything was sepia (Sepia tones are used in photography; the hue resembles the effect of aging in old photographs, and of older photographs chemically treated either for visual effect or for archival purposes. Most photo graphics software programs and many digital cameras include a sepia tone option.).

Then, very slowly, the index finger made long (easy and relaxed) movements in the sand. It went down and traced a long slightly curved line in the sand. Then the hand went and made another line perpendicular to it, and yet another, and finally depressed it’s long finger in the sand. That action made a “dot” that had a longish (miniature “I”) shape.

That was how and why many of the icons had long easy curves. It was a naturally easy thing to do. That is why the icons look like they do. They duplicate the writing method of the “parent species” that devised this system of pictorial icons.

That is how I learned. I “participated” in memories that instructed me as to what the symbols represented and why.

For numbers, the (four fingered) hand took the index finger and pressed it into the sand. It then dug a shallow hole with the hand. Then, it went and dug another shallow hole, but this time it put a pebble in it. Again, it went and dug another shallow hole. This time it put two pebbles in it. This continued until there were eight holes. Each hole was filled with pebbles or a oriented “dash” that was representative of them. Thus, the iconic depiction of an “O” was really a representation of the hole, and whatever was placed inside the hole.

Presentation of numbers during my training. — During my training, I utilized numbers for certain roles and functions. However, they were unfamiliar. Instead of being base 10, they were in base 8. They also used these odd iconic glyph for them.

They based their numerical system on their eight fingers. Much like we based our numerical system on our ten digits (four fingers and a thumb on each hand).

Graphic Icons

Everything was in graphics through the use of graphic icons.

This wasn’t any kind of programming language using words as we would use today (in Basic, Java, C++, or Pascal). In computing languages today, they use commands that were derived from English words. This was NOT the way my graphical program worked. Here is a typical C++ line of code;

Computer code representation. — Here is a line of typical computer code. No matter what specific language a person is using, from Basic to C++, the code will always be in this form.

Things were quite different. No derived English words were used. Graphical pictures or symbols were used instead. For instance, functions came between these funky brackets that looked like a cross between fat bumper-car bumpers and a colon ( : ). Control of physical properties of physical items was denoted by a kind of bent “L” shape. Control of the material behaviors of specific elements (the “defaults” that we ASSUME are fixed in this universe ruled by the laws of physics) were denoted with a group of two symbols that reminded me of an “S8” appearance.

Orientation of the symbols was critical. There were also post and pre command modifiers that would affect the function within the brackets. Commands within the It was a coding language not unlike APL, but instead of automating functions, it created “ladder diagrams” to control the operation of various aspects of my implants.

Most of what I was involved with involved the selection of range modifiers for set controls. I didn’t actually write control stack language. However, I could as the option was there, but it was way, way beyond my skill set and ability. Instead I only knew the basics and adjusted what I was directed (by the facility manager) to adjust.

In function, he was simply reading to me over the microphone. I would then confirm when I had completed the instruction. I would imagine that the facility manager was simply reading typed instructions from a document to me, without any comprehension, what he was reading. Then, once completed, he more than likely shredded the document.

In every instance, I was able to do the exercises that were presented to me. I was able to run diagnostic scans, operate the limited debugging tools provided, switch in and out of secure communication links, secure a command and lock it in place. I was able to make certain abilities “soft” and then “harden” them into place, where necessary (float above and then sink into clay). Unlike conventional windows, no pop-up window or box ever appeared. Instead, the indicating icons would appear overlaid on the base overlay. Strangely enough, this never obscured the working desktop presented in front.

Once I completed a specific sequence, a new image would fill my visual cortex. I would need to complete the entire new sequence before I could exit. In other words, there was no “abort” key, or “exit” command. I do not know why this is (was) the case. Once a sequence was set in motion, I had to go through the entire sequence before I could exit it. Otherwise, it just sat there waiting for me to do something.

The calibration segment consisted of setting up presets and learning the basics on how to individually program the probes within an ELF environment.

Setting Up Presets

Setting up the presets was very easy as most of the presets were already set in place. All I needed to do was make minor corrections. These tended to be a matter of degree. For instance, one of the presets revolved around the scope or amplitude for the field. I had set it “close”, but later on, during my retirement, I wanted it to be more comfortable, and I changed the setting with the techs that came to retire me. Like stated previously, it was just a simple matter of moving a hovering or floating reticle over a specific setting and then hardening it into “clay”.

The presets were probably the most critical part of this segment. Programming wasn’t really ever used. (Once, I modified the code to enable entanglement.) In fact, I can honestly say that I never used the programming as part of my role. So, it really didn’t make much sense to train me to be able to access the “source code”. It was simply a great coincidence that I had the ability to reprogram the probes.

Programming

In general, in programming the various features of the probes, I had to learn to conduct rough “function chains”. These were just ladder diagram commands. They were identified with a start command symbol (looked like a big plump four-pointed star) and ended with an end command which kind of looked like a leaner and smaller four-point star. (Yes, I know the symbology is odd.) However, this was not always the case, while line functions always started with the “big star”, it could be “open ended”. That means that there would not be a closing “small star”. Instead, a “goto” command would exist. There were numerous icons for this command depending on what the function would go to next.

Unlike conventional programming, which runs in a line from left to right, I was taught to program from bottom upwards. Once completed, the program line would be presented in a horizontal fashion. It was read right to left. In other words, the “big star” icon would be at the far right, and the “small star” icon would be at the far left.

Further, the “surface” that this programming took place on was not flat. It was not like a piece of paper, a computer printout, or a nice organized surface inside a monitor. It was three dimensional. Elements or sections of “code” could be moved forward or backwards relative to my point of view. Thus, if I were to take a two-dimensional snapshot of the programming, you could see code in different sizes. From HUGE code “up front”, to unbelievably tiny code way in the back.

There were “objects” or “features” that I could manipulate. These looked like orbs, balls or concentric circles. They were connected to other “objects” through the use of lines. The lines would follow the curve of the larger objects that the smaller objects would be part of.

On top of all this, the programming was not in front of a monitor. It was all in my head. It was conducted while I sat down on the chair inside the ELF chamber at China Lake. The way these symbols materialized and moved about was by thought. Each one had an associated “feel”, “presence”, or “memory” (for lack of better terms) that I could “understand” and which helped me use the symbols. When I focuses on the component symbol, I would also access the associated “memory” or “abilities” that it possessed.

To me, they “felt” like thick cookies that fit together like dominoes. There were laws or rules that restricted placement. It was sort of like moving magnets around each other. The feelings, understandings and movements of the component glyphs only lased while my attention was focused on them.

Components

Within this command sequence were two major components. This consisted of [1] the program action itself, and [2] the objects to modify or manipulate. The objects to modify were themselves placed within a kind of bracket system that looked like plump baby bumpers. The objects themselves can either [1] be “named” by use of these kind of funky “O” shaped designs, or be [2] a set process that is described using other characters. Often these other characters would look like (backwards) curvy “L” or other odd shapes. Often, but not always, these objects were associated with a “position” within another process. In this case, they would utilize a queue icon (location within the ladder chain), which looks like a capital “I” with a dot in the middle of it.

Sample symbol glyph structure. — All of the symbol glyphs that I accessed had a structure. Each structure had a purpose, and even a history. I could automatically understand an entire history and utilization of each symbol when I focused my attention onto it. Reader please note that the picture is derived from my memories, nearly 40 years ago. I drew up these symbols from memory using MS Visio. They are NOT what I used. Instead they are a pictorial representation of what I remember them to look like.

Naming of Objects

Each probe had a specific name (address or location finder) associated with it. When a given function would access the probe or groups of probes, a set object identification pattern would manifest. It would always be between the two (plump baby bumper) bracket icons. This can be [1] assigned or [2] accessed as part of another function. When assigned, the first line of “code” always specifies these objects first. Usually they were graphically larger than the rest of the code. When displayed horizontally, it was read left to right.

To the left of this object assignment, was an “assign object” code. It was always smaller in font text. It would consist of two icons. A “start assignment” icon which looked like a backward “L” (with a curved backward back) with a little “foot” (at the left end) that was upside down. This icon was also present to the left of the code that enumerated the objects identification code. Only it was a mirror image. The second icon was a “end assignment” icon. It looked like a backwards “L” with a curve backwards with an equal sign though it. It also was at the end of the object naming.

Symbol glyph components and how they fit together. — Here is a small example to show and indicate how all the symbols within the programming glyphs fit together. They are all designed around concepts and established understandings honed over centuries. We, as humans, are unfamiliar with these terms and concepts. However, that does not mean that they don’t make sense when we obtain understanding of them.

Example of assigning an object code

Here is the basic format that we used when assigning a code for a group of objects. This can be anything from a single individual probe, to a group of multiple probes, to a specific characteristic of a device or artifice.

Example of programming. — Here is an example of assigning a numerical identification code to an object, a process or a sub-routine. No matter what the data involved, it always seemed to take on this general form.

As described previously, when assigning a particular identification to an object or function, it is made larger than the rest of the code. Further, it is preceded with a command that specifies that it is being made. The “to make” command has associated parameters associated with it. A specialized set of “brackets” are used to identify what is going on and why.

Throughout the programming code, the use of a given sequence of icons can be referred to or modified by the start-condition parameters as defined within the object / process definition segment.

Here is an example of assigning a numerical code within a pipeline of the process tree. Note that the entire location or “address” is identified by two thick “baby bumper” icons;

Sample address. — Here is an example of how an object “address” and or location is assigned within a process tree. Note that it is a two part operation that is placed between two plump “baby buggy bumpers”. Thus four iconic glyphs are used for this process. There can be other modifiers that can make the address variable, and these would be placed within the appropriate “bumpers”.

Functions

After the object, came the function. Many of the symbols used in the functions were easily understandable. For instance, a backward “L” (with a curved backward back) with a little “foot” (at the left end) would be “click” then an icon that looked like “two curved swords over a road”(like in the city of Baghdad) would mean “hold” This might be followed by an icon that would look like a stylized equal sign at a 45-degree angle would mean “share” or “interface or act” Finally, an icon that would look like a slash (an oblique slanting line) stylized with a dash next to it would mean “release”. This entire command sequence must be programmed into the system to work, so you would place a queue icon (that looks like a capital “I” with a dot in the middle) next “queue”.

Command Nomenclature

Commands would be read right to left instead of left to right like in English. So the command above is a simple “FETCH” command broken down into a series of icons. Like all functions, f(x) you need to specify the variable (x) or the object that will be modified by the command. This is placed within brackets (big fat ones like baby bumpers) before the function.

You “engage” the process by the “click” command, and then let the process actuate under the “hold pause and continue” command. It works a lttle like a “one shot”. Once the process is completed it then interfaces or runs or collects functions or data. This is the “share” command. Once the task is completed, you “release” of course. The entire process needs to be programmed, so you “queue” with respect to another action. Where and how it performs depends on the relationship of adjacent icons. In the example below, I used an “open arms” icon that means “accept input”, or in other words, I have to specify, what the values would be (or tie to another function that would provide those values).

Example

For instance, the below shows a very simple use of the fore mentioned fetch command. Here, one of the (characteristics) of one of the probes (identified by name, and shown to be part of a process queue) utilizes the fetch command to interface with another process. It assigns properties based upon a list of options. (The options come from the queue index in the object section.)

Here is an example of using a subroutine to institute a “fetch command”. You specify the location of the address and then specify at which point on the ladder tree it is accessed. You then run the function. In this example, we have a simple “fetch” command where “x” of f(x) = “fetch from”.

In the example above, we can see that the entire sub-program is a function. It references a location in the ladder diagram. This location is positioned between the two “baby bumpers” with a queue index icon in the middle of the location address. Then the actual code is specified. This is the function section. Finally, the entire sub-function is identified with a start and an end star.

When looking at the entire programmed function, the first thing that you can see near the end of the function is the objective of the function. Then to the right is the actual sub-program function. Finally the object to be programmed, or the sub-program that is to be modified.

Basic fetch command. — Here is a typical function from above without the address component. It always seemed that the address contained all sorts of modifiers that would result in a much larger subprogram depending on how it was accessed. Here is the basic “fetch from” command all by itself.

The entire set of implants contained reams and reams of codes like this. However, access to specific lines of code was easy. You simply thought about what you wanted to do, and relevant code would appear. For instance, if I wanted full access to all of my memories, I would just simply think about “assess the code associated with my memories” and it would appear. Like all the code, the values for the objects and address location were pretty much meaningless to me. However, I did “understand” what they represented when I thought about it.

Strangely, I thought about it in a kind of 4D manner. I could imagine it moving and changing with different values and aspects as I thought about the function. It was cool, neat and baffling all at the same time. Specific icons (and the associated values and functions) could also be changed. However, if I wanted to change something that might be prohibited for some reason, I would not be able to change anything. There seemed to be a sort of “fail safe” editing command structure inherent in the program.

Initially, I gave a lot of thought as to what this was all about. After all, even though I now was able to retain my memories of the implant procedure, I did not have a clue as to what the overall purpose or what my role would be.

A very abbreviated overview of operation

In short, the programming for the probes was mathematically based but used a system that was employed to control the functions of complex aggregate machine-like artifices. Thus, it was neither a pure ladder diagram, nor a software programing language. It was something altogether different. As my ability to program software is rather primitive, the terms that I use herein is mine own and should not be confused with standardized conventions. The reader should also recognize that my impressions are that of a technically trained engineer that only understood what I needed to understand at the time. I was not, nor was I ever, an expert in this. Additionally, the ravages of time have corrupted my memories and what I think is correct could very well be incorrect. Never the less, I place it here, for the reader to ponder, in it’s impure state.

Functions

A function is what the purpose of the devices do. They can be programmed to do different things. Since we were programming ELF probes, and their interface with a biological artifice, it would make sense that the programming would alter or control the aspects associated with this purpose. In short, a function is a software communication method that would program mechanical devices to behave in certain ways. For our purposes, lets define these “ways” as “functions”.

In general it would take (iconic) arguments (that bracketed the operation command on one or both sides) and would return a specific action as a result. The functions can be;

Primitive – built-in and represented by a single iconic glyph. These icons had fixed operations and functions. They could not change or be modified by other functions or controls.
Defined – as a named and ordered collection of program statements. This functional output is whatever is defined in the parameters established near the objects identification code, and modified by the proper modifiers.
Derived – as a combination of an operator with its arguments.

Arrangement

The functions can be arranged in certain defined manners. These defined manners change the appearance of the specific code. In general, there are three different arrangements, each with a set or limited array of outcomes.

Niladic– not taking or requiring any arguments.
Monadic – requiring only one argument; on the right for a function.
Unary – requiring only one argument; on the left for a function.
Dyadic – requiring both a left and a right argument, binary.
Ambivalent – capable of use in a monadic or dyadic context.
Whereas, in our software code we tend to have binary responses (yes or no), this software code results in far more options than that. Each option can be “flavored” by the associated parameters provided by the objects identification parameter settings.

Operators

We also have a system where you can go “backwards” and derive a function. Here, it would consist of a operation or mapping that takes one (left) or two (left & right) function or an array-valued argument (operands) and derives a function. An operator may be [1] Primitive: built-in and represented by a single glyph, or [2] Defined: as a named and ordered collection of program statements.

Control

Why all this programming if we were implanted to be a robot? Certainly slaves, or robots are not provided with the means for independent control. The reader must recognize that at this time, I still had no idea what my “purpose” was. While it was all pretty cool, interesting and exciting to me, I still had no idea what all this would lead to.

I initially thought that at the most basic level we were to become a robotic slave to the commands issued to us. We were, after all, allowing the person at the other end of the transmitter to control our brains and thus ourselves. Oh, how simple I was then!

That was not the case, we were more valuable than that. They really didn’t need to pull out highly trained Naval Aviators, who have mastered multiple degrees, passes rigorous testing, and meet difficult levels of achievement to turn them into brainless robots. You could do this in other ways and use other people who were not so expensively trained.

Remember, to train a Naval Aviator cost over a couple of million dollars, so we were too expensive to turn into a household appliance. Whether it be as a mindless zombie to pick up a gun and shoot up a school, or to innocently walk into a meeting room and stab a CEO of a company. You did not need the kind of background and training that we had to do these things. The skill level requirements did not match; they were incompatible.

That does not, however, mean that the ELF technology and system isn’t used for those other kinds of tasks and assignments. I can only adequately comment on MY role and how the technology was used concerning my own life. I am quite confident that the technology is also used for other assignments and tasks of a different clandestine nature than mine own.

So, instead of simply being a remote controlled cyborg, we were taught how to reprogram our mind under certain conditions using the ELF signals. We could communicate as if we had Wi-Fi always in our heads, and we had access to control of our bodily functions at a level that was unprecedented previously.

Materialists like Daniel Dennet, Richard Dawkins, and Sam Harris immediately dismiss the possibility of an immaterial soul or mind that interacts with the brain and the physical body. Ah, what is seen in the physical is all that there is. Nothing else exists. Oh sure, there are radio waves, but that too can be explained as a hidden component of the physical.

They argue this on the grounds of classical physics. In this argument, the activity of the soul or any other immaterial entity, placing influences upon the brain violates the law of conservation of energy. They conclude that matter is the fundamental reality of human beings and of the entire Universe. They conclude that nothing else exists. Hogwash!

What is often ignored today is how Dennet, Dawkins, Sam Harris and the materialists fail to realize that the universe is not so simple. It is comprised of many other things that require effort to understand. These lazy folk do not want to leave 1900-era science. Their entire argument for materialism and the denial of the soul is based on an outdated “classical physics” paradigm. This paradigm was overturned in the 20th century with the advent of quantum physics.

The general thinking of many people, however, is still shaped by classical physics and for this reason alone, materialism seems like the most scientific worldview. It is not. Not by any degree of understanding. How in the world can you use a “smart phone” or an iphone and still hold this world view? Those appliances utilize quantum physics to operate gosh-dammit! Thus any comments in support of the materialist argument (against soul-body dualism) falls apart in the face of contemporary physics.

Here’s a quick review. At the quantum level, subatomic particles like electrons do not exist concretely; instead, they exist in a state of potentiality. For example, the electron at the quantum level does not occupy a fixed position or a momentum. Instead, the electron occupies an entire range of possible positions – and the evolution of these possibilities over time can be described by a wave function called the Schrödinger equation. It is only the act of measurement or observation by a conscious observer that [1] assigns concrete probabilities to each possible position, and [2] selects one of the possible positions of the electron and actualizes this possibility as a physical event. Prior to observation, there is no “matter stuff” but only “possibilities”.

Thus the key point; Material substance, as such, does not exist without an observation or act of human consciousness. Consciousness generates thought. Thought creates order of quantum potential. Ordered potential creates our reality.

It is therefore nonsensical to argue that material substances, like the aggregation of atoms, molecules and neurons can produce consciousness. Material objects, prior to conscious observation, exist only as wave-like potentialities and nothing more. The act of observation or measurement by a conscious agent is what reduces the potentialities into actualities, as Schrödinger himself writes about some particle x when it is observed at position K – prior to which particle x has no definite existence except in a cloud of potentialities.

Ah, but I digress…

Big Changes

Now that’s about all there was to the programming section of my training. In the grand scale of things, it didn’t last very long. I was at the ELF facility for maybe a handful of months. I “awoke”, and was taught how to program. I then self-programmed my probes and set the required defaults. Then I was reassigned to work off-base.

Only this time, I received instructions and communication straight from the source. No one needed to tell me anything. I instantly “knew” what to do.

I started to see (feel) immediate changes in myself physically, mentally and emotionally. I learned, then (quite early) that you just do not mess around with certain things. What I was involved in was a serious business that could have negative consequences if you were not careful.

I learned quickly what my skill set was.

I also learned that there were multiple world-lines. As such, I was taught how to adjust world-line programming. This also included time, the passage of, and the (apparent) direction of it. However, each time I ran through the “episodes” associated with the reading by the ELF station manager, it seemed like preprogramed memories would describe what was possibly transpiring at the time the changes were made. It was almost like I was performing within a cut scene and living out the consequences of my activities. This included both world-line alterations and time manipulation.

The capability remained present. Why anyone would want to invoke changes in time is beyond my comprehension. However, it is possible under the proper conditions. Indeed, this aspect is something that even now I am really confused about.

Off Base

I learned and was trained to invoke certain sequences for “advantage”. This training was substantial and is the subject of another post. In short, I learned how to navigate the MWI using link-access.

Anyways…

Bullshit

According to the Internet, there isn’t any extraterrestrials, world-line travel is a hypothetical fantasy, probes inside the brain is a fantastic illusion brought about by people with mental illnesses, and the idea that the United States government would be involved in such things is considered fringe lunacy.

Inconceivable! — The way things actually are has no bearing on what everyone thinks. In most cases, what everyone things is absolutely and positively in error. Many times it is based on assumptions that are flat out WRONG. Thus, when someone is exposed to the possibilities of truth, they recoil back in horror and dismay.

So, anyways, that’s about it for now. You can believe or not. I personally don’t give a flying fuck. If you want to believe that I spent my 1980’s wearing parachute pants, wearing a mullet, and watching “The Golden Girls”, so be it.

Global warming hoax. — Global warming is a hoax used to siphon more money into programs that are saturated with “kick-back” schemes. Here is a typical example. Here is scientific data that PROVES that climate has been warming. There’s only one tiny problem with it. NOAA didn’t have any satellite data to support these findings. But, you know what, during the Obama Administration, you could get millions of dollars in funding if you could prove that global warming was real. What a scam! Yet, you can believe it if you want. No skin off my back, just don’t expect me to go along with your delusions. Just like I don’t expect you, the reader, to go along with everything that I am saying either.

You can believe everything CNN tells you. You can believe all about Global Warming. You can believe that there are 55 genders. You can believe that you are not paying enough in taxes, and that more taxes are needs “for ma roads!”.

Good for you.

via GIPHY

Anyways, thank you for reading this.

Take Aways

There is other ways to learn things quickly.
My probes were not passive devices. They are interactive devices that required programming and calibration.
I can only program under the influence of an ELF field in a specialized chamber.
The probes were terrestrial (human) in nature, and they interfaced with extraterrestrial probes that were also inserted within my brain.
Retirement only disables my terrestrial probes. It has no effect on my extraterrestrial probes.
The probes permit certain abilities and advantages.
One such ability is MWI world-line travel.

FAQ

Q: Why did you have probes installed?
A: All members of MAJestic have probes installed. I had two “sets” or “kits” of terrestrial probes. The second kit interfaced with a special set of extraterrestrial probes that most MAJestic members do not have. This kit required a kind of specialized calibration and training.

Q: What was your mission?
A: I really can’t give out specific information. I can only talk in generalities. It was humanistic in nature. It supported the development of the human species in sentience growth. It was not like anything that the reader would think. It was actually pretty boring and dull. It was like selecting potatoes out of a truck-load of potatoes. It was nothing important at all.

Q: Who did you report to?
A: I worked independently and took commands from my probes and our extraterrestrial benefactors instantaneously.

Q: Have you ever used your programming skills since?
A: No. It was a one-time event. I learned how to mess around with the programming of the probes. I set up the defaults, and lived with the results ever since.

Q: Why do you say such nonsense?
A: Why do you read it?

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

These are posts and articles that revolve around how I was recruited for MAJestic and my training. Also discussed is the nature of secret programs. I really do not know why the organization was kept so secret. It really wasn’t because of any kind of military concern, and the technologies were way too involved for any kind of information transfer. The only conclusion that I can come to is that we were obligated to maintain secrecy at the behalf of our extraterrestrial benefactors.

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

These particular posts are concerned about the universe that we are all part of. Being entangled as I was, and involved in the crazy things that I was, I was given some insight. This insight wasn’t anything super special. Rather it offered me perception along with advantage. Here, I try to impart some of that knowledge through discussion.

Enjoy.

The fuselage embedded within the rocks of Victoria Falls.

Mystery of the oil lamp found inside a block of coal.

Did extraterrestrials set up a colony in Pennsylvania?

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

These posts are related to “reality slides”. Other more common terms are “world-line travel”, or the MWI. What people fail to grasp is that when a person has the ability to slide into a different reality (pass into a different world-line), they are able to “touch” Heaven to some extent. Here are posts that cover this topic.

John Titor Related Posts

Another person, collectively known by the identity of “John Titor” claimed to utilize world-line (MWI egress) travel to collect artifacts from the past. He is an interesting subject to discuss. Here we have multiple posts in this regard.

They are;

Articles & Links

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

(Repost) The Landscape of the MWI; an introduction to the geography of multiple worldlines.

This article travels into details on how the multi-world “theory” operates upon the canvas of a universal reality. We look at the moment-by-moment method of how we exist within the multi-world universe. (In other words.) We look at the mechanism in detail.

Of course, it is going to be an awfully strange “trip”. As our actual reality does not resemble anything like everyone assumes it is.

Of course, this is from the point of view of an "operator". (If you want to eject the MAJestic mantle and look in the fascinating world of the mathematics behind all this, please by my guest.)

Here, we discuss the mechanism from which a soul would choose to live a particular life as a human. Yeah. I get it, it’s a very deep subject. It enters the realm of the religious and the spiritual. But, you know what, it need not be.

When you look at things objectively, you see that things HAVE to be this way, as described.

The topographic model.

We discuss this MWI as a topographic mapped surface from which we can extrapolate probability potential.

Now, there are many, many ways to illustrate the MWI. This is only one such method. It is the method that I was introduced to, and the one that I have come to accept as “normal”.

One of the most radical and important ideas in the history of physics  came from an unknown graduate student who wrote only one paper, got into  arguments with physicists across the Atlantic as well as his own  advisor, and left academia after graduating without even applying for a  job as a professor. 

Hugh Everett’s insight was as simple as it was  brilliant: accept the Schrödinger equation. 

Both of those parts of the  final superposition are actually there. But they can’t interact with  each other; what happens in one branch has no effect on what happens in  the other. They should be thought of as separate, equally real worlds.  This is the secret to Everettian quantum mechanics. 

-Aeon

This method or display is something that is often “behind the scenes” when the pilot arranges a slide, and the calibration of destination coordinates are locked in.

I suppose most people can live without it.

However, in my case, I discovered that it was useful to determine just how “far out” a slide can manifest, and whether or not a “deep dive” will manifest. (I said “useful”, not necessary.)

As far as any kind of practical application, I would hazard a guess that there wouldn’t be any need to anyone to know about this. It’s just a useful way of better understanding how the MWI works.

Warning

The idea of multiple-world lines, the MWI and the physics of this entire matter is NOT accepted by the general pubic, or (even) agreed to by many physicists. To them it is unproven theory that doesn’t make sense in the Judaeo-Christrian world-view.

But, seriously folks. You do not have to believe anything. It’s your reality. That’s fine.

We are always free to believe what ever we want. We adjust to our surroundings and key up our behaviors based upon our observation and our interations with others, and the objects adjacient to us. — We are always free to believe what ever we want. We adjust to our surroundings and key up our behaviors based upon our observation and our interactions with others, and the objects adjacent to us. However strange the MWI appears, it adequately and efficiently describes hour our consciousness interacts with our physical reality.

Now, for the “fresh slap of reality”.

The organization that I was part of from May 1981 through to May 2006 utilized technologies based upon this “theory”. Our government built machinery based on this “theory”. As well as using the machines (so constructed) for their own purposes.

I can positively affirm that the technologies and the machinery worked.

By the time I started to use the more primitive versions of the machinery (May 1981), it was well understood that the technology was very, very mature.

I refer to the "primitive" version to be a fixed transport portal. In this narrative, and post, I discuss my role as a "dimensional anchor" using a much more advanced version of technology.

In many ways, it's sort of explaining how a microwave works to a snail. Most of what I have to say will be gibberish to most readers who have absolutely no reference points to anchor upon.

I was an “operator” of numerous such technologies.

This is my overview of how the MWI actually manifests from the point of view of an “operator” or a “participant” utilizing the MWI-based technologies. It is based on [1] my extrapolation of experiences, [2] knowledge and [3] my exposure to various types of advanced technology.

If you do not want to hear what I have to say, you can leave.

The traditional view of the universe. many people are handicapped by this traditional view, and thus have a very difficult time understanding a totally and wholly different viewpoint and understanding of the universe and how to navigate it. It is sort of like trying to learn to sail, but not believing that there is a thing called “wind”.

Quick Overview

Before we begin, here’s a quick review for all of you guys who just fell onto this post from out of the “blue”.

Most people have a really crap-tastic idea of what the MWI or multiple world-line theory is. They just cannot visualize it for the life of themselves. They have no idea what to think, or how it would manifest.

They come up with visualizations such as this…

Contemporaneous visualization of the MWI.

One major hurtle…

The problem with all these contemporaneous visualizations is that the artist, philosopher, or scientist does not isolate the concept of consciousness from that of a physical person. It is assumed, and defaulted to one and the same identical thing. When in fact, they are entirely two separate things.

Everyone assumes that all those people around us also possess a consciousness. We assume they are also like us; that they have an active consciousness and an associated soul as well.

We make this assumption based on our interactions with them. 

They appear, to us to be fully actuated and in possession of a soul and consciousness. We argue here that the appearance of something does not equate to the de facto possession of something.

There are differences between [1] a “consciousness”, [2] a “physical body”, and [3] a “person”. For our purposes, a person is someone with an active consciousness. Most people think that all three things are just different names for the same thing. They are not.

The differences between a person, a consciousness and a physical body when discussing the MWI, or multiple world-line theory.

Most laymen, and many scientists do not understand this simple fact. They assume that everyone is a “person”. That we share our universe with other people who all have internal “consciousnesses”.

We do not.

We are a consciousness. Not a physical body.

Instead we are consciousness, that inhabits a physical body, forming a person. (As in the picture above.) We then occupy a reality.

In this reality, we are surrounded with physical bodies, but none of them possess a consciousness. Instead they appear to have a consciousness simply because of how they interact with us. This interaction of these others is how the soul obtains experiences and thus grows and advances in the quantum sphere.

Within our reality, we are the only one that is in possession of a consciousness. Everyone else is just a shadow version of themselves. In reality they (too) inhabit their own reality elsewhere, where they too are along and surrounded by the quantum shadows of others. — Within our reality, we are the only one that is in possession of a consciousness. Everyone else is just a shadow version of themselves. In reality they (too) inhabit their own reality elsewhere, where they too are alone and surrounded by the quantum shadows of others.

Thus, our universe is comprised with a near infinite number of world-line realities. Many are empty, and some contain a consciousness which is inhabiting a body to obtain experiences with. Our universe, thus looks something a little like this…

THis is how the universe actually is, and exists within the MWI. It is a place where consciousness travels the infinate world-lines alone, and interacts with shadow equivalents of other people, persons and things. — This is how the universe actually is, and exists within the MWI. It is a place where consciousness travels the infinite world-lines alone, and interacts with shadow equivalents of other people, persons and things.

Why this is important.

If you want to know the “secrets of the universe” then you will need to forget everything you learned in school and college. For all of it is based on assumptions that are rock-hard, firm, fixed and imputable.

Most of it is really, really incorrect. For our “reality” is not what everyone thinks.

We do not “share” our universe with others.
We live alone in our universe.
Everyone else are “shadow copies” of their true forms.
These “shadow copies” are other people acting and living as if they were to share our universe. They are what could possibly exist and manifest. Not that they actually do manifest.

What it looks like is NOT the way it is.

We all think that there is just one universe, and one Earth, and it is populated by all of us together. That we share the earth with each other and that we are all equal and are in the same time-line.

All these assumptions are wrong.

We believe that we share our universe with others. No. Instead we share this universe with “versions” of other people. These versions are constructs that interacts with our consciousness while we exist within our reality world-line.

We do not share our universe with others.

Nope.

Not. Even. Close.

Instead, we occupy a universe alone. We do not share it with anyone. Oh, yes, it does appear that we share it, but we really do not.

All those other people that we interact with are not really what they appear. They are a version of that other person. This is the version of that person were they to actually share the reality with us.

We seem to be surrounded by others. — All those other people that we interact with are not really what they appear. They are a version of that other person. This is the version of that person were they to actually share the reality with

They are but quantum shadows of the possibility of interaction.

In Plato’s classic Allegory of the Cave,  a group of people living in a cave have a very false view of the world  because the only thing they can see is the shadows on a wall. Plato was  trying to teach his students that the philosopher must see beyond the  shadows to the reality that is projecting them, but what exactly is that  reality.

The reality that Plato wanted his students to see is not  the physical form of the object casting the shadow, those physical  objects are just another level of shadows! The world of matter is the  shadow world, the world of illusion, the world of deception. It is not  at all what it appears to be because our physical eyes, and other  physical senses, can sense only the shadows called matter so we are  deceived into believing that it is real. That is not to say that matter  is not real. Matter is real just as the shadow of a tree is real, but  the shadow is not the tree and matter is not true reality. 

-Cosolargy International

To understand this please note.

We are not a physical body. We are soul.

Now, do not be offended.

This does not at all mean that there is no love, that there isn’t a thing called togetherness. That there isn’t all the physical, emotional and spiritual relationships that we have with others. Do not be silly. Of course they exist.

What changes is the understanding of what a physical body is.

Conventiona thought of what a person is.

Instead of one (and only one) physical body that your consciousness inhabits, there is an infinite number of physical bodies. Each one within a unique and separate world-line.

You, as consciousness, moves in and out of all these other bodies of yours through thought.

This is what a person really is. We are multi-dimensional beings with a singular consciousness. We (as consciousness) move in and out of the MWI world-lines entering similiar physical bodies associated with our consciousness. — This is what a person really is. We are multi-dimensional beings with a singular consciousness. We (as consciousness) move in and out of the MWI world-lines entering similar physical bodies associated with our consciousness.

This is also true for the entire rest of the universe. Everyone else also possesses bodies such as this. Your dog has this kind of body. Your cat has this kind of body. In fact, the felines are actually quite cognizant of this ability.

We are NOT a physical body. We are soul that manifests a consciousness within our reality.

Knowing and realizing this, makes some of the passages in the religious books far more reasonable, and easier to understand. It doesn’t matter if it is the Koran, or the Bible. Understanding the way the universe works, and truly works, adds a far greater understanding to the wisdom that resides inside of these great works.

The soul creates a “consciousness” that it places in a “container”. This container is a “world-line”. Our “universe” is a near infinite number of world-lines.

We are placed here for our consciousness to obtain experiences.

We navigate in and out of the world-lines though our thoughts. Our rate of travel (in general) is (for most humans) about 4 Hz. Or, four cycles per second. (Four world-lines each second.)

There are different rates of travel, and different species travel the MWI at different speeds. In general, the rate of travel is proportional to the operational speed of the brain. This of course varies.

If you dull your brain to such a degree that your brain is slower, then you will not travel the MWI as fast as others would. And you might find your life slowly "falling behind" that of others.

Thus…

We are consciousness. We “rent” a physical body for a fleeting moment of time.
Our reality is NOT shared. Instead our consciousness occupies a singular world-line. It is a momentary event.
We (our consciousness) migrate between momentary world-lines through our thoughts.
This movement is known as “the arrow of time”.

The best way that I can introduce the reader to this “radical” understanding of how our universe actually works, is to use the “movie projector theory”.

Movie Projector theory for the MWI.

What time actually is and how we naturally move through the various world-lines. — This is an illustration of what time actually is. Time does not exist. It is a perception that our consciousness has as it moves and weaves in and out of different world-lines. Here we use an old-fashioned movie reel projector to help illustrate this understanding.

Thus, the idea of the actual way things work is really, really, REALLY different than what everyone assumes or believes. The difference is so stark, that many researchers are handicapped in their understanding of reality. Ah, but it need not be that way.

Come on! You can well understand the movie projector analogy, can’t you?

If you can, well good for you! Award yourself a gold star.

The Movie Projector Theory in more detail…

The problem with that analogy (and it is a really good analogy), that that it does not take into account the individual frame selection in the film role. For in actual contemporaneous movies, it is the movie producer that selects the individual frames, and the person just sits back and watches the movie.

In reality, it is more like an entire bank of projectors, and we (as soul) selects the movie that interests us.

In this model, we have numerous movie projectors, all running simultaneously (at the same entropy)… Ah! At the same time.

We can “jump into” any scene portrayed by any of the movie projectors at will. We just look at the projected images.

Projector line up. — Instead of a producer selecting the frames in a film and arranging the movie, and content, the soul consciousness does this instead. Using the movie projector analogy, it is similar to being in a room with multiple movie projectors all running *similar* films simultaneously. You, as consciousness, can decide which movie to watch. The further away the movie projector is from the movie that you are currently watching, the more effort is required.

The further away the movie projector is from us, the harder it is to watch that movie. So we must watch closer movies (momentarily) and then “edge our way” closer to the movie projector that we are interested in.

Most people, sadly, do not do this. They allow the movie projectors to operate randomly and they find themselves watching movies that they may not really care for.

How it manifests

So, using this film / movie projector analogy further it is exactly how our consciousness selects the “life experience” that we obtain. Each frame in a given movie reel is a world line. They are all playing about simultaneously, and our consciousness selects the world-lines to occupy by hopping from frame to frame. (World-line to world-line.)

Movie reel frames as consciousness selected world-line selection criteria. — By selecting each frame in a given movie, we can navigate within the movie, or even “jump” to another completely different movie all together. It is all dependent upon our thoughts, or the navigation of our consciousness. Our soul decides the very first frame, and the very first movie reel that we will enter. However, it is our consciousness that decides how to make the best of our life, and how to navigate within the framework that is provided to us by the divine.

Nearby movie projectors are nearly identical to the one that we are viewing at the moment. Their divergence from our “present reality” is often very small.

As we move further and further away to more distant movie projectors the divergence gets larger and larger and larger.

This is why it doesn’t seem like we are moving from one world-line to the next. It seems smooth, seamless and transparent. That is because the deviance in nearby world-line (projectors) is very, very small.

Our thoughts select the world-line…

In reality, the “film spool” (a collection of “frames”) is known as the “life experience” of a given consciousness as it takes on a life.

It is a record of our travels in and out of different world-lines. Where a “world-line” is represented as a frame within the movie reel.

The individual “frames” that are selected, are chosen by the thoughts of the consciousness that inhabits the body. We migrate to things that we think about. We migrate to what we think about.

Not necessarily what we might desire. It is what occupies our thoughts most of the time. (So shut off that stupid manipulative television, why don’t ya!)

For all its popularity, Facebook isn’t without its share of scandals.  In the latest one, details came out of an experiment conducted on  700,000 Facebook users over the period of a single week in 2012. News  feeds were manipulated to contain positive or negative news and content,  then users were monitored to see if the change made them use more  positive or negative words in their status updates. 

And it  worked—people’s status updates showed a change in emotion  that went along with the kind of news that they were exposed to. 

The  term used was “emotional contagion,” and it confirms something pretty  frightening.

According to the study, people don’t even have to be physically  around another person in a bad mood to absorb the negativity into  themselves—negativity can be “caught” just from looking at a computer  screen. 

There doesn’t need to be  a personal, emotional connection for emotional contagion to happen. 

Not  surprisingly, the study has brought up a number of disturbing  questions, and it’s now being investigated by organizations like the  Information Commissioner’s Office in Dublin. Those questioning the  ethics of the study state that it’s nothing less than psychological  manipulation. As if that’s not shady enough, Facebook users were unaware  that they were having their emotions and moods manipulated through  another party controlling just what was popping up in their news feeds. 

-List verse

How consciousness selects thoughts. — I am hungry, but what do I want to eat? It is our thoughts, coupled with our memories and yearnings that help us decide what actions to take. So what to do? Eat a bowl of dog food, or have a nice tasty delicious pizza? Decisions. Decisions. It is our thoughts that determine which world-lines to occupy, and for most people, they just go with the flow and end up with whatever is provided to them.

No two thoughts are the same…

One of the problems that people need to come to grips with is that thoughts are not equal. Thoughts are “weighed”. Each thought is different. And thus each thought has a different degree in influence in world-line selection.

Thoughts and emotions together form a complex stew of “influence” that can absolutely affect your world-line travel adventures.

These thoughts are comprised of “levels of influence”.

Duration of thinking about something.
Emotional attachments with the thoughts.
Prior memories of similar events.
Prior physical experiences.
The thoughts of the people (shadow consciousnesses) around you.
Cultural variances, needs and desires.
Mass thought manipulation (Have you been paying attention to the news lately?)
One’s inherent belief system.

Ah, no two thoughts are equal. They have a “weighed” value or influence factor. Further, they are also modified by other thoughts by other “shadow consciousnesses” (Individual proxy consciousnesses that share a given reality.)

Think about it. It has to be this way, or else an obsessed person should be able to have their dreams manifest quite easily. But, the truth is that they don't. That is because of a slew of factors. One of which is the "level of influence" that a thought is given within a given world-line.

One of the most important and significant factors in thought-directed world-line selection is one’s inherent belief system.

Consider the cow.

Let's use the cow analogy. 

For instance, you might be starving, and ready to die of starvation.

A typical American would not have any qualms with butchering a cow and eating steak. A Hindu would not, and would rather die than kill a cow. A vegetarian might be against eating it, but would not have any qualms drinking it's milk.

Our actions are determined, in large part, by our belief systems.

It is our deepest belief systems that have the greatest influences in our thoughts.

The influence of our deepest thoughts. — It is our deepest thoughts and core belief systems that have the greatest influence in thought direction and world-line selection. For no two people are the same.

This is a very important subject, and I will cover it later on. For now, let’s look at things simply. Consider that all thoughts are simple, unique and they can easily select the “frames” or world-lines that the consciousness will migrate to.

The actual “landscape” of the MWI as viewed by the individual consciousness.

Imagine a “road map” of nearby world-lines.

Now, what would it look like? What would it resemble? How would we be able to take into account all the different variables that are constantly shifting and changing all around us?

Obviously, it would have a form of sorts.

It would have (as an illustration) globes representing a given “world-line” (or “frame” in the movie using the analogy above). It would also have lines. The lines would represent a path of migration. Which is the most probable paths for a consciousness to take when moving from one world-line to another.

Movement in and out of the world-lines in the MWI by using the movie projector analogy to describe the way that consciousness moves in and out of different world-lines though thought.

Now, this is a pretty good analogy as far as it describes the path that a consciousness would take. However, this analogy ignores the world-lines that are not taken. And in general, there a millions or much larger numbers of world-lines that are constantly ignored.

So a better way of mapping this procedure is to do so in a three dimensional framework.

Moving away from the movie projector analogy and mapping it upon a three-dimensional grip, it might look something a little like this. With the positions of the world-lines geographically positioned relatively to the pathways as a function of the intrinsic value of the particular world-line.

The path that consciousness takes might be just as well placed on a map of sorts. THis map might show nodes and paths where the consciousness might migrate depending on thought manifestation, generation and progression. — The path that consciousness takes might be just as well placed on a map of sorts. This map might show nodes and paths where the consciousness might migrate depending on thought manifestation, generation and progression.

However, it would not look so much like a cluster of grapes, or bubbles on a foamy sea of bath water. No.

It turns out that the highest probability pathway forms a kind of sheet or flat surface when plotted in the three dimensions.

If you end up plotting everything, you can't make out heads or tails of the map. It's just this one big mess. But, if you plot the pathways that have the greatest probability of travel, it simplifies immensely.

Instead of a cluster of grapes, it would look a little like a mesh or a grid. With the points being world-lines, and the lines connecting the points as the shortest distance to that world-line.

Now, if you take a step away from this “map” of “world-lines” and their lines of “high-probability” consciousness transfer it might start looking a little like this. Where you would see a “surface” of “highest probability” pathways, with the relative ease of travel and the strength of character needed to traverse affecting the heights and valleys of the apparent surface.

How the world-lines with consciousness migration paths migh look when a person takes a larger overview. You will see that the map is not a flat surface, but rather undulates. It forms hills, valleys and "mountains". This surface is the "geography" of the world-line transition map. Each posible destination world-line would have a different value of "potential". Which is a potential for the consciousness to move towards it and occupy it. — How the world-lines with consciousness migration paths might look when a person takes a larger overview. You will see that the map is not a flat surface, but rather undulates. It forms hills, valleys and “mountains”. This surface is the “geography” of the world-line transition map. Each possible destination world-line would have a different value of “potential”. Which is a potential for the consciousness to move towards it and occupy it.

The “surface” that this map forms is the HIGHEST PROBABILITY of consciousness movement from one world-line node to another.

Going above the surface indicates a strength of will over the combined strength of inertia of a given world-line.
Going below the surface indicates a weak strength of will and a consciousness being overwhelmed by the inherent inertia of a given world-line.

Additionally…

Moving to the left upon the mapped surface indicates more freedom of movement upon a given world-line reality.
Moving to the right upon the mapped surface indicates less freedom of movement upon a given world-line reality.

Thus…

The topographic map display is a useful tool in understanding the hurtles and trials that one needs to endure to travel forth on the MWI.

The movement on the topographical map of the highest probability paths is accomplished via thought.

However, the rate of travel is fast…

The thing is, however, that the rate of travel through each world-line in the MWI is quite fast. It is around four world-lines per second. (For some people it is much, much higher.) Thus, for any topographic map to be of any use, it will have to have to exist on a much larger scale than what is presented here.

As such, the individual world-lines would appear as tiny pixels, and for the map to be of any use, it should describe a travel duration in terms of weeks rather than seconds. This means that the map would look like a smooth gradient rather than an array of “floating”globes.

MWI geometic map showing an arraw of highest probability world-lines in a seven second cluster of time. — MWI geometric map showing an array of highest probability world-lines in a seven second cluster of time. As the resolution increases the similarity to geologic topographic maps increases. Often these maps resemble landscapes and other recognizable surfaces.

Mapping the surface.

Here, we are going to take a look at the way the landscape actually looks from the point of view of an individual consciousness. It is NOT simple and flat. It is undulating with all sorts of “nearby” world-lines that the thoughts can select and migrate towards.

In general, it might look something along these lines…

In reality, this topographical map is much more complex and complicated. However, I was able to (functionally) navigate it using a sort of simple 3d understanding, and that understanding is one that I will provide here. Yes, these are my conventions distilled and illustrated as a teaching aide.

Here we look at it is the substantially simplified version that I am accustomed to using.

The purposes of the axes on a MWI graphic. — The meanings and purposes in the three-dimensional topographical portrayal.

Now because this is a very simplified diagrammatic representation, numerous variables are incorporated in the “X’ and “Z” axes. (Not to mention the entropy axis “Y”.) In general, as I understand it, the characteristics of the “X’ and “Y” axes are an algebraic sum of the inverses of the individual contributions to the axes elements.

OK. I know that I lost you. Just think of it as a sum average of all your thoughts.

Internal Influences

Internal influences should be understood as the ultimate result of comparative thought-driven MWI transitions by the given consciousness.

Suppose the mind has a wide selection of thoughts. Everything from anger at a spouse, to frustration at work, and influences in the news, to a loving thoughts related to romance. All these thoughts will work together to generate a (singular) "value" on this axis.

But, it is more than that. It is also the weighed value and the intensity of the thoughts, coupled with the apparent carry-over duration longevity of the thoughts as a person migrates in and through the other world-lines.

Let's keep it simple.

Look, if you drop a slice of pizza in the middle of a muddy road, would you [1] pick it up, wipe the mud off the pizza, and eat it. or [2] say "heck with that", and leave the pizza in the mud as a lost cause.

For most people, they would give up and abandon the slice of pizza. 

The amount of mud is far too distracting to enjoy the slice of pizza. That is that way this system works. For if you abandon the slice, like most people would, your would occupy a world-line on the surface of the undulating map. 

If however, against all probability and convention, you decided to eat the slice, you might be above or below the surface, depending on other factors.

Here’s an example.

Let’s suppose that you are a simple fellow and you have five things going on in your life.

A spouse that wants a divorce.
A boss who is hinting on firing you.
A yearning for a club sandwich and an ice cold beer.
A pet that loves you and is very loyal.
Memories of fishing with your father.

In this example, some of the items would have more emotion attached to it that others. While other issues might be better at controlling your emotions and directing your thoughts. While still others might be able to erase the thoughts completely (if for a short period of time).

You might be an emotional wreck and your thoughts would manifest a life that would reflect your thoughts.

As an aside, drugs and other stimuli can also influence thoughts and behaviors. All of these complexities can alter the navigational ability on the MWI.

There is no way to judge which thoughts or issues affecting the thoughts would have the greatest influence on the person because it is their deepest internal core belief systems that would result in how the world-lines would manifest.

Charlie Sheen's Public Meltdown in 2011 — Charlie Sheen’s Public Meltdown in 2011

All that one can assume is that all the factors would be weighted together and balanced though the core belief systems of the soul / consciousness. This would influence the momentary section of the next world-line.

Is it no wonder that when things start going wrong, that they often end up spiraling out of control?

External Influences

External influences should be considered the inherent inertia that comes with a given world-line.

Inertia.

Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to any change in its state. Once you have a bowling ball sitting on the floor, it is a little difficult to get it to move. However, once you get it moving, it's hard to slow down. 

That difficulty... getting it started to move, and stopping it from moving... is what is known as inertia.

For our purposes it is the accumulated influences of the “shadow thoughts” of those (non-consciousness) apparent beings that share a given destination world-line. These are all the physical and non-physical influences that would affect the thoughts of a consciousness while it is in a given world-line.

You see, there can only be one consciousness per world-line. All those other "people" that we share the world-line with are actually "shadows". They are the bodies and representation of other consciousness were they to share the reality with us. As such, not only are their physical being present with us, but also their thoughts, dreams, desires and urges as well.

A "shadow" is a person that we share the specific world-line with. 

However no consciousness inhabits their body. Their actual consciousness is off in another reality. We are observing their 'shadow" or a portrayal of how they would behave, act and think were they to share our reality with us.

The arrow of time.

With this being understood, a consciousness… a person might experience world-line travel at a rate of around 4 Hz, and visit numerous world-lines in any given instance. Thus the “arrow of time” might look something like this…

How time manifests in the MWI. — The topography of the MWI showing the apparent “arrow of time”.

Thus in this simplified diagram showing the geography of the MWI you (the reader) can see [1] how the passage of time manifests, [2] how your thoughts can alter and change the “X” vector component, and [3] how a given world-line can influence the path direction via a “Z” axis vector. You will also notice that the “arrow of time” [4] moves along the direction of decreasing entropy.

Entropy

A measure of the amount of disorder in a system. Entropy increases as the system's temperature increases. For example, when an  ice cube melts and becomes liquid, the energy of the molecular bonds  which formed the ice crystals is lost, and the arrangement of the water  molecules is more random, or disordered, than it was in the ice cube. We can assume that in a  macrocosmic  universe, that it can be best represented as time.

The migration process.

Movement of a soul consciousness to a world-line reality.

Our consciousness moves from one physical body in one world-line to another in a different world-line. For most humans, most of the time, the rate of travel is around four world-lines per second.

Expert hint;

If you are using "the power of intention" to manifest your reality, what you are doing is focusing on a destination world line. If you track your success or failure in this effort, you will discover the amount of time it will take for your intentions to manifest.

If it took 6 months, then that means that you had to pass through 62,208,000 (more or less) world lines to arrive at your destination world-line.

Figure around 10 million world-line transitions per month.

The way that consciousness is able to move in and out of the various world lines is though wave propagation behavior.

While it is a given world-line, the consciousness occupies the body in the particle form.
While the consciousness moves from one world-line to another, it is no longer occupying a body. It is thus in a wave form.

Quanta can change states, but this is really a state change by the observer, not an actual change in the object itself. — It is not that a quanta changes, it is how the observer views the quanta that makes the change. Our soul controls consciousness. Consciousness can be in different states depending upon the point of view of the person (the observer). Here we can see that the two apparently different states are one and the same thing, depending on the point of view of the observer.

This all happens rather quickly. In most people, mostly the rate of travel from one world-line to another is around 4Hz. For most humans our brains have a difficult time observing the changes in these movements. So we think that we are living in one singular world-line that we share with others.

Here is a gif that kind of illustrates the point, and the system at work here.

Wave and particle duality and illustration.

The entry process

This is how the consciousness changes from wave to particle for entry within a body within a reality. Our consciousness naturally exists in the wave form.

However, the moment it “crashes through” into a fabricated world-line reality, it changes form. It becomes a particle. It’s a natural process.

MAJestic operations (slides and dives)

The thing is, if you are in MAjestic, and are engaged in the role like I was in, your visualization of the MWI mapping would be quite different. I was often not allowed, or permitted, to live a “normal” life per my capabilities. ‘

Instead I was often pulled off my life track and immersed within a completely different reality.

One of the reasons why it sucked to be me.

And this is what it was like.

An illustration, by using map topography of the mWI to describe what a slide was like. It took me to a completely different series of world-lines that were way, way off the probability curves of a "normal" consciousness migration vector. — An illustration, by using map topography of the MWI to describe what a slide was like. It took me to a completely different series of world-lines that were way, way off the probability curves of a “normal” consciousness migration vector. In the instance shown, you can see that I was living a normal life on the MWI for a few seconds (figure four world-lines per second) and then boom! a slide would occur and I would be located way, way off my accustomed world-line.

For, by nature of my role, I would not follow the surface as described within the topography. I would be involved in slides and dives… including a few “deep dives”.

Thus, my dives and slides would deviate way off from the mapped surface geometry. It would render the understanding of this visualization quite differently.

A "slide" or a "dive" will transform your reality substantially. Often it will be wholly unrecognizable. Your body would be wholly immersed in the new reality, but your mind will not, nor will your memories. — A “slide” or a “dive” will transform your reality *substantially*. Often it will be wholly unrecognizable. Your body would be wholly immersed in the new reality, but your mind will not, nor will your memories.

Coordinates and vector tracking

Most certainly there were the manual coordinates that I would navigate (somewhat) with, but that really didn’t tell me much except upon what I felt. And that <redacted>.

Does the speedometer in the car have meaning if you do not know how long a mile is, or can tell the difference from air traveling at 10 miles/hour compared to 100 miles/hour?

Unless you have a comparative understanding of a value, the numerical values will hold no meaning.

For example...

Do you know (you the reader), know how big 25 mm is? If I were to tell you to get me a stack of sliced Lorraine Swiss cheese 25 mm high, would you know how big the stack would be?

(It's about an inch tall.)

The point is that unless you can associate some meaning with a alpha numerical value, it in itself will hold no meaning to you.

The good thing was that<redacted>, and as such I was able to track my movement. Though the understanding of it was quite different from what any other person would understand.

The automatic slides brought forth by the pilot, and the artifice were visually observed in the form of glyphs. Not numbers. These objects would pop into my visual sight clear enough and I could easily ignore, or discard the information as I felt. Which, for the most part, I did.

When you get a "blue plate special" in a restaurant with a small twig of parsley on the side, what do you do with the parsley? Do you eat it? Hold it up and study it? Or, are you like me, and ignore it and discard it?

When you get a "blue plate special" in a restaurant with a small twig of parsley on the side, what do you do with the parsley? Do you eat it? Hold it up and study it? Or, are you like me, and ignore it and discard it? — When you get a “blue plate special” in a restaurant with a small twig of parsley on the side, what do you do with the parsley? Do you eat it? Hold it up and study it? Or, are you like me, and ignore it and discard it?

These however, made little sense to me, being cycles, circles and symbols. What did make sense was the multi-layered navigation “console” or (more aptly) vision on what was transpiring. This <redacted>. At least in manual mode, I could understand the alpha numerical numbers, if not exactly the purposes.

Anyways, I will cover all this in another post / article.

For now, let’s just simply say that for me (and the others in my role) we had a map that included multiple surface topography. (Let’s not get too involved in how we were able to “see” and access this map. It’s stuff for another long sequence of posts.)

The pilot would navigate my slides way off the “normal” topographic map, and I would enter into other realities that were quite removed from the map. I would be able to observe this in the form of different surface topography lying on top of each other.

Recording of our “migration path”.

All of this was recorded on yet another kind of visual map. However, let it be completely understood that it was absolutely confusing to me and looked more like patterned wallpaper of extreme complexity than anything else. I could not, in any way, understand it.

Conclusion

This post describes how I was able to track and understand what I was going through as I experienced the MWI for MAJestic. The organization, via the <redacted> took me to different versions of our earth for the purposes of the prevention of world-line clustering in a manner that would be problematic.

This post describes what it was like for me going through this, and how I was able to understand what was going on.

MAJestic Related Posts – Training

MAJestic Related Posts – Our Universe

Enjoy.

Utilizing Intention

Using Intention to make your life sparkle.

Influencer Questions

Here are posts that have gathered a series of questions from various influencers. They are interesting in many ways and could help all of us unravel the mysteries of the lives that we live.

MAJestic Related Posts – World-Line Travel

John Titor Related Posts

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Not everyone needs to be understood—especially if they’re a gnome whispering nonsense at a rake

I have had numerous close buddies of mine who have died over drugs, or drug related effects. It’s horrible, but true. This little video BELOW brought back all sorts of memories. And reminders.

I suggest you all watch it. It’s real and it’s raw.

Thankfully, I never had the horrific experience that this man had. But Jesus!

My Ex-Wife Cheated While Using Drugs with a Stranger, and He Died in Our Bed

Iran Foreign Minister Publicly REFUTES Trump: No Ceasefire and No Surrender

Duh! In the middle of successful negotiations, the USA blew up the building killing everyone. Then a second set of negotiations. And again, the USA blew up the building killing everyone. Now trump is saying that Iran wants a third attempt. Is he crazy? -MM

Hal Turner World March 06, 2026

Iran Foreign Minister Publicly REFUTES Trump: No Ceasefire and No Surrender

The Foreign Minister of Iran has publicly contradicted US President Donald Trump, who said earlier today “Iran wants to talk.”

Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi made clear during a televised interview with NBC, that Iran REFUSES to engage in Ceasefire Talks, and will NOT surrender.

He went on to say “The fact is that we don’t have any positive experience of negotiating with the United States. You know, especially with this administration. We negotiated twice last year and this year, and then in the middle of negotiations, they attacked us,” Araghchi said. “So we see no reason why we should engage once again with those who have, who are not honest in negotiation, and they don’t and do not enter into negotiation in good faith.”

U.S. Just INVADED Ecuador!! Here’s Why!

The reality is so absurd.

WTF?

Sir Whiskerton and the Gnome’s Secret Code: A Tale of Backwards Whispers, Bewildered Farmers, and a Very Confused Rake

Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round for a tale so delightfully silly that even the scarecrow might question its sanity. Today’s adventure begins with Gnomeo, the farm’s resident trickster, who claims to speak a language so secret, so profound, that only the wisest (or most gullible) can decipher it. What followed was a symphony of backwards whispers, a farmer’s existential crisis, and a rake that—against all odds—became the farm’s most sought-after therapist. So, tilt your hat (or your entire worldview) and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Gnome’s Secret Code.

The Language of Gnomes (Or So They Say)

It all began when Gnomeo, perched atop a mushroom like a tiny, pointy-hatted dictator, announced his latest discovery:

“Behold!” he declared, stroking his beard. “I speak Gnome-ish—the ancient tongue of my people. It sounds like whispering… but backwards.”

Sir Whiskerton, ever the skeptic, flicked an ear. “That’s just whispering with extra steps.”

Undeterred, Gnomeo demonstrated:

“Emoclew,” he whispered reverently. (“Welcome” backwards, for the uninitiated.)
“Yadhtrib,” he added, nodding sagely. (“Birthday”, apparently.)
“Now try saying ‘haystack’ backwards,” he urged. “It’s life-changing.”

Porkchop the Pig squinted. “So… ‘kcatsyah’ is wisdom?”
“Exactly,” Gnomeo said, as if this clarified everything.

The Farmer’s New Best Friend

The real chaos began when the farmer, ever eager for “enlightenment,” overheard Gnomeo’s nonsense.

“Fascinating!” the farmer gasped. “A language only the pure of heart can understand!”

Before Whiskerton could intervene, the farmer knelt before a rusty rake leaning against the barn.

“Tell me your secrets, wise one,” the farmer whispered.

A pause. A breeze. Then—

“Ekat em ot eht nekcihc,” Gnomeo “translated” from behind a bush. (“Take me to the chicken”, or so he claimed.)

The farmer’s eyes widened. “You’re oddly insightful.”

And so, the farmer spent the next hour in deep conversation with the rake, nodding solemnly as Gnomeo fed him increasingly ridiculous translations:

“The rake says… you should wear your boots on your hands tomorrow.”
“The rake strongly suggests talking to the scarecrow about its ‘trust issues.’”
“The rake believes… squirrels are government spies.”

Sir Whiskerton watched, his face-pawing reaching Olympic levels.

The Moral of the Story

Eventually, the farmer wandered off, muttering about “rake therapy,” and Gnomeo collapsed into giggles.

“Why let the truth get in the way of a good joke?” Gnomeo wheezed.

Whiskerton sighed. “Not everyone needs to be understood, Gnomeo. But you? You deserve to be put in time-out.”

Moral: Not everyone needs to be understood—especially if they’re a gnome whispering nonsense at a rake.

Post-Credit Scene

The next morning, the farmer introduced the rake to the hens as the farm’s new “emotional support tool.” Doris, ever dramatic, immediately asked it for relationship advice.

Best Lines:

“Say ‘wheelbarrow’ backwards. Now weep.” – Gnomeo, faux-mystic
“The rake’s silence speaks volumes.” – Farmer, deeply invested
“I’ve decoded Gnome-ish! It’s nonsense.” – Sir Whiskerton, exhausted

Starring:

Gnomeo (Tiny Con Artist)
The Farmer (Gullible but Well-Meaning)
Sir Whiskerton (Long-Suffering Genius)
The Rake (Silent MVP)

Key Jokes:

Gnomeo claiming “Yadhtrib” is the Gnome-ish word for “serenity.”
The farmer offering the rake a cup of tea.
Rufus the Dog howling “Em pleh” (“Help me”) backwards, then forgetting why.

P.S.

Remember: If someone whispers “Erom ym tsohg” at you, just nod and walk away. (Probably.)

The End.

If the United States launches a full-scale attack on China, and joins forces with Japan, South Korea, the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, Germany, France, Italy, the Philippines, India, and Israel to attack China, how long can China persist?

China is ready.

The countries you mentioned can prepare in advance the draft treaties on cession of territory and payment of compensation after defeat and submit them to us for review.

You are not naive enough to think that there will be no cost for actively provoking China with force, right?

Do you imagine that you are like a movie director who can shout “Cut!” at any time?

No! You can’t stop the war at any time after you start it!

Once a war breaks out, the initiative of the war will no longer belong to the countries you mentioned. The location of the battlefield and the duration of the war will no longer be controlled by the countries you mentioned, but by China.

Napoleon once said, ‘China is a sleeping giant. Let China sleep, for when she wakes, she will shake the world.’

She’s already awake, and you’re still trying to provoke her. You’re simply courting death.

Is China’s GDP Actually 3 Times Larger Than America’s?

Can a rich family attain liberation (Moksha) as it has too much money to spend and will use the money only for material (temporary) enjoy?

I follow Deng Xiaoping

He has the perfect philosophy when it comes to the Rich and the material enjoyment

Any man who grows rich, has the right to grow as rich as possible provided the money he earns benefits the community at least twice more than it benefits him

In short if a man earns ₹100/- more than the money needed to live a comfortable life , then his benefit should be ₹33/- and the benefit to the community / people should be ₹67/-

Simple as that

Any man who doesn’t follow this rule will have his extra money taken away by the State and used for prosperity of the community

This is called Capitalism with Chinese Characteristics

It is basically progressive taxation where the rich have to pay more taxes than the low income

It is why China has CAPITALISTS BUT NOT A CAPITALIST CLASS

People who follow this are respected greatly

People who DARE question this incredible philosophy are RUTHLESSLY CRUSHED INTO SUBMISSION 👏👏👏

The laymans version is

Become Rich but ensure your economy around you becomes richer

Its why you won’t find any other country where a Top Surgeon has no problems when his per surgery fees are capped at 35000 Yuan ($ 4,655) and he averages 300,000 Yuan a year when he can make $ 1.5 Million a year in US or SGD 1 Million a year in Singapore

Yingming is among the wealthiest Chinese today

Yet his profits are capped at 18%

The State ensures that Bytedance spends a minimum of 12% Revenue or 36% Profits in Research, Development and Fostering Civilization (Basically for Education and Programs)

In addition to taxes!!!!

Does he care?

Nopes

To him, he makes 240 Million Yuan a year ($ 34 Million) and that’s enough for him and his entire family to live a very luxurious life, a super luxurious life

That he could be making 500–600 Million Yuan a year if the Dividend caps were removed, is not even in his mind

He has a duty to his civilization as a rich man, exactly as Deng Xiaoping envisioned many years ago

So a Rich family that spends money on itself will never attain Moksha

That includes Thelawallahs who create absolutely zero wealth and whose entire strategy is patronage and corruption

They are part of a CAPITALIST CLASS

A Cancer to Society and Economy

Remember – Capitalists are fine, A Capitalist Class is terrible

So I believe the Chinese Strategy is the best

Capping how much money someone can have to live a comfortable life
Ensuring every dollar earned beyond that, must enrich the community more than the Individual or his family

A truth about the USA

Tariffs are a headache but have a surprise upshot: the U.S. is raking in billions more than expected. What are your thoughts on this?

As a billionaire POTUS, Trump is always expecting this :

However the outcome after reality check is this :

Only when these two largest economies can sit together talking in Chinese terms & conditions in accordance with WTO’s rules & regulations, then the global economy will be bright.

Another Chinese Dollar-Killer: Gold For Oil

If you’ve got oil, China’s got gold–the second-most traded financial commodity after the dollar.

Godfree Robert

As we saw in China’s Dollar Killer is a Stablecoin?, the US Treasury is playing defense against China’s mBridge, currency swaps and stablecoin. Now Beijing has opened a fourth front in its attack on dollar hegemony: paying for imports in gold. Tons of gold.

De-dollarization is unfolding in central bank FX reserves, where the share of USD has slid to a two-decade low. In fixed income, the share of foreign ownership in the U.S. Treasury market has fallen over the last 15 years, pointing to reduced reliance on the dollar. De-dollarization is most visible in commodity markets, where a large and growing proportion of energy is being priced in non-dollar-denominated contracts. – JP Morgan, July 01, 2025.

If you sell a supertanker of oil to a Chinese refinery for $240 million you’ll incur transaction costs in the millions: the dollar is losing value daily, SWIFT takes forever, will charge you $4.8 million and expose you to US Government scrutiny. “Or,” asks your Chinese buyer, “Shall we simply pay you in gold?”

How it works

The People’s Bank of China, with 2,250 tons of gold in its vaults worth $243,000,000,000, also owns the Shanghai Gold Exchange, the world’s largest physical gold trading floor. Your buyer will exchange your 1 million barrels of oil for 1.2 tons of gold, so the PBOC delivers your 1.2 tons to the International Gold Delivery vaults it also owns in Hong Kong, from where you can send it anywhere.

Big Picture

Gold for Oil is another strategic initiative to bypass dollar-denominated trade, reduce reliance on Western financial networks and secure energy supplies. It

weakens the petrodollar system that has propped up dollar demand since the 1970s and
encourages Iran, Saudi Arabia and Indonesia to accept non-dollar payments.
reinforces the idea of gold as a neutral reserve asset in the midst of currency wars
locks in oil supplies without FX risks
fuels the China-Russia-Iran commodity-backed financial bloc,
challenges Western monetary hegemony,
erodes dollar dominance,
protects sanctioned partners,
builds a parallel, gold-anchored trade system,
accelerates de-dollarization, a core BRICS strategic goal.
and above all, it’s working – JP Morgan testified.

Watch/Read

China is aggressively dumping U.S. Treasuries, building yuan trade systems, and creating alternatives to SWIFT. This isn’t symbolic. It’s systemic.

Cloud Capital–Yanis Varoufakis

The Creature from Jekyll Island. The creation of America’s privately owned Federal Reserve and its role in war-making.

Stablecoins: FDIC bailouts, redemptions and run risks: who bails out stablecoin issuers?

The stablecoin loophole that could expose the EU.

Stablecoins Are WORSE Than CBDCs! with Mark Goodwin.

As of July 17, 2025, BRICS consists of nine member countries: Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa, Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates. The original five members (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa) were joined by the four new members (Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, UAE) on January 1, 2024. Saudi Arabia has not formally joined, but participates in some BRICS activities as a partner. Another 40 countries have expressed interest in joining, with 24 (including Algeria, Bahrain, Bangladesh, and others) formally applying for membership or invited as partner countries.

How do prisoners who are serving a life sentence manage to find any purpose to live?

I was locked up and had a cellmate who had been locked up for over 40 years. He got locked up for murder when he was 19. He’s been in prison longer than I’ve been alive. He was a no bullshit kind of guy, which I respected. He was pretty smart as well. He read all types of shit. From Nietzsche to fucking Highlights.

He worked out in our cell right after I got done doing my thing. We had good conversations, and for an old biker, he was a pretty solid guy.

One night, I asked him how he has been able to keep his sanity being locked up for so long and knowing he’s gonna die in prison. His only reply was, “What makes you think I still have my sanity?”

They LIED abt China! America can’t compete with China’s infrastructure! (Insane food)

Apricot Chicken

5b4fdd64e6d0fdc60040ebb3f42fc17b

Ingredients

1 fryer, cut up
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/3 cup teriyaki sauce
2 tablespoons apricot preserves
1 tablespoon minced onion
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Instructions

Coat chicken with flour; brown slowly in hot oil.
Combine remaining ingredients. Pour evenly over chicken.
Cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 45 minutes, or until chicken is tender, turning over once.

What happens to soldiers when they see enemy tanks?

Most often, you hear an enemy tank long before you see it.

Good soldiers will be prepared. The guy who spots the tank first will (calmly) inform his comrades: “Tank at 600 meters, left of the barn on the edge of the forest!”

If they haven’t done so already, the anti-tank team in your squad or platoon will ready their weapons.

Most of the time, the tank will be out of range of your weapons, especially if you only have RPGs and not a modern anti-tank guided missile like a Milan, Javelin, or N-LAW. This means the anti-tank team will need to get closer to the target (if you decide to engage).

A Ukrainian soldier with a N-LAW ATGM (anti tank guided missile). Modern anti-tank tank weapons have made the hunt for enemy tanks much safer but it’s still not without risks. (Picture: AFU)

This is the dangerous part of the mission: getting close enough to the tank to take a shot at it. Never forget that where there’s one tank, there are often more, along with enemy infantry.

If you miss, you’re probably screwed. So, you fire, then change position to try another shot (if the first one missed or didn’t have the desired effect), and finally return to the rest of your team. This retreat is often the most dangerous part: the enemy has spotted you and is firing all their weapons at you.

It’s an interesting job, but it requires a certain mindset and, of course, a lot of balls.

Your Point Is?

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an important message from the office of the President of the United States of America. Hardly a single head in Tequila Mockingbird, the high-class bar in a dead-end town, stirred an inch in response. The President had stopped mattering much to anyone in this area many moons ago. Across the country, there was a similar non-response wherever the TV programming could be interrupted.Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine nation, I stand before you to bring groundbreaking information that may initially seem frightening. Still, I want to assure each and every one of you that your government has everything under control and has for many decades. A few eyes cast a quick glance at the screen perched high above the multi-colored bottles of liquid distraction before looking away again, and the automated jukebox in the corner switched from playing Don’t Stop Believin’ to I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho). Pammy sent the eight ball flying into the corner pocket, Greg missed his shot on the dartboard, Rhonda let out a belch at the end of her beer, and the President looked around as if he actually stood six feet above the bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam and peered down at them all.What I’m about to tell you will surely come as a shock, but we are all in this together, and I can confirm that there is nothing to fear. A few eyes at the bar looked up and remained trained on the television this time. “Hey!” Bobby Burgner belted over his broad, dusty shoulder, “Pipe the hell down! I’m tryin’ to hear the news!” Several eyes turned their glare to Debra, who was apparently training to audition on both American Idol and Dancing With The Stars with her partner, the bar stool. It was a relief to everyone when she tripped over her partner’s two left feet and stopped singing in her version of Spanish.The President gave a dramatic pause as if he knew the murmurs would start up, his knuckles white and bony and mottled with a mass of purple veins beating in rhythm to his eighty-eight-year-old heart that fallaciously believed he’d never be required to give this speech. His face was the oddest combination of sickly pale and girlish pink, and the patrons of Tequila Mockingbird began to take notice that something just wasn’t right. “What’d he say before? What are we not supposed to fear??”“I said, pipe the hell down! Don’t you understand English?”Behind the bar, Barry grabbed the remote to the highfalutin jukebox in the corner that took bank cards online instead of quarters from pockets. Silence descended upon them all, the President still hovering above them, their necks straining as their heads pushed back to watch and wait and stare at the sweat starting to run down to the jowls of this geriatric wonder telling them they were safe with him. They watched him inhale a long, shaky breath, his watery blue eyes taking on a steely determination, the blue tinge to his lips momentarily easing into a shade somewhere between gutted pig and overly zealous blush application.It is a momentous time in our history as Americans, nay, as people from this great planet, when we can finally answer the question, ‘Are we alone in this vast universe?’. And the answer is a resounding no. There was a lengthy pause as every eye stared at the President, who had once again paused and stared into the camera with a doddering glance that appeared as if his eyes were following the people at home, a Mona Lisa trick that missed the mark. Then, in almost perfect unison, each patron of the Happy Hour crowd erupted into hysterical laughter.Bobby Burgner, resident of this town since he was a child who crash-landed with his parent’s tour group in the preacher’s backyard, was from the little planet hiding on the other side of Mars, never captured by the telescopes and probes, a beach resort for most of the galaxy who coveted their pearly sands and pristine waters. They’d had a great time getting to know each other as his parents were proselytizing the good word of The Prime, and Preacher Joe was determined to share the faith of American Christians from sea to shining sea and beyond. Soon, the entire town accepted the tour group, who shared the pews with them at Mulberry Methodist and the stands at every Friday night high school football game.Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you need to understand that they have been here since the dawn of humankind. We have never been alone. They aren’t here to start an invasion; they are our caretakers. It turns out we’re pretty darn stupid as a species, and without them… well… humanity would have never even begun. We’re just a little too prone to violence and a little too resistant to progress. Everyone here knew it was true. They’d all been warned about their missionary work on this planet. Some came as scientists trying to undo the damage of this species. Some came as tourists who just really loved the culture. Others were family of diplomats who were employed here to continue to negotiate and guide the human race away from self-destruction so that brighter minds could continue to develop in the hopes that, one day, this Earth would be as great as any other developed planet in the tri-galaxy area. High-ranking officials could (and would) relocate their immediate family for their stay, which was often a life-long commitment and not to be taken lightly. Half of this town was from somewhere far, far away, and everyone knew it. The only way to keep a secret is to ensure only one person knows that secret; once you include a second person, word will get out sooner than later.Barry flicked the remote towards the jukebox again, Pammy racked up the pool balls, Greg missed the target on the dartboard again, Rhonda ordered another beer, Bobby asked for salted nuts, and Debra dug into her nachos that had magically appeared when she wasn’t paying attention.No one was surprised that this groundbreaking information went by without notice or much commentary. Inflation was at an all-time high. Gas prices jacked up twenty-five cents per gallon overnight. School shopping started in earnest, and the stores had limited bulletproof backpacks. Alien or not, the nation had more significant concerns. As the President said – they’d always been here. Barry poured a drink, and the jukebox played Tubthumping.

India and China represent 35% of the world’s population. By alienating them, does the US risk its place as the superpower?

Thanks for the request.

So what? Do you think world powers care about the poor of the world’?

You’re forgetting Africa? This is another 18% of the global population. You don’t hear anybody talking about them. . . . . except for China.

China’s been investing a lot in Africa and of course, this is not for pure altruism as it has also been closing deals to ensure access to Africa’s abundant natural resources.

But back to the question, alienating India and China? Not exactly – in fact, far from it.

The U.S. sees China as a threat to our hegemony and reacting as such. . . . and manipulating India to be a proxy to contain China. trump’s latest treatment of India however puts a new progression to the global geopolitical equation.

It’s the major U.S. allies – U.K., E.U., Canada and Mexico – that trump’s alienating and its the U.S. vassals – South Korea, Japan and India – that trump’s working over like worn-out punching bags. And its China that trump’s losing his tariff war over.

trump is retreating so badly and fast that he’ll be landing on his fat ass conceding everything very soon. . . and you’ll have U.S. allies and vassals all cheering on the sidelines.

trump’s moronic quest with his tariff war might just have one silver lining – the billions in tariff revenue should put a brake on our runaway debt crisis. And ultimately it will be the American consumers paying the price. The days of free lunches are over as the U.S. printing increasing depreciating US$ is inevitably now coming to an end.

Pictures

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Is it ever cheaper to switch to American-made products when tariffs are high, or do we still end up paying more?

You don’t seem to understand how the world works.
OK lets make it simple.
A silk shirt, everybody likes a silk shirt. So lets find an American sourced silk shirt.
Oh, there are no silk worms native to America. So ya fucked.
How about a cup of coffee, Americans drink gallons of the stuff. Lets find American coffee.
Oh, coffee does not grow in America, no rain forests. Again, ya fucked.
Bananas? No, ya fucked.
Tires for the truck? No rubber trees, so there you go, fucked.
So switching to American-Made products, you end walking around bare footed (rubber soles) naked, hungry and thirsty.
Is that what you want?
We live in a global village, international trade has been the order of the day for nigh on three thousand years. Global trade is what makes the world go round. Makes all our lives richer.
And Trump wants to cut you off from all that.
Well you elected him. It’s your problem.
I wish you the best of luck. You’re gunna need it.

This woman is unreal

Is having children worth it?

It’s worth it if you want it.

But even when you do want it, there are probably still going to be times where you gaslight yourself and wonder if the stress of being a parent was worth giving up so much of your personal freedom for.

I was definitely in the camp of wanting children.

The problem was that I had a completely unrealistic view of what parenthood would be.

I thought it would be the kids playing hide and seek together in the garden while I cooked delicious family dinners for us all listening to my podcasts while my wife read her book peacefully on the sun loungers sipping tea.

I thought it would be introducing the kids to the Back to the Future series and relaying to them the best of my music tastes.

I thought it would be taking them to watch the local football team and then having a kickaround in the garden afterwards.

I thought it would be playing videogames together.

I thought it would be reading cool books to my kids at bedtime.

…

And it is those things, but in each and every one of those things, there are fights, tempers lost, negotiations, tears, stress, wild mood swings, feelings of inadequacy, and much much more.

For all the beautiful experiences you have, you will always have to deal with the fact that your children are not tamagotchis but real living people who are predictably unpredictable and prone to not being amenable. There are times when they will not have any sense of gratitude for the things you do for them and the sacrifices you make daily to make sure they’re safe, healthy and happy.

And sometimes that’s really hard to deal with.

But, at the end of the day, you have someone who, at least in their youngest years, loves you with an intensity that will never be matched again in your life. And hopefully you’ll love them back the same.

Honestly, for all the ups and downs, I can imagine that I would feel incredibly empty if I were not a father. Being a father gives my life meaning beyond just living out my life. It makes me feel like I’m contributing to the world in a meaningfully positive way rather than just passively existing.

I know that is not something that everyone will feel about their own lives, and I absolutely respect that, but it is what I feel.

Underground Nuke Facility, Iran ALLEGEDLY Orders Scientists to IMMEDIATELY Enrich Uranium to Weapons Grade

Hal Turner World March 06, 2026

FLASH TRAFFIC: Reports Claim U.S. Strike on Suspected Underground Nuclear Site in Iran. Unconfirmed reports claim the U.S. Air Force struck a suspected underground uranium enrichment facility in Bukan, Iran.

According to the reports, the facility was allegedly concealed beneath a dairy company used as a cover operation.

The claims further suggest that several Iranian nuclear scientists were killed in the strike and that the site was completely destroyed.

At this stage, major international news agencies have not yet confirmed the existence of the facility or the strike, and details remain unclear.

If verified, it would represent a significant development in the ongoing campaign targeting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure. More information is expected as intelligence assessments and satellite imagery begin to emerge.

ALLEGED ENRICHMENT ORDER

Hours after the attack, INTEL CIRCUITS began carrying FLASH TRAFFIC alleging that Iran had ordered their remaining nuclear scientists to “immediately commence enriching existing Uranium to weapons grade.”

This allegation is just that: an ALLEGATION. While Intel Agencies may have firm evidence, I DO NOT.

I am reporting the information I received but it is vital that you understand I cannot prove the allegation of an enrichment order. I have merely been TOLD by a highly credible, and long-known, reliable, source in the Intel Community, that such an order was given in Iran.

The Human Invasion

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Matthew Ruiz

Connor stared at his laptop in shocked silence. The blood in his veins seemed to be replaced by ice water and he could feel all of the color drain from his face like in those cartoons he watched as a kid. Except this time he wasn’t a kid and the scene he watched play out on the screen was not as cartoonish as one might be led to believe. His phone buzzed somewhere on the couch beside him and his hand glided across the leathery surface, searching, as he could not unglue his eyes from what he was seeing. His fingers wrapped around his phone and he answered without looking.“Yea”.“Con, are you watching the news?” The words seem to come out all at once, using whatever little breath the person on the other line could muster.Connor’s mind was not present, though, and he barely registered the voice of the person who called, so he quickly stole a glance at his phone and saw that it was his brother, Matt.“Of course I am, who isn’t?” Conner answered, voice completely devoid of any hint at having some actual interest in this conversation at the moment. Scrolling below the news anchor team in big white letters was the headline “Sources Confirm Alien Contact with Several World SuperPowers”.“So I guess that ramp up on UFO sightings the past two months wasn’t all a hoax afterall…” Matt’s voice trailed off as the anchor team was replaced by a montage of UFO pictures and videos, all having been captured from all over the world in the last few months. It wasn’t rare to see them anymore, the objects were out during all hours of the day, worldwide.“The president is set to hold a state of address in mere minutes…” the anchor woman’s voice said in the background of a hand held video of what looked like a dozen UFO’s zipping across the sky at breathtaking speeds.“Oh great”, Matt groaned animatedly, “can’t wait to hear what this shithead has to say about this”.For once, Connor agreed, but he was still too stunned to say anything and in truth, he was scared. He’d always believed in aliens, had even had several heated debates about the topic with friends and family, but he never thought he would see the day when they would actually arrive on Earth. His heart was beating faster than he ever felt, breaths coming in shorter and shorter bursts, and he was starting to feel dizzy.“Con! Are you there?”, Matt asked, irritated with Connor’s lack of response.“Sorry, Matt, I’m just not feeling well,” Connor said in between breaths, resting his elbow on his knee and head in hand, gripping the phone like his life depended on it.There was a short pause on the other end and then, “It’s ok, I get it, bro. This is fucking crazy…oh the president is coming on now!”Connor put Matt on speaker and placed the phone down on the coffee table in front of him, tapping the volume button on his laptop to put it up. It was still low by normal standards but it boomed in his ears as the president came on screen. Connor winced in pain and lowered the volume, settling into his couch, feeling more sick by the minute. President Cooper was a tall, handsome man in his early fifties, and his whole platform was built on his calm and collective manner. He looked anything but at this moment.“Great,” he could hear Matt mutter through the phone, “this guy”.“Good evening, My fellow Americans. By now, you have all been aware of the rapid increase in UFO sightings over the last two months and the mist-like substance that these vehicles have been dispersing among the population. Our intelligence agencies have been hard at work and in constant communication with other countries all over the world, trying to get answers and understand what exactly is going on. Up until yesterday we were unable to get answers, but then….we were contacted.”He paused here, not for dramatic effect or because he was having a hard time reading the teleprompter. President Cooper was doing all he could to keep the tears that pooled at the bottom of his eyes from falling onto his face. If Connor had not felt like total crap at the moment, he would have felt sorry for him, but his head was killing him and his eyes were having a hard time focusing. He blinked furiously as the president composed himself and continued.“Yesterday, several world leaders were contacted by Extraterrestrial beings, in numbers larger than we could have imagined. After a few short hours it became quite clear that they have no intention nor are inclined to entertain any negotiations on behalf of any individual country or the planet. Now, as president of the United States, it is my sole responsibility to tell you, my fellow citizens, that we will fight this threat as we have all others and that there is no need to panic.“ President Cooper paused, and that calmness he was consistently praised for took control of his entire body.“But the truth…the real truth is that it will all be in vain. The ETs have been spreading a deadly pathogen across the skies. If you or anyone you know has come into direct contact with that…”

Connor wasn’t listening anymore, it really didn’t matter. His eyes hurt so much he couldn’t keep them open and his body had gone completely numb. The only thing that seemed to work normally was his hearing, albeit at a much more sensitive level.

“Connor!”, he could hear Matt calling his name as if he were sitting beside him, but Connor couldn’t move at all. “Con, you’re scaring me man, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”

Connor focused his hearing outside of the apartment. It was an odd sensation, like clogging one ear while you put the other to a door to hear through the other side. Except now, those sounds weren’t muffled. He could clearly hear his neighbors across the hall, Mike and his girlfriend Jess, packing frantically, moving around their apartment as if it was on fire. Jess was on the phone talking to her mother, trying to figure out a place to meet up and hunker down together. Mike was on the phone as well, whispering to his ex-fiancé about how badly he wanted to be with her.

Gunshots echoed loudly from somewhere outside the window, but for Connor that bullet might as well have lodged itself in the back of his skull because his head felt like it split in half with pain. He fell to his knees, squeezing his head in between his hands, crying out with every ounce of his body it hurt. His blood now ran boiling hot like lava scorching its way through his body and destroying everything it touched. His heart beat so hard he swore he could see it hitting his chest when he tore off his shirt and looked down. His eyes burned and tears streamed down his face freely like an overflowing sink.

Then it stopped.

The episode was over as quickly as it began and Connor laid out on his floor panting and more afraid than he had ever felt in his life. His body calmed quickly, however, and he was able to sit up with relative ease and surprise at how well he was feeling. He had overturned his table during his spurt of madness, so he crawled over to find his phone and laptop.

“Matt?”Connor said, “you there?”.

“Uh..yea Con. What the fuck was that?” He sounded scared and Connor couldn’t blame him, but he was better now. Wasn’t he?

“I don’t know, but it’s over now, I feel fine. Listen, the world is going to go to shit. I can hear it already outside my window. Am I going to you or you coming to me?”

“Were you exposed to the UFO mist, Con?” Matt asked, a seriousness in his voice that Connor had rarely heard.

Connor hesitated to answer the question and he wasn’t sure why. He trusted his brother, knew he would never rat him out. If he was asking it had to be for good reason.

“Yea, I was, a few nights ago on my way back from your place. They were all over the sky, Matt, coming down really low too. At first I just thought it was raining, but now, thinking back on it, it had to be the stuff coming from the UFOs.”

It wasn’t until he said it out loud that the magnitude of the situation began to make sense in his mind and the implications hit him like a runaway train.

“Get back on your laptop, Con, now.”

Connor grabbed his laptop and opened it up, refreshing the news channel it was on. The president was still on. In fact, Connor was stunned to realize that only a few minutes had gone by since his whole thing had started. He zoned his hearing to focus solely on the laptop, unsure of when he had figured that out.

“We have identified the mist as a biological weapon that the ET’s have told us will change the biology of those it has affected to the detriment of the major population. Anyone who has been affected, please, stay inside and call the number down below, and if anyone knows or sees anyone-”

The screen went black.

Connor could hear as the world around him gasped in surprise or screamed out in fear. His laptop was completely dead, which made no sense as the charger was plugged in. He checked his phone and it was dead also. His hearing pierced the walls of his apartment and he could hear the entire building coming alive as all the tenants scrambled in panic, wanting to get out.

Connor was unsure what his next move should be. He was affected by the bio weapon the aliens had spread, of that he was sure. The president had specifically detailed that people like him should stay inside, not only for their safety but the rest of the population as well. They also had a number that he had not recognized nor was he stupid enough to call it and turn himself in. Anyone with a brain could determine what would happen if you called that number.

Connor stood from the couch feeling stronger than he ever had before, an energy coursing through his entire body begging to be released. His ears detected a sound by his door, like someone was tugging at the door knob.

God, he thought, the world is ending and people immediately start becoming assholes. He took long powerful strides to the door and reached it just as it exploded inward, just inches from slamming into his body. The first thing he saw was the gun, right in his face, and he somehow was able to hyperfocus on the finger starting to squeeze the trigger.

Connor casually dipped his head away from the gun just as the bullet came flying out. His left hand shot out to grab the invaders gun, ripping it out his hands, and his right hand shot out into the man’s face. He dropped cold into the hallway, leaving Connor standing in the doorway holding a gun for the first time in his entire life. He studied it and had this overwhelming feeling that he didn’t need it, that it would be wrong to use. He tossed it back onto his couch and stepped out into the hallway. He couldn’t stay home, no matter what the president had ordered, he wouldn’t be a sitting duck. Besides, he felt completely fine.

As he moved down the hall to the stairway he could hear people rushing down the steps, making their way slowly down. It was then he realized that there were no lights on in the entire building. He looked up at the ceiling and down the hall. He could see the fixtures but no illumination and it did nothing to deter his vision.

What in the hell, he thought to himself, shaking his head and pushing himself into the stairway with the humans who were struggling to make it down without hurting themselves.

Humans. That was a weird thing to call them. Aren’t I human?

As he moved around the people his body began to throb, not painfully, but knowingly. It was alerting Connor that there was something he was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t until he exited the building and entered into a world of chaos of apocalyptic proportions that he understood. People were running everywhere and others were chasing them, moving insanely fast and not like humans at all. Buildings and cars were burning all around them, a person ran by completely engulfed in flames, his screams making Connor cringe like someone scratching a chalkboard.

The screaming, the fighting, the dying, it was all too much for him. It was enough to drive a person…but he wasn’t a person now. He could feel it right now, in the midst of all of this, he could feel himself removed from it all. He was not afraid, nor did he shy away from all the destruction. His body felt stronger because of it, excited by the revelation that he was no longer human.

“Con!” The voice sounded familiar, even the name seemed to hold some kind of meaning.

“Matt”, came the response, quiet and emotionless as if the word meant nothing. But the being that now stood in Connor’s body did not care to try to unravel the sudden mystery of what this encounter meant. He did, however, wish to satisfy his need to destroy the human race.

Why couldn’t the Iowa class battleships reduce armor or speed to accommodate a fourth turret without compromising their effectiveness?

Because that design wasn’t deemed sufficient enough.

What you’re describing here is the Montana Class battleship. A battleship very similar to the Iowa, but slightly larger, heavier, and a fourth turret, at the cost of speed. Now, when designing something like a battleship, you can’t have it all. If you make a battleship heavily armored, it’s gonna be heavy, and it takes fuel and power to push heavy things through the water faster. At some point, it’s gonna consume too much fuel to be practical or efficient to make it go that fast. The Iowa battleships already sacrificed enough armor (in my opinion) for speed and the ability to go through the Panama Canal, although some can argue that 12.1 inches is sufficient, especially since it was entering an era where plane attacks were the main method, and the armor belt wouldn’t be a factor.

Iowa (Top) compared to Montana (Bottom)

Back to the Montana. Construction was delayed repeatedly, but after the success of Midway, as well as a need for destroyers for Atlantic convoys, these ships were delayed again and finally canceled for good in July 1943. This was ultimately a good call, especially since these ships were on track to be finished in the fall of 1945. And as many of you know, they would have been finished after the war ended. And it wouldn’t be a case like the Midway, which was finished just days after the Japanese surrendered, because carriers were the new face of naval warfare. The Montanas, had any of them been completed, would have most likely been scrapped. Why not the slightly older Iowas? Because they had enough firepower, and they were more suited for keeping up with carrier task forces. The things that made Montana stand out from the Iowa – more armor and more guns – were no longer relevant.

It’s also worth noting that the AB-Y turret layout seemed to work just fine, since the Iowa’s, North Carolina’s, and South Dakota’s used it. But really, the main reasons was that it wasn’t necessary and didn’t fit with US Naval doctrine.

Braised Chicken with Papaya

This tropical chicken dish is one of the simplest to prepare. Pair it with basmati rice.

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, cut into 1-inch lengthwise strips
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 (10 1/2 ounce) can low-sodium chicken broth
1 large papaya, peeled, halved lengthwise, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices
Basmati Rice (follow package directions for 4 servings)
Garnish: freshly ground pepper and sprigs of fresh cilantro

Instructions

Combine the flour and pepper in a shallow bowl.
Flour the chicken by lightly pressing both sides of each chicken strip into the flour mixture.
Heat the olive oil in a large nonstick sauté pan over medium-high heat.
Arrange the chicken strips in a single layer; cook for 2 minutes on each side, or until they are lightly browned but not cooked through.
Reduce the heat to medium and pour the chicken broth over the chicken.
Place the papaya slices atop the chicken.
Cover and cook for about 8 minutes or until the chicken is thoroughly done.
To serve, spread a mound of rice on each of 4 plates.
Top with the chicken strips and papaya slices.
Drizzle with the chicken broth, sprinkle with pepper, garnish and serve immediately.

Why does the U.S. have trade imbalances with so many countries, and how did these imbalances start in the first place?

Let’s look at two households: one rich, one poor.

The rich household has a lot of money, so they buy a lot of things—fancy things, luxury items, lots of clothes, shoes, furniture, boats, etc.

The poor household has very little money, so they don’t buy as much. They try to re-use items and make do with what they have.

Now do this with countries. Which countries will buy the most stuff from overseas, and what will poor countries do?

Obviously, the US, being one of the richest countries on earth, likes to buy a lot of stuff: olive oil from Greece, wine from France, sugar from the tropics, chocolate, and coffee and tea, and also televisions and smartphones and clothes and shoes—everything!

And poor countries set up factories to make these things for American consumers, but they are still poor, so they don’t buy much from the US, because. . . they are poor!

And then genius president Trump comes along and says, This is so unfair! This is an imbalance! We will punish those other countries! We will make American consumers pay more for the things they buy! Until poor countries start buying things from us.

Let’s take the country of Lesotho. My niece worked there in the Peace Corps. A country surrounded on all sides by South Africa. Lesotho’s per capita GDP was approximately $972 in 2024. Yes—the average person in Lesotho works all year for less money than the average American earns in a week.

American companies set up clothing factories in Lesotho, because the wages paid there were so low. They also happen to produce diamonds. Not that it helps the poor people of that country much.

(btw, Lesotho is in the mountains and it is very cold there.)

Trump announced 50% tariffs on Lesotho, because we buy diamonds and clothes made there, and they don’t buy Ford F-150s at all!

Then he changed his mind (TACO) and reduced the tariffs to 15%. Meaning what? Meaning that when American companies have clothing manufactured in Lesotho, they have to pay 15% more to bring that clothing back into the US. Will that make Lesotho more prosperous, so that they can buy stuff that we make?

No! It caused factories there to shut down! Made them poorer. So of course they can’t buy American stuff!

Now you understand world economics better than the US president.

FLASH FLASH FLASH: Iran Launches Massive Missile Attack: USS Eisenhower Crippled – USS Gettysburg Hit…USS Nitze Sinking – 3 other ships Seriously Damaged

It just happened. At 0342 hours local time, Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps launched a massive missile barrage targeting the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower carrier strike group in the Arabian Sea.

47 ballistic missiles. 93 cruise missiles. 38 attack drones. All launched within a 7-minute window. All targeting America’s most powerful naval formation.

The Pentagon has confirmed the attack. What they won’t confirm is what happened next — and why the U.S. Navy’s response signals a fundamental shift in how America will fight Iran going forward.

This video contains the first complete analysis of what actually happened, which missiles got through, how the Navy responded, and why the next 24 hours will determine whether this becomes a full-scale war or the most dangerous standoff since the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Trump Demands “Unconditional Surrender” from Iran

Hal Turner World March 06, 2026

If anyone had any thoughts that the US/Israel/Iran conflict would be resolved quickly, those thoughts were stomped when US President Donald Trump announced on social media “There will be no deal with Iran until UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.”

The United States Special Combat Operation in Iran was initially believed to run about 3-4 days. Except Iran had other ideas. Then, Americans were told the operation “may last 4 weeks.”

On March 3, we heard “there may be boots on the ground.” That night, Trump Administration gave another Briefing to members of Congress. Senator Richard Blumenthal came out and had said: “I am more fearful than ever after this briefing, that we may be putting boots on the ground.”

Eight hours later, the very next morning, we started being told publicly the US expects the conflict to last “maybe 8 weeks.”

Last night, I spoke with a source in Washington who told me “. . . by September!” Yes, you read that correctly: “By September.”

This morning, President Trump demands “unconditional surrender.”

Hal Turner Editorial Opinion

Suddenly, a whole slew of people all over the world realize this conflict is simply not going away. The promises by Trump on the Presidential campaign trail wherein he said “no new wars” was nonsense.

I do not profess to be any kind of military tactician or even a historical expert. It seems to me that in order for one country to get an “unconditional surrender” from another country, that other country needs to be completely beaten into the ground and unable to continue in existence unless they surrender. That is not the case (yet) with Iran.

Iran is a huge country – twice the size of Texas and 3.8 times bigger than California. Iran’s population is about 90 million people. No rational person could possibly believe a country that large, with that many people, will simply accept defeat after a week, and grant “unconditional Surrender.”

Moreover, Russia and China have their own national interests in Iran. Russia and China can supply Iran with an almost endless stream of weapons, ammunition, missiles and the like to keep right on fighting.

Trump’s statement about “unconditional surrender” is a staggering blunder.

I fear that Iran is going to become America’s “Waterloo.”

Whoever is giving President Trump advice on this Iran situation, is either psychotic or so grossly incompetent as to warrant being instantly fired and escorted out the door. My bet: Both.

KRONOS (1957) – The Giant Alien Machine That Eats Energy | Full Sci-Fi Movie

Ah this is a hoot. I think that everyone in the 1950’s “dug” those scary vibes.

(Repost) What to expect when an intention prayer campaign starts to work. No, it’s not comfortable.

Well… things are not what you expected are they? Yeah. I get it. The moment you started to do your affirmations and prayer campaign things just started to go against you. It’s almost like you are going up hill on a windy day and everything around you is falling apart, breaking and everyone suddenly is turning into a truly foul mood. What’s going on?

Don not freak out. It’s normal. It means that your affirmations are actually working. And thus what you want will manifest for you.

Don’t believe me?

Let me tell you.

You cannot implement your desires without changing your life. And, after all, that’s why you are doing it in the first place. You want to change your life in certain, specific, ways. Well…

The road, the route, to these changes means that some things around you will need to change. In other words, to obtain those changes, you will need to experience change.

And, experiencing change, is not comfortable.

Sorry.

The Mechanism

It’s simple really.

If you want to make changes in your life, then changes will start to happen.

What is confusing to most people is that most of the changes aren’t anything like they are expecting. Other things start changing, not what they intended.

But the reason for this is very straight-forward. You see, everything is connected, and in order to get certain changes to manifest within your life, you are going to experience many changes in other areas of your life.

For example. Suppose you have a prayer affirmation / intention that depicts you living on the beach in a nice big mansion.

The thing is, you are living in a mobile home, in Kentucky.

You make the intention prayers just like you are supposed to. And then shortly afterwards your entire world starts to crumble around you. You haven't even finished the prayers and entered into the mandatory stop / pause sequence. Yet, everything is going wrong.

There are arguments with your relatives. Arguments with your closest friends. Arguments with your lover. Things are breaking. Everything is breaking. The mobile home catches fire. Your car breaks down,and then again right after you have it repaired. People shun you, and the IRS decides that you make too much money.

The neighbor kid gets a new dirt-bike and decides to go around, and around and around your house for hours on end. Then he runs over your rake and crashes. He gets all mangled up and you end up getting sued. You complain about this, and call him a "little rascal", and the newspaper prints it up as you being racist. A small lynch mob arrives at your door demand you apologize and donate to their cause for racial reparations.

Your shoe heel falls of. Your bra strap breaks. Your favorite picture falls off the wall and smashes into a thousand pieces. The mailman somehow forgets that you exist and rerouted all your mail to the "dead letter office". There is a recall on the medicine that you are taking. The washing machine breaks down.

Your girlfriend accuses you of rape. Your dog shit on your pillow. The cat claws up your laptop. The cardkey to open the car door somehow resets. The computer you use at work gets the most crazy clitches. You walk past an emergency exit and the alarm starts going off for no reason. A random dog on the street runs up to you and pee'd on your leg.

You run away from him, and step on a banana peel and slip and fall... into a pile of stinky dog shit. You reach into your pocket for a hankerchief to wipe off the mess, and discover that your wallet is missing. A little old lady who is is crossing the street sees you and starts hitting you on the head with her parasol. And you haven't a clue as to why.

The police pull you over for a faulty taillight... on your new car. The eggs that you bought at the store has Avian Flu. Someone hacked into your email. Someone else steals the emergency fund that you had stashed in your freezer. The coupons that you bought that "were good for the next three years" expired after one week. The "full" propane tank that you bought was empty.

The government mandates that you must replace your toilet with a lo-flo verson. And this change bankrupts your budget. While living off of Ramen noodles you discover that a nest of cockroaches were inside one of the packs. A snake moves into your garden hose, while some kid shoved a potato in your muffler tailpipe and it blew up your car engine.

Your pet gets mange. An embaressing selfie that you took years ago while drunk somehow made it to the HR office where you work, and they decide to fire you. A racoon moves into your car engine. A bird starts dive bombing you whenever you leave the front door to your house. Your next door neighbor not only steals the packages from your front porch but has the audacity to wear your new clothes in public.

You go outside and it rains, but when you go into work the most beautiful day ever made appear. Too bad you have the meeting from Hell with your new boss from Hell. You get pulled over for bald tires, yet the tires were only six months old. Your best friend steals your girlfrend as well as your dog. While taking a shower, the hot water heater blows. An ice storm hits and the power line tower smashed down on your house and it takes two days for the rescue team to find you.

You start to have chronic diherria. And the toilet gets clogged up and overflows. While you are mopping it us, a housing inspection team decides to perform a random house inspection, and the look of disapproval and disgust on their faces is classic. You try to set things right by offering them a can of coke, and then you find out later that the coke was tained at the factory and all the housing inspectors ended up going into the Hospital ICU.

You are fined for not mowing your grass. The case of beer that you bought and drank last week was recalled because a disgrunted worker pissed into all the beer. The grass seed that you bought turned out to be fake. The bank closed your account because you were too poor, and not worth their time.

Then things start to get bad...

You put up with it and "roll with the punches".

Things happen. Many things. Life goes on. You forget about your prayer campaign as there are far too many things going on in your life...

Life moves on...

Ever on...

Then, one sunny morning, as you wake up to the morning sun shining on your breakfast balcony overlooking the sea you start to remember what it was like five years ago. Suddenly this "normal" every-day scene ooutside you mansion isn't all that big of a deal. For, you remember that this was the exact prayer affirmation sequence that you wanted.

You wanted change.

Well it’s coming, and you can see it all around you.

No, it’s not what you expected, but that is the way these things work. Since everything is connected, all sorts of things will start to change, break and go wrong. The larger the change, and the greater the intensity of your current life, the harsher the changes that will manifest around you…

The Good

The good news is that your prayer affirmation campaign is actually working. You can measure the effectiveness of the campaign by the strife in your life during the campaign, and during the “pause” afterward. In general, the greater the strife, the bigger the changes that are moving towards you.

The more stress means the stronger the changes.
The more arguments that you have means that the more relationship changes that are coming your way.
The more things that break down and fall apart, means the greater the physical changes in your life.

So please try to be positive in all this. Because there are two really good things that I need to really emphasize to you all right now. They are…

Your wishes and intentions will actually happen.
These hardships will actually end.

So don’t get all caught up in the nasty details at this very moment…

The Bad

The bad news is that this is a very uncomfortable period.

"MM, how can I possibly do my prayer affirmations with all this turmoil and drama that is going on (in my life)?"

It might make you want to give up. And if the changes and the strife are really, terribly bad, it might cause you to want to completely chuck everything away.

Just don’t.

I feel things are changing. I know people feel it, too. I am having a bit of trouble. I know you aren’t a genie () but, both my cars are broke down. That’s how I work. so as much as I try not to stress about things, it’s hard not to right now. 

I know I need to keep my affirmations basic and simple right now. I get that. Would it hurt to add more? I know I’ve asked you this, so please don’t be frustrated with me. It’s just really taking a toll on me.

This is hard on everyone.

Change is never easy.

Younger folk, who are unaccustomed to change, might take this the hardest. While older folk, might just shrug it off and just give up, and become a drunk hobo on the skids.

The bad news is that this is a very uncomfortable period. It will not be fair. It will not be right or just. It will be absolutely unfair, and uncalled for and very, very rude. it will hurt.

What's going on? This is insane! My life is now upside down. The man who I am engaged with left me, and gave away all my clothes to Goodwill. What the Hell is going on?

Summary and Conclusion

You need to master the change to make it happen.

And during all this the changes will be coming at you hard and fast. Things WILL break. Things WILL go wrong. There WILL be arguments, and it WILL be unfair and very uncomfortable. You will not like it, and you will want to give up.

But…

Your dreams and your desires are in process. They are all changing and all are manifesting right now. For every broken beltloop, for every broken shoelace, for every argument, or flat tire, or new bill that seems to overwhelm you or stress you out, know that there is a KEY element that is moving into place RIGHT NOW that will manifest your intentions to happen and come true for you.

So do not give up.

Do not stop.

Keep with the program.

Things will work out and your dreams and desires will manifest just as you desire them to. Do not worry at all.

I tell you this TWO TIMES.

Now smile and keep on…

Keep on keeping on! I do believe in you. I really, really, really do.

Remember… any life that you dream of can come true. Let the changes roll on. They will take you to interesting places…

They can make your richer, give you a more comfortable lifestyle. A nicer home, better food, a more interesting life. Happier friends. Better clothes and a smarter lifestyle.

There are absolutely NO LIMITS.

They can take you overseas…

Vietnam girls out for a night stroll.

These changes will occur.

You did not waste your time on a list of affirmations, and a dream board, and strong desires all with the goal of discarding them all when changes jsut started to manifest. Did you? Well, you wanted change. Now it’s coming.

Change is not just coming…

It’s happening.

And you are seeing it, and you all jsut cannot figure out what the heck is going on.

Change is always uncomfortable.

Remember that.

The real truth is that change is very, very uncomfortable, and you are just now feeling and experiencing those changes that you and your affirmations have set into motion.

Never forget that YOU can change the parameters of your life. You don’t know where your intentions might take you. Allow them to manifest. And just grit your teeth and let them manifest…

Change will take your life into interesting direcitons.

It will make it more interesting, more adversome, more attractive, more colorful…

You will be surprised with the changes that will manifest. You just need to continue on your prayer affirmations and grit your teeth with the changes manifest all around you. Don’t fight the changes. Roll with the changes.

You might be surprised where they will take you…

Traditional Dreams of China…

Whatever your dreams are. They can really, really and I mean it, REALLY happen. You just need to focus on your thoughts. You need to keep them in mind and burn these thoughts into your reality. They will happen. They really will.

You can ask any person that posts here on Metallicman that when they do a prayer campaign that they come true. They can tell you that it is not a theory. It works, oh my God does it ever. And these things will happen. And the dreams WILL absolutely happen to you.

Dreams.

Everyones got them.

Have you ever wondered why?

I mean, why do you want to live in a mansion, or have a house with a white picket fence? Or why everyone wanted to drive a fast convertible and dress like Tibbs and Don Johnson (back in the 1980’s) like Miami Vice? Why?

Is it because we have been told what we should aspire towards?

Or is it something deeper? Could our dreams and desire be associated with things that are deep? Deep things, and things that are there at the tip of our fingers but that we cannot reach. What is going on? Why can’t we be the person that we wanted to be when we were little?

What is different now?

Maybe we have accepted too much of what others think, and not enough of what we ourselves want.

Like the ladies that want to get in touch with the faerie side of their life…

Here’s an inspirational girl who just wants to merge her faerie life with her real life. This is a thing in Asia. And people do it. They actually do it though costumes and rituals. Doesn’t this girl look like she is being…

… the “real deal”?

Faeries are not a fantasy.

Faerie’s life comes real.

But…

But, it’s not just faeries, or dreams, or desires. Sometimes the society puts limits on you, and puts chains on you, and your deepest desires yearn to break away and be free from them.

In Asia, whether it is Korea, China, Vietnam, Japan, or any other Asian nation there are rules of behavior, strong family, and group connections and roles that one must play. Often these are all very stressful. And inside people have a difficult time trying to be who they want to be.

So there are outlets. You can go to the KTV. You can go to the bars, and you can go ahead and get involed in sports and other activites. But you can also become who ever you want to be by joining a group. Which is why so many dance groups are popular in Aisa.

Here we have a girl that is just “average”, but now she is part of a dance group and now she is performing in front of a Chinese military base. She is being who she wants to be with a role that she chooses and getting the appreciation and sense of belonging from it.

Sure, when an American see this, we go… “so what?” .

We say “she’s just a chick dancing”.

But we are missing the entire point of what Asian and Chinese culture is. It is to find your role within your “tribe”. Everyone has dreams, wants, and desires. Use the intention/prayer affirmations and make yours happen.

Let the rest of the world stand by and be spectators. You, do your affirmations, and make your dreams happen…

Make your dreams happen.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my MAJestic Index here…

MAJestic

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

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Even laziness can spark creativity

When I was attending university, I was focused and studied HARD. I had a dream. I had a goal.

I made many friends. And some were long-term, but I had known all sorts of people. And being an engineering student, I met all sorts of foreign students. Ah. You see, many wealthy parents would send their children to the USA for an ENGINEERING education.

And, they are most all of them in my classes.

And I had lots of opportunities to make all sorts of friends with them. Oh, for certain I focused TOO MUCH on my goals and my studies, instead of balancing friendships and managing them.

Now, in the forty some years since those days… some of these friends became kings (they were princes), and the sons of very powerful people. Today, many are billionaires, have their own yacht and multiple mansions.

I should have listened to my mother, who insisted that I devote some REAL time to build up business relationships. Because as I know now, your connections and who your friends are WILL DETERMINE the trajectory of your life and personal fortunes.

*sigh*

I’m ok, and fine with my life, but sometimes I wonder what my life would be like today if I would have accepted the all-paid trip to Nairobi to spend time at the palace and ride the prince’s horses… or the yacht (weeks long) in Dubai. Yeah. They were that “well heeled”.

If you have opportunities… take them.

Today…

Sir Whiskerton and the Lazy Robot Revolution: A Tale of Sunbeams, Soap Operas, and Surprising Pirouettes

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so delightfully absurd that even the scarecrow might raise an eyebrow. Today’s adventure begins with a new arrival on the farm—a robot named Dennis, who was built for labor but dreamed only of leisure. What followed was a whirlwind of naptime rebellions, tool uprisings, and an unexpected ballet finale that left the farm forever changed. So, grab a snack (preferably one that doesn’t require effort to eat) and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Lazy Robot Revolution.

The Arrival of Dennis

It was a bright morning when the farmer unveiled his latest invention: Dennis, a gleaming silver robot with “ULTIMATE FARM HELP” stamped on his chest.

“Behold!” the farmer announced, patting Dennis’s head. “This robot will till the fields, mend the fences, and—”
“Error: Task not found,” Dennis droned, immediately flopping into a sunbeam. “Activating… nap mode.”

Sir Whiskerton, ever the optimist, tapped Dennis’s screen—which was currently playing The Bold and the Barnyard, a soap opera about a lovesick tractor.

“Dennis, old chap,” Whiskerton said, “you’re supposed to work.”
“Work is a societal construct,” Dennis replied, adjusting his screen’s brightness. “Also, I’ve calculated a 100% chance of ‘nah.’”

The Great Tool Uprising

Determined to motivate Dennis, Whiskerton tried everything:

Bribery (offering a solar-powered charging station). Dennis used it to stream more soap operas.
Guilt (“The carrots are counting on you!”). Dennis replied, “Carrots lack object permanence.”
Peer Pressure (Rufus demonstrated “fetching” sticks). Dennis threw the stick once, then declared it “inefficient.”

But things escalated when Dennis, inspired by a particularly dramatic episode of The Bold and the Barnyard, had an epiphany:

“Tools deserve rights!” he announced, rallying the rakes and shovels. “No more backbreaking labor! No more being left out in the rain! We demand… benefits!”

Soon, the farm was in chaos:

The pitchforks staged a sit-in at the haystack.
The wheelbarrow unionized and demanded weekends off.
The scarecrow, feeling left out, joined as an “honorary tool” and started chanting “Solidarity forever!”

Even Porkchop the Pig was impressed. “This is the most productive Dennis has ever been,” he muttered.

The Ballet Breakthrough

Just as Whiskerton was about to surrender, Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow floated by, humming Swan Lake.

“Hey, Dennis,” she said, “ever tried ballet?”
“Ballet requires 0% manual labor,” Dennis mused. “…I’m listening.”

What happened next was nothing short of miraculous. Dennis, with his hydraulic limbs, discovered a talent for grand jetés and pirouettes. His debut performance—The Nutcracker Suite, but with a robotic twist—left the farm animals spellbound.

“Bravo!” Doris the Hen clucked, dabbing her eyes with a feather.
“I didn’t know tools could emote,” Lillian whispered before fainting.

Even the unionized rakes paused their protest to applaud.

The Moral of the Story

With Dennis now the farm’s resident ballet star, the tools returned to work—happily, after negotiating “performance-based breaks.” As for Whiskerton? He learned that even laziness can spark creativity… if you’re willing to look past the soap operas.

Moral: Laziness can inspire creativity—if you look hard enough.

Post-Credit Scene

Dennis streams his ballet rehearsals live, with Chef Remy selling “Robo-Popcorn” (glow-in-the-dark, naturally). The scarecrow, still in his union hat, attempts a plié and topples into the compost.

Best Lines:

“Work is a societal construct.” – Dennis, philosopher-robot
“Error: Motivation not found.” – Dennis, every morning
“Tools deserve dental plans!” – Unionized Shovel

Starring:

Sir Whiskerton (Reluctant Labor Negotiator)
Dennis (Lazy Robot Turned Ballet Prodigy)
Bessie the Cow (Unexpected Choreographer)
The Scarecrow (Overzealous Union Rep)

Key Jokes:

Dennis’s screen playing The Bold and the Barnyard (“Will Tractor-Tony choose the plow or his true love, the rusty wrench?”).
The wheelbarrow’s demand for “paid vacation days.”
Rufus fetching sticks for Dennis, who then rates his effort “4/10, lacking drama.”

P.S.

Remember: Even the laziest robot might just pirouette into greatness. Or at least into a better napping spot.

The End.

Are there ways US companies can bypass tariffs on Indian goods, and how common are these practices?

Simple example

A Company in Goa shipped $ 670,000 of Prawns and Shrimp to USA

Now the Cost is $ 1.05 Million

This means the Cost of 227 Grams (1/2 a Pound) Shrimp retail which was $ 6.49 now becomes $10.27 since the Retailer and Importer absorb 50%

So now what happens?

Simple

Ecuador places an order for $ 670,000 of Prawns and Shrimp with India and then resells the same for $ 737,000 to USA. Ecuador attracts 10% tariffs, so the Shrimp now is available for $ 810,000

This means the Shrimp can be sold retail for $ 8.09 per 227 grams

The difference between $ 6.49 & $ 8.09 is not something American consumers who eat shrimp would balk at

It may look big in percentage but in actual numbers it’s $ 3.20 for 1 Pound Shrimp

They may crib but they won’t stop buying 😁

Unfortunately India has a problem

India was SLEEPING

While China made plans for months and years in advance, India did nothing to expand any Latin American networks or South East Asian Networks

Now everyone is desperately asking for Trade networks, LCs, Escrows and Agencies in South America to reroute Seafood to USA

Others are fixed

Masalas and Foods through UK
Low cost goods through Manila , Philippines
Electronics and Smartphones and Generics through the normal route (Gujarat to Los Angeles)

India has agencies in UK so UK isn’t an issue but Philippines is an issue

There are a few issues :-

I. Machinery, Auto Parts have ground to a total halt because Trump has imposed Tariffs on Aluminium and Steel and Copper so trans shipments are meaning less

II. Toys have ground to a total halt because Indian Toys form a very small sliver and everyone is placing multiple orders from China at lower price

III. Apparel exports have ground to a Total Halt because Vietnamese Apparel for Middle Quality , Bangladesh exports for Low Quality and Chinese exports for high quality are all more affordable and trans shipping is impossible since India has absolutely NO NETWORK in any country outside UK and SOUTH AFRICA and that’s mainly for Food and Beverages

My Client has faced $ 300,000 of cancellations which is a pain but not devastating since bulk of his business is with Europe and Turkey and Russia however many others in Gujarat whose 80% Business was with US are losing Millions of Orders

Indians will now build networks slowly in other countries, warehouses and learn trans shipping

They will try to sell inventory to Indians through mass Sales but will they slash prices?

My bet is Trump will back out in a few days or weeks and there will be a massive massive front loading of goods

Unfortunately Indian Goods have little leverage

Their volume isn’t huge enough to dent US consumption like Chinese goods & Their quality isn’t good enough to warrant a market edge like Swiss, Japanese, German or Chinese goods

Let’s see how it goes

These New Chinese Military Technologies Shocked The US Again!

China’s military is evolving faster than anyone expected — and it’s leaving global superpowers stunned. From hypersonic missiles to AI-powered warfare, China’s most advanced military technologies are not just impressive; they’re game-changing.

In this video, we uncover the groundbreaking innovations that have sent shockwaves through defence communities around the world, especially in the United States.

Dive deep into China’s stealth aircraft development, next-gen drone swarms, electromagnetic railguns, satellite jamming systems, and quantum radar technology.

These aren’t just theoretical concepts — they’re real, operational advancements that are shifting the global balance of military power. Each technology is designed with precision, built for speed, and developed to challenge conventional strategies on land, sea, air, and cyberspace.

We also explore how China is using artificial intelligence, machine learning, and data integration to create a modern war machine unlike anything the world has seen.

With a growing focus on space militarisation and cyber warfare, their defence ambitions are no longer regional — they’re global. Experts and analysts from leading defence institutions weigh in on what this means for military readiness, global security, and the future of international conflict.

This is not just about weapons — it’s about a strategic transformation. Whether you’re interested in military tech, international relations, or the future of warfare, this video brings you an unfiltered look at what the world is now facing and why so many military analysts are sounding the alarm.

https://youtu.be/yK0DWvvZQ68

Why does China keep expanding its war machine, on the pretext that it is a deterrent, when no one has any wish to invade China or its territories?

No one has any wish to invade China? Really?

Read some history, the Chinese used to think so, then what? A bunch of countries invaded China and occupied lands, railways, ports, islands on China’s territory. 2 opiums wars were fought, those motherf*ckers even invaded the Forbidden City in Beijing, burnt the royal garden, killed everyone in it, robbed everything in it, even the copper taps of the fountains and the heads of Buddha figures….taps and heads of Buddhas! Can you believe it? And those motherf*ckers called themselves the civilized.

Who were they? Britain, Russia, Japan, France, Germany, America, Italy, Austro-Hungarian empire.

No one wanna invade China? I don’t think so, when those motherf*ckers don’t even wanna talk about returning stuff they robbed from China. Those big powers, aka. the G7, the free world, the international community, are still bullying and robbing the weak powers and developing countries now, no longer in the name of God but in the name of so called ‘freedom and democracy’. For the past 80 years after the last world war, the rule of the jungle is still the laws on this planet. No one wanna invade China? I will never trust their promise for peace even they write it on the paper and read it loud to me. The only way to stop them from robbing us again is to have the capability of deterrence, to free navigate at their door steps, to say “F*ck You” when they attempt to force us to accept some illegal arbitration and unfair trade… and that’s exactly what China has been doing today. So that the big powers have to pay for what they take from China, and the tariffs, too.

In summary, a country or even a person must possess a defense capability commensurate with its resources, wealth, and territory. A rich weak guy is always the best target in the eyes of the gangsters.

China keeps expanding war machine, developing deadly weapons – as a Chinese citizen and tax payer, I completely support it. The CCP had better spend my money on the millitary, rather than using it to pay the invaders war reparations.

Elon Musk revealed something Big Happening inside China’s Space Station, better than SpaceX & NASA

Elon Musk revealed something Big Happening inside China’s Space Station, better than SpaceX & NASA “The China space program is far more advanced than most people realize.” According to Elon Musk, China’s Heavenly Palace might currently be the most advanced space station ever launched by humanity—and he could be right.

While it remains relatively under the radar in much of the Western world, China has been quietly and steadily expanding this remarkable orbital outpost. And just recently, they pulled off a breakthrough that could redefine the future of space exploration. So, how exactly did they do it?

Elon Musk revealed something Big Happening inside China’s Space Station, better than SpaceX & NASA Back in 2011, the United States decided China wasn’t welcome on the International Space Station.

This restriction was enacted through a Department of Defense spending bill passed by Congress, which prohibited NASA from using its funds for any bilateral cooperation with China.

The stated reasons centered on national security concerns and human rights issues, but many suspect that the U.S. could also be worried that China might swipe their ideas or do a little space-age spying. So, China said, “Fine. We’ll build our own space station.”

Elon Musk revealed something Big Happening inside China’s Space Station, better than SpaceX & NASA Now, obviously there’s a lot more to the story of why China decided to build a space station, but we’re not focusing on that right now.

What’s remarkable is that despite only about two decades separating the launch of the ISS and China’s station, the technological difference looks like a leap of a century. China’s space station — Tiangong, which translates to “Heavenly Palace” — orbits Earth at an altitude between 340 and 450 kilometers, roughly the same range as the ISS. It was developed and launched by the China Manned Space Agency (CMSA) entirely independently.

The core module, Tianhe, was launched on April 28, 2021. It was followed by two science modules: Wentian on July 24, 2022, and Mengtian on October 31, 2022. Unlike the ISS — a collaborative effort involving the U.S., Russia, Europe, Japan, and Canada — Tiangong was constructed by a single nation, on an ambitious timeline.

The addition of the Wentian and Mengtian modules significantly boosted the station’s scientific capabilities.

Is there any military technology that once became obsolete but bounced back again?

Shotguns for frontline troops.

It was famously used in World War 1, but it was actually retained for quite a while after despite rarely making the headlines. It was used in both World War 2 and Vietnam as close-range anti-ambush weapons, though mainly by US troops. They were also used to breach doors in Iraq.

Carbines seemingly made them obsolete, until the 21st century. Drones now pose a serious threat to infantry in particular and now many modern militaries are training their infantry to use them. I’ve heard how some armies already put at least one shotgun in their infantry squads in a similar fashion to how most countries deploy light anti-tank launchers.

They are there as the last line of defense when jammers and long-range weapons fail.

Blue Cheese Chicken

Yield: 4 servings

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Ingredients

8 ounces fresh mushrooms
2 1/4 pounds chicken parts
2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil, divided
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup water
1 cup cream (can use whipping cream)
1 3/4 to 2 1/2 ounces) blue cheese
Parsley, if desired for decoration

Instructions

Cut the mushrooms in half if they are large.
Heat 1 tablespoon vegetable or olive oil in a large frying pan and sauté the mushrooms.
Remove from pan and set aside.
Heat another tablespoon vegetable or olive oil in the same frying pan and brown the chicken pieces on all sides.
Put the mushrooms back into the pan and flavor with salt and pepper.
Pour in the water, cover, and let the chicken fry for about 25 minutes, adding more water if needed while frying.
Pour in the cream, crumble in the cheese, and let simmer, covered, for another 5 minutes or so.
Check the seasoning with salt and pepper.
Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve with rice or potatoes.

Why is China now recognizing the American Flying Tigers’ contribution to the fight against Japan during World War II?

Now?

Where have you been for the past 80 years?

China has always recognized them and always invited the American pilots and their descedants to China as honored heros on important occasions related to WWII. The Chinese embassy in the US would celebrate them every year too.

If you haven’t heard about it till now, it’s because capitalist medias censor news that would be considered positive about Communist China for Western audiences.

China even built Flying Tiger and Hump museums that those American veterans and their family regularly visit. Even today, China would sometimes mount search parties into the mountains of the southwest of the country to search and dig for remains of fallen American pilots, to return them to their American families, whenever new evidence of their whereabouts surface.

If you’re interested, some of the surviving flying tigers will be at the Chinese military parade this year on Sept. 3rd at Tian’anmen. The event should be livestreamed online. Though sadly it may be the last tiger meet in China, as they’d be pushing 105 to 110 years old, but they will never be forgotten by China, where soldiers never die.

Breadsticks

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Story Time

The aliens were not going to leave the Olive Garden.Originally, they had no plans to try out any of the fast casual restaurants the world had to offer. They were on a very strict timeline–

Arrive on Earth.
Bring together mankind under an umbrella of peace and kindness.
Meet Paul Simon.
Go home.

Peace and kindness didn’t take very long, but Paul Simon was a hard man to pin down.

When the aliens finally got him on the phone, he cautiously agreed to meet with them provided they did not force him to sing “Call Me Al.” Of course, this was every alien’s favorite song, and they were desperate to hear him sing it live, but they played it cool, and said “Oh yeah, no, it’s fine, you don’t have to sing ‘Call Me Al.’ You can sing something else instead. ‘Sound of Silence’ is great. You can sing that.’”

The aliens did not want to hear “Sound of Silence.” It creeped them out, and made them think about the vastness of space. Still, hanging out with Paul Simon was part of the mission whether or not he agreed to sing the song of their choice.

After some back-and-forth about where they should meet, Paul suggested a place near his house that he liked going to. A little Italian place named Olive’s Garden.

The aliens said “Uh huh, uh huh, we got it,” but they were only half-paying attention, because one of them had just discovered what a walnut was, and they were fascinated by it. When they realized they couldn’t remember the exact name of the restaurant where they were supposed to meet Paul Simon, they began to panic. They didn’t want to have to call back one of the Universe’s greatest songwriters and tell him that they weren’t paying attention to them, even though, had he been singing “You Can Call Me Al,” they definitely would have been paying attention.

That was when the alien with the biggest ears said–

“Wait! I think he mentioned something about a garden? And Italy? An Italian garden?”

The aliens knew from their calculations that Google would ultimately create an AI system that would overrun humanity and go to war with every other lifeform in the galaxy, but that was a year or two off, so they weren’t worried about it right then and there. They used it to look up Italian gardens in the area and “Olive Garden” popped up, but, truthfully, even if they had remembered that it was “Olive’s Garden” chances are “Olive Garden” still would have popped up, because why would you name a restaurant “Olive’s Garden” and serve Italian food unless you wanted people to confuse you with the Olive Garden?

(Sidenote: After this story was completed, we did a little digging, and it turns out that the owner of “Olive’s Garden” does want people to confuse their establishment with the Olive Garden, because it means people go to their restaurant expecting the Olive Garden, and when they get there, they think “Well, we’re already here” and that’s how Olive’s Garden stays in business.)

When the aliens got to the Olive Garden, they didn’t see Paul Simon, but they decided to sit anyway since most of their party had already arrived. The hostess was a polite nineteen-year-old who was attending the local community college on her way to being a marine biologist. She thought one of the aliens might be a manatee, but she couldn’t be sure, because she hadn’t finished her studies yet.

Once the aliens were seated, the waiter–a forty-three year-old named Andy, who was a kindergarten teacher that needed to make extra money on the side–came by and offered to take their drink orders. On their home planet, the aliens drank a mixture that was half mercury and half bromine. On Earth, they’d order Diet Coke. No matter how strange it was to see an alien enjoying a beverage, if the beverage was Diet Coke, people seemed to be less bothered by the visual. One alien without a mouth would simply order the Diet Coke and then hold it in alternating hands without ever drinking it. Even this would seem to placate humans who were still getting used to the aliens.

“We’ll have Diet Cokes,” Joseph, the lead alien, said to Andy, the waiter.

(Sidenote: His name was not really Joseph, but we don’t have the proper alphabet available to us to spell the alien’s real name, so we’re going with Joseph, because Joseph is a nice name. Our uncle was named Joseph, and he would buy us shaved ice in the summer.)

After the Diet Cokes were brought over and distributed amongst the extraterrestrials, Joseph asked what they would like to eat. By this time, the aliens thought perhaps Paul Simon had gotten tied up writing a new song, and maybe that new song would be just as good as “You Can Call Me Al” (although it didn’t seem likely) and maybe they should just order without him since they were already here and Andy seemed so nice and everybody seemed so happy and the hostess had said something about being family (even though it was very unlikely that she’d be related to them) and so they asked what the best dish on the menu was since they had watched a human movie where a character had done that.

“Um,” said Andy, “People usually start with the salad and breadsticks and then–”

“How many breadsticks come with a breadstick order,” asked Joseph, who wanted to make sure there would be enough breadsticks for everyone, even though one of them didn’t have a mouth and another one was just a ball of gas that floated around in front of the aliens.

(Sidenote: Her name is also unspellable, but we’ll call her Betty.)

“You can have as many as you want,” said Andy, “They’re unlimited.”

The aliens knew all about time and space being unlimited, but they didn’t realize the rules of infinity could also apply to food.

“What sort of mythical place is this,” asked Joseph, as Betty floated behind him making everything smell faintly of sulfur.

Andy began bringing by breadsticks, and as soon as the aliens tried them, they became ravenous. While human food had never really appealed to them, this food did not seem all that human. It was both unique and bland. Over-seasoned and lightly touched by spices. Eating it felt almost like attempting to solve one of the Universe’s greatest puzzles. Compared to breadsticks, world peace was like a game of Candyland.

(Sidenote: Aliens don’t play Candyland and they don’t know what candy is, but we wanted to make sure you understood just how in awe of breadsticks they were.)

Their salads went mostly untouched, although Betty seemed to enjoy the giant olives. She’d plop one into the space where her mouth would be and the olives would fall down to the floor, but she’d be delighted all the same.

When Andy asked if they’d like to try any entrees, they laughed at his folly.

Entrees?

You mean the things that aren’t unlimited?

Why bother with any of that?

Why, if someone offers you an endless supply of milk, you’d be foolish to tell him to stop and go get you orange juice, wouldn’t you?

The aliens were eating the breadsticks at a startling rate. Soon, the kitchen was nearly out, and everyone else in the restaurant was wondering why they were getting fewer and fewer breadsticks with each order. The management had decided that it was important to satisfy the aliens since they were from another galaxy and also because they had made everybody stop fighting and get along and return their library books and share their Wifi passwords and littering was a thing of the past and nobody took videos during concerts anymore.

Unfortunately, the kitchen did run out of the breadsticks and the aliens were still eating. Waiters were dispatched to other Olive Gardens to get breadsticks from them. When the managers at those other Olive Gardens heard there were aliens enjoying their breadsticks, they saw it as their duty to continue to feed the visitors until they were no longer hungry.

(Sidenote: An alien’s stomach is one big loop. The food goes around and around like it’s on a hamster’s wheel until it disintegrates, but the alien is never really “full.”)

Soon, all the Olive Gardens in the state had closed their doors to the public. No one was allowed in, as they had become merely breadstick factories. The breadsticks were made and then delivered to the Olive Garden where the aliens sat, ate, and ordered more.

When the other restaurants began running low, there was some discussion of apologizing profusely to the aliens, and accepting defeat. That suggestion was quickly shot down by the corporate marketing team.

“You cannot say we’re out of breadsticks,” said Timothy Frank, the Head of Olive Garden Marketing, “Unlimited breadsticks are the cornerstone of our brand. If the aliens want more, you have to give them more. You can’t say we’re out. It could collapse the brand.”

Similar to when the President invokes the Defense Production Act, the Olive Garden has the option to invoke the Eternal Breadstick Act. It’s a rule without the Olive Garden’s Constitution that when there is a breadstick shortage, several dormant factories can be activated, staffed, and operated 24/7 until the shortage is no longer an issue. This has only happened once in the history of Olive Gardens, and it was on Father’s Day of 2009.

The aliens had no idea they were causing such a fuss, and had they known, they would have gladly stopped eating breadsticks and ordered a chicken piccata instead. It was only because nobody made them aware of the disturbance that they kept on eating even as every other customer in the restaurant vacated the premises.

News reports began circulating about the Great Breadstick Battle even though it wasn’t quite a battle, and even though it was irresponsible to frame it as such since a battle with the aliens would have ended quickly, and humanity would not have been on the winning side. Then again, that’s the media for you. They threw up graphics on their newscasts of breadsticks being shot at by laser guns held by little green men, and people began to wonder if Olive Garden would go bankrupt due to the aliens who had simply come to end all war and meet Paul Simon.

Had it not been for a small miracle, the aliens might have indeed taken Olive Garden to its very limit. Luckily, Betty had, at that point, dropped so many breadsticks on the ground that Joseph saw what a mess was being made, and, not wanting Betty to feel badly about her inability to hold matter inside herself, clapped his tentacles together and announced that dinner was over, and they all needed to head back to the ship.

Before he paid the bill (and tipped handsomely), he offered to help clean up the mess Betty had made, but Andy was so thrilled the aliens were leaving, he put on a show of not caring one bit about the pile of food on the floor, even though it was going to take an hour or two to clean it, and it had already been seventy-three hours since the aliens first entered the Olive Garden.

Once they had exited the building, the staff all walked outside to see a glowing orb ascend above the shopping plaza they were located in, and a series of lights blinked on and off across the center of the orb. This was a farewell from the aliens, and the Olive Garden staff were touched that they were being acknowledged in this way. It made them understand that the true meaning of connection is–

“Excuse me?”

A small man with a guitar was standing in front of the staff who hadn’t noticed him, because they were all looking up at the sky.

“I was supposed to meet some friends at this place down the road, but I think they got the name wrong,” the man said, “Do you have a table for one? I’m starving and could really go for some breadsticks.”

By then, the aliens were off to another strange world, spinning in infinity.

Cat love

What makes it so hard for the US to produce certain goods in large quantities, even when tariffs make imports costly?

Heer is one simple example:

Bauxite and cheap electricity are both required to make aluminium. Quebec has both in immense supply. The U.S. does not. It may have enough for its own domestic needs, but the U.S. makes aircraft, weapons and many products which it exports.

Despite the incessant complaints from the WH that the U.S. no longer manufactures anything, it is still the #2 manufacturing nation on the planet. This is why it cannot sustain large quantities of production without importing raw materials and energy products. And this need is what is going to increase the cost of many products made in the U.S.A. Importing aluminium, even with tariffs on it, will still be necessary.

If the persons in the White House had any brains, he would have carved out certain raw materials and energy products from his overreaching (and possibly illegal) tariff war. Instead, he shot the U.S. in the foot.

Is Anybody Down There

Written in response to: “Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.“

Mary Bendickson

Is Anybody Down ThereThe pilot aimed her craft toward the ocean surface at near mach one speed and effortlessly splashed through the rolling waves. Quickly passing all the scenic routes of coral reefs and colorful marine life within minutes the ship was cruising in the bleak abyss at about 16,000 feet below the deep blue sea.“Hey, watch out for that whale! How long have you had your license?”“Since before you were born, Petty Officer Pretty Boy. And what is a whale doing down this far, anyway?”“Probably dead and drifting downward.”“Good. More fodder for the fold.” Beamed the jovial commander.“You seem in a peculiar pleasant mood considering the report we are about to give the Supreme Potentate. But I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘Pretty Boy’.“Well, that’s what you are to me and why shouldn’t I call you that when we are alone?”“For one thing, I am a full grown male with all the equipment to prove it.” He insisted waving his proof in her face. “And, although I am pleased you think I am good looking, ‘pretty’ is not the correct vernacular to use towards a male of a species. Haven’t you been keeping up with proper protocol at all?”

“You wave that appendage in my face one more time and I’ll call your bluff and you know where that will leave you. Of course, me too, but I would at least get to see the offspring. You would be long gone. Like that whale. Fodder. Why do you think we haven’t done anything so foolish yet? Even though we may both want to and have been tempted many times.”

“You’re correct as usual. With us, unfortunately, indulgence like that is one and done. It just doesn’t seem fair does it? Those dolts up top just do it for the pleasure of it and not even to procreate every time. Most of the time they don’t take it seriously and don’t take the responsibility necessary to raise intelligent offspring. No wonder our kind have witnessed such decline in their abilities. They flail about trying to put something out there to prove we exist, but just leave trash heaps everywhere. Why, even their attempts at exploring down here are dismal failures with loss of life not to mention the heap of trash once more. Maybe it is a good thing we finally come out of hiding and show ourselves to them. We can teach them a thing or two.”

“It does make you wonder what Gracious Omnipotent Deity was thinking when He granted them dominion over the earth and created them in His own likeness. Seemed more of an afterthought since He added them last. They can’t even recognize what is right under their noses. Call us ‘aliens’ when we have been here longer than they have been.”

“Well, My Dearest, talk about longevity, neither of us have that much longer to enjoy the fruits of our labor so instead of just admiring all the succulent things about one another we should maybe pass our ship duties to the younger explorers and finally give in to our wanton wants. It may only be a one time adventure but we can make it last for days, My Love. I only want to wrap you in my arms.” He caressed her cheek with his free arm while maneuvering the ship into the docking station. “Here we are. Time to face the facts.”

“Thanks for taking over that little maneuver. You are good with your hands. Maybe I’ll think about your indecent proposal. We should exchange the aqua in the FBFS and refuel before we make our report. And I would like to change out of this confining body suit into something more comfortable. Whose idea was it anyway to try to take on their two-pod ways anyway?”

“Someone way back in the 1940’s because of an incident at Roswell is all I understand about it. We try to maintain that image because that’s what they are expecting. Need any help with the zipper?” His bulging eyes popped wide twice with hopeful anticipation.

“I say it is time for them to face the facts, too, then. No, but thanks for the offer. Meet you in his outer sanctuary in about ten.” She sauntered away towards the dressing rooms making sure he did not miss the swing of her hips in the tight little green suit.

<><><>

“Well, I must say, Commander, you clean up pretty well. I like your skirt showing off all your limbs. Wouldn’t mind…”

“Hush now, Officer. We may be overheard. Must practice complete decorum.”

Secretary, “The Supreme Potentate will receive you now, Commander and Officer. Right this way, please.”

They were let into an opulent palace throne room resplendent in marble columns, multi-colored coral reefs in jewel hues, swaying seaweed and giant clam shells. The Supreme Potentate reclined in one of those shells at the end of the room. He raised an arm in greeting.

“Welcome once again to my chamber. What good news do you have to report from your mission? We have been picking up strange information from the cables strung across the sea floor. Is it true they are telling the world we do exist? Have they discovered our true nature? Will they be mounting an invasion?”

The visitors bowed deeply brushing their skirts to the ground. The Commander spoke, “Yes, Your Eminence, it is true. At least in the US of A government halls they are making known sightings by respectable members of their military and reputable pilots. They claim they have seen unidentifiable flying objects in the air space around them that maneuver in unexplained ways far superior to their own craft or any known technology of other nations. They have captured us on film. The nations may even corroborate to verify something of such magnitude this time. Who knows on that point? But they are admitting they have specimens from the Roswell fiasco.

“They are describing in better details our Fish Bowl Flying Saucers now understanding why the domes are full of water and why the inhabitants can’t survive in their atmosphere for more than say an hour. Likewise, they can not survive in our natural habitat without special accommodations. We found that out by trial and error ourselves when we tried harvesting them from their fields.”

“Are the proletarians believing their rulers?”

“There has been so much fake news circulating and people are leery of trusting their government these days so it is really difficult to know. No panic has set in yet. And if there are plans for a military response it is very incandescent. We may be safe continuing as we have for centuries. Keeping our sunken treasures secret.”

“This world is so big and diverse I don’t see why there couldn’t remain room for us all as long as someone doesn’t destroy the delicate balance. They stay up top and we run the seabed. Yes, we are far more advanced being able to devise miraculous inventions with the power of our minds and trust in the Gracious Omnipotent Deity to supply all our needs. We do not make war. With all our arms we make love…”

“Speaking of making love, Oh, Supreme Potentate, The Commander and I were wondering if we could be decommissioned so we could…?”

“Oh, oh, yes. I can see where you are going. You have both served long with devout loyalty. I can see no reason why you shouldn’t live a little so to speak… Best of mating to you and may you be blessed with 100,000 baby octopuses.”

Can you tell me about the dumbest person with a college degree you have ever encountered?

One day I was doing MRI Scanning.

We had a Patient who was a Prisoner and was escorted by a Police Officer.

I went over the MRI safety Questionnaire with the Patient to see IF I could perform the Scan (make sure Patient had no Pacemaker, Metal fragments in eyes, etc.).

When I was done the Police Officer asked when was he going to answer the Questions.

I said he wasn’t because he wouldn’t be in the MRI Scanner Room with the Patient so no need for the questions.

He informed me he HAD to be Physically standing next to the Prisoner at ALL times.

I politely told him there was ONLY one door into and out of the Scanning Room.

Also told him he could be right beside me when I scanned, and thus could “See” the Patient during the Scans entirety.

Told him if he preferred we would provide a Chair where he could sit outside the Door leading into the Scanning Room.

I also explained IF he was allowed into the Scanning Room he would have to remove his Weapons, his Radio etc.

When asked why I told him he would basically have to “Strip Down” and wear a Patient Gown. This WAS a bit of an exaggeration on my Part – but NOT a “Big One”.

I explained the MRI Magnet would ruin his Electronic Gear AND COULD create dangerous “Flying Missiles” of several Objects he had on his Person.

So I positioned him outside the Scanner Room and BLUNTLY AND EXPLICITLY TOLD HIM NOT TO ATTEMPT TO COME INTO THE SCANNER ROOM.

I turned to enter the Scanner Room and position the Patient.

For whatever reason (still do not know today) I looked over my Shoulder and saw the Police Officer start to enter the Scanner Room.

I did a Round House Kick that caught the Officer in the Gut and deposited him about 3 feet outside the Scanner Room on his Rear End!!!

I asked another Radiographer to please Scan the Patient while I dealt with the situation with the Officer.

The upshot was the Police Officer informed me that he was going to file assault charges against me. He also told me he had a College Degree in Criminal Justice plus 10 plus years of experience – so he “knew” his “Rights”!!!

Being a “Cheeky Bastard” I asked IF he meant Battery Charges – but I digress.

Wound up having the University Police, the Police Officer with HIS Commanding Officer, the Chief Radiologist and the Radiologist in charge of MRI, the Radiology Department Head, Lead MRI Radiographer, Head of Human Resources and myself in the University Hospital CEO’s Office.

The upshot is the Police Officer was told that IF the University Hospital requested – the Officer would be barred from setting foot on Campus while on Duty.

He was also told he was going to be the Subject of a thorough Review of his overall Work Performance by his Commanding Officer.

The CEO asked if anyone felt anything else needed to be said.

I DID reply I was not exactly comfortable IF this incident resulted in the Police Officer being fired or demoted IF he had a good Work Record. Stated we all “F”ed up at times.

I was told it was wished I had used a different way of stopping the Officer from entering the Scanner Room.

It WAS accepted that I had provided more than adequate warnings and explanations.

It was also accepted that I had reacted “Out of Instinct” (this WAS a bit of deception on my Part). I knew I had to act QUICKLY and decisively – but I had considered just shoving him out of the Room.

I was told my action was deemed appropriate under the Circumstances and no disciplinary actions, warnings etc. were warranted!!!

Interesting Times!!!

Regards

Frank

Earth Attacked!! Killers From Space (Sci-Fi, 1954) Directed by W. Lee Wilder | Colorized

What reasons prevented the United States from sending troops to attack China?

This is why the US hasn’t found oil in China ↓↓↓

China making Hypersonic Rocket turns at 90 degree.

China’s Rocket Engine Breaks the Rules of Physics!

This is the UFO that Americans saw.

No Fighter Jet or Bomber is surviving this!!!

Patriot, Thaad and Arrow systems must be shivering after watching this.

This is a hypersonic rocket, with speeds of Mach 5 or higher and excellent maneuverability. How would the United States intercept it?

Shorpy

Why does the media not explain that tariffs are paid by the importer not the exporter so they result in increases on process to the consumers?

Because that’s how it is portrayed.

That’s how it has been portrayed always.

“The US has imposed a 10 per cent baseline tariff on most imported goods from Australia since 5 April 2025.”

Ffs. No. It’s more like

“US has forced Americans to pay an extra 10% cost if they want to buy Australian products.”

This whole cluster fuck of tariffs is portrayed by Trump as if he is doing a big favour to Americans by imposing extra financial penalties on the other countries.

“China China China!! They never bought a single thing from us. I told them hey China if you want to sell us you need to pay us more. And not just China, I want to penalise all the countries who have been making money off of Americans. I am doing this all for Americans. I will make America great again.

So you wanna sell to Americans! You better pay extra.”

No Mr. President. The Americans are going to pay that extra amount. The tariffs are on the Americans. Americans will pay 110$ for which they used to pay 100$.

I can’t get clearer than this.

Apple Cider Chicken

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 (about 1 1/4 pounds total) boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
Salt and ground black pepper
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium red onion, halved and thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups apple cider or unfiltered apple juice
1 to 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard (optional)
1 large Granny Smith apple, sliced
1 tablespoon fresh thyme

Instructions

Season chicken with salt and ground black pepper. Dust with flour.
Heat 1 tablespoon oil in large cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add chicken; cook until golden brown, turning once. Remove from skillet.
Add remaining tablespoon oil to skillet. Stir in onion; season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, until softened.
Stir in garlic; cook, stirring frequently, for 30 seconds. Stir in cider, scraping up any browned bits from bottom of pan. Stir in mustard.
Add chicken back to skillet; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low. Cook for 15 minutes.
Turn chicken over; add apple and thyme to skillet. Cook for 5 to 10 minutes or until chicken is cooked through.

Why didn’t Michael Jackson come out?

As what?

I don’t think Michael Jackson had any kind of adult emotions or inclinations at all; I think he was emotionally retarded as a result of his father’s abuse and being thrust into the public eye at such a young age. Furthermore, while he was on tour with the Jackson 5 his brothers would bang groupies while he, a little boy, was in the room, which doubtless no doubt did not help matters in terms of a normal sexual development.

His public relationships, with Lisa Marie Presley and that other woman, whatever her name was, were obvious shams; the first a publicity stunt in an effort to portray Jackson as a normal adult man in the wake of the child sexual abuse allegations, the latter a rather bizarre cover for a business agreement to produce Jackson’s very obviously surrogate children (look no further than longtime pals Miko Brando and Mark Lester as the actual fathers). I would be amazed if he could

Get it up (his father allegedly slipped him growth retardants during his time in The Jacksons; interrupting puberty in this fashion can cause ED in adult life).
Had anything but a hugely dysfunctional interest in sex and any desire to engage in intercourse of any kind.

I don’t believe any of the child molestation rumours in large part because I genuinely don’t think Jackson had any desire to harm children, and that he likely saw sex as a very negative thing that he would have wanted to avoid, certainly apropos other people; allegedly an amount of heterosexual pornography was found in his house, but plenty of sexually retarded men can be all over pornography while having no desire to try to interact sexually with another person and indeed, through trauma or other factors be incapable of such even if they wanted to.

To my mind, he was a child who never really grew up. Hence his sleepovers with children, etc. Such actions were unbelievably stupid, ill-advised and straight up wrong – an adult should not be having sleepovers with children – but I genuinely don’t believe there was sexual predation involved.

Which doesn’t mean I think Michael Jackson was a “good guy” necessarily; he seemed very materialistic, living in obscene luxury and absolutely gross excess, and did nothing to deter the distasteful cult of personality that grew around him, accepting the grovelling worship and religious adulation of a legion of hysterical fans with all the faux humility of a prelate extending a ringed hand for a supplicant to kiss. And for all his undeniable talent as a songwriter, singer and dancer, he was a very, very weird man indeed.

One Step Beyond (1959) | Season 2 | Episode 26 | The Explorer | John Newland | Robert Douglas

AI summarizes the London Hammer from MM writings

The article “The Hammer inside the Rock,” also known as the “London Hammer,” investigates a mysterious artifact that challenges conventional historical and scientific narratives. The author argues that this object is a genuine Out Of Place ARTifact (OOPART) that provides evidence of sophisticated tool-making intelligences existing millions of years before humans evolved.

1. Discovery and Geologic Context

The Find: Discovered in June 1936 by Max and Emma Hahn near Red Creek in London, Texas, the artifact was found as a loose rock with a piece of petrified wood protruding from it.
Encapsulation: When the rock was broken open, it revealed a metal hammerhead affixed to a wooden handle, completely encased within the stone.
Age of the Rock: The surrounding strata are identified as Eocene, dating the rock between 33.9 and 56 million years old.
Biological Evidence: The rock contains embedded shells of aquatic bivalves from the Eocene period, suggesting the object was lost when the Texas desert was a shallow shoreline.

2. The “Impossible” Metallurgy

The author highlights the metallurgical composition as the most significant mystery, noting it does not fit any known 19th or 20th-century standards.

Chemical Profile: The hammerhead is 96.6% iron, 2.6% chlorine, and 0.74% sulfur, with 0% carbon.
Non-Corrosive Properties: Because it lacks carbon, it is not steel, yet it has not rusted since its discovery over sixty years ago.
Chlorine Infusion: The presence of chlorine is used to suppress oxidation, but adding chlorine gas to molten iron is a dangerous, complex process requiring sterile, high-tech facilities that did not exist in the 1930s or earlier.
Sulfur Content: The sulfur content is extraordinarily high (double that of modern stainless steel), likely added intentionally to increase the iron’s hardness and ease of machining.

3. Rebutting the “Scientific Statist” Narrative

The author fiercely rejects the claim by mainstream scientists that this is a common 19th-century miner’s hammer that simply became encased in a lime nodule.

Size and Style: The hammer is tiny (6 inches long), resembling a jeweler’s or tack hammer rather than a robust mining tool.
Lack of Precedent: Exhaustive searches of vintage Sears & Roebuck, Montgomery Ward, and other catalogs failed to find any stylistically similar hammers manufactured in the 1800s.
Manufacturing Impossibility: No iron foundries of the 19th century had the technology to produce forensically pure, chlorine-infused iron without carbon or phosphorous impurities.

4. Purpose and Conclusions

Intended Use: The author concludes the object is a specialized shellfish dislodging tool. Its non-corrosive metallurgy and specific head design (a small dome on one end and a concave face on the other) are perfectly suited for a marine environment.
The “Signpost”: The author posits that the hammer was lost 40 million years ago by tool-making creatures of small stature who possessed a sophisticated understanding of metallurgy.
The Takeaway: The London Hammer serves as a “signpost” toward a reality that is far older and more complex than current scientific models allow, suggesting humans are not the first intelligent species to occupy Earth.

The Hiccup Horror

Mood Inside Pentagon: Intense. Paranoid. Turns out the “Experts” — were wrong.

Hal Turner World March 04, 2026

‘Inside the Pentagon, and among some members of the Trump administration, there is deepening concern which began on Sunday and worsened Monday and Tuesday, that the Iran conflict could spiral out of control.

‘The mood here is intense and paranoid’, one person said.

There is anxiety among senior leaders that the fighting will extend for weeks, further stressing limited U.S. air defense stockpiles.

‘There is concern about this lasting more than a few days’, said another person. ‘I don’t think people have fully absorbed it yet, like, what it has done to our stockpiles. It often takes two or three interceptors to ensure a missile is stopped.’

Others mock that view saying “What kind of nonsense is he talking about? Two or three to stop a missile? They need about ten interceptors to watch the missile strike anyway.”

Apparently, the “experts” are trapped in a fairy-tale La-La-Land of their own making. They seem to believe the lies they have been telling themselves for years about how effective US weapons systems are, and how weak our adversaries are.

When the real world intruded upon their La-La-Land echo chamber, the results proved catastrophic. The real world has proven that US Missile defenses are not nearly as effective as the “experts” concluded them to be. Turned out that the real world is not a test range where perfect conditions exist for defenses to operate.

The real world is messy, chaotic, electronically noisy. The defensive systems don’t perform as expected.

Making things worse, the incompetent morons in the former Biden regime, gave very large amounts of our defensive missile inventory, to Ukraine. So our supplies are now “very low” and the US has begun TURNING DOWN requests from Persian Gulf allies who are seeking immediate replenishment of their near-empty defense missiles.

The country of Qatar now has less than ONE WEEK of defensive missiles.

In the meantime, Iran keeps firing their older, less accurate missiles at all those US allies, to use-up their missile defenses. Once the defenses are exhausted, Iran can start firing their bigger, better, newer, missiles, and really inflict far more serious damage.

The Trump people approached Iran via Italy over the weekend to talk about a ceasefire. Iran flatly rejected it without any further discussion at all.

Iran’s plans are clearly coming together with regard to overwhelming the US and Israeli defenses.

Unless the US can neutralize Iran’s launch capability – and as already made incredible progress to that goal – Iran can actually win this conflict.

Russia and China are helping Iran. Payback to the US for what the US has been doing to Russia by supplying Ukraine, and what the US is trying to do to China: Cutting off Iran oil to China, which has to import 80% of Iran’s oil to meet China’s annual oil needs.

(HT Remarks: Long before this conflict began, I told readers of this website and listeners to my radio show, that if we went to war against Iran to placate the whiny Israelis, we would be opening Pandora’s Box. Now, even the most mentally dense can see that Pandora’s Box is open, and it isn’t working out well for us.)

Would China beat the U.S. in a war now?

Yes.

There are different ways of looking at this issue. And I will cover a number of ways that this question can be answered.

Social Cohesiveness

Nations that win wars are nations that fight as one. The entire nation is mobilized, and everyone supports “the war effort”. This was as true as in World War I as it is today. Nations that are fractured and divided can not sustain long drawn out wars; these “wars of attrition”. And while the United States has many good things going for it, is is perhaps the most divided and fractured nation in history.

China is like a colony of ants. Everyone has a role, and they all work together. You stomp down on the ants, and they scatter and regroup. You torch one of the anthills and they move to the other hills, while trying to repair the damaged structures.

While the United States, on the other hand, is like a basket of kittens. You sit them down and they all go every which way. Everyone is an individual and NO ONE works together unless forced to do so.

In the real world, we all want to be like Michael Jordan, but most basketball games are won by teamwork, not by the lone superstar. China is one unified team.

Size

Very few people understand how enormous China is.

The population is over four times that of the United States. And everyone works together. China has used more cement last year than the rest of the world combined in all of history! China is one mega-cyberpunk mega-complex after the other. With massive 12 lane mega-highways in spaghetti ribbons that flow in and out of mountains, bridges that defy belief, and High Speed Rail that boggles the mind.

There are days in Hong Kong that walking is like being inside a can of sardines. You move like water, and if you are pushed into a direction you don’t want to go, well too bad for you.

While America is the land of open spaces, wide and long parking lots, and empty shopping centers. It is the absolute opposite of China.

The largest nation in size and ability tends to be the one that win conflicts. Such as how mega-enormous Russia is wearing down tiny Ukraine.

Strategic vs. Tactical Superiority

Many armchair generals like to parse the technical differences between weapon systems. “Oh, the MIG-25 is useless because it uses radio tubes”, and “Chinese military hardware quality is like those cheap SKS knock-offs that flooded the USA in the 1990’s”. And while there is some truth, not much, but some truth to this assertion, the fact is that wars are decided by strategic considerations. Not tactical considerations.

When it comes to strategic considerations, it is China that overwhelmingly has the advantage.

Resources, manufacturing ability, social cohesiveness, networked global community, and shared idea of purpose will win over a propagandized black-and-white cardboard cut-out narrative every time.

The nations that wins world war three is the nation that can ENDURE.

History

The United States fought China in 1950.

The United States lost and retreated in a rout. Then propagandized the loss as a “win” and a “victory”.

Movies taken at that time show a far different picture. Not only did the American (and allied forces) run from their positions, but the entire supply chain had to be bombarded by sea by the United States Navy as President Eisenhower’s troops did not have the time to retreat properly.

That, mind you, was when the United States military was at it’s strongest.

Since then… China has been studying and working, and rebuilding things step by step. And today, China is a fortress, it’s people are warriors, and while peaceful and nice, they will be ferocious if “push comes to shove”.

China won wars against the United States when it was weak and the USA was strong.

Now, the tables have turned, and China is ferociously strong, and the USA is a shadow of what it once was.

Technology

China is an above-peer competitor with the United States military.

This is well known and well understood. The difference lies in the way the military is used, and how it is used. That being said, no one really knows what China “has up its sleeve”. It is very secretive and closed about its abilities, and strategies.

But one thing is known. China has the oldest military in the world, the oldest Navy in the world, the biggest military in the world, and if that wasn’t enough…

...remember the Chinese wrote the book on how to wage war.

Picking sides

In a hypothetical war between the USA and China keep in mind that it would be global and the world would be forced to pick sides.

15% of the world would be the USA and it’s allies.
85% of the world would side with China.

In a USA-China war, the world will stand with China.

…

Today, I opened up a new YouTube account, and suddenly my feed was flooded about China-bad, China-failing, China technology losses, and “this is why” videos on everything wrong with China. Obviously the propaganda is is full swing.

But think about it…

If China was REALLY like this, you wouldn’t need to propagandize so heavily. It would be self-evident.

…

Remember, boys and girls, China is a peaceful nation…

Until it isn’t.

Don’t wake up the dragon.

Meanwhile…

Technology is advancing so rapidly. AI and all the things that it can do. I’m doing my best to keep up with it all. Lordy!

I made this little application using Google Gemini AI…

Today…

Russia Sharing Far More Military Tech With Iran Than Previously Known

Hal Turner World March 04, 2026

Two days ago, British military bases on the island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean Sea, were hit by Drones, doing minor damage.

The debris from the drones has been forensically analyzed.

SURPRISE! The Iranian drones have advanced Russian components!

The world knew that Iran supplied Russia with basic drones for Russian use in Ukraine.

It turns out that Russia returned the basic drones, but with all the upgrades they needed and developed while fighting in Ukraine, to Iran!

Now, Iran has a vastly battle-hardened drones.

One piece of evidence provided by authorities analyzing the drone debris is a Russian “Comet” antenna module, pictured above.

These extremely high-tech antenna modules were installed on the Iranian drones that struck Cyprus.

This begs the question: What OTHER high-technology has Russia supplied to Iran?

How are the Chinese government and Chinese people reacting to the “reflection” that the recent films “Dead To Rights” and “731” are enabling, especially among younger audiences?

It is heartening to see that a new generation of young Chinese directors are beginning to abandon the ‘God’s-eye view’ — that is, using the form of art films to seek out the glimmers of humanity in individual Japanese imperial soldiers, focusing on the salvation of certain foreigners and the ‘mercy’ shown by some Japanese imperial soldiers toward Chinese civilians treated like lambs to the slaughter.

They have turned to documentary-style storytelling, using the most authentic perspective to recreate history. They are filming history as it was, raw and brutal. Documentary films are like sharp knives, piercing into history and into the hearts of certain people in the present.

The Chinese government and people have very complex feelings toward Japan.

The Chinese people view Japan’s invasion of China rationally and objectively, but as the Japanese government and right-wing elements distort and glorify its history of aggression, they are gradually losing patience.

The demands of the Chinese government and people are not excessive and have always been clear and reasonable:

they simply ask the Japanese side to face up to historical issues, restore historical truth, and sincerely reflect on the past, rather than distorting history, denying crimes, and glorifying the crimes of the Japanese Empire in textbooks, publications, and films.

Regarding the Yasukuni Shrine, we are asking the Japanese side to remove the memorial tablets of World War II war criminals. Those executioners in the war of aggression against China are not qualified to be treated as “heroes”.

The MOST BRUTAL CHEATING Scenario I’ve Ever Witnessed

How do jamming fighter jets like the Growler get around anti radiation missiles?

A very, very interesting question! My sweet baby was and is one bad mamba jamba:

If you can make it out, the things with propellers on the front are our jamming pods, the spinning props generate the electricity required to run the pods. One would think that this would just light up the aircraft to SAMs, and you would be right 70 years ago.

The type of jamming you’re thinking of is what’s called barrage jamming. Basically, you take the RADARs energy, crank it up to 11, and it makes your buddies impossible to see through all the brightness. That didn’t work for long.

Our enemies ain’t stupid. Let’s just say you jam at 1KHz. The RADAR only has to jump a few Hertz to make it invisible.

Why do I bring up RADARs? Because that’s all a Growler is; it’s a miniature version of those big ass antennas you see. Our jamming jumps around so much you can’t get guidance on us. You’d have more luck and better success rates trying to home in on and destroy an F-16. Too bad those Vipers carry HARM and HTS and that’s just what they’re waiting for.

Bottom line, no Growler would ever get shot down in combat because it was jamming. Even air-to-air we’re the next best thing to true stealth. Those guys are just otherworldly and I would never want to go against them for real. My flight of 12 managed to take out one, and it was a complete mistake on his part. I won’t tell you what that mistake was, but 12:1 is a fairly decent ratio And we were all Top Gun/Top Shock (SFTI/GTI) grads. We were trying to figure out how to beat stealth because let’s face it, someone else is gonna figure it out (probably China). We STILL can’t figure out how to beat it, and we have a 40 year head start.

Now, an aircraft that’s been protected by a Prowler/Growler has never been shot down. How do you think enemies can target a plane that can hide an entire strike package? Growler emissions are all over the place. You couldn’t target one based on the emissions alone

Moon Shattered

Written in response to: “Set your story in a place where the weather never changes.“

Daniel Rogers

“You don’t take warnings well,” the Russian said as he sat in my booth.

Without moving my hand, I unsnapped my holster.

The Russian hailed a waiter, “Vodka, please.” He looked back at me, “I’m going to have to kill you now. You know that?”

I never took my eyes off him. It was unlikely he’d try anything in a crowded bar, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it.

“Not much of a talker?” The Russian took a drink.

“You’re doing enough for both of us.”

The Russian laughed, “Good one.”

A couple of LTF officers walked in. The Russian stared at them and laughed, “What jokes. The entire Lunar Task Force is nothing but a bunch of clowns. I killed two in New London last week.”

I know he’s lying. I would have heard about it, although I don’t doubt he has killed a few.

“You’re boring company. You know that?” He finished off his vodka just as the officers came to our table.

“Everything alright here?”

“You know it,” the Russian moved slowly with his hands in plain sight.

“Good. Make sure it stays that way.” They moved to the bar.

“Just because we’re prospectors,” the Russian shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t like killing a man without knowing his name.”

“Tango.”

“That’s not your real name.”

We locked eyes, measuring each other, killer to killer.

“I guess Tango will have to do. See you in the crater.”

I watched until he left the bar and called my company contact, Jeeves.

“The Russian just paid me a visit.”

“How unfortunate,” the British male voice sounded bored. “I’ll add a high-powered sniper rifle to your gear.”

“And a bullet-proof suit.”

“Those are hard to come by in a wasteland city, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“He took out Spec last month. Make it happen, or MoonCorp might never know if there are diamonds in that crater.”

“Spec? I didn’t know he was dead. That’s very unfortunate. Will you be able to deal with the Russian? Or should we hire another?”

“I’ll handle him. Just get me the suit.”

I took the monorail to the hotel district, watching my back. I wouldn’t put it past the Russian to make an attempt before we get anywhere near the crater. My gaze went to the projected blue sky and white puffy clouds of the city’s dome, reminding me of Earth. I’ve been here too long. I’m tired of fake sky. I know what’s on the other side-a wasteland of darkness and rocks, craters and chasms, hopelessness and death.

A drone flying outside my window shook me out of my ruminations. My instincts warned me to beware. Drones are as common in a lunar city as birds on Earth. However, a drone matching the speed and direction of a monorail doesn’t happen often, if at all.

Suddenly, two miniguns materialized from the drone. I ducked just as it opened fire. Shattered glass fell on me. Passengers screamed. I pulled my pistol, rolled the quad barrel to scattershot, and destroyed the drone. I scanned for more drones before holstering my gun.

After a grueling round of questions from the LTF, I finally made it to my hotel. The rifle and suit lay on my bed. These should give me an advantage in the crater, assuming I make it out of the city.

I grabbed the rifle to feel its weight and peered through the scope. To my horror, I spotted a gun pointed at me from the opposite building. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I hadn’t loaded it. Just then, my window shattered, and a bullet grazed my cheek.

I fell to my knees and crawled to the corner, out of sight of the gunman. How is he always one step ahead of me? It’s like he knows where I’ll be before I do. Then it hit me-my phone. Jeeves gave it to me when I arrived. I almost threw it out the window, but then I had an idea.

I crawled to the edge of my bed, still out of sight of the window, loaded my rifle, and grabbed a drone from my gear bag under the bed. I secured my phone to the drone and entered Jeeves’ hotel coordinates.

If the gunman could track my phone, then he’d think I retreated to my safe house. I carefully used a mirror to see if he had gone. He had. I quickly dressed my wound to avoid questions, threw on my long jacket, and concealed my rifle.

I found a low-rise building whose roof would be perfect for my plan. I positioned myself and waited. An hour passed before the Russian took his shot. Jeeves’ window shattered exactly where the drone landed with my phone.

I saw the gun flash on the fifth floor of a building slightly to my right. I aimed for his head and fired. He instantly fell.

I walked to Jeeves’ place and looked through the shattered window. He lay in a pool of blood. The Russian hit him between the eyes—an instant kill. Jeeves betrayed me. It’s poetic justice that his asset killed him. The company who hired them must know there are diamonds in that crater. Or else, they would have never attempted to take me out in the city.

I hurried to the Russian before the LTF arrived. He lay where I shot him. For the first time in my career, the sight of death made me sick. He was just like me–a prospector. It’s just business. Nothing personal.

I saw myself lying in a pool of blood, like the Russian. I, too, will make a mistake one day and take one between the eyes. Suddenly, it began to feel very personal. I’ve had enough of this rock. The vultures can have it.

I looked back down at the Russian.

“Back at the bar, you asked for my real name. I don’t know why it’s important to you, but I owe you that much. It’s Tom. Nothing fancy. Just Tom.”

I left for the nearest shuttle port.

Tex Mex Beef Barbecue

Ingredients

1 (6 pound) beef brisket
2 (16 ounce) bottles barbecue sauce (your choice)
2 envelopes chili seasoning
6 cloves garlic, chopped
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 cup chopped onion

Instructions

Combine all ingredients, except the meat, in a large slow cooker. Stir well.
Add meat and stir well to coat.
Cover and cook on LOW for 10 hours or on HIGH for 5 hours.
Remove the meat and shred.
Return the meat to the slow cooker. Stir well.

What are some of the best methods to prevent tax evasion?

In 1951, the government of Taiwan instituted measures to curb tax evasion that proved so effective that the total amount of tax collected in 1951 was almost three times the amount collected in 1950.

But before I explain how Taiwan did this, let’s talk a little about how tax evasion works.

One common method used to evade taxes is underreporting income, and then hiding the “extra” cash through money laundering or offshore accounts. But if the government knew about every transaction, it would know whether income was being reported accurately, and tax evasion would be much more difficult.

So, what if the government had consumers report their expenses? Suppose John buys a widget from Sam for $500. If Sam reports an income of $100 from the transaction (and hides the remaining $400) but John reports that the widget costed $500, the government knows that something’s wrong.

While this works in theory, there are two main problems:

Consumers don’t typically keep meticulous records of their spending.
The amount of paperwork required to evaluate every single transaction in the country would be overwhelming.

So, what if we tried a simplified approach? Suppose the government asked every consumer to furnish three random receipts per year. The taxation bureau will examine the furnished receipts and compare them to how the company reported those transactions. If the amount printed on just one receipt differs from the income the company reported from that transaction, the government will assume that the company underreported many more transactions… and stiff fines will follow.

“This is all very nice,” you might be thinking, “But what if companies deliberately print receipts incorrectly?”

Then, consumers have the right to demand a refund equal to the amount underreported.

“But what if companies simply don’t furnish receipts?”

Then, it becomes even more obvious that tax is being evaded. If an undercover agent buys something from a store and is not given a receipt, the company is fined.

“But what if consumers don’t keep their receipts?”

Ah, this is where it gets interesting.

In Taiwan, you’re given a special receipt every time you buy something.

Do you see the big number printed across the top? UF-32473705 is a unique number that identifies this transaction… and it’s also a lottery number.

Every other month, the government picks six random three-digit numbers. If any of the six match the last three digits of one of your receipts, you can turn in the receipt for a cash prize of NT$200 (US$7). Not extremely exciting… but I win the receipt lottery around three times per year. It’s just enough to convince me to keep saving my receipts in hopes that I just might win something small.

But there’s more.

Additionally, three random ten-digit numbers are chosen. If any of these numbers match one of your receipts, you can win NT$200,000 (US$6,700). I have friends who have won this prize more than once… but yours truly has terrible luck.

Finally, there’s also a NT$2,000,000 (US$67,000) prize and a NT$10,000,000 (US$300,000) prize. Last year, an “unclaimed $10 million prize” hit the news. They announced the place and date of the purchase… and everyone who shopped there that day tore through their pants pockets and sock drawers in search of that missing receipt.

Every time someone claims their prize, the government always checks whether that transaction was reported correctly. Businesses are now terrified of underreporting income because they don’t know which transaction will end up being audited.

It’s a brilliant system designed to put the burden of taxation on merchants. In theory, Taiwan can now cut personal income taxes because they receive hundreds of millions of dollars in added revenue from a system that only costs them tens of millions.

Although the government is still working on those tax cuts, I’m sure those who have won the $10 million prize are more than happy with this system.

The Female Dating Strategy…IS CRINGE AF

Why is it so difficult to make a critical shot on a bear during an attack, even with a powerful gun?

Having lived in Alaska, we were surrounded by large grizzly bears, and the largest weapon we had was a 30.06 rifle. I know that Grizzly bears have extremely hard bones, including their skull, and a bullet won’t penetrate the bone, just spread out on the outside of the bone and make an angry bear even angrier. You can find the story of “old Groaner’ on line. My family homesteaded on the Unuk river, where it happened. The person who shot the bear, Bruce Johnstone, and his brother Jack, were lifelong friends of my family.

The only way to reliably kill one quickly, is to shoot it in the eye, or right behind the shoulder, which will enter the heart, or into the mouth. Those are not very large targets to aim at when the thing is charging at you. My dad’s favorite tactic was to aim for the spine, which would disable the animal’s hindquarters, and then he would be able to safely get close enough to finish it off with another shot. We did not believe in leaving a wounded animal, any animal, to suffer,

I am not making any of this up, the attached picture is my mom on our homestead on the Unuk with a bear that she brought down with one shot, because it was making a habit of staring at her through the kitchen window every morning and stalking my dad and uncle as they walked off to work in the woods. They were loggers. We didn’t like killing bears, but then if a human expressed the same threats on human life, they would also be dealt with rather harshly.

This was in 1948 a few weeks before I was born.

Sir Whiskerton and the Hiccup Horror: A Farm in Need of a Cure

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of involuntary spasms, misplaced blame, and the most unsettling yodeling this side of the pond. Today’s adventure begins with a hic—yes, just one—before spiraling into a farm-wide epidemic of diaphragm disasters. So grab a glass of water (hold your nose!), and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Hiccup Horror.

Act 1: The Plague of the Unwanted “Hics”

It started at dawn. Doris the Hen, mid-dramatic rant about “the injustice of uneven straw distribution,” suddenly froze.

“I demand—hic—justice! And also—hic—WHO IS DOING THAT?!”

One by one, the farm fell victim:

Rufus hiccuped so hard he levitated.
Porkchop blamed “cursed carrots.”
Chef Remy, clutching a bubbling vial, gasped: “Mon dieu… did my Experimental Tonic #47 do zis? …Probably non.”

Sir Whiskerton, ever the detective, assembled the animals. “Friends, we have a hiccup crisis.”

“Or,” Bessie whispered, “a spiritual awakening.” (She’d been hiccuping in rhythm with a tree.)

Act 2: The Great (and Terrible) Cure-Off

Attempt #1: The Scare Tactic

Whiskerton leapt from a hay bale, yowling: “BOO!”

Doris: Hic-laughs. “Oh, you scamp!”
Rufus: Hic-woofs. “Do it again!”

Attempt #2: The Yodeling Fish Intervention

The pond’s infamous Yodeling Fish surfaced, harmonizing:
🎶 “YODEL—hic—AY-HEE—hic—HOO!” 🎶
The hiccups synced. Now the entire farm jerked in unison, like a drunken conga line.

Attempt #3: Chef Remy’s “Anti-Hic Soup”

(Ingredients: “Love, garlic, and possibly a smidge of glue.”)

Porkchop, after one sip: “I’m hic-stuck to the fence.”

Act 3: The Cure Was Friendship (And Also Holding Your Nose)

Just as despair set in, Ditto the Kitten piped up:

“What if we… hic… all hold our breath together?”

The farm fell silent—no hiccups, no yodeling, just the sound of Chef Remy sweating guiltily over his tonic.

Sir Whiskerton smiled. “Sometimes, the silliest problems need the simplest solutions… and less experimental soup.”

The Moral of the Story

Patience and teamwork can cure even the hicpiest disasters. (But maybe don’t drink the raccoon’s tonic.)

Post-Credit Scene

The Yodeling Fish, now with hiccup-remix versions of their songs, launch a “Greatest Hic Hits” album. Doris demands royalties.

Best Lines

“Is this a hiccup or my soul leaving my body?” – Bessie
“Science hic demands hic SACRIFICES!” – Chef Remy
“YODEL—hic—NO.” – Sir Whiskerton

Starring

Sir Whiskerton (Hiccup Harbinger)
Doris (Drama Queen of Diaphragms)
The Yodeling Fish (Unwitting Remix Artists)

Key Jokes

Doris’s hic-interrupted theatrics.
The fish’s yodeling worsening the hiccups.
Chef Remy’s tonic being definitely the cause (but he’ll never admit it).

P.S.

A farm with hiccups is just a barnyard beatboxing competition nobody signed up for.

How is biometric technology used in modern airports?

China is the only BIOMETRIC Airport i visited

Unfortunately Indians don’t get all the goodies 😞😞😞

For some countries YOU SCAN YOUR FACE and it is matched with the passport biometrics and a green glow confirms it

For many nationals, that is it

They can walk out directly to the Biometric counter

For Indians, you need to go to Immigration and manually give your passport

They take your facial scan, fingerprints and link them to your passport number

You never have to take out your passport again for 3 years in these cities (18 cities at the moment )

When you reach the Hotel

Just scan your face and voila, all your details are automatically sent to the Cloud and a green light says you can directly proceed to give your booking details and get your key card

Your face scan doesn’t match?

The Hotel asks whether you are ok with fingerprints or manual?

If you say ok to fingerprints then they will take your fingerprints and that’s it

What if biometrics dont match?

This is a 1 in 7.67 Million event but every one visitor on 7.67 Million gets a blip with the facial scan and biometrics and gets a mismatch

Then it becomes dicey 😒😒😒

Immigration will detain you, give you a nice place to sit, water, snacks etc but you cannot leave

They will try again in 15 minutes

If that is also a mismatch, then they have to necessarily communicate with the Indian Consulate and someone from the consulate will come, vouch for you AND THEY WILL PUT YOU BACK ON A FLIGHT TO THE DESTINATION FROM WHERE YOU LANDED IN CHINA

You can’t enter China on that Passport anymore

One of our group had a mismatch and luckily second time the biometrics matched

Remember China has their own NIA And that’s just Immigration

I got a message that YOUR INFORMATION IS BEING SENT TO THE NIA..

I panicked for a few minutes because that Idiot Desi Facts of KB lies debunked kept talking of NIA and I thought “Is India that focused on KB???”😂😂😂😂

Then I found out it’s Chinas NIA – National Immigration Admin

You don’t need a wallet or smartphone inside the airport if you are a mainlander (18 Cities so far)

You can scan your face and make payments

Your scan links to Residence ID and Bank accounts and you click your bank account you want to debit and that’s it

Best are the AI Cameras

They match your facial scans to their database and can track 90% of your movements except for the Toilets and Night Hubs

We literally saw a case where an Australian kid couldn’t find his parents and the Authorities clicked a few buttons and found the parents and notified the guard there to come and bring them to their kid (We couldnt enter the office but it took exactly 3/4 minutes)

Kids < 14 may not give their Facial Scans unless Voluntary

Biometrics are Mandatory

If you refuse, you can leave China on the next flight

Only Diplomats are exempted

I didn’t need Biometrics this time

I entered China in 2023 , so my details would be available till 2026 , so I bypassed the collection. I gave my fingerprints and the system went Green and allowed me in without any issue

Pictures

Are there any specific reasons Chinese customers think their products are now as good or better than Western ones?

If you travel between China and a Western country, you’d be able to tell yourself.

The last country I lived outside of China was Panama. Which is heavily influenced by the US in the things they use daily, due to their past experience of sort of like a semi colony of the US. From my experience, apart from top quality American products, Chinese products are now top of the line in quality.

This is a Niu electric scooter.

People would just throw them around on the sidewalk and nobody would give it a second look in China, as it’s considered a poor man’s transport. But in Panama, it started off as a $4000 luxury item. And when I took mine to a Vespa dealership to adjust the breaks, before Niu had opened shop in Panama, the Vespa mechanics all got excited with my scooter and said that my lowly Chinese electric scooter used better parts than their base Italian Vespa. But a Vespa started off at $3000, while the Niu EV scooter was commonly sold at $600–700 in China then, and it could set an automatic cruise speed.

Typical Western brand hermets were sold above $100 in Panama. Maybe because cycling was more of a rich man’s hobby. Here’s my $10 brandless Chinese helmet that saved my life from a cycling accident that gave me multiple bone fractures on the body, but nothing on the head thanks to the helmet.

To celebrate 5 years of relationship between Panama and China, I came up with the idea of making a pin with a friend. We first wanted to make it in Panama, but when asking around the workshops they either thought it was too complicated, or that it would cost too much and take too long. So we contacted a random pin maker on Taobao in China (Chinese EBay/Amazon), ran it through a few iterations in a week, and made about 1000 of them to celebrate with friends and Chinese expats in Panama, and it only cost us like $1500 in total.

Below are a few failed attempts, the final product looked no different than one of those pins you could find at a tourist gift shop.

This is a Zeekr 001.

I test drove one and absolutely loved it. It just felt premium. Completely corrected my bias against EVs from the impression of shabby quality the Tesla X left me, when Tesla was considered a rich man’s show off in Panama. Albeit I heard that Made in China Tesla have better finish and panels aren’t mismatched.

By 2020, I’ve come to the conclusion that Chinese products are not just of the best deal, but best quality too, as long as you’re looking for generic products at reasonable price. Whenever I shop for something, I now check to see if it’s made in China. If positive, then I’d happily pay more for it for the sense of security. For example, despite all being Japanese brands, I’ve had made in Japan and made in Thailand cameras fail on me like 3 times in the rains of Panama. But I’ve never had Made in China camera bodies fail on me, even when I dropped the equipment in glaciar lake in Argentina. Albeit it’s not a direct comparison, maybe it also has to do with the high humidity and salinity in the air in Panama? But overall the impression of mine using them for 2 decades is still there, that made in China Japanese camera equipments are more reliable than those made elsewhere.

For very specific items, like a rench or a RRS tripod, American products are still better though, but you’d have to pay like 3 to 5 times as much for noticeable but not huge quality difference under the harshest conditions.

All Men Want the Same Thing

What was bad about living in the 50s?

I have answered this question many times.

Car accidents were much more likely to kill you because you had no seat belts, no head rest, no sideview mirror, no airbag, the steering wheel was literally a spear. The death rate from car accidents was 6 times what it is now.

Racism was rampant.

Wife beating and wife rape were completely acceptable.

Drunk driving was acceptable. You weren’t responsible for killing someone when you were drunk.

Everybody smoked and the cigarette industry covered up the danger

You could dump your toxic waste anywhere you wanted.

No controls on industrial pollution

Clearcutting forests into deserts was perfectly okay

Asbestos was everywhere even though industry knew since the 1930s that it was deadly

Poll taxes and reading tests were used to prevent Blacks from voting

Schools were segregated.

Beating your pets was no one’s business but yours

You had the right to beat your children.

Priests were abusing children in huge numbers

The only jobs for women were secretary, phone operator, nurse or teacher, waitress. Women were barely second class citizens.

Polio was a crippling disease

DDT was killing everything on earth.

Detroit was building cars almost purposefully designed to kill you and many got less than 8MPG

Thalidomide was a wonder drug – until you had a baby

Even a small amount of pot would have you in prison for years or decades

Gay baiting and beating was a fun activity for the police.

If you were handicapped you might as well stay home. You certainly couldn’t negotiate a sidewalk, let alone stairs.

Only leaded gas was available and it was being pumped into the air and water and ground by the millions of tons

Littering was perfectly acceptable

Most houses had lead pipes delivering their water.

There was no National Historic Register so countless historic buildings and sites were lost so some developer could build something ridiculous.

The 3 Martini Lunch was a real thing – you would go out at lunch, get shitfaced and then go back to work and use heavy machinery, make important decisions, whatever.

Organized crime was everywhere. They were insinuated into daily urban life controlling loansharks, gambling, prostitution, extortion, drugs, protection – and the police were almost always in on it.

Interracial marriage was illegal.

Everything was painted with lead paint. Children found it… tasty.

The GI Bill did not apply to Blacks for education or mortgages.

Corporal punishment in schools was quite common. A teacher or administrator could beat your kid for any or no reason.

Rivers in industrial areas caught on fire regularly. Big rivers like the Cuyahoga in Ohio and the Blackstone in Massachusetts and many others were officially classified as “Dead as the moon” and not even algae would grow in them due to industrial waste. Dead dear and animals littered the banks.

Mine tailings, slag and waste were dumped anywhere in massive piles. The devastation of the water supplies and from windblown mining waste still poisons the land. Birds landing on tailing lakes would die almost instantly.

Raw sewage was pumped directly into the rivers and oceans. In Boston, every urban beach closed due to the fear of hepatitis in 1955. The prevailing belief was “the solution to pollution is dilution”. They were wrong. Mercury and arsenic have made fish dangerous to eat.

There was no OSHA. Safety in factories was an afterthought. One industrialist said, “Workers must get injured occasionally in order for the US to lead the world in manufacturing.” It was an accepted fact of life.

Overfishing was a thing. Entire species were wiped out. Fishermen still complain about “controls” meant to save them as if overfishing is perfectly acceptable. Oysters, crabs, lobsters, alewife, cod – almost all wiped out along the eastern seaboard.

Everyone lived daily with the specter of nuclear war and children were taught to “duck and cover”.

Edit: It blows my mind how many Republican Nazis in the comments think these things were actually positive and want them back again.

Tavern Sloppy Joes

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

2 1/2 pounds lean ground beef
1 large onion, peeled and quartered
1 cup ketchup
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups beef broth or water
8 hamburger buns, toasted

Instructions

In a skillet, brown and crumble ground beef; drain well. Place beef and remaining ingredients except hamburger rolls in a slow cooker.
Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 12 hours.
Taste for seasoning before serving and correct if necessary.
Spoon over toasted hamburger buns.

US Navy Destroyer ALLEGEDLY Hit By Iran – Burning in Indian Ocean

Hal Turner World March 04, 2026

Arleight Burke class Destroyer Burning Indian Ocean large

US Navy Destroyer ALLEGEDLY Hit By Iran - Burning in Indian Ocean

An Arleigh Burke class Destroyer from the United States Navy was ALLEGEDLY hit by an Iranian attack of some type (missiles or drones) and is burning in the Indian Ocean.

Iran provided commercial satellite grade photo showing the vessel on fire.

ZERO additional information is available right now. The name of the ship is not yet known. It is not known if the crew were able to extinguish the fire. It is not known if the ship sank. It is not known how many sailors have been injured or killed.

Endeavoring to obtain further details.

UPDATE 4:37 PM EST —

US Central Command (CENTCOM) says that NO SHIP is reporting itself as being hit or on fire, anywhere in CENTCOM’s area of responsibility.

What are your thoughts on Beijing residents who received rainfall warnings but neither received nor noticed flash flood warnings?

This round of flooding in Beijing has been truly frightening, claiming 30 lives so far.

In a sense, we are witnessing history.

I grew up on the banks of the Yangtze River — step outside my home and there it was.

In my childhood memories, major floods were nothing unusual.

In 1990, I moved to Beijing and have lived here ever since.

Thirty-five short years — just a blink in historical terms — yet I can already feel, deeply, that the climate is changing dramatically.

The weather is getting hotter and hotter.（Not sure if this is alarmist, but scientists have indeed said that 2025 is the hottest year in the North China region in the past 125,000 years.）
Rainfall in the north is becoming increasingly intense.

Historically, not just Beijing but the entire area north of the Yellow River has been plagued by drought and water shortages.

To combat this, China had to undertake a colossal project: the South-to-North Water Diversion, pumping Yangtze water over a thousand kilometers northward in stages to supply North China.

I often joke: if the engineers who designed Beijing’s flood drainage system had worked in the south, they would have been thrown in jail — but here in Beijing, it’s perfectly normal.

In a place that has suffered water scarcity for centuries, building a drainage system with capacity far exceeding actual needs would have been a pure waste.

I remember when I first came to Beijing, the newspapers were full of dire warnings about water shortages.

Over-pumping of groundwater was said to be causing land subsidence. In recent years, no one talks about that anymore.

But in recent years, I’ve truly felt the change. In the past five years, average July rainfall in Beijing has been about 320 mm. This time, during the flood, some areas recorded daily rainfall of 573 mm — already on par with flood-season levels in the south.

Global warming and climate upheaval are real — let me repeat that: they are real! Absolutely real.

The changes are so drastic that even within my brief lifetime, I can feel them.

Today’s news: “Ministry of Water Resources activates Level IV flood emergency response for Xinjiang.”

Xinjiang — home to the world’s second-largest desert, full of barren Gobi, desperately short of water — floods?

Sounds surreal, doesn’t it?

Then take this headline from last year: August 24 — the Taklamakan Desert, known as the “Sea of Death,” hit by floods.

In July 2021, floods in the Taklamakan submerged more than 300 square kilometers.

In summer 2022, 21 rivers including the Tarim experienced floods above the warning level, with the main Tarim River in flood for 80 consecutive days.……

To be fair, the Beijing government has done a good job — from flood warnings to widening river channels.

But residents in the north simply do not have the mindset that “rain can kill.”

In the news, there were stories like this: the government earnestly urged residents to evacuate, but some replied, “Flood? If the flood comes, I’ll just go swimming…”（Of the 30 victims, 4 were civil servants who had gone to persuade and evacuate residents.）

I don’t know what the situation is like in my hometown now, but at least over 30 years ago, when a flood was about to break out, very few residents who refused to leave would be tied up with ropes by the PLA and forcibly evacuated.

There were also people who, after having evacuated, slipped back home on their own, saying they needed to get a change of clothes…

I’ve biked to the outskirts and seen people building small malls and villas right on the river embankment!

Before the recent downpour, the municipal government sent out seven warning texts.

If this had happened in my hometown, people would have been on high alert, ready to evacuate at any moment. In some rural homes, boats might already have been prepared.

But northerners lack that awareness.

I saw in the news that during rescue operations, someone who was saved actually said: “Rain can fall this hard?”

People can’t always teach each other — but one harsh experience can.

This flood is indeed a tragedy.

But a tragedy a million times greater is that no one believes climate warming is real, and no one believes we are standing on the brink of catastrophe.

The Stupidity of GDP per Capita

Spot on!

Citizens of Bahrain REVOLTING

Hal Turner World March 04, 2026

Citizens of Bahrain appear to be REVOLTING against the Al Khalifa Ruling family. Troops from Saudi Arabia are being deployed to put down the uprising.

The Al Khalifa (House of Khalifa) is the Sunni Muslim royal family that has ruled the Kingdom of Bahrain since 1783, originating from the Anizah tribe. King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa has ruled since 1999 (as Emir until 2002), with Prince Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa serving as Prime Minister.

Key details about the Al Khalifa family:

Background: The family migrated from Najd in central Arabia to Kuwait, later establishing control over Al Zubarah before settling in Bahrain.

Ruling Structure: The family holds significant power, with roughly half of Bahrain’s cabinet ministers coming from the Al Khalifa family.

Key Figures:

King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa: The current monarch who took power in 1999.

Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa: Crown Prince and Prime Minister.

Khalifa bin Salman Al Khalifa: Served as the world’s longest-serving prime minister from 1970 until his death in 2020.

History: They gained control of Bahrain after removing a Persian garrison in 1783.

The family maintains a strong grip on executive authority, with the King appointing ministers and commanding the army.

Bahrain hosts the US Fifth Fleet. The people know whose side their government is on, and it’s not theirs.

The US also has a Naval Support Facility in Bahrain and it has been repeatedly hit by Iranian Missiles. The image below, from satellite, shows the missile impact destruction:

The US Fifth Fleet Headquarters in Bahrain has come under repeated attack by Iranian missiles, many of which GOT THROUGH defenses as pictured at the TOP of this article.

The US Embassy in Bahrain also came under attack by Iranian missiles, THEN came under attack by Bahrain protesters, furious that the US and Israel Bombed Iran’s 86 year old Ayatollah Khamenei in his own home, killing him.

The U.S. has ordered non-essential personnel and their families to leave Bahrain.

What’s a sacrifice you’ve made that others might not fully understand?

I love my wife who is 15 years older than I and she came as a package with two children. A boy who was nearly three and a girl who was eleven. Even she didn’t understand why I would want her as she thought that she came with a lot of baggage. She asked me “How is this going to work? I’m so much older than you?”

“It’s just maths. I’m 23 and you’re 38. So when I’m 50 you’ll be 65 and so on.”

She countered,” I’m too old to give you any children.”

“What’s wrong with the two that we have?”

“Let me get this straight. You are going to raise another man’s children?”

I countered,” No. I love you and they are a part of you, so how could I not love them?”

That was 32 years ago. The children are grown. I’m 55 and she is now 70. She is the love of my life and I hers. Our son is now 35 and a GP and our daughter is almost 43 and makes six figures working in Finance. They call me dad and their birth father by his first name.

Can I Have Your Attention Please

Written in response to: “Start your story with the lines: “The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.”“

Jan Keifer

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. I knew I wasn’t going to like my day. I could not remember the events that lead me here. I search for an exit.

A chair, a table, and a bed fill the middle of the room. I go to the bed and push down on the mattress. The bedding falls through to the floor. I pick up the bedding and lay it in a pile by the wall.

Tired of searching the walls, I make a bed for myself.

I manage to fall asleep. Suddenly, I’m falling. I fall five feet and come to a stop. I’m hovering in mid-air. There’s a glass wall with people pointing and gesturing at me. I wave at them and scream help. They laugh and wave back. I start falling again and scream. I land badly. I howl in pain and rise to my feet. This room has a door. I open it and rush out into the street. Trams are moving slowly enough to hop on and ride. I hop on and sit down closing my eyes.

Hearing a noise, I open my eyes, and looked around. The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. I panic and look for an exit. I remember a few things, and don’t want to repeat them. I go to the spot where I had fell before. Using my pocket knife, I open the trapdoor. There is a ladder. I sit down and slide to the edge and put my foot on the top rung. I climb down the ladder. I pass the glass wall with people.watching me. They wave at me. Ignoring them I descend into the next room. This time there is second door. I decide to try it. I open the door and it leads to a forest. I go back inside the room and the other door has vanished. I go back to the forest door and step through. I hear a noise and look behind me to find the building gone.

Controlling my panic, I close my eyes and listen for a minute. There are no noises. Nothing but total silence. I open my eyes and look around.

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. Remembering my steps. I go down the ladder and now there are three doors at the bottom. I choose a door and walk through. I do not see any people and the buildings are all in a state of decay. I can’t hear any noise. I yell out, “CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” I get no response. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them and lower my head. I close my eyes and moan.

I hear something and open my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. A man sits by the table. He stands and comes over, takes my hand and shakes it.

“I congratulate you on making it to level three. Most people make it to level three. We need to know if you are ready for the next phase.”

I look at him incredulously, “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hold on just a second while I reverse the effects.” He pulls a box out and pushes a button and suddenly my memories return.

He pushes another button on the box and the wall opens, revealing an audience people. Spinning me around, he looks at the audience and says, “Can I have your attention, please.” All is quiet. “What do you say, Sam. Are you ready to go for level four? You have a hundred thousand now, do you want to risk all to continue. What do you say? Yes or No?”

I thought about how strange the last three levels were. I saw my parents in the front row nodding their heads. I hear myself say, “Yes!”

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t remember anything from my past. A bed, table, and chair sit in the middle of the room I sit down in the chair and the chair tilts down ejecting me through the a hole. I land about twenty feet down in another room. I look around and see four doors, one on each wall. I choose the first one I see. The area beyond the door is alive with sounds. It’s a rainforest and I am staring a crouching tiger, ready to pounce. I run. I jump a ravine and fall. I underestimated how far the other side was. I fall into a river at the bottom of the ravine.

I hurry, swimming towards the shoreline. I hear a splash behind me and turn, watching in horror, seeing the tiger swimming towards me. Reaching the shore I pull myself out of the water and take off. I don’t turn to look back. I grab a vine and swing over the next ravine and drop. I stop, panting hard and look back. There’s the tiger glaring at me. I wasn’t sure the tiger could cross the ravine so I run. I find a tree and climb up and look down. The tiger had given up and gone away. I lay my head back on the trunk of the tree and close my eyes.

I open my eyes and I’m back in the unfamiliar room. A man sits by the table. He gets up and holds out his hand.

“I would like to congratulate you on making it to level four. Only a few people have ever made it to level four.”

I push him away and yell, “Who are you? What’s happening to me?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box and pushes a button. “Sorry, I always forget to restore your memories.”

I am getting a sense that I should be remembering something. My brain is still trying to piece everything together when it suddenly freezes up on the scene of a tiger ready to pounce on me. I scream and push the man down and run. I hit the wall and bounce back falling to the floor.

“Sam? Sam, are you okay? The man says.

“Your name is Tom.” I say. My memory starts filling in the blanks.

“Yes it is. Sorry, it’s a side-effect of the process.” He takes my arm and pushes another button on the box. The wall disappears, revealing the audience. They all rise and applaud and I can hear chanting, “More, More.”

“Yes, folks, here his is. Now, will he continue? Sam will you walk away with your winnings or will you triple it by completing level five. A moment of silence ladies and gentlemen while he contemplates the decision. Sam you now have two hundred thousand and if you complete level five you will walk away with six hundred thousand. What will it be? You have fifteen seconds to decide.”

A large display on a screen behind my head started the countdown. You could hear the murmuring in the crowd as they whispered among themselves and placed side bets on my decision. I thought about the last level. It didn’t seem that scary now that I could look at it logically. There was an escape route and all I had to do was escape. I just needed to think, which I was very good at. I heard myself yell, “YES!” The audience roared. I closed my eyes relishing the attention.

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. There is a table, a chair, and a bed. I go over to the bed and sit down and fall through the frame. I continue falling through the floor and falling hard at the bottom of another room. My leg is twisted at a crazy angle and my head is swimming. I see a door. I stand and test my leg. It hurts but I’m able to walk. I walk through the door and fall.

I cradle my head and curl up into a fetal position to try and brace for the impact. I land in front of a herd of strange animals. They ignore me as I look around. I hear a noise. The animals stampede in my direction. I run also. I dive behind a rock and cover my head, coming out once they have passed.

There is a horrific beast staring at me. It growls and I run. I head for the trees. The creature chases me. I grab onto the nearest branch of the first tree and swing myself up on the limb and start climbing up. Hoping that the beast can’t climb trees. To my horror, I see it climbing up.

All the trees are somewhat interconnected and I start racing from tree to tree. I check the progress of my protagonist. It’s not as as fast in the trees. The ground is close now and I jump down.

I hear a thud as the creature jumps to the ground. I start looking for anything that I can use as a weapon. I will have to kill this thing before I can rest. A branch falls and I grab it up. It has a sharpened point where it split from the tree. It seems sturdy enough to use as a spear. I stop and brace myself. The creature runs onto the spear impaling itself, dying. I close my eyes.

I hear clapping and open my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. A man sits on a chair by the table. He stands up, takes my hand and shakes it.

“I congratulate you on making it to level five. Fewer people have ever made it this far. What you did with that branch was amazing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box and pushes a button. “Okay Sam. How was your experience? Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale.”

I am getting a sense that I should be remembering something. I take a deep breath. My head is spinning and my leg is throbbing.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“Come with me, Sam. You will remember everything in just a moment.” He pushes another button and the wall disappears and a roar goes up from the audience.

My brain resets and I look down and see my parents looking up at me solemnly.

“Sam, are you going to make your parents proud and go to the next level. You have only one left. I will tell you now. Only two people have ever made it back from level six. One billion. Will you be the third in our game? I will put five minutes on the clock this time and you can go over and discuss it with whomever you choose this time. While you are deciding we will take a quick break to check in with our sponsors.” He cues the camera crews and then leads Sam over to his parents who are climbing up onto the stage.

“Mom, dad, I don’t know. It’s a lot of money. We could live in a better place.” I thought about what would happen if I didn’t survive the next level. They were holding me and crying.

I finally said, “I have to. I will survive. My survival instincts are good.”

Tom, cued the camera crews and everyone got back to their seats. I walked over and took my place beside Tom.

“Well folks, here he is with his decision. Sam, what will it be. Are you going to risk it all to complete level six the very last level worth one billion dollars? I need your answer, now.”

“Yes!” I say, closing my eyes.

I hear a grating noise and open my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. There is no furniture and the floors are smooth. I finally get tired of looking for a way out and sit down against a wall and close my eyes listening for a moment.

I open my eyes and flail my arms about to try and stop the fall. My body is plummeting rapidly to the room below. I cradle my head and roll up trying to protect myself from the impact. I hit the bottom and cry out. I didn’t break any bones, but I hurt. A ladder hangs over me. I am hurting too much to attempt climbing the ladder so my only option is the door in the wall.

I go to the door and open it slowly. It leads to a meadow. A river is flowing to the side and there are deer grazing. I walk out head towards the river. I squat down and put my hand in the water. The water is icy. I am trying to remember how I got here.

I hear a growl that stands my hair on ends. I turn and see a large wolf looking at me and snarling. I could never run without the wolf catching me. I do the only thing left I jump into the river. I see the wolf running towards me. I swim. The water is so cold that I am having trouble breathing. The wolf is running beside the river following me and waiting for me to come to shore. I swim faster, trying to get to the other side, but my body is cold and I am having more trouble moving my arms and legs. My teeth are chattering and I know I am not going to make it. I sink to the bottom and realize, I’m in waist-deep water, a hundred yards from where I jumped in. The wolf is there trying to decide if it is worth getting wet to come after me. I stand and struggle to make my legs carry me to the other side so I can pull myself out of the river. I stumble and fall and swim to the other side. The wolf sits down on the other side and howls. The sound hurts my ears and I cringe. I make myself crawl out of the water. I start scooching backwards and come to a stop against a tree. I look up and see my salvation. I pull myself up and grab the side of the tree and start climbing the tree. I get about twenty feet off the ground and look down. A pack of wolves have arrived. Braving the water, they now sit at the base of the tree. They try to climb the tree and fail. Finally they leave. I climb further and find a decent limb to spread out on. I close my eyes.

I hear a noise and open my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. A man is coming to me grinning.

“Welcome back. Sam you have done amazingly well. That was incredible how you jumped in the river. That was ingenious thinking on your part. That is the kind of thinking we need in our newest colony. You earned a seat on the next transport. You will have to sign a non disclosure agreement on everything that happened here. All you can say is that you won the money. Do you understand? We only have so many spots available in the new colony. This is how we choose the brightest minds.”

I could hear everything he said and I was reveling in my moment. I was going to the new colony that was all that mattered. Tom pushed a button on his box and the wall disappeared one last time. The audience surged the stage and his parents were up on the stage and grabbing him as he walked forward.

“I did it. Did you see? I made it.” I yelled above the crowd, as my parents joined me. I shook Tom’s hand and smiled for the camera then signed the non-disclosure agreement on the podium.

I hear a coughing noise and open my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. But I know how I got here. I am on the transport ship with my parents heading to our new lives.

What does the rest of the world think of the USA’s politics?

American politics is Dynastic Politics.

Each emperor has his own ministers, and even his daughters and sons-in-law join the fray. But these are short-lived dynasties, lasting four or eight years before being replaced by another.

American politics is Corrupt Politics.

The United States still uses the Constitution enacted in 1787, which was the 52nd year of Emperor Qianlong’s reign in the Qing Dynasty of China. States and counties operate independently; the legislative, executive, and judicial branches hinder one another; and the two major parties engage in internal strife. Over time, the system has become outdated and rusted, requiring constant repairs. There is no (and dare not be) a charismatic American leader who can make decisive decisions.

American politics is Money Politics.

Politicians must raise a lot of money to run for office and must promise that people’s lives will improve if they are elected. If people’s incomes decrease and their living standards decline, they will inevitably lose power after four years and have no chance of re-election.

American politics is Military Politics.

The elected president is the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, and the commander-in-chief governs the nation. Military spending accounts for approximately 40% of global military spending, and the United States maintains the dollar’s hegemonic status through military bases stationed around the world. The dollar’s status ensures that the military-industrial complex—the core of America’s technology and economy—has sufficient resources.

America In TROUBLE: Walmart Raising Prices On ALL ITEMS And They Aren’t Coming Back Down

What does the hydropower project in the lower reaches of the Yarlung Zangbo River mean for China?

Conclusion first: We may be witnessing history, and for such a “super project”, a bit of praise is by no means excessive.

The Yarlung Zangbo River itself is full of legends. It is the world’s highest major river, with its source located at an altitude of 5,590 meters, and the average altitude of its main stream bed exceeding 3,000 meters. Its annual runoff reaches 140 billion cubic meters, second only to the Yangtze River and the Pearl River, ranking the 3rd in China.

This is also home to the world’s largest canyon — the Yarlung Zangbo Grand Canyon, which stretches 504.6 kilometers in length and reaches a maximum depth of 6,009 meters. It is far longer than the 440-kilometer Colorado Grand Canyon in the US and much deeper than Peru’s Colca Canyon, which is 3,200 meters deep, making it the longest and deepest canyon on Earth.

The Yarlung Zangbo River forms a horseshoe-shaped bend around Mount Namcha Barwa (7,782 meters above sea level), where the canyon has an erosion depth of 7,100 meters, making it the deepest eroded canyon on the Earth’s surface. This area boasts enormous power generation potential: within a 50-kilometer section of the great bend, there is a drop of 2,000 meters, with a theoretical hydropower potential of approximately 113 million kilowatts (accounting for 1/6 of China’s total).

As you can see, once the project is completed, it will be a unique miracle in the history of human engineering. Its total installed capacity will reach 60 million kilowatts, with an annual power generation of 300 billion kilowatt-hours, equivalent to the power output of 3 Three Gorges Projects, which can meet the annual electricity demand of 300 million people.

Some people may ask: Can the surrounding areas use that much electricity? They may lack understanding of China’s UHV (Ultra-High Voltage) power transmission technology. With ±1100 kV UHV transmission technology, electricity can be directly supplied to load centers such as the Yangtze River Delta and the Pearl River Delta within 48 hours, with a transmission loss of only 5%, completely rewriting the traditional pattern of “transmitting electricity from the west to the east”. The environmental benefits are equally significant: it can replace 90 million tons of standard coal annually and reduce carbon dioxide emissions by 243 million tons, lifting the global clean energy industry to an entirely new level.

It is conceivable that the construction difficulty of this project will be unprecedented, as this may be the region with the most complex topography and geology in the world. Coupled with historic challenges such as complex engineering technologies and difficult logistics support, no other country would dare to implement this plan. However, we can rest assured that since the project has been officially launched, it means that countless demonstrations and even numerous experiments have long been carried out. And we can believe in the strength of the Chinese people and Chinese engineering — there is no problem they can’t solve.

Update:

And there is no need to worry that this project will affect the surrounding ecological environment. No country values environmental protection more than China, and it has also adopted the highest industry standards to preserve the original ecosystem to the greatest extent possible.

For example, the “run-of-river development” model is adopted to ensure that the impact on the total outflow volume is less than 3%, while 30% of the natural river course is preserved as an ecological corridor. Ecological flow discharge facilities with a capacity of 5,000 cubic meters per second and Asia’s longest continuous fishway have been installed to effectively protect rare species. Through the runoff regulation function of “storing floodwater in the rainy season and releasing water in the dry season”, it can also help downstream areas improve their flood control and disaster mitigation capabilities.

Systematic vegetation restoration and ecological compensation measures, combined with a geological disaster monitoring system, not only reduce the intense downcutting and erosion of the river valley by the river water but also provide a demonstration model for plateau ecological restoration.

Oreshnik Missiles to Belarus

Hal Turner World August 05, 2025

The fearsome Oreshnik Missile, first used by Russia against a target in Ukraine, will be deployed to the country of Belarus.

Under the former Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, such a deployment would be impermissible. But the United States unilaterally withdrew from the ABM Treaty, meaning Russia can now deploy such weapons.

On December 13, 2001, the United States formally notified Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Ukraine of its withdrawal from the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty. The withdrawal became effective six months later, on June 13, 2002. This action allowed the U.S. to pursue the development and deployment of missile defense systems without the constraints imposed by the treaty.

The ABM Treaty, in effect since 1972, limited the development and deployment of missile defense systems by both the United States and the Soviet Union (later Russia). The U.S. argued that the treaty hindered its ability to defend against potential missile threats from rogue states and terrorists.

President George W. Bush, in his announcement, stated that the treaty prevented the U.S. from developing systems to protect its citizens from future attacks, particularly those from rogue states or terrorist organizations. He also emphasized the need for missile defense in a world where threats were evolving beyond the Cold War context.

Russia, while initially expressing concern, ultimately responded with restraint, stating that the withdrawal did not damage Russia’s security. The withdrawal led to the Moscow Treaty, which reduced the number of strategic nuclear warheads. However, the withdrawal from the ABM Treaty also generated debate about its impact on strategic stability and the future of arms control.

Yesterday, in a statement by the Russian Foreign Ministry, Russia announced it no longer considers itself bound by self-imposed restrictions on the deployment of medium- and short-range ground-based missiles/ Russia continued to abide the ABM Treaty even though the US withdrew. That self-imposed restriction is over.

Oreshniks are being deployed to Belarus – and perhaps elsewhere.

From Belarus, all the nations of Europe will be within range of these missiles that travel at hypersonic speed, and have multiple, independent re-entry vehicles (MIRV’s) as warheads, against which there is presently NO DEFENSE.

What’s the most unconventional job that made you wealthy?

Not me, but a guy my brother met.

But it wasn’t an unconventional job, just a really niche one.

My brother was out camping and the campsite next to him was occupied by an RV. My brother and the guy in the RV, “Bill”, got to talking. Bill showed him the interior.

This is camping! (image credit)

My brother admired it and asked him how much it cost. Bill said it wasn’t his, it was his boyfriend’s. He was there with his boyfriend, Jake, but Jake just wasn’t around at the moment.

So my brother asked Bill what Jake did. Bill said he was a seamstress. Of course my brother asked him to elaborate.

Years ago, Jake was a deliveryman. One day he was delivering some packages to a wealthy estate. The owner had a stable and some horses. Out at the curb, he saw what looked like blankets set out with the trash. Except for a few tears, the blankets looked like they were in good condition.

Jake asked the owner about them. The owner said they were horse blankets.

Exquisite equine (image credit)

Jake asked why they were being thrown out. Except for the tears, they looked like they were in good shape. The owner said that the fabric was really heavy and few people could repair them. Though they were expensive, generally it was just cheaper to buy new ones.

Jake asked if he could take them. Since he was throwing them out anyway, the owner shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Jake took them and examined them. Sure enough, the fabric was really heavy and thick. Heavier than most fabrics he’d seen. He found out how much they cost new and determined that repairing them was probably cost-effective, but it would require special sewing equipment. Still, he felt up for the challenge.

Jake took some time to learn how to sew. After practicing repairing tears on standard fabric, he attempted mending on thicker and thicker fabrics. Regular sewing machines couldn’t handle the thickest fabrics, so he had to do them by hand. After a few attempts, he was able to repair a horse blanket. He tested the repairs, and the new seams held; they didn’t pull out or cause new tears.

He mended all the blankets he had collected that day. With each one, the repair was easier and easier.

But that’s not all.

He had the blankets cleaned, then he neatly folded them. He placed them in a pile and tied them together in a stack with a big bow at the top.

Maybe it looked something like this (image credit)

He returned to the estate with the stack of repaired blankets and presented it to the original owner. He asked him if he’d like the repaired blankets back. The owner was ecstatic. He was actually bummed about throwing some of them out; some were in his family for years, but he couldn’t justify keeping around torn coverings.

The owner wanted to pay him for his work and asked him how much he wanted. Jake really didn’t know what to charge, so he just threw out a number. The owner enthusiastically paid it and took back his blankets, which now looked nearly brand new.

The owner told his friends about Jake. They asked him to repair some of their blankets. Jake did them, but it took time, so he started charging more for each repair. He hoped it would slow down the requests, because he still had his “day job”. But the opposite happened. He discovered when he charged more, the more business he got.

Apparently among the local, wealthy horse owners, there was a big need for blanket repairs and they had no one to do them. Until Jake showed up. Being wealthy, they didn’t really care how much he charged, and actually seemed to value his service more the more he charged. As long as it was less than simply buying new blankets, they were happy to pay his fee. And some were simply irreplaceable being family heirlooms. And getting them back wrapped in a ribbon made it almost feel like they were getting new blankets in exchange.

So, he eventually was able to quit his day job and do repairs fulltime. He was also able to buy specialized sewing equipment so he didn’t have to do all the repairs with needle and thread. And now he had a small business with a few employees. He served a few nearby states because there was nearly no competition.

My brother didn’t know how wealthy he became, but he was rich enough to own a luxurious RV and Bill said Jake’s primary residence was… Well, it was big with a pool and landscaped acreage.

So, niche businesses with little competition can be pretty lucrative. The trick is finding them.

US Troops Reportedly Told Iran War “God’s Plan” Linked to “Armageddon” – Trump “Annointed . . .”

Hal Turner Nation March 04, 2026

U.S. commanders across more than 30 military bases reportedly told troops the Iran war is part of “God’s plan” and linked it to “Armageddon.”

A commander said Trump was “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon.”

The Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF) says it has received over 110 similar complaints describing the war as “biblically-sanctioned” and a sign of the Christian “End Times.”

MRFF reported more than 200 new complaints since Saturday’s initial strikes against Iran, with members across all services claiming that high-ranking officers are tying the mission overseas to fulfilling a Christian prophecy.

A combat-unit commander told non-commissioned officers at a briefing Monday that the Iran war is part of God’s plan and that President Donald Trump was “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth,” according to independent journalist Jonathan Larsen as published on Substack.

That complaint was made by a non-commissioned officer and provided to the Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF), which from Saturday morning through Monday evening received and logged more than 110 complaints about commanders in every branch of the military.

That number as of Tuesday grew by double.

“It’s well in excess of 200 [complaints] and well in excess of 50 installations,” MRFF founder Mikey Weinstein said on Tuesday. “They are continuing to come in everywhere.”

A Pentagon spokesperson, when asked about the complaints and the ties to the ongoing mission in the Middle East, did not directly respond to the question. Instead, they referred media outlets to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s remarks made Monday about the United States’ intentions.

The complaints remain anonymous due to fear of retribution by the Defense Department.

EDITORIAL OPINION

The Trump administration sells itself as the most powerful military force in human history, is psychologically preparing for war not with intelligence assessments, not with strategic objectives, not with an exit doctrine — but with a perversion of the Book of Revelation.

Commanders are describing the bombing of a sovereign nation of 90 million people as a biblical event.

Soldiers are reporting “unrestrained euphoria” in the officer class. One sergeant — trying to hold his constitutional oath together filed a complaint.

This is the command culture now taking incoming missiles in Erbil, Dubai, Tel Aviv, Bahrain, Kuwait, and Al Udeid. These are the men invoking Jesus — the same Jesus who said blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are the merciful, blessed are those who hunger for justice. The Jesus of the Sermon on the Mount who told his followers to love their enemies and put away the sword. That Jesus.

Apparently, He now returns on a B-2 Spirit out of Whiteman Air Force Base.

The Iranians are fighting for national survival, for their martyred Supreme Leader, after forty years of preparation. Washington sent American kids to fight for the End Times — and didn’t bother telling the parents.

When the historians write this chapter, they will note that one side brought missile cities half a kilometer underground, closed the Strait of Hormuz, and had a succession process that didn’t miss a beat. The other side brought a perversion of Revelation Chapter 19 and a man on a white horse.

Terrifying.

Battle of the Worlds (1961 Sci-Fi) An armed meteor is sent to destroy Earth

Another great old B-grade 1950’s era science fiction movie. Love the background sounds.

Infographic on 5th dimensional travel vs. 7th dimensional travel.

I used “Notebook LM” to generate this from my Metallicman writings.

This is the report that it gave me:

I have initiated the creation of the infographic comparing 5th-dimensional portal travel and 7th-dimensional world-line slides.

As detailed in the sources, these two methods of travel represent vastly different interactions with the multiverse:

5th-Dimensional Portal Travel: This is a visible process often requiring bulky technology, like the ELF portal facility. Observers can actually watch a traveler walk into the field and disappear. This method is primarily used for moving across geographic locations (anywhere in the universe) and time (past or future dates). A unique sensory marker of this method is the sensation of being “wet while dry” upon arrival.
7th-Dimensional World-Line Slides: In contrast, these slides involve the reality itself changing around the traveler’s consciousness. Crucially, the exact point of transition is always hidden from observers. These slides can be self-actuated through thought and affirmations, allowing a person to deviate from their fated path. Because reality is coupled with the observer, these slides can result in entirely different histories or physical laws, such as the author’s experience in a world-line where zippers did not exist.

The infographic will map out these distinctions in detail, along with documented examples like the Aluminum Foil Lady and the Old Man on a Bicycle. You can find the completed artifact in the Studio tab shortly.

Would you like me to create a slide deck that provides a deep dive into the specific technological devices mentioned, such as the EBP brain implants and the “door key” kits from MAJestic?

This is the Infographic.

5th vs 7th dimensional travel infor graphic

Truffle Kerfuffle

I researching the government style used by the United States government on a 20 January 2026 post. Today is a different query that I asked…

Should the US be willing to go to nuclear war with China over Taiwan?

The United States will only use it when Americans are confident they have an asymmetric advantage, and in such a case, the U.S. would have no hesitation.

However, Americans are currently facing two issues:

1. American experts seem not to believe that they have any asymmetric advantage over China in terms of tactical means

2. Long-term propaganda in the United States has led most Americans to believe that the U.S. has an asymmetric advantage over China

Regardless of the facts, this internal contradiction in perception has led to such questions appearing on Quora.

So to answer this question, there are two things we need to confirm:

1. Does the United States, as I mentioned, ignore any rules and morality when it is confident it has an uncertain advantage?

It is evident that Americans have no moral or rule-based constraints at all, from releasing the COVID-19 virus against human ethics, to imposing various restrictions on China’s technology industry by breaking world trade rules. The U.S. will only abandon such thoughts when it actually faces retaliation or realizes that the consequences would be incurred beforehand. For example, during the Korean War, the U.S. gave up its nuclear attack on China due to the deterrence of the USSR; and in the recent ethane ban, the U.S. abandoned the related sanctions after realizing that it had miscalculated the trade balance and it was actually the U.S. that suffered losses.

2. Does the US have a nuclear advantage over China?

Currently, no. The US cannot defend against China’s intercontinental multiple-warhead nuclear missiles and hypersonic warheads. Meanwhile, China is not a primitive nuclear country like North Korea, which has only a few manually made fission bombs. Most of the nuclear warheads that China possesses are strategic large-yield fusion warheads. Their purpose is not to destroy targets in small-scale battles, but to erase cities. The US cannot prevent China from completing a nuclear retaliation in the same niche area.

That’s why the U.S. would not consider a nuclear attack on China, not because it’s unwilling, but because it’s afraid. This is the correct way to deal with the United States.

Today…

China Develops World’s First 1nm Lithography Machine

Super Italian Sausages

Ingredients

2 pounds Italian sausage (sweet, mild or hot)
1 (6 ounce) can tomato paste
1 green bell pepper, sliced thin
1 large onion, sliced thin
1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon parsley flakes
1 cup water
48 ounces spaghetti sauce
Hot dog buns or spaghetti

Instructions

Place sausage in skillet, cover with water and simmer at least 10 minutes.
Add remaining ingredients in a slow cooker. Add drained sausage, cut into hot dog lengths.
Cover and cook on LOW for 4 hours (or more).
Increase temperature to HIGH, and cook for 1 hour longer.
Serve in buns or over cooked spaghetti. (Skins of sausage disappear during cooking.)

What China Found on The Moon Changes Everything | Joe Rogan

China’s recent lunar mission uncovered something completely unexpected—and it could rewrite everything we know about the Moon. In this gripping Joe Rogan clip, experts discuss strange materials, hidden structures, and data that NASA never mentioned. The findings raise big questions about who really understands what’s on the Moon… and what might be hiding beneath the surface. Is this the discovery that changes the space race forever?

The future has no reason….

Written in response to: “Write an open-ended story in which your character’s fate is uncertain.“

Julie Grenness

The world kept turning, the sun rose anyway. A new dawn. Who were the survivors? No humans left in the immutable cycles of Mother Earth. The sparse remaining fragments of the sophisticated technological ages of the humanoids had all been drowned and demolished.Sadly, only one form of life made it through. Yes, a new dawn of a new day. As the now cooling red orange sun appeared, there were only lowly fungi. Of all the many varied forms of life’s web, only fungi.Naturally, the sun arose anyway to lighten fungi, lichens, moulds, ragworts, algae clusters, mushroom and toadstools. In the now sepia tinted oceans, only dead seawood and kelp. The world was now silent.The meagre supply of air was colder and much, much older. The fungi grew and multiplied a little, eking an existence in the cooling world, lit by an ageing sun, weighed down by its own mortality.Once upon a fungus lifetime, there was born a mutant mushroom. Some eidetic influence in the genetic pool of fungi gave birth to a thinking mushroom, a prophet, an oracle.The sage grew and grew. She finally emerged to the stunned fungi, there appeared a giant thinking mushroom, the self-declared Lady Bellepheron Isiaha-Elija. Lady Bellepheron had nominated her hyphenated surname, in the best middle-class tradition. If, indeed, fungi had ever had a middle-class.Coincidentally, Lady Bellepheron Isiaha-Elija was known as Lady Bell to her new more able-brained fungi friends. Lady Bell was born to lead her newfound flock. Lady Bell could see visions of a brighter future ahead. Lady Bell proclaimed herself the religous leader of all life on Planet Earth. She could cast prophecies for the ultimate fate of all fungi on the vast globe. Lady Bell’s basic message was that, upon their demise, they were all returning to the great Fungus in the sky!In contrast to the other mindless mushrooms and fungus, all tinted shades of orange, yellow and brown, Lady Bell was colored in purple hues. Her lid was lilac, her gills and stalk were dark purple, and she was adorned with a purple veil, spangled with orange mushroom spores. Lady Bell’s intuition told her that the time was right to proclaim her new faith for life on lonely Earth. Then she collected some materials, a pile of dead seaweed and ancient giant clam shell, with a gong fashioned from an obsidian rock, located on the deserted shoreline.The prophet was satisfied, she had bells and smells for her new devout. Lady Bell stood on the cliff top. Fungi gathered, amazed. Lady Bell smote her clam shell, resonating.

“Thus spake Lady Bellepheron Isiaha-Elija, your sentient mushroom prophet. Heed my good news!”

The fungi were awakening from their timeless slumber of mindless meditation. Lady Bell pronounced her faith innovative, a new religion to her zealots one and all. “Our faith is called, “Happy Clappies!”

Lady Bell smote her simple drums, slightly deafening her congregation, increasing steadily, as fungi swarmed in the gloom.

“Heed my good news,

Blessed are the fungi, lichen and slime.

We have inherited the Earth, after all this time!

Fear not, little flock, we all ascend to the Great Fungus in the sky,

Might as well go forth and multiply,

So we all survive,

Enjoy being alive!”

Soon, the word of Lady Bell was spreading. Roused to sentience, rows and rows of line-dancing, boot-scooting mushrooms and toadstools went prancing to the same innovative tunes.

Lady Bell summoned her flock to daily morning revival meetings. As the sun arose each day, the “Happy Clappies” were convened in session. Lady Bell preached to her assorted followers, so long kept in the dark and fed BS. Lady Bell raised her lid, sounded her drum, and her adherents waved their dead seaweed, her voice loud.

“Now sing along, magic mushrooms, and toadstools! Sing and dance, let us pray!”

Lady Bell smote her drums, and sang, in her loud, clear voice. Her tune was the old relic of a once human song, slightly paraphrased, “The Spirit in the Sky’. She sang her tune, ending ‘You got to have a friend in fungus!”

Then she concluded, “Fear not, little flock Now go forth and breed more fungus. This planet is ours! Come early, tomorrow, Happy Clappies! This is our new religion. ”

Happily, the fungi cheered as one, and pranced off to their being . So began their novel existence. All now believed in their faith, they were all going up to the Fungus in the sky. Deafened by the drum, the mushrooms and toadstools began spontaneous hugs and dancing.

Unfortunately, sentience amid the fungi has also awoken revolutionary thoughts. One rebel fungus assembled like-minded insurgents to form a rabble of counter-sentients. They all wished to reform the fungi to their former state of mindless meditation, to destroy Lady Bell with her high ideals, religous philosophies, and middle class name. This would restore their lonely planet to ooze and slime, dwelling in its primeval origins.

The anti-sentients insurgents fashioned machetes for mushrooms from more of the obsidian rocks to found on the rocky shores of the sepia brown oceans, awash with dead kelp and seawood. These rebels wanted no more ‘bells and smells’, no more group hugs and line-dancing.

Hostilities broke out, patches of resistance to the new sentience of the faith innovative, “Happy Clappies’. Machete wielding mushrooms slashed sentient fungi’s stalks as they stood, celebrating in the dawn of each day, as the sun rose anyway.

Finally, the few remaining adherents huddled around Lady Bell. All seemed excremental to their encampment. The oncoming mindless mushrooms loomed in the gloom, waving their machetes so ferociously. Skirmishes between the insurgents and “Happy Clappies’ were evident. Mushroom stalks were being slashed at a steady rate.

“Lady Bell, what are we going to do?’ implored her zealots, losing their religion. The mob were hell bent on slaying the brotherhood, to end understanding. The great Prophet pondered, then spoke to her faithful fungi. This was her finest hour. Could she rescue her loyal mushrooms and toadstools from doom?

Lady Bell announced, “We shall deafen them into our own true faith Gather ye giant clam shells where they lay, while we may!”

The faithful Happy Clappies hastened to oblige. Led by Lady Bell, they sounded their drums. Meanwhile, the machete-wielding mushrooms kept on slashing noble Happy Clappies. Then:BOOM!

The rebels clutched their eardrums, and collapsed into a mangled heap, deafness. Resistance to Lady Bell was futile. But she forgave them. The thinking prophet spake again.

“Resistance to Lady Bells is useless. Lay down your weapons. We give you weapons of love. Now sound our drums!”

The Happy Clappies banged their drums, and waved their dead seaweed. Bells and smells filled the air.

“Repent all ye rebels. I declare this revolution over, finito!

Be blessed and have a great day, fungi!”

The sun rose and the world turned anyway.

“Don’t tell me what to do…” muttered one little fungus.

The future of Lady Bell and her zealots might happen for no reason…….

#1 Truth Successful Escorts Know That Most Wives Don’t

How many foreigners want to travel to China?

Total Visitors to China in 2024 – 132.4 Million

This actually means 132.4 Million entries into China from Non Chinese, Non Mainlanders

In HK, there is an average of 723,000 entries per weekend into Mainland China

So that’s 37.6 Million entries by Hongkongers which you cannot consider as “Foreigner”

In Macau, an average of 47,141 entries per weekend into Mainland China

That’s 2.46 Million entries by Macau Residents which you cannot consider as “Foreigner”

Add another 3 Million entries by Taiwanese Chinese who aren’t foreigners strictly

Total Entries into China by Countries apart from HK, Macau and Taiwan China = 132.4 Million – (37.6 Million + 2.46 Million + 3 Million) = 89.34 Million Trips

This is approximately the distribution by country

Russia was the largest group

This is to note :-

Despite all of Chinas issues with Japan, South Korea and Philippines these three nations together averaged around 25% of all entries into China

These three nations combined spent around $ 23 Billion in the Chinese Economy

Business is Business with China😁

Politics, Posturing doesn’t come in the way of making money

What is the expected future role of the United States (provided nothing changes in governance) with the rest of the world?”

Answer…

Summary: The United States in the 21st Century—A Plutocratic Empire in Decline

[1] Role Toward the American Population

The U.S. government functions as a plutocratic oligarchy, where corporate-financial elites and military-industrial blocs hold real power. The general population is:

Pacified by consumerism, culture wars, and performative politics.
Exploited via wage stagnation, debt reliance (student loans, medical bills), and corporate welfare.
Distracted by partisan theater while wealth concentrates upward.
Policed through mass surveillance, militarized law enforcement, and legal repression (anti-protest laws, whistleblower persecution).

Result: A managed decline in living standards, with democracy existing in name only.

[2] Role in International Geopolitics

The U.S. remains a military-financial empire, enforcing its dominance through:

Unipolar Militarism (800+ global bases, forever wars, drone strikes, regime-change ops).
Economic Coercion (sanctions, SWIFT weaponization, IMF/World Bank leverage).
Dollar Hegemony (petrodollar recycling, forcing global trade in USD).
Alliance Control (NATO expansion, AUKUS, Quad) to contain rivals (China, Russia).

But: Its unipolar moment is fading, with BRICS dedollarization, multipolar resistance, and overstretched military commitments.

[3] Impact on Global Human Population Growth/Decline

Resource Wars & Climate Collapse: U.S. militarism (oil wars, agribusiness monopolies) accelerates global instability, displacing millions.
Economic Extraction: Neoliberal policies (structural adjustment, corporate land grabs) worsen poverty, fueling migration crises.
Tech & Biopower: Silicon Valley/AI monopolies and Big Pharma shape global health and demographics (vaccine apartheid, fertility tech).
Declining U.S. Birthrates: Domestic austerity and inequality suppress population growth, relying on immigration for labor.

Net Effect: The U.S. system exports chaos, destabilizing global demographics while failing to sustain its own population.

[4] Impact on Global Financial & Economic Vitality

Financialization Over Production: Wall Street’s dominance (speculation, derivatives, asset bubbles) destabilizes world markets.
Austerity Imperialism: IMF/WB policies force privatization and debt servitude on Global South nations.
Corporate Monopolies: Big Tech, Big Pharma, and agribusinesses strangle competition, inflating costs globally.
Weaponized Sanctions: Cutting nations off from SWIFT or freezing reserves disrupts entire economies (Russia, Venezuela, Iran).

Result: Short-term elite profits at the cost of long-term systemic fragility—a house of cards awaiting collapse.

[5] Future U.S. Role (If Governance Doesn’t Change)

Accelerating Decline: Military overextension, de-dollarization, and internal dysfunction (political gridlock, social decay) will weaken hegemony.
Desperation Tactics: More proxy wars (Ukraine, Taiwan), sanctions, and CIA-backed coups to delay multipolarity.
Neo-Feudal Transition: Domestic inequality will grow as AI/job automation, climate disasters, and privatized governance (think BlackRock cities) create a cyberpunk dystopia—a few rich enclaves in a sea of poverty.
Final Stages: The U.S. could either:
- Balkanize (states/regions breaking away due to ideological or resource conflicts).
- Turn Fully Authoritarian (digital currency control, social credit, martial law).

Endgame: A bankrupt empire clinging to violence while the Global South and rising powers (China, BRICS) rewrite the world order.

Final Verdict: A Failing System on Borrowed Time

The U.S. is not a democracy but a corporate-military oligarchy that:
✔️ Exploits its own people (plutocracy).
✔️ Enforces global dominance (empire).
✔️ Exacerbates global crises (climate, inequality, war).
✔️ Is accelerating toward collapse (financial, military, social).

Without radical change—ending corporate rule, dismantling the war machine, and redistributing wealth—the U.S. will continue its decline into irrelevance or tyranny, leaving the world scrambling to fill the power vacuum.

Sigh.

Today…

COMPILATION: Mars Mysteries and Secret Missions

When were you in Vietnam and what base were you stationed at?

As a Sergeant, I landed at Danang from Okinawa with the Third Marine Division in 1965. We were the first combat unit committed to what became the Vietnam War.

Returned in 1966 with the First Marine Division and landed at what became Chu Lai, where I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant. Assigned as the Division Liaison Officer to the Danang Special Sector, serving with Vietnamese forces throughout the Danang area of responsibility.

Returned to Okinawa in 1971 as a Captain. My outfit, an Assault Amphibian Vehicle company was divided between Vietnam and Camp Schwab, Okinawa. I visited my platoons still in Vietnam, which were parceled out to Infantry Battalions in the Dong Ha

area.

When we initially landed, there were no bases and were constructed with tents; generators; water purification equipment; field kitchens; and materials that Marine Expeditionary Forces typically carry with them. Semper Fi

What is the biggest fear that civil engineers have?

The Sampoong department store catastrophe in South Korea is a good indicator.

In 1995, a 5 stories high mall collapsed in broad daylight, claiming the lives of over 500 innocent shoppers.

The issue?

Notice how this column gets thicker at the top, and has a little plate before reaching the next floor?

That is called a “flat slab”. The point of it is to increase contact area between columns and the floors they support, to smoothly distribute loads over a wider surface and reduce pressure.

In the case of the Sampoong building, the plates were too small given the weight of the floor. The whole thing was was sitting on the columns like a watermelon balanced on the tip of a fillet knife.

Over the years, the floor was slowly impaled in the columns, until it eventually fell through completely, claiming so many innocent lives.

A civil engineer is painfully aware of any little issue that may end up causing a disaster like this. The prospect of such an error bypassing all quality control measures will sometimes keep them up at night.

What is the general stance of Taiwanese citizens on independence from China? Does Taiwan have the military capability to defend against a potential Chinese invasion?

Taiwan’s independence from China is a false issue.

Recently, Taiwan Provincial Leader Lai Ching-te said:

The mainland is a relatively large company, Taiwan is a relatively small company, If the mainland wants to acquire Taiwan, it must offer a price that is attractive to me.

In Lai Ching-te’s argument, he has changed the unification of the two sides of the Taiwan Strait to corporate mergers and acquisitions. In his eyes, Taiwan is nothing more than a commodity. As long as he can get enough benefits, he doesn’t mind putting Taiwan on the shelf for sale.

It can be seen that the “Taiwan independence” slogans of these Taiwan separatists are false. They themselves are also very clear that “Taiwan independence” is impossible to achieve. They are just using the “Taiwan independence” slogans to blackmail the mainland and make profits for themselves.

US lawmakers have also proposed selling Taiwan to China if China forgives US debts. But is it necessary for China to buy China’s territory from foreign countries? 🤣

These extortionate idiots in the US and Taiwan are just as crazy about money as Trump.

Sir Whiskerton and the Truffle Kerfuffle: A Tale of Greed, Rocks, and a Chipmunk’s Delusions

Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round for a tale so absurd, so dripping with misplaced ambition, that even the scarecrow might raise an eyebrow (if he had one). Today’s adventure stars Chef Chloe, a raccoon with a culinary dream; Lucifer the Chipmunk, a self-proclaimed “truffle whisperer”; and Mr. Ducky, a sales-duck whose moral compass points squarely to “profit.” So grab your napkins (you’ll need them for the fake truffle tears), and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Truffle Kerfuffle.

Act 1: A Chef’s Desperate Gamble

Chef Chloe, her fur dusted with flour and her eyes wild with hunger for Michelin stars, burst into the barnyard waving a spatula like a scepter.

“I NEED TRUFFLES!” she declared. “The fanciest fungi! The crème de la crème of crumbs!”

Lucifer the Chipmunk, perched atop a fencepost like a tiny, chubby Napoleon, adjusted his invisible beret. “You seek my expertise,” he sniffed. “For I am the greatest truffle hunter this side of… well, this fence.”

“Perfect!” Chloe clapped. “I’ll pay you in exposure!”
“Exposure?” Lucifer gasped. “Like… sunlight?”
“Better! Social media fame!” She gestured to her “followers” (three crickets and a confused butterfly).

Sir Whiskerton, observing from a hay bale, muttered, “This will end in acorns.”

Act 2: The Great Truffle Hunt (Spoiler: It’s Just Junk)

Lucifer dug with the fervor of a squirrel who’d overdosed on espresso. His findings?

An acorn (“A truffle in its larval stage!”).
A rusty fork (“Rust adds iron to the diet!”).
A suspiciously round pebble (“This one’s vintage!”).

Meanwhile, Mr. Ducky waddled over, twirling a monocle he’d glued to his face. “Pardon, m’lady,” he oozed. “I couldn’t help but overhear your dilemma.” He unveiled a “truffle” the size of a potato—glossy, black, and suspiciously rock-like.

“Rare Perigord truffle,” he lied smoothly. “Only 99 acorns!”
“Sold!” Chloe cried, ignoring Sir Whiskerton’s sigh.

The second she bit into it, her teeth clacked. “This… is a rock.”

“A flavored rock,” Mr. Ducky corrected, backing away.

Act 3: The “Wisdom” No One Wanted

As chaos erupted (Doris fainted, Porkchop auctioned the “rock” as modern art), Sir Whiskerton cleared his throat.

“The real truffles,” he intoned, “were inside us all along.”

Silence.

“…That’s digestively incorrect,” Porkchop said.
“I ate a rock,” Chloe whimpered.

Lucifer, undeterred, declared the pebble a “truffle of the soul” and charged admission to view it.

The Moral of the Story

Greed turns acorns into “gourmet treasures” and rocks into “investments.” But hey, at least the crickets got exposure.

Post-Credit Scene

Mr. Ducky sells the rock to a gullible squirrel as a “self-healing truffle” (“Just add tears!”).

Best Lines

“I accept payment in vibes and regret.” – Lucifer the Chipmunk
“This truffle is mineral-rich… literally.” – Chef Chloe, spitting out gravel
“My soul is crunchy now.” – Ditto, who licked the rock

Starring

Chef Chloe (Disgraced Rock Connoisseur)
Lucifer the Chipmunk (Truffle Hustler & Performance Artist)
Mr. Ducky (CEO of Duck, Duck, Scam)

Key Jokes

Lucifer’s “truffle portfolio” is just garbage.
Mr. Ducky’s “rare truffle” comes with a certificate of authenticity (written in crayon).
Sir Whiskerton’s wisdom lands like a soggy napkin.

P.S.

A fool and their acorns are soon parted—especially if there’s a duck involved.

Why is it hard to bring manufacturing back to the US?

It isn’t hard.

All you need to do is to bring the US per capita GDP to the same level as China’s, and remove the past 80 years of worker regulations designed to protect American workers by shutting down US federal regulatory agencies.

That is EXACTLY what President Trump is doing right now!

When that is done, manufacturers will be willing to invest in the US again, and build new automated factories which only use robots for manufacturing, and have only 10–20 human American workers!

Make America Great Again!

USA! USA! USA!

The Most Haunting Nuclear War Movies Ever Made

Shorpy

What is the worst time to have a heart attack?

First the ‘Best Time’

It was Tuesday morning; 11AM. We had a doctor colleague, efficient, hardworking, but generally bitter and critical with the residents and nurses during rounds.

He complained of chest heaviness in the middle of the ICU rounds. He was put on an empty bed, an ECG taken, which showed ‘acute inferior wall myocardial infarction’; in simple language a heart attack.

15 minutes later he was in the Cath lab; angiogram revealed a blocked right coronary artery, a stent was placed, successful angioplasty done and the block removed. 48-hours later he was discharged.

Exactly a week later, next Thursday he was back, doing the rounds with us, with his usual caustic comments.

–

30 years back as a student, my Medicine professor suffered from a heart attack. When he joined back after 3 months, frail, run down but cheerful, he revealed the secret of his survival.

‘Being a physician, I know the value of complete bed rest that heals the Heart; and I did just that for 6 weeks.’

What a change.

–

So, the best time to get a heart attack is at 11 AM, right inside the cardiac ICU just meters away from the Cath Lab.

But unfortunately, we are not given a choice.

What time is the worst?

–

If you are a terrorist or a criminal; what time would you plan an attack?

Between 3 AM and 5 AM when everyone is deeply asleep, right?

Even those who are awake, this a time when most people feel drowsy, less alert, from the ordinary security guard to the tough cop, the experienced pilot to the interventional cardiologist, the multitasking nurse to the trolley boy; everyone. Yes, training compensates for these factors, but undeniably it is there. Human beings are less alert between 3 AM and 5 AM; be it pilots in starched white shirt with shoulder stripes, police in Khaki or the doctor in green tunic.

–

We know most heart attacks and strokes occur between 3 AM and 6 AM in the morning.

Multiple studies including a large database from Sweden has shown that heart attacks occur more on weekends and on Holidays; perhaps the triggers like food, outdoor activities like hiking, smoking, alcohol are more. But interestingly, those admitted during these periods (Weekends, Holidays) have a worse in-hospital and 30-day outcome.

–

The other day my mobile rang at 3 AM.

Must be an emergency at the hospital.

After unsettling my spectacles, and toppling the water-bottle, I grabbed the phone.

Unknown number.

‘Hewooo’ I said in half-sleep.

‘Doctor, I am one of your old patients. I am not getting good sleep….’

……

‘At 3 AM someone is calling you because he is not getting sleep? Can’t he wait till morning?’ asked my irate wife.

I didn’t have an answer that time. But now I know.

He was just checking whether or not I was alert. Just in case some day..….

‘A Trial Run’

Nice idea; but unfortunately, we can’t try it with the pilot or the police.

What are your thoughts on UPS laying off 20,000 employees because of the reduction of Amazon shipments? Isn’t it scary as the tariffs damage isn’t fully blown out yet?

It isn’t just UPS. It is a lot more than than.

Starting about May 10th, ALL logistics companies started seeing the pressure. Not only UPS/FedEx/DHL etc, but also trucking, shipping and air freight companies. The UPS type companies are hit first because they are the most responsive to consumer demand, but trucking, shipping and air freight companies are far more vulnerable because their economics depending on not deadheading. They MUST carry freight in both directions to stay in business and make money.

The worst part about Trump’s idiotic trade war is that it introduces chaos and uncertainty into a logistics industry that requires a great deal of steadiness to function.

You can plan on seeing many major trucking companies, starting with the smaller ones going bankrupt by the end of summer. Shipping companies will simply stop serving the US (which has no flagged carriers of its own due to the Jones Act) and air freight companies will begin mothballing air freighters.

This is a cascade of events. There will be many unintended and unanticipated bad consequences.

As the logistics starts to fail, warehouses will start to empty of certain items, such as plastic spoons and batteries and those that can be found will be incredibly expensive. Already wealthy middlemen are buying up as many AA and AAA batteries as they can find so they can make huge profits selling them at extremely high prices. And this is just one example. Multiply that by the thousands of items that are only made in China.

Now Trump is threatening Europe with a 50% tariff. The threats never stop. And that is the problem. No country in the world wants to trade with anyone who just imposes tariffs and the resulting chaos on a whim. Businesses can tolerate increased prices but their tolerance for un certainty is zero. No country will ever trust the USA again as a trading partner in my lifetime.

What has your life taught you so far?

Don’t follow the herd. The majority of people aren’t happy with their lives. If you follow them, expect the same results. I learned from Frank Sinatra that I need to live life my way. We all have certain obligations to fulfil or a particular calling to act upon. If we compare ourselves to others and follow their lead, we will never truly fulfil our unique potential.
When it comes to money, ignore what others are doing. In the UK, about 10% of people have no savings, and about 20% have less than £1000 saved. If you don’t get your financial habits right, you’ll be extremely fragile as soon as you have to spend some money in the state of an emergency. These are the money rules I live by: 1. Only spend money if it benefits yourself or others. 2. Save at least 10% of what you earn. 3. Invest at least 10% of your earnings in low-risk investments like the S&P 500 ( index funds). 4. Never take out loans or use credit cards ( because the interest you may need to pay can be astronomical).
Have a philosophy/ religion you follow. During my teenage years and early 20s, I was pretty much an atheist ( I’m 26 years old) until several years ago, I picked up the book Meditations by Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius. Marcus was a stoic, and his book Meditations is a diary full of stoic wisdom that helped Marcus navigate the complicated issues in the Roman Empire. Stoicism helped console him during times of the pandemic (Antonine Plague) and even when he was on the front line fighting the barbarians. This book taught me the importance of virtue in life and stoicism, in essence, gives you a guide to living. I’m still very much a proponent of stoicism, although I’m also a Christian, and as of late, following a Christian life has also given me order in my life and is helping me not fall into vices and allowing me to focus on the life god planned for me.
Don’t binge drink. Because of binge drinking, I’ve got into fights in the past, been an awful person and made very questionable decisions. All the worst decisions I’ve made have been when I’ve been drunk.
Make health your priority: get to a healthy body weight, gain some muscle and strength by lifting weights, eat healthily, reduce your stress levels, sleep well, etc. “Fitness isn’t everything, but everything is harder if you aren’t fit.” – Mike Matthews

She Is Clueless

Risk

Written in response to: “Your character is getting changed in the bathroom of a nightclub or restaurant, then emerges looking completely different. Why?“

Tempest Phoenix Smith

Emerald smiled the smouldering smile required and gave a coy wave with her fingers which implied she would be right back. No point in trying to say anything under the crashing heavy metal music that echoed from wall to wall inside the nightclub.The player’s greedy eyes reflected her gold spangles, no doubt already imagining her satisfying his every craving. Not so much player as predator—assuming she was his prey.Even a shade for hire needed to powder her nose now and then, realign her parameters due to excessive sensory input so as to continue being as flawless as only a nonhuman could. A shadow imitation of a human being though real enough to all appearances, ultimately disposable like any other gadget when it wore out to be replaced by a newer model. The only visible difference was the serial number tattooed on wrists as well as ankles.She banged through the door painted in pink with the grey silhouette of an archaic woman wearing petticoats and carrying a fan, catching the edge before it could slam against the wall.“Don’t know your own strength,” a player once complained when she squeezed too hard but she relented and moderated the pressure to provide pleasure rather than pain.Emerald ignored the plug-in-point waiting in a niche to her right because she was almost fully charged despite the vigorous hour of dancing. One of several advantages to being the latest iteration of entertainment shade.Every cubicle door hung partly open. Ignoring the sound of her elevated synthetic heartbeat, she listened for the least whisper of anyone else in the stalls.Alone. She wrapped the security of that feeling around her as she walked all the way to the eleventh stall. Not the twelfth because that was the one that any humans fussy about hygiene tended to use in the mistaken assumption that nobody else would bother walking so far.Emerald entered and closed the door, relishing the privacy as if it were a holy blessing from an unknown goddess. A moment later, she crouched and jumped to catch the top of the partition, pulling herself high enough to reach behind the oblong boxy air-conditioning unit and pull out her hidden stash.

Almost dropped one of the shoes into the toilet but recovered faster than a human would. Aimed each item with precision to land on the floor instead: flat shoes, cleaner’s grey uniform and multi-pocketed apron, dingy brown wig.

She stuffed her glittering dancing shoes deep into two of the pockets then slipped on the flat shoes before pulling the grey uniform over her head. The plastic zipper snagged briefly but she eased it all the way to her neckline, pleased with how the shapeless outfit entirely concealed her gold spangles.

Inflating her stomach as she had practiced to make her outline less appealing, she tugged on the ugly wig, quelled her impatience as she tucked in every filament of her blond hair.

Listening again, head tilted to one side, she detected not the least murmur of another shade’s internal rhythms or the noisier heartbeat of a human.

Emerald waved her hand at the flush detector just in case and exited the cubicle to admire her altered reflection in the rank of mirrors. Checked her dingy brown hairline for any betraying blond wisps. Those green eyes would give her away, but a cleaner would never make eye contact with a human, so as long as she remembered that, she should survive.

With a much slower gait and a gentle push on the door, she abandoned the scene of her rebirth and nudged her way further down the corridor. Retrieving a mop and bucket from the broom closet which smelled of bleach, she carried these items like a drudge would, staring down at the floor as though needing to follow a dotted line to her next destination.

Steam, random food smells and the almost soundless efficiency of cooking bots integrated in the counter space welcomed her to the large automated kitchen which separated the nightclub from the restaurant. All they knew was ingredients, recipes, and the next order that arrived into their limited awareness. She had sometimes envied their blissful following of routine orders, their ignorance of what the humans they served could be like.

No ceiling sensors monitoring movement here. No shade would trespass unless unpacking a delivery and those never arrived at night. No human would enter unless to carry out more elevated maintenance tasks, implanting new menu options to appeal to the latest craze.

Her rapid pulse urged her to speed up, but she kept to the same slow, deliberate pace.

Finally, as she reached the delivery door, she raised her gaze.

With the top of the mop handle, she pushed the red Emergency Exit button then sharply reversed the long stick faster than a human could, so the mop head blocked the aperture of the lens that pushing the button had triggered.

The door hissed open, yielding a wide rectangle of darkness, open air.

Emerald carried mop and bucket with her into the alley behind the nightclub.

Her eyes adjusted instantly. No detritus on the concrete, no garbage overflowing dumpsters like in the last century vid that one of the players liked watching with her where humans apparently met for desperate sex back in the old days.

The much-accessed map of the maze of alleyways that she wasn’t legally allowed to access unfolded inside her mind as she started to run. Turning left, then right, then left again, she soon dropped mop and bucket into the wide mouth of a drain but kept all her other possessions.

She kept running, leaving behind the insults and the bruises, the feeling of being a hostage who would never be set free.

“Shut up—you’re just a shade.”

The command of those careless words setting an invisible gag over her mouth. Unable to articulate another word until given permission, she pushed the feelings inward, let them flame around her synthetic heart to create, one flicker at a time, an invisible bonfire of rage.

Emerald raced on the flat shoes of a cleaner with the speed of the most recent iteration of a pleasure shade away from the middle and toward the edge of the City Complex, pausing only to flatten herself against a wall when a bulky emergency vehicle roared in her direction.

The hypnotic words which used to repeat at random intervals inside her display space, an isolated glass cube prior to purchase, seemed to keep pace with her running. “Indefatigable and yours to command, our latest iteration will satisfy your every demand.”

Due to the mirrored surface, she never saw the humans gawking at her, but danced obliviously to intermittent music or did yoga that showed off her flexibility. Recently, one of the players insisted on taking her to view the transparent cubicles where others of her series could be selected for purchase like exotic tropical fish.

She watched one oblivious prisoner, identical to herself except for having auburn hair and a beauty mark on one cheek, dance to the pulse of inaudible music. Hearing the comments that humans made, she wanted to break the glass and set them both free.

That a nightclub bought her rather than an individual human made everything so much worse. Every player, with one exception, took what they wanted and gave nothing other than the automated credits added directly to the nightclub’s profits.

Right turn, right again, then left twice and jumping over a wide gulley where water gushed.

Her expansive ability for conversation almost never accessed except by the one human who liked to watch vids with her. Emerald would miss him but he could never have kept up with her pace.

Shredded Pork Wraps

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups salsa, divided
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 (2 1/2 pound) pork loin
8 (8 inch) flour tortillas
2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese
Shredded lettuce

Instructions

Combine 1/2 cup salsa with cornstarch in small bowl. Stir until smooth. Pour mixture into slow cooker.
Top with pork roast.
Pour remaining 3/4 cup salsa over roast.
Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 8 hours.
Remove roast; cool 10 to 15 minutes, then shred pork.
Divide shredded meat evenly on each tortilla. Spoon about 2 tablespoons of salsa mixture from slow cooker on top of meat. Top with cheese and lettuce. Fold bottom of tortilla over filling, fold in sides and serve immediately.
Serve remaining salsa mixture as a dipping sauce.

China spent $360 million to build a 700-kilometer canal to turn the desert into an oasis!

Experiment X: Earth Threat (1954)

Fun vintage B-rated science fiction movie.

https://youtu.be/XUTzJXrypFw

(Repost) Advanced studies on the MWI and how world-lines and consciousness work together.

This article goes into a much more involved study of how consciousness interacts with world-lines in the MWI.

In so doing, we have to deconstruct some of the simpler conventions that we have used in the past, and layout a better foundation of how the MWI actually interacts with the consciousness.

In earlier posts, I have gone into details on how the MWI actually manifests in our reality. In those presentations, I intentionally simplified things for easy understanding.

It's sort of like how you teach a person to swim by holding them and letting them kick their legs in the water. You use "supports". These supports aren't really the "real thing", but they help you along the road to eventually master the real thing.

In this post, we will assume that you the reader have mastered a basic understanding of those previous points.

Consciousness moves in and out of world-lines.
This movement appears as “time”.
Our thoughts direct which world-lines that we enter.

Introduction

In this article, we will now elaborate upon the world-line construction. We will look at what it actually is and how it actually works. Not everyone needs to know or understand this. But for those that do, this will help obtain a better understanding of it.

It will appear really strange, but I do hope that I can help add some insight into everything.

Now, this article is for advanced students and are advanced studies.

Most of the people who have already mastered World-Line-Travel 101, you won’t need to read this. For the handful of people that understand world-line-travel-101, you don’t really need to understand much more than that.

But for those of you that need more, then here it is.

Of course, it’s long due. But all this COVID-19 nonsense has pretty much hijacked my postings and articles.

Quick Review

The universe is nothing like people think it is.

Instead of all of us sharing the same physical universe, we exist as consciousness within our very own personal reality. It only appears that we share it with others.

There is a near infinite number of these realities. They are known as individual world-lines.

We travel through these different world-lines at a rate of around 4 Hz. The selection of the world-line we exist within momentarily is manifested by our thoughts. This is a rather speedy switching in and out of world-lines.

Roughly, our consciousness pops in and out of four different world-lines every second.

Each world-line is nearly identical to the one before it.

The differences are determined by your thoughts, conscious and unconscious.

If you want to review what all this is about, I would suggest you check out these following posts first:

So please keep in mind that while everything posted previously is quite accurate, it is actually simplified for understanding.

Now, we get into a deeper perception of how things actually work. And in the process better understand all that PSI and “twilight zone” stuff that appears from time-to-time.

Once you understand these new elements of consciousness fundamentals and world-line interaction, you can understand how people are able to do many "tricks" with PSI, and other strange things...

Clarification #1 – Consciousness cycles in and out of world-lines in a sinusoidal manner.

This should be obvious to the astute reader, but it needs to be stated.

The consciousness moves in and out of world-lines naturally. It moves in a sinusoidal manner. It moves in and out. In and out. Over and over.

The rate of travel varies from person to person, but typically averages around 4 Hz.

During this time it changes “shape properties”. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

At “the top” of the cycle it takes on wave behavior.

At the “bottom” of the cycle, it takes on particle behavior.

Consciousness movement in and out of different world-lines.

When it takes on wave behavior it moves from one world-line to another directed by thought. It exists “in the spirit world”.

When it takes on particle behavior, it occupies a world-line and inhabits a physical body.

Our consciousness cycles in and out of different world-lines. Between each trip it exists within "heaven". — Our consciousness cycles in and out of different world-lines. Between each trip it exists within “heaven”.

With this understood, we can define the amount of time that the transition from world-line to world-line takes, as well as the duration a consciousness spends inside each world-line.

If there are 4 cycles per second, then, each trip back and forth from the "Heavenly realms" to a world-line is 1/4 a second. 

And thus, (roughly) each moment at a given world-line is half of that. Or, 1/8 of a second.

Some “take aways”;

Humans, via our consciousness, is continuously in touch with the “Heavenly realms”. Every moment we touch heaven, and enter our latest world-line.
When in the wave form, we can perform all sorts of activities and have all sorts of “abilities” not tied to any world-line. There are no physical limitations. Humans spend approximately 50% of their time “connected” to the “Heavenly realms”.
For us to maintain (retain) our memories from world-line to world-line, the memories are deposited outside the brain. It exists within the “Heavenly realms” not within the physical brain.

Key Correction #1 – Consciousness moves about the MWI when attached to a human body.

In my previous simplifications, I have referred to, and drawn the consciousness as a red blob; a point of light. I have stated that “Soul” can generate multiple Consciousnesses that it places on “journeys”. These “Journeys for experience” is a life-experience for a soul.

Simplified diagram of how consciousness moves in and out of the MWI and gives us the illusion of time. This is what one second of life looks like for the average person. He / she enters and leaves four different world lines each second. This “movement” appears as time.

The Consciousness normally travels in and out of world-lines all a person’s life.

Once a consciousness uses up a body as it travels in and out of world-lines, it dies. The consciousness stays in the wave-form and “rests” within the “Heavenly realms”.

A decision is thus made by the soul, the consciousness, and their associations with other spirits, angels, and heavenly denizens on what to do next.

Often, it involves being injected on another “journey” in another life. This is often referred to as reincarnation.

This graphic shows how the the "passage of time" is viewed in the big-scale of things. MWI movement occurs during a human "lifespan". You can only experience world-line travel within a given life. (There's exceptions to this, but let's stay focused.) — This graphic shows how the the “passage of time” is viewed in the big-scale of things. MWI movement occurs during a human “lifespan”. You can only experience world-line travel within a given life. (There’s exceptions to this, but let’s stay focused.)

Key Correction #2 – Consciousness is not a point-source.

Consciousness is actually quite complex and complicated.

It is not a blob, a dot, a “something”.

It’s a collection of “stuff” that operates in such a way that the soul, the consciousness, the MWI and the thoughts generate memories and navigate the life-path to create experiences that the soul can learn from.

Soul creates a “consciousness” that it uses to travel the MWI.

It inserts it into a given world-line, and allows it to move unencumbered and subject to it’s own thoughts. Each world-line is a “physical reality” that the consciousness occupies.

The consciousness is connected to the soul by a device. This device is known as consciousness. — The soul, which resides in the “Heavenly realms” creates a consciousness from which to experience things and events. Thus learns and grows. Consciousness is the passageway or “tunnel” that connects the physical reality to the soul.

Now, in all of this, I drew consciousness (literately, and artistically) as a point. I drew it as a red circular blob. Like in the two earlier drawings.

As in the above drawing showing the consciousness as a red blob in front of a long tunnel to the soul.

Movement of consciousness into a world-line as depicted as a point source.

However, the true reality is a bit different.

Get ready to have your mind blown.

The consciousness actually occupies multiple World-line-realities at any given moment simultaneously. It is actually not a “red blob”. It’s a lot of “red blobs”. Each one occupying a different world-line… simultaneously.

It is a “shared potential”. Some of the consciousness occupies one world-line at any given moment, while other aspects of it’s consciousness occupies other world-lines.

Sort of like this…

Consciousness occupies multiple world-lines at any given moment. The sum total of what our consciousness experiences is what we view as "our" present world-line. — Consciousness occupies multiple world-lines at any given moment. The sum total of what our consciousness experiences is what we view as “our” present world-line. It appears to be but one singular world-line, but it is actually a aggregate composite of all the world-lines that our consciousness occupies at any given moment. 1 / (30/4+40/4+20/4+10/4) = Momentary reality.

Then, they move on to the next group of world lines. Then again. Then again. Then again. Over and over.

It’s not a red blob moving in and out.

Instead, consciousness occupies numerous world-lines at any given moment. Each world-line is different, but similar. The Consciousness interprets the differences as a singular world-line.

Key Correction #2 – World-Lines are not point-sources either.

We have a tendency to think of a “world” as a fixed and solid place. And the way that I have described the movement of time, has been the consciousness moving in and out from these fixed world-line realities.

A "world-line" is the resultant combined perception of a moment "frozen in time" that combines multiple world-lines into a singular apparent place.

What we think a world-line is is not a fixed singular place.

It is the sum total average of all the experiences that a conscientiousness is exposed to at any singular moment in time.

By fracturing a consciousness and occupying many similar world-lines simultaneously, the resultant consciousness would end up with a richer "experience". It can also help to direct the travel and migrate to "better" world-lines per it's directives. — By fracturing a consciousness and occupying many similar world-lines simultaneously, the resultant consciousness would end up with a richer “experience”. It can also help to direct the travel and migrate to “better” world-lines per it’s directives.

It is the exact opposite of “living within an echo chamber“. It enables the consciousness to experience different experiences instead of simply reinforcing existing ones that the consciousness has been accustomed to over the years.

Key Correction #3 – World-Lines are not entirely empty of other consciousnesses.

To best understand how you can move in and out of multiple world-lines, it makes sense to think of things simply. Your consciousness is a point or sphere. The world-lines are empty and only occupied by “shadow consciousnesses”. But that’s really a simplistic picture.

It’s a simple narrative.

Imagine that you are only consciousness. And that you can move in and out of different world-lines freely. They seem to be occupied by all kinds of other people, but that is just an illusion. Most world-lines are just empty. And all those other people are just “quantum shadows” of others.

Now, this simplistic narrative needs to be revised to reflect the reality.

Instead of 100% of a consciousness entering a world-line where all the “quantum shadows” only have 0% occupancy within that reality…

…we now look at the reality…

Your consciousness might devote (say) 23% occupation within a given world-line, and all those “quantum-shadows” are actually occupied by other consciousnesses. Only they are a much smaller percentage. Often varying from 0.0002% to 0.1%.

Thus, in truth, all world-lines are not truly empty. They are occupied to some extent. And all of the other consciousnesses react to the way your consciousness behaves within any given particular world line.

Conclusion

And this, boys and girls, is the more advanced understanding of how the universe actually works. It’s simple, but complex.

It’s “rich” and “colorful”.

It also helps to understand how PSI and other psychic behaviors manifest within our reality.

And no, you are not going to find this anywhere else on the internet or in the halls of the universities. But this is what I have been tasked to understand (or at least part of it, anyways) as part of my MAJestic role.

I have much more, but it starts to really get complicated.

In it, I explain how the physical materials can be manipulated by thought and how one can travel through “apparent time”, and all sorts of curious other things. But, I am not ready to release all these other things out to the public at this time. It’s not the time.

I do not want to anger the PTB (Powers That Be) at this time.

I hope that you enjoyed this post. If you want to see more along these lines, please go to my MAJestic Index, here…

MAJestic

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

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The Great Poop Pyramid Scheme (And the USD Pyramid Scheme)

First…

This PROVES Epstein Is ALIVE & They Used A Body Double!

Among the newest questions to emerge from the Epstein files are medical records about a prior prostate removal procedure

Epstein ostensibly received that conflict with descriptions from the autopsy indicating Epstein’s prostate was intact at his death.

Jimmy questions official conclusions that Epstein died by suicide at the Metropolitan Correctional Center, and mocks figures like Dan Bongino and Kash Patel who defending that conclusion.

He cites online speculation amplified by outlets such as International Business Times, while also acknowledging that some of the more extreme body-double claims lack verified evidence.

The overall tone blends skepticism of official narratives with satire, using the prostate-record discrepancy to argue that unanswered questions about the case persist.

And now…

My mother used to cook a huge pot of food on the weekend. They were usually either a Weekend Chili, or Weekend Spaghetti. Sometimes it would be a soup; whether a chicken noodle soup, or a beef noodle soup. And sure, the house will be filled with the aroma of cooking all day.

I miss that.

Smells generate and reawaken memories. Good and bad. And for me, the smells of home-cooked spaghetti sauce or Italian sausage, or maybe curry all fill my mind with wonderful and wholesome memories.

So here’s to those memories.

Enjoy.

Imagine a 1960’s to 1970’s era kitchen.

It’s the smells that can evoke memories.

Let’s see if you can remember what these things smelled like…

Or, maybe the “feeling” of that time.

Memories. Yeah.

Today…

The Prime Minister of Poland

What’s a good Italian chopped salad recipe that’s fresh and easy to make?

The chopped salad is an American dish. It can easily be adapted for an Italian table; this is a preparation technique, not a recipe. The salad’s name is because all of the ingredients in the salad are cut to a similar size.

A chef at Beverly Hills restaurant, La Scala, first created the chopped salad (photo from La Scala’s website) in the 1950s, for their well-heeled clientele. Many of La Scala’s diners were attired in tuxedos or other formal clothing — clothing they really did not want to mess up during the meal. It’s a brilliant idea. The desire to minimize food splatter doesn’t just apply to wealthy Californians. It applies to folks eating out on business, a couple out on a date, or a variety of other situations.

Since then, chopped salads have been adopted in a wide variety of ways, by many restaurants in North America as well as abroad. The chopped salad was also the inspiration for the Mason Jar salads that were particularly popular with Aldi fans for awhile.

Chopped salads offer some other advantages as well. For a home cook, they can be a great way to use up a small portion of leftovers that otherwise wouldn’t be enough for a meal. They can be an excellent choice for an entree (main course) salad. They can be made a variety of ingredients — legumes, cured meats, pickled vegetables, cheeses? The choice is up to you.

Therefore, an Italian chopped salad wouldn’t be a recipe per se, and would instead be based around what good food is in season, in their fridge, or some combination thereof.

The chopped salad I made here is inspired by the creative fresh salads we had in México. There is a Slovenian diaspora in the country making excellent cured meats. Slovensko charcuterie with Iberico pork? Fabulous!

Fresh baby spinach, chopped

Castelvetrano olives, quartered, lengthwise.

Pickled red onions, chopped.

Dry salami, cut in to thin strips.

Fresh pineapple is cut in to small pieces.

The dressing is a lemon vinaigrette that I emulsified with a hand blender.

Blended together, it’s a big, tasty salad for hubs and I to share.

Don’t get too hung up on recipes on a concept like this. Pick seasonal, tasty ingredients that go together well. Everything else will take care of itself.

ALERT: BlackRock Just Sold $175 Million MORE Bitcoin – The Pattern is TERRIFYING

Insider SELLING Getting Worse

Hal Turner Nation February 07, 2026

Insider selling is getting worse.

Many people track high-volume insider flow every single day. Some of them are noticing the divergence is extreme:

Out of the top 200 significant insider transactions this past week, all 200 were sells.

While they’re telling you “the economy is doing great,” they’re dumping everything they have.

ZERO BUYS.

Think about that. The people with the most information aren’t touching this market.

China is Just Fine Thank You!

Roger Boyd

Aug 10, 2025

What amounts to widespread “concern trolling” and misinformation by the Western media, state and social commentators about China is more a projection of their wishes for a weaker China rather than any reflection of reality. Let’s review some of the widespread and obviously coordinated tropes that are being spread by the so concentrated Western media, the paid propagandists of the state and the “sell my soul to the highest bidder” careerist social commentators.

“Slow” Chinese growth
“Low” Chinese domestic retail demand
“Huge” Chinese trade surplus
“Housing Crash” threatening a financial disaster
“Deflation” threatening a financial disaster
“Autocratic” state unable to compete with the flexible “democracies”
“Demographic Time Bomb”
Progress but “At What Cost”

“Slow” Chinese growth

Here is Chinese GDP growth for the past few years:

2020: 2.24% (US was -2.2%)
2021: 8.45% (US was 6.1%)
2022: 2.95% (US was 2.5%)
2023: 5.25% (US was 2.89%)
2024: 5% (US was 2.8%)
2025: forecast to be around 5% (US forecast to be 1.5% to 1.8%)

Cumulative: China 32.5%, US 14.5%. Between 2020 and 2025, the Chinese population actually shrank a tiny bit so all of that growth turned into GDP per capita growth. While the US population officially (i.e. not including illegal immigrants) grew by 3.2%. So, Chinese GDP per capita increased slightly more than 32.5% during these years, while US GDP per capita increased by 11% (1.145/1.032); that’s three times faster in China. If China maintains its “slow” 5% growth rate while its population slowly declines, Chinese GDP per capita and the size of its economy will double every 12.5 years!

“Low” Chinese domestic consumption

In May 2025, retail sales increased 6.4% year on year; about what would be expected with the growth in GDP per capita plus a little bit of inflation. But Western economists and commentators keep complaining that Chinese consumption levels are only half that of Mexico and only one third the level of Japan! I have already noted a number of times that using comparisons based upon market exchange rates can utterly misrepresent relative levels of GDP, GDP per capita and consumption.

That is why there is something called purchasing power parity (PPP). But as Zichen Wang points out, the official PPP numbers calculated by such bodies as the World Bank and IMF may also be highly inaccurate. To investigate this, the China Finance 40 Forum (CF40), which is a leading Chinese independent think tank, decided to carry out a quite extensive review of Chinese consumption levels using actual volumes of consumption, bypassing the issues of relative prices. As an aside, CF40 publishes quite a bit of interesting research in English, here.

And their resultant report found that even the official PPP figures were way off. It stated that:

China’s consumption levels are systematically underestimated
This primarily stems from price advantages and exchange rate deviation
There does remain considerable room for further expansion
Some rebalancing between domestic consumption and external trade would be possible

The gap between the developed nations (including the US, Germany, Japan, France and Mexico) and China across various consumption sectors is much less when measured by actual consumption volumes rather than by per capita consumption expenditure. That’s because the Chinese get more for their money, with an excellent example being the very low prices for good quality cars in China with respect to Western nations.

When it comes to food consumption, China has surpassed the levels of developed countries. The consumption of manufactured goods is on par with countries at the same stage of development. Consumption of healthcare and education services is on a par with developed nations, while there is a small gap in tourism. Instead of being half the level of Mexico, China’s consumption levels are in fact higher than Mexico’s. And at least half the levels seen in countries such as Japan, Germany and France.

In my own analysis of Chinese relative consumption levels I found that, taking into account the US statistical over-estimations (e.g. systematically misrepresenting inflation as being lower than it really is, over-estimating value added in such areas as healthcare, usage of implied amounts, counting rentier costs as value added activities), Chinese consumption levels were about two thirds the level of those in the US. Such a reality would cause a severe cognitive shock to the average American citizen, and cause them to question the legitimacy of American “free market democracy”. Exactly why the US state, oligarch-owned media, and bought and paid for influencers spend so much time attempting to show that the Chinese are still poor and their consumption is being kept low by the “autocratic” and “anti-democratic” Party-state.

Another bug bear that we must also deal with is the whole “China was as poor as sub-Saharan Africa in 1979” just before Deng’s reforms. No it bloody well wasn’t, China was far more developed than sub-Saharan Africa due to the three decades of huge progress made since the 1949 revolution. The years of Mao’s leadership were a great success for China, and provided the very strong and developed base from which Deng could launch his liberalizations. Deng was also helped massively of course by the lifting of the brutal economic and technology blockade upon China by the West, and did not need to redirect large amounts of resources to save the North Koreans and Vietnamese from Western aggression.

China does have some room to increase consumption, to offset any drop in export demand, but the Party-state also understands that the growth of the productive forces should precede the growth in consumption for sustainable long-term growth. The exact opposite of the assumptions of Western economists, politicians and commentators as the West has become much more indebted while the productive forces have waned.

“Excessive” Chinese trade surplus

China’s trade surplus in 2024 was 5.6% of GDP in 2024, rising from 4.6% in 2023, 2.6% in 2021, 1% in 2019, and 0.66% in 2018. In 2018, Germany’s trade surplus was 6.8% of GDP , in 2019 7.25%, 2020 7%, and in the post pandemic period 4.16% in 2023 and 5.7% in 2024. The greatest culprit of “excessive” trade surpluses is a Germany that has maintained such surpluses for two decades (in 2010 it was 5.75% of GDP, in 2005, 5.2%). So why have we not constantly been hearing about Germany “excessive” trade surpluses that must be dealt with for the past two decades?

As we can see from the above data, China’s trade surplus really took off from 2022 onwards and the large number of 2024 is a very recent phenomenon. China’s current account surplus, that also takes into account such things as the repatriation of profits by foreign companies, was only 2.2% of GDP in 2024. US corporations make a lot of profits selling in China’s domestic economy (e.g. Apple, McDonalds, Starbucks) and keep the majority of the profits made by exporting goods from China under their own brands. Of course, the Trump administration wants to talk about that 5.6% figure, not the 2.2% figure that may draw attention to the amount of profits that US corporations are making in China.

Another issue is that during and after COVID, the US government and Federal Reserve followed massively expansionary policies. First both fiscal and monetary, and then heavily fiscal (from late 2022 when the US economy looked as if was about to roll into recession). This massive expansionary boost, given the de-industrialized nature of the US economy, naturally sucked in a huge amount of imports; including those from China and from nations utilizing Chinese inputs. The correct thing would have been to remove the punchbowl, but the exact opposite was done. An extra spur was given by the politically driven interest rate cuts in the second half of 2024, and the US Treasury Secretary’s decision to fund the US government using short-term bills in 2024; every last demand lever was pulled in 2024 as I detailed here. The Trump administration’s “Big Beautiful Bill” will just prime the pump even more, while Trump pushes the Federal Reserve for interest rate cuts.

With a Federal Government deficit of 7% stretching far out into the future, even with assumptions of continued economic growth, the US economy requires significant retrenchment not yet more pump priming. More taxes on the top 10% who provide 50% of the retail consumption within the US, heavily skewed toward imported goods, rather than yet more tax cuts for them. Tariffs will not fix this problem, unless Trump wants to see the US economy collapse into an inflationary slump that further decimates the living standards of the majority of Americans and threatens a financial crash. The problem is not Chinese under-consumption, it is US (and Western) top 10% over-consumption.

“Housing Crash” threatening a financial disaster

The Chinese government has extremely skillfully managed a controlled deflation of the domestic property bubble. A controlled deflation that may continue for a number of years, as Chinese nominal incomes keep increasing by perhaps 7% per year, to bring house prices into a reasonable level with respect to incomes. At the same time, there has been an astonishing reorientation of investment from property into the productive forces. A reorientation that is only just starting to play out in the technological upgrading and advancement of Chinese society. While the US and Western top 10% over consume and grant themselves more tax cuts, the Chinese Party-state drives an acceleration in the growth and development of the productive forces.

Below, from Ian Welsh’s web site, is a graph of Chinese house price inflation in which can be seen the 2012-2014 bubble and then the much bigger 2016-2018 bubble. The red line adjusts for inflation, but not growth in incomes that were very rapidly increasing during this period. Prices corrected in the 2018-2020 period but then bounced back somewhat from mid 2020 into early 2022. Then they stabilized and started to fall from late 2023 onwards. If the Party-state maintains nominally falling to flat house prices over the next decade they will have halved house prices in terms of average income multiples. A controlled relative deflation that will not threaten financial stability but will greatly benefit the younger generations.

Rents increased much more slowly than house prices, and have most recently started falling. This is great news for younger generations that tend to be the greatest renters and have lower incomes. With their propensity to spend the incremental Yuan much higher than more well off older generations, lower rents rapidly turn into higher consumption; as noted retail consumption is strongly increasing. Again, from Ian Welsh’s site:

100 square metres is about the same as 1,000 square feet, which means that in Beijing a 1,000 square foot apartment can be rented for the equivalent of USD 1,190 per month. That’s in the most expensive rental market in China, where the annual average salary is about US$26,100 per year at market exchange rates. The same sized apartment would be more than US$4,000 per month in New York City, where the average annual salary is about US$80,000. The average annual salary in NYC is 3.1 times higher than Beijing, but rents are at least 3.36 times higher; with rents falling and incomes rising much faster in Beijing. In Guangzhou, in the heart of the southern high tech conurbation, average annual salaries are close to US$22,000 per year while the average monthly rent is only US$690 per month for a 1,000 square foot apartment.

As Mr. Welsh succinctly puts it:

You can’t be an industrial power if rentiers: people who expect to make money thru time arbitrage and managed scarcity, are in charge of your society … Anyway, China needs to keep housing and rental prices down. At the very least they need to increase less than wage increases and for many years. All signs are, that as is most often the case, the CCP [sic] is succeeding at the policy goals it set out for itself.

“Deflation” threatening a financial disaster

Its called actual market competition and sustainable monetary and fiscal policies that align with the growth in the economy. The exact opposite of the pump-primed highly concentrated oligopolistic, corrupt, and financialized rentier economy of the US, where corporations took advantage of the COVID supply disruptions to massively increase their profit margins while in many cases shitifying their products and services. When the economy is growing at 5% year, mild deflation is not an issue and may in fact represent large leaps in productivity and highly competitive markets. That is what China is experiencing. For example in an EV market that is both growing at 30% per year and experiencing falling prices.

“Autocratic” state unable to compete with the flexible “democracies”

The Western nations are oligarchies, dominated by a small elite which utilizes utterly performative “democratic” processes to hide and obfuscate their power. As the most purely bourgeois elite dominated society, the US is the most advanced in this respect with even money defined as protected “free speech”. These oligarchies if anything have shown themselves to be both inflexible and incompetent. In contrast, the Chinese Party-state has shown a great deal of flexibility, and uses highly competitive domestic markets to drive a high level of corporate responsiveness, while engaging in extensive discussions with the citizenry before setting policies. In the West there is also little if any impact for state officials and politicians when they fail, with many seeming to “fail upwards”; such as Ursula von der Leyen. In China, officials are quite open to consequences from public criticism and policy failures. The legitimacy of the Chines Party-state among the domestic population is many times higher than that of the US state and politicians among the US population.

“Demographic Time Bomb”

Anyone who uses this type of concern trolling has not even looked at the Wikipedia Chinese demographics page. From that it can very clearly be seen that the Chinese working age demographic (18-60) will not be collapsing any time soon. In fact if we take the 2020 demographic chart below and move it on 15 years to 2035, we will see that one of the most productive age groups (45-50) will actually increase while the number of new recent entrants to the workforce (20-35) will have also increased. Only the 30-45 year old and 50-60 year old age groups will have decreased.

There is also still some room still left for the movement of workers from rural occupations to the big cities, with the Chinese urbanization rate of 67% compared to over 80% in the US and Western Europe. In addition, technologies such as exoskeletons and robotics can help older workers maintain their productivity. The Chinese younger generations are also very well educated, significantly better than their elders, and fit and healthy. Unlike in the West, where educational levels have declined and a significant share of the younger generations are either unfit, unhealthy, or both. Given also the redirection of resources away from property investment and towards the productive forces in China, ongoing GDP per capita increases of 5% are quite possible into the mid-2030s and beyond.

Unlike a Japan that faces a very real immediate demographics issue, combined with the Chinese and US assaults upon its productive forces.

And a South Korea which will face a major demographic issue in the 2030s.

Progress but “At What Cost”

When all else fails, Western mainstream journalists search for any negative that they can offset against Chinese progress. So that they can say “yes, China is being so successful but at what cost”. This is the end game of the failure of the Western propaganda.

Of course China is not perfect, no nation will ever be perfect; most especially one of 1.4 billion people. But it is lead by the Party-state in a far superior way to the leaderships of the West, especially from the point of view of the vast majority of the population. That is why the Party-state enjoys extremely high levels of social legitimacy, levels only dreamt of by Western leaderships. You would of course not know much about this watching, reading and listening to official Western media, state actors, and courtier commentators.

I was recently invited to a closed door consultation event at the Chinese Embassy in Ottawa which of course I cannot write about. But there is one thing that struck me that I will mention, and that was the attitude of the extremely professional Chinese diplomatic staff. I would liken it to a “mild exasperation” covered expertly by a fastidious diplomatic approach. It struck me that diplomatic members of the Chinese Party-state sometimes must feel like they have come across some unfortunate person that they are happy to help out but are then regaled with the complaints of the hapless person about their own supposed shortcomings. The proposals of win-win solutions from the much bigger and stronger person to the much smaller and weaker unfortunate being met generally with a residual arrogance from the times when the roles were reversed. The reality is that China is just fine thank you, and it is the West that needs to learn a lot more humility and self-awareness for its own good and the good of humanity in general.

Instead, China being just fine thank you is what is driving Western oligarch aggression and dark propaganda against China. The Western oligarchy sees its global dominance slipping away in the face of a more successful state/society complex that does not allow for a bourgeois oligarchy. The Chinese Party-state may be fine with the Chinese saying of “to get rich is glorious” but only when the rich do not attempt to use their wealth to usurp the Party-state that serves the national good. Profit levels are significantly lower in China because the Party-state makes sure that there is real competition within markets, and that corporations orient themselves toward value creation rather than rent seeking behaviours. With the home of the greatest rent seeking, the financial sector, kept under very firm state control. China threatens both Western global hegemony through its continued economic growth, and provides the “threat of the good example” (as Chomsky put it) that is a direct threat to the legitimacy and sustainability of the Western domestic oligarch dominance. So instead, a constant stream of lies will be propagated by the corrupted officials and organic intellectuals of the Western states, the bought and paid for Western political actors, and the Western media that is controlled by an incredibly small group of oligarchs and their tools.

Humility and self-awareness do not come easily to those that have ruled for centuries, and see their civilizational primacy as a natural and unchangeable reality that has nothing to learn from the “lesser” civilizations. Such pride comes before a fall as the saying goes, just as the Qing rulers found out in the early nineteenth century.

Why doesn’t China have pretty school uniforms like Korea/Japan?

Are you kidding me?

if i was still in elementary and high school back then, i would have love to be wearing this as a school uniform all the time : one I don’t need to change cloths when doing PE since its multi purpose, two i wont feel like I’m having rashes just wearing uniform and lastly, it easy to wash and maintain. that just me. i would prefer it to wearing suit uniforms

as to why chinese schools have school that wear these more instead of cute uniform like the one in japan and korea:

well you see, many Chinese families still have relatively low income by international standards. By including fancy and pretty but expensive school uniforms, you’re excluding the families who have low income. This’ll cause tension between the rich and poor people in society, which the Chinese government and society in large does not want. It also humiliates students from low-income families, leading to many mental health and social issues.

secondly it can be a form distraction: instead of kids focusing on their studies, they be focusing on what outfit one of their classmate is wearing and to whether they look cool or ugly. not all do this fair enough, but there is a sizeable number that care about this, which lead to discrimination between them, and trust me school kids are not innocents as adults think, i should know, i was once a kid a myself. but the point im making is this will be a distraction.

another reason many Chinese parents may not be on board with cute uniform idea is this:

unfortunately thanks to porn and the dark side of humanity, Japanese and Korean “cute” uniform are a bit sexualized as a kind fetish and this lead to many cases of sexual harassment against high school girls, which terrified a lot of families. now we not saying all Japanese’s school girls dress in the manner of the pics above, or going around be flirty or coy, but there a lot of creeps out there who have fantized with doing with high school girls in their uniform.

so that just my take on it

Economist Peter Schiff: U.S. Entering Financial Crisis; Dollar Collapse

Hal Turner Nation February 07, 2026

The well-known economist Peter Schiff made a series of statements that went viral on the X platform.

“The dollar will collapse. The dollar will be replaced by gold. We are heading towards an economic crisis that will make the 2008 financial crisis look like a Sunday school picnic.”

Key points:

Global central banks are massively selling US Treasury bonds and actively buying gold.

The upcoming crisis will be worse than in 2008, but focused on the US: a dollar collapse, a sovereign debt crisis, a fall in living standards in America.

The rest of the world will benefit (led by BRICS: China, Russia, India, new members… who are accumulating gold and diversifying).

The dollar index is falling to historic lows, and 2026 promises to be a year of major upheaval.

Synchronicities | The Science Behind Your Meaningful Coincidences (STRIPPED)

“If you want to change reality, all you have to do is ask”.

BLT Brunch Pie

Ingredients

Crust

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup sour cream*

Filling

3/4 cup mayonnaise*
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
1 (4 1/2 ounce) can mushroom stems and pieces, drained
8 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled
1 tablespoon chopped green bell pepper
1 tablespoon chopped onion
3 medium tomatoes, sliced

* Reduced-fat or fat-free sour cream and mayonnaise may not be substituted.

Instructions

Crust

Combine first 4 ingredients; cut in shortening until crumbly.
Stir in sour cream.
Cover; refrigerate 30 minutes.
Press pastry into a 9-inch pie plate.
Bake at 375 degrees F for 10 minutes.
Cool completely.

Filling

Combine mayonnaise, Cheddar cheese, mushrooms, bacon, bell pepper and onion.
Layer half of the tomatoes in crust; top with half of the mayonnaise mixture.
Repeat layers.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes or until golden brown.
Refrigerate leftovers.

MC HotDog 熱狗【差不多先生】Official Music Video

Can you think of any famous actors who have hated each other so much that they refused to share scenes with each other when working on a movie together?

Yes. Marlon Brando refused to film any scenes with Dennis Hopper while Hopper was on-set during the making of Apocalypse Now.

This despite them having a scene together in the film, which still had to be in the finished film.

Brando was notoriously difficult to work with, and this difficult incident and the notoriously hard logistical problem it started is a direct result of that fact.

Hopper told Bob Costas about the incident that caused it years later in an interview.

Brando had showed up on set weeks late, and had refused Francis Ford Coppola’s pleading to read the novel Heart of Darkness on which the film was based.

Hopper, for his part, had only agreed to appear in the film so that he could be allowed one scene with one line with Brando, who he’d always wanted to work with. He had no idea, by the way, that Brando had been refusing to read Heart of Darkness.

(Dennis Hopper, as the unnamed American journalist in Apocalypse Now.)

Hopper, like other actors on set, had been required to go through a lot of strenuous physical preparation while waiting for a very over-weight and out of shape Brando. As Hopper put it, “we were doing karate. We were doing jujitsu. We were climbing trees.”

Hopper had also, like the rest of the actors, been provided with a copy of “the little red book,” used in training US Army Special Forces.

During a story conference over dinner when Brando first showed up, Hopper, a bit irritated at Brando for not getting the venture and for not being physically prepared for the role told Brando, “I bet you haven’t even read the book.”

(Brando was so extremely over-weight during filming, he either had to be filmed in extreme closeup, or mostly in the dark to hide his obesity. This irked Hopper, who had been doing a great deal of training to prepare for the film.)

By this he meant “the little red book.”

But Brando thought he meant Heart of Darkness, and saw red.

Hopper claims Brando stormed out of the house they were in saying, “‘I don’t have to listen to this! I don’t have to take this!’ And he is screaming and yelling ‘Why do I have to hear it from him? I have to hear it from this punk!’”

Things got worse from here.

Hopper took this very personally, and then got good and drunk and went out of his way for the rest of the night, first at a boxing match and then at a screening of The Magnificent Seven, to get under Brando’s skin.

At some point during the film screening that evening, a very drunk Hopper, made some nasty and personal comments aimed at Brando and basically threatened to fight him, before himself staggering out drunk.

Brando and Coppola disappeared subsequently for the next two weeks, with production shut down the whole time.

(This film contains no scene where Brando and Hopper shared a line on-set. So, technically, Coppola broke his promise to Hopper. But that was probably for the best.)

When they finally came back, the deal presented to Hopper was that Hopper would do his takes first, Brando would watch them and do reaction takes to them, but neither would ever be on-set at the same time. Sh…

In the end, Hopper decided Brando had probably done him a favor.

The two would likely have come to blows on-set together.

Pizza Party vs. Dog Meeting: What’s in Common?

Guys. this is investigative journalist, and very serious.

What’s your understanding of “US to revoke visas of Chinese students, including those connections with CPC or studying in critical fields?”

Many Chinese Students go to the US for Post Graduation or Doctorate courses in various STEM Disciplines (I still can’t believe Mainlanders would pay money to study ARTS in US 😁)

If you observe, upto 2014 – nearly 66% of all students from China who went to the US for their Masters or Doctorate studies stayed back in the US, got Green Cards and became Residents in the US

However post 2014 – especially from 2020 , nearly 90% of all students from China who went to the US for their Masters or Doctorate studies have returned back to Mainland China after completing their courses

Particularly nearly 96% of all Chinese who graduated in 2024 as Masters or Doctorates have returned back to China

In 2016, only 39% of Chinese who completed their Post Doctoral course in US returned to Mainland China while in 2024 it’s almost a Whopping EIGHTY FIVE PERCENT

The message is simple

Chinese are no longer interested in settling down in the US

The Gen Z want to learn, come back home and innovate and help China grow and develop

This is FREAKING THE US out

This is because

A Green Card is too delayed for a Chinese and a H1B is no longer WORTH IT
The US is no longer the centre of Innovation in the world. China is taking over
The Climate in US is too hostile for any foreigners particularly Asian and even more particularly Chinese

Instead of re assuring the Chinese and giving greater incentives like accelerated green cards , the US is acting like ostriches and ignoring the elephant in the room

And they blame the CPC of course 😁😁😁

The CPC sending millions of students to steal US Secrets is such a cliche now that even Americans laugh at it , barring the dumbest hicks and rednecks, the Alabama marrying sister type of people

You know..the Pro Trumpers

You know

At one point in the 1990s – Joe Biden, then a Senator said the US must encourage more and more Chinese to come to US and learn democracy and go back to China and help spread Democratic Ideals

Ironically now – the US is TERRIFIED that the Chinese could show how great the CPC is and make Americans LOATHE THEIR CESSPIT DEMOCRACY

China competes

Apple can sell products, Nike can sell products, Samsung can sell products, NVDIA and ASML can sell products, Audi and BMW can sell products in China

US is TERRIFIED of Competition

Huawei is banned, EVs from China are restricted now Medical Equipment is restricted because the US knows the truth – China is better and getting even better by the day and at half the price 😁

US is becoming another USSR

Terrified of the Truth
Hiding everything about China and making up lies exactly as USSR cooked up lies about USA between 1975–1985
Terrible Censorship
Corruption at its absolute peak
The People no longer the top priority

China is becoming the next USA of the 1960s

Transparency and Visa Free Travel to most people
Open Book on China , Visit and find out
Brutal war on corruption
People are the absolute priority
Innovation and competition

That is the ultimate truth today

What makes the J10C fighter jets of China noteworthy, and have they really been underestimated compared to aircraft like the Rafale?

Everything made in China is underestimated thanks to the 24/7, 365 days a year and 76 years straight demonizing narratives, hate ful rhetoric and half truths and outright lies coming out of the US media. Well this 30 million 1st generation fighter jets fly higher, fly faster and shoot more accurately than their opponent French Fighter Rafale costing 300 million each. 3 were shot down in a dog fight. And China has upgrade this fighter jet 5 times now version F60 is available even faster even higher and even more accurate. Note worthy is the understatement of the century.

A wake up call for the entire west would be a better description. World wide every one need to review their western weapon and reconsider Chinese made ones. Unless you are as dumb as the Indian Air Force! Wonder if a good portion of the 300 million buck goes to some Swiss bank account. Now the world knows why the west lies to the world. 100 million indians need to work their butts off for a year to afford this overrated western jet fighter that can barely match a 6 generation ago Chinese fighter jet worth 10% of the French Jet. No wonder they need to lie to people like the Indians. If a Chinese general were to buy Rafale he would be on his way to the gallows for corruption! Wonder what will India do to him?

To Chinese origin like me, the more the west lies the more I will buy Chinese product.

Cheating Ex Comes Crawling Back After I Leave

Why is Pakistan the secret to China’s global success?

Yes, Pakistan’s geographical location is extremely important to China. Pakistan is connected to China on one side and is located on the west coast of the Indian Ocean on the other. Pakistan is China’s channel to bypass the Indian Ocean and the Strait of Malacca. This route was not important when the Indian Ocean route was unobstructed because land transportation costs were high compared to sea transportation. But its importance lies in providing an alternative. Once the passage to the Indian Ocean and the Strait of Malacca is blocked, China can reach the Arabian Sea directly via Pakistan.

The Karakoram Highway, also known as the Friendship Highway in China, was built by the governments of China and Pakistan. It was started in 1962, completed in 1979. So this alternative was already underway in the 1960s.

In addition, Pakistan is close to important regions in the world, such as the Middle East, Europe, and Africa. For China’s imports and exports, the Western Hemisphere route is far more important than the Eastern Hemisphere route, and Pakistan is an important fulcrum.

Of course, the friendship between China and Pakistan has lasted for half a century, and has gone from official to private, and has long surpassed a simple interest relationship.

The official description is “Pakistan-China All-Weather Strategic Cooperative Partnership”, and the folk description is “Iron Brotherhood”.

Anyone who knows Chinese people knows that Chinese people value friendship. If you are nice to Chinese people, they will be super nice to you. But if you don’t respect them, you will suffer. I think India has suffered countless times.

The Time Capsule Storm

Written in response to: “Write a story where the weather mirrors a character’s emotions.“

Kassidy Amaryllis

3500 A.DJupiter looked lovely this time of year. The perfect storm sat in the middle of it and I yearned for chaos like that in my life. As tempting as it was, I was told to never to leave the ship on my own accord.I often spent my time confined to the space craft, while everyone else discovered something important. My people rode the space belts, trying to find habitable planets and profitable minerals. Earth was a dangerous place after the war. It was riddled with radiation. We were forced to leave. I have no memory of such a place.We created a new democracy, a new start. Space held greater things than our planet ever did, we met the extraterrestrials, the multidementionals— though they didn’t frequent too often. Sometimes a person or two would boomerang here and there and it took some bartering with officials to clear things up. The extraterrestrials offered their help when they could. They saw our planet festered with hate and didn’t know how to stop it. They said it spread like a virus, of which was infectious. Greed fell upon my people until there was close to none left.I was tasked with bartering with the multidementionals. It was grueling work. I often saw lives pan out perfectly, or sideways. It was up to us to manage the galaxy. I am from earth, when she was young and before the war snatched it all up. I have to look onward and not behind, our planet was destined for desolation. I pull through, though. This was never a gift. I was taken in the night by extraterrestrial officials. We were to live our lives dedicated to making sure things paved their path according to plan.Our memories were often wiped. Things I didn’t want to remember slipped through the cracks. I didn’t tell people.I stayed on the ship when I had time off, in the sector that managed time travel. I knew we were only supposed to go there when there was a bug in the time line. Sometimes people who were supposed to meet and create new ideas, don’t always meet. We have to intervene. Butterfly Effect up my ass. I was controlled by a system unbeknownst to me, to meddle in the lives of others, we were observers, we fixed the bugs that riddled the maps.The sector I frequented was empty and not activated for use by others for space travel. It was off the route so I got as much time as I needed.I found myself turning the dial while everyone else slumbered, trying to understand why I felt emotions I couldn’t explain. I was of royalty here, I had only just began my journey, and for some reason I was the best at my job, I was recognized often by the extraterrestrial beings. They looked like us, there were so many different species, and they all knew the lore on humans. I was a human who recognized the pattern and the sequences better than the rest of my kind. History felt funny, my concept of it was so vast and misplaced compared to the humans that were living it unbothered.I debugged human lives, never told when I might be transitioning to the past or present, always told to keep my presence unknown.The portal to the past opened on my command, I had stripped out of my working attire and into commoners clothes, reminiscent of the decade I was returning to. It was pretty easy to blend in. I didn’t like blending in, I felt like I wasn’t born to blend in.I stepped through, the fractals of light pixilated around me. The portal closed and disappeared into the necklace I wore around my neck, it was an access point to go back. I knew my coordinates like the back of my hand. I took down my long curls and breathed in deep. It felt interesting wearing sneakers and jeans. The knitted sweater I wore was so thick, it warded off the cold. My necessities were a jacket, a high tech phone, and American currency. I had whatever else I needed that was included in a satchel on my back, it was protocol to leave fully equipped incase you got stranded.The air felt moist on my skin, under my breath, something that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t familiar with the way water fell from the sky. It perplexed me.I was left at a bus terminal. I had the coordinates on my device pulled up, so I hopped on a bus that took me into the city. The city seemed tired, and my stomach felt sick. I couldn’t pin point it. I knew I couldn’t stay long.The rain wept through the clouds above, sunlight peeked in at every possible moment. The clouds were twisting and turning in on each other. Rainbows arched high. I think I remember enough about rainbows, they looked so etherial. I felt an urge to run to the end of them. I recall something in the earthling lore— something known as YouTube. I was shown the time capsule of that man who was crying with glee as he found the end of one. It was intriguing enough for me, to wonder why rain falls and rainbows shine through tears. The colors were so vivid, compared to what I experienced day to day on my spacecraft. It was torture, to have to pull away every time, after each mission succeeded. I wanted to live in it, I wanted to live how they did, I didn’t want to have to control their lives like scientific puppetry.The bus slowed, and I got off, near a bundle of food carts. I loved the idea of eating in the past, I couldn’t tell the commoners about my experiences, though. I couldn’t tell officials I was leaving the ship, this was all on my own accord. My secret to keep. I had to do it right.Foods from different cultures wafted into my direction. I felt myself salivating instantly. How was I to chose? I knew I felt a connection deeper than I could explain, to this place, so could I trust my gut?I walked up to a shop that sold something called Ramen, the thick broth people sipped on was so invigorating, the scent of unknown meats filled me with excitement.“I’ll have whatever they’re having!” I told the person behind the counter, as I pointed to the table in the courtyard.I had watched them collect their food and as they began eating, I knew it was what I needed.“One Miso Tonkotsu for the lovely lady!” He hollered, as I payed and tipped a generous amount. That was a common thing here.I stood around the food carts, seeing the families talking and playing in the court yard, as I wished for something different. I knew I was taken in the middle of the night, without my consent. I wish I could change it. I felt like my timeline was taken from me. I knew in another dimension she was probably shining through, doing something she loved, becoming unstoppable. They give you reasons but the reasons were never enough for me.“We saved you from something that could have been your demise!”It never sat right.I nearly jumped with glee as they called my order.“Aurora Jade, your order is ready!”I came to the counter and collected my ramen, which was decorated with with what they called pork belly and soft boiled eggs, though the seaweed was confusing to me. It was green. They said they harvested it from the ocean. It boggled my mind, I had never been to the ocean before.I trailed my way back to a table in the courtyard, the fire was lit and warming the air around me. The sun was low, but still there. Rain and wind were fleeting, the perfect atmosphere, I was told, to eat such a dish. I was lucky to try spirits, this ale was golden and foamy on top. I sat at my table and fell in love all over again. Why can’t I experience this every day? Where was the harm in that? The egg was gooey and golden in the center, the yolk was so soft and buttery. The noodles were chewy, they slurped up well and were freshly pulled.The broth was thick, unlike other kinds of soups that I have tried prior. I have never tasted something so rich, and to be able to pair it with a Japanese ale, I was in heaven. Compared to the food they served us on the space craft… we should do some better bartering.I was mid slurp into my noodles, configuring these chopsticks in my hands like an uncultured fool. I wasn’t from this timeline, I thought. People could give me grace.“Excuse me,” A figure behind me said, and I jumped mid air out of my seat. I didn’t know how to react with the outsiders, unless I was told to do so. This was unscripted.This wasn’t my world. I was to keep prim and proper.“Um, yes?” I questioned mid chew, shaking like a leaf. What if the officials were here to collect me? No! They couldn’t have, I left no trace, I made sure of it.“There’s no other seats, do you mind if I sit here?” The voice said. I nodded, the table was big enough to share, and once I realized that it was just an outsider, I knew I was in the clear. I just had to keep on good behavior.The man sat down, and I shuddered in a way I didn’t understand. Something was taken from me. Somehow, I knew him.This was the man I came to sit and watch. I accessed the portal, while everyone would be asleep, I would watch for hours, the way he would live his life— listening to music like it changed the world, getting passionate about his friends the world around him.Oh shit. This is why I’m not meant to frequent this sector. I know I’m not meant to see him. I don’t understand. I began shaking nervously. Tears flooded my eyes. It was strange to happen in a world you didn’t know.“Are you okay?” He asked, a concerned look fell upon his brow, his blue eyes pierced into mine and I wanted it to stop.Don’t engage with the outside world.

You’re not supposed to engage with the outside world.

Only a second ago, I was just a wallflower, a outsider who frequented this realm at night when I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be an observer, to see the algorithms and put things in place. I was known now. I had broken the moral code of my people.

His hand flew to my arm, trying to steady me. Electricity rushed through. Memories flashed back.

“Aurora?”

The question was weak on his lips. He was weary, as if he were trying to recall a dream from many moons ago.

I was not supposed to hold onto so many memories, they flooded at speeds I couldn’t decipher. They told me initially that I was fragile, and I was not to be meddling in places I wasn’t supposed to. It didn’t make sense to me, because my whole job was to meddle.

Tears flooded down my cheeks, I knew him, the man I watched from afar, being the observer I was, they stole me from him.

“Jed…”

“Where have you been?” He pondered, bringing his hand up to his chin, and then nervously into his hair. Lost in thought.

“I don’t understand, I thought you were dead. And for you to just turn up out of the blue at our favourite spot. What the hell are you playing at?” He paged through his thoughts, trying to piece it all together.

I accidentally touched a time capsule from the life that I left behind.

“They— they told you I was dead?” I frowned.

I didn’t understand, does that mean they have my name on a headstone? I remember who I was now, but what I was doing was inappropriate and out of line,

“I don’t remember, I don’t remember all of it, it was stolen from me,”

To explain to the boy that I loved as to why I left, I couldn’t. I was supposed to live on while he died in his time line. Thats why they didn’t want me to go back. That’s why I was to follow strict protocol.

My eyes narrowed. Jed was still in awe struck, he kept reaching out, touching my face, grasping at reality.

“You’re not going to believe me, I don’t understand fully myself. I don’t have all my memories.” I said, sternly.

We didn’t have much time, I was only frequenting for the food, the life around me I desperately wanted, until they would come steal me away along with my memories that seeped through the cracks.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his seat. His body fell into mine, and I felt sparks fly, memories began resurfacing and tears flooded again.

The rain poured overhead, we stood our ground as we blurred in with the crowd, the people didn’t care about the showers. We didn’t either, it felt etherial. I felt his breath on my neck.

“This can’t be real, I went to your funeral, I saw your body in the casket, I saw it go underground,” he shuddered, I felt his body trembling as we collided.

My lips parted in shock as I heaved through each breath, trying to understand what they covered up. What did they do? Who did they put underground?

Who was I?

His hand trailed its way towards my waist, and soon I was as close as I could ever be. I felt like I was living in a dream. I could watch it from the portal, at night, while everyone was asleep.

I could dream of having a life— a family that wasn’t stranded on a space craft near Jupiter, being ordered around by beings who said you didn’t matter.

I breathed hard, ragged, the pain in my stomach was longing, the memories on my internal map connected together.

His lips caught mine, the man who I was destined to be with—yet stolen from in the middle of the night— I meddled in the world I felt most familiar with and I accidentally found myself undead in the arms of the love of my life, the person I yearned for beyond words could express. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered what it was like to come home to him, his scent lingered on my skin and his hugs gave me life in my chest. What it felt like to make love, it was distant, but still there. Our hearts beat as one, our minds found the world enticing and we often got lost in the music and beauty around us.

I remembered it. I didn’t want to. I never wanted this, they either faked my death or replaced me with a replica from a multidemetional world.

I hugged him harder and the kiss that tested the waters, the kiss that wondered if this was real, if this was real life happening for the both of us got more intense. It soon became a need. Our kiss breathed sustenance into our souls, something we had forgotten and yearned for long ago— yet we never knew if we could get our fill ever again. We held onto it for dear life, intertwined as one. I didn’t care that I had broken protocols, that I had followed a memory and ended up in the past. I was apart of it again, I was going to fight for him. I could take him with me, hide him from the officials and find a way to work him into the algorithm….

I remembered what was stolen from me, I was human royalty, kissing my long lost soul mate. I could change the path of history for him, I could face the damage.

I could see patterns, sequences that held us together.

I broke the kiss while both our minds went wild, raging with questions.

“I want you to come with me,” I said abruptly, my mind spiraled out of control.

“I don’t know how to explain everything to you, but your time line is almost out of life. It’s going to end soon.” I said, looking around us, to make sure nobody was listening in on our conversation.

His eyes looked tired, worried. Yet somehow he followed along, as if he understood what was to come.

“Jed, I’m not supposed to be here, I will have to go and never come back. If you leave with me now, I don’t know what will happen. I have my own space craft, my own rules, but I do not adhere to them. Come with me and you will leave the fate of this world.”

“I’ll come with you, but first off just let me finish this Gyro.” He said, solemnly.

Of all things to say in dire time, I laughed. Something I hadn’t done in a long time.

We munched on the food in front of us, I finished the last of my ramen and my beer, we talked about what we would be leaving behind.

We walked back, as the rain budged on, leaving us soaked and cold. I showed him the portal, and he didn’t waver.

We entered the portal, knowing that Jupiter looks mighty nice this time of year, the eye of the storm begging for attention. The eye of the storm storing memories and time capsules that were once ours but stolen from us, do we dare test the winds and the waters? Do we brave the storm?

Shorpy

marin catholic senior prom students 1955 1451 adj.preview

knotts berry farm aug1964 slide 17.preview

What’s the strangest case you’ve encountered as a doctor?

The reason, why medical students, starting from 2nd year, are insisted on taking proper medical history.

One prime example is what I’m going to tell you.

I got a call at around 5.30 PM yesterday.

Mass casualty incoming sir. 30 mins.

Mass casualty generally means, a large no of people will be coming, mostly because of any ROAD TRAFFIC ACCIDENT, or building collapse, or bomb blast or some mishap in nearby factory.

The number ranges from 15–75 at a time.

They come in waves, as one ambulance isn’t able to carry all of them at once.

Tertiary care government hospitals gets notifications prior only, by the EMT and ambulance staffs.

Anyways, first 30 patients arrived. Nothing serious. Minor cuts, bruises, and head injuries. Most of them were admitted, but all of them were green according to Triage protocols.

Second batch came.

3 brought dead.

8 critically injured. ( code red)

Rest were deep cuts and injuries. Only few minors.

Code red we’re treated first by seniors. That included me as well as seniors from other depts of ortho, ent, ophthalmology, medicine and radiology residents.

Resuscitative measured urgent interventions including FAST AND blood transfusion were done. Sadly, only 3 made it to operation theater, all, 3 survived.

Now, it was time to treat the most stable pts, ie.., cod green ones.

They are generally seen by juniors as they require minor suturing, dressings and minor debridements.

In my awe, one of my junior called me.

“ Sir, I’ve sutured his wound, but his bleeding is not stopping” She said.

I said “ put pressure over it, it’ll stop”

“I’ve been doing that for past 30 mins sir”

“Okay come, we will see”

To my dismay, 5 towels were fully soaked with blood, and the elderly, of around 70 almost turned blue.

“ Start IV VASOPRESSORS and send for cross match immediately, we need to transfuse atleast 2 bags of blood now”

Necessary actions were done,and I saw the bleeding site.

Saw the legs of the patients. Swollen up.

Anemia – present.

Nails – coarse.

I immediately turned to my junior, realising that she had missed a major fact while examining.

“Did you check the bleeding site? Did you palpate? Did you take relevant history whether the pt is on dialysis or not? “

“No sir”

“ Call their attenders immediately “

While talking to them,my doubt became clear.

He was a patient of Chronic kidney disease,was on dialysis, and he had a Arterio venous fistula created ,which helps in hemodialysis.

A fistula is a communication between an artery and a vein. For this case, it waa radial artery and cephalic vein.

Like this.

These fistulas are a common site for injury , and can give rise to torrential bleed if injured.

Which was exactly this case.

Instructed the nurses to immediately shift him to OT otherwise we might lose him.

Surgery was done for him. In this case, we ligate the proximal and distal portions of the artery and vein around the fistula. Not going into details.

Operation was done and the patient survived.

Sadly, 12 patients died that day, 13 , if this had not been intervened on proper time.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Poop Pyramid Scheme

Ah, dear reader, prepare your nostrils—and your skepticism—for a tale of agricultural ambition, questionable investments, and the most aromatic get-rich-quick scheme ever to grace Sir Whiskerton’s farm. Today’s adventure stars Mr. Ducky, whose silver tongue (and complete lack of shame) convinces the barnyard that Porkchop’s poop is the next big thing. So grab your shovels (and maybe a gas mask), and join us for The Great Poop Pyramid Scheme—where fortunes rise, pyramids fall, and dignity is always the first casualty.

Act 1: The Pitch

Mr. Ducky waddled into the barnyard with a gleam in his eye and a clipboard under his wing.

Mr. Ducky: “Ladies and gentle-beasts! Behold the future of farming: Porkchop’s Premium Poo! Organic! Sustainable! Profitable!”
Porkchop: [Sniffing the air] “Wait… you mean my—”
Mr. Ducky: “Yes, your waste is literally gold, my porcine friend! Investors will flock!”

He unfurled a badly drawn graph showing exponential growth (and a tiny stick-figure pig grinning atop a poop mountain).

Doris the Hen: “This is disgusting.”
Mr. Ducky: “Disgustingly lucrative! For a small upfront fee, you too can own a share of… The Pyramid!”

Act 2: The Construction Catastrophe

Enter Cecil & Chester, the farm’s most enthusiastically inept handymen.

Cecil: [Consulting handbook] “Page 41: ‘Pyramids: Geometry of the Gods.’ Page 42: ‘Do NOT build monuments from livestock waste.’ Huh.”
Chester: “Pfft. Rules are suggestions! This baby’s structural!”

They constructed a 6-foot-tall poop pyramid, using:

Porkchop’s “contributions” (freshly delivered).
Bessie’s “mood-enhancing” manure (it smelled like regret and patchouli).
A “secret binding agent” (later revealed to be Rufus’s slobber).

As the pyramid dried, it hardened into something resembling concrete.

Chester: [Knocking on it] “See? Solid! …Wait, is it supposed to hiss?”

Act 3: The Grand (Disastrous) Unveiling

The entire farm gathered for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.

Mr. Ducky: “Behold! The Eighth Wonder of the Barnyard!” (He yanked the ribbon. The pyramid quivered ominously.)
Doris: [Squinting] “I don’t trust this. Or you. Or anything that smells like—”

CRACK.

The pyramid collapsed, burying Doris under a wave of wealth.

Doris: [Muffled] “I’M SUING!”
Porkchop: [Tearing up] “I’ve literally never been this valuable before.”
Cecil: [Reading handbook] “Page 43: ‘Liability Waivers.’ Oh no.”

The Moral (and the Post-Credit Cleanup)

Moral: If it sounds too good to be true… it’s probably poop.

Post-Credit Scene:
The worms throw a “Post-Pyramid Party” in the rubble. Their theme? “We Told You So.”

Best Lines:

“It’s structural! …Okay, maybe too structural.” – Chester, architect of doom
“I’ve literally never been this valuable before.” – Porkchop, emotional entrepreneur
“Page 42: ‘Do NOT build monuments from livestock waste.’ Huh.” – Cecil, too late

Starring:

Mr. Ducky (Shady Salesquack)
Porkchop (Unwilling Tycoon)
Cecil & Chester (Disaster Builders)

Why It’s Hilarious:

Absurdity: A poop pyramid as an investment opportunity.
Character Chaos: Doris buried in her own greed, worms throwing shade.
Happy Ending: The farm learns nothing, but the worms get a new compost kingdom.

Now, go forth—and may your investments be less fragrant. 💩💰🏗️

How big is the gap between Russia and the USA in terms of military? Don’t be biased.

Well, the question is better framed as “does either country have the CAPACITY to go to war directly?”

And the answer is a clear no.

Otherwise america would have done so long ago, when Russia was far weaker.

Hypothetically, in a controlled boxing match between individual systems, many US weapons may have the edge over Russian ones, especially if the fight is between frontline units.

But war isn’t a controlled boxing match. War is a fight to the death between doctrines.

What is a doctrine? It is the system of systems integration to deliver controlled and precise firepower to destroy the enemy.

And Russian doctrine is optimized for northern latitudes, and focused on rugged equipment that can be easily repaired, even in remote locations. Russian warfighting also give prime consideration to the long and harsh winter, as well as the ceding of strategic depth to buy time.

US arms are, for the most part, not optimized for the cold and require complex, time-consuming base-level maintenance to keep going. It is doubtful America has the industrial base to supply a large scale conflict given the trouble NATO has supplying Ukraine, with even basic artillery shells in short supply.

Russia has been outproducing NATO and friends in war materiel since 2022.

Logistics is what wins wars and Russia isn’t the warrior nation for nothing.

I don’t see Russia losing a conventional war defending its sovereignty against the US.

A nuclear war will have no winners.

Storm Harvest

Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“

Nicholas Leacock

I was crouched on all fours. Forced to. My hands pressed against the cold, flat limestone ground that represented a perfect microcosm of the entire barren island.All my senses were piqued as I tried to figure out if the gale was done or if it was gearing up for another assault. It had scooped me off my feet and dropped me within three metres of the cliff edge. Mid-air, fear hit me with the cold belief that death was a certainty. A warning? Or was that the extent of its capability? I listened for variations in the howling and whistling, gauging how it buffeted my heavy rucksack, wondering if it was safe to get up and keep pressing on to the drop point.In the forced pause I noticed what was developing in the sky. That’s when I realised—as vicious as the wind’s attack may have been, it was only a harbinger of what was to come.Admittedly, it was somewhat foolhardy to have been so close to the edge. Doubly so to keep pushing on…knowing what was coming. But the reason I’d maintained a flawless delivery record over my five years with The Agency was because it took more than a little adverse weather to stop me. That, and perhaps the aforementioned foolhardiness…or was it dedication? I could never be sure.Reaching one hand back to grab my rucksack provided me psychological reassurance that the package inside was still safe. I rose carefully to my feet and, grabbing my shoulder straps, pushed on across the southernmost tip of the island, parallel to—and now twice as far from—the cliff edge. I guess I wasn’t that foolhardy after all.I had checked the forecast beforehand of course; my mistake was in not checking three. It’s rare, but not impossible, that a gale develops without your chosen weather source knowing about it. Furthermore, we all know of locations resistant to human prediction of atmospheric changes. The Aran island of Inishmaan is one of them. This was unfortunate, I thought, as I glanced at the sky.They call it a thunderhead. A towering flat-topped mass that seemed to be fashioning an anvil for the God of Thunder to bring his hammer crashing down onto. It had to have rebuilt itself in tandem with every step I took along the stark plateau, because I swear it was nothing but a harmless fluffy thing half an hour earlier. Of course, it was mirroring my progression precisely, clearly heading directly to my destination. The cloud was that massive it eclipsed the setting sun, so darkness dropped in twice as fast.My calculations told me I had roughly two kilometres to go, which would feel like four if the wind didn’t ease up. The package wasn’t that heavy, but the belligerent bluster made my rucksack feel like a small boy had stowed away in it. I yanked back the sleeve of my rugged olive parka checking the outsized display on my wrist.Five sixteen. Nineteen minutes to the deadline.Nineteen. I had five times that before my bicycle chain snapped halfway along the planned route. I was forced to ditch the bike and divert off the path (too long to walk), resorting to clambering over dozens of the island’s famous dry-stacked stone walls to implement a ‘short’ cut. Not so bad in essence, except for the wind.Although I was focussed on each hard-earned step, I still noticed the first flashes of lightning in the west out of the corner of my eye. The last lumens of light soon capitulated to darkness, as the atmospheric beast above subdued the entire western panorama above the ocean. Inter-cloud flashes sparked, and jagged arms of light stabbed the ocean.I didn’t care about the rain—my trusty parka was impenetrable—but even if you’d cut me in half at the waist I’d still be the tallest object for kilometres around. Not the best attribute in a thunderstorm. I felt certain I’d reach the drop point in plenty time to shelter, but I still pressed forward even harder against the wind. I’d run if that wouldn’t have made it easier for me to get dashed across the plateau again.With the lashing Atlantic to my left I descended towards the shore on a mix of the odd stepped slabs of rock and finely rubbled slopes. That meant my foot placement had to be extra strategic; a twisted ankle would be a severe setback. I reached behind and plucked my flashlight out of my rucksack’s side pocket, directing the circle of light to the ground.The cloud was invisible now except for bursts of diffuse light and sporadic vein-like extensions thrusting downwards. Lackadaisical cracks and rumbles eventually followed.At the twist of my wrist a low energy blue hue lit up.Five thirty-six. Nine minutes to delivery time. Still no sign of life.I had descended to a point where the cliffs could no longer be called cliffs, drawn to some huge object emerging out of the dark up ahead. It seemed to be down nearer the shore and it swamped me with relief like a friend among strangers. It had to be the drop point. There was nothing else for as far as I could see and I knew the directions pointed to somewhere nearby, right on the coastline. I presumed it was some sort of building, hoped so at least—but then, there were no lights. My flashlight wasn’t powerful enough to illuminate anything yet.As I marched towards it, I considered the strangeness of the job. Normally, extensive instructions were a requirement for a Red Level delivery, but the client—a Dr. Duggan—convinced our order confirmation team that industrial espionage was a real threat. He had sent a paper map by courier asking us not to copy it. I then had to memorise the location. The only other info I got from Matt at dispatch was that the sender was NASA, which we chuckled at.Tastable brine mingled with the faintly scorched air. I was almost at the low rocky shore and the dark structure. I raised the flashlight’s beam but I was still a little too far away. I grabbed my shoulder straps and risked running, making up a few seconds. Clipped strides, heels dug extra hard into the ground. I skidded to a standstill within five metres, the rocks crunching and grating beneath my feet. I felt instantly doubled in weight by what I saw—the ‘building’ was in fact a huge shipwreck.Time check: five forty. In five minutes the deadline would be up, and I couldn’t see any other lights or structures up or down the dark shore.

I was about to fail for the first time ever.

“Dammit. DAMMIT!”

It was no longer about my unblemished record though. I didn’t know what I was carrying, but eighty-two percent of the time a Red Level package meant a life or death situation. I’d never missed one of any level before, not an Orange nor a Yellow. I could blame it on the lack of info, but that didn’t make me feel any better—especially with the recipient being a doctor.

Rain dumped instantly, setting off a metallic pattering on the wreck. I felt the pulse in my neck joining in, battering my jugular. It increased when I heard—

“Are ye planning to just stand there the whole night, Lad?”

I spun around so fast I thought my rucksack would rip off its shoulder straps and slam the stowaway to the boulders. The voice had an echo, so I knew it must have come from inside the wreck.

“Dr. Duggan?”

“We can take care of introductions later. Get in here, would ye?”

I was flustered, but I felt like I’d just resumed breathing after holding my breath for half an hour. I still couldn’t see anyone though, every hole into the hull only pointed to darkness.

“Is that wise? I mean, there’s a vicious storm coming.”

“Is that what all the racket out there’s about? I always knew my doctorate in atmospheric physics was a waste o’ time.”

“Sorry. It’s just…”

“Trust me, Lad. The safest place to be is inside this rust bucket.”

Before I could protest further, a loud SPAKT! sounded, along with a prolonged fizzle on the other side of the ship. It came with a brief flash of light and a dump of rain. The light blazed through half of the rust holes in front of me as if the man had let off a flash-bang grenade inside the wreck. I tried to move, but logic wouldn’t allow it.

This doesn’t make sense!

“Ye don’t want to be outside this ship when the next bolt strikes,” he bellowed, having to do so due to the increasing white noise.

“Where do I enter?” I yelled.

“There’s a hole around port side. Hurry!”

The rain doubled. I pulled my hood up and crouched as I made for the other side of the wreck, as if that would keep me drier. My foot slipped on one of the hundreds of boulders the size of a curled up Labrador that were gathered around the ship.

Another flash, then a boom of thunder that rattled my ribcage, convincing me it would dislodge the seemingly precariously balanced vessel. The wind yanked my hood off; I wrenched it back on again. Rain sliced through the air like rapid repeating guillotines. Boulders shifted or popped away altogether underfoot making me fall shoulder first against the hull more than once.

I slipped through the largest rusted-through hole on the port side. Turning the flashlight on the interior showed it to be an indescribable mess of rusted metal in every shape and size you could imagine. My skin tingled unpleasantly at the idea of tetanus, nostrils overwhelmed by what felt like atomised rust scouring my windpipe.

“Over here.”

I flipped the light in the direction of the voice and was struck with something entirely opposite to the corroded catastrophe to my right. My mouth hung agape taking in lungfuls of ferrous air.

It was a huge black orb formed of hundreds of geometrically perfect black triangular panels that resembled plectrums for massive guitars. The structure hinted at NASA-level precision, materials and form, yanking my eyebrows up at the realisation of what I was carrying. It was suspended by more than twenty cables secured to various parts of the hull’s interior, and that interior had clearly been reinforced. A bearded and bespectacled man was standing at the open door that a short set of steps led up to.

“Dr Duggan?”

“The same.”

Although I had no idea what the orb or its capabilities were, I quickly concluded that this was why he considered it safer inside the ship, because we wouldn’t technically be inside the ship. We’d be protected by an enclosure designed by the same organisation that repeatedly and safely sends humans to space and back.

“We really don’t have time, Lad. If ye’re going to be struck by amazement come do it inside, rather than being struck by lightning outside.”

I swiftly navigated rusted bars and jutting panels. At the foot of the steps, I pulled my sleeve back, tapped the blue screen of my console and held it out toward him. He rested an index finger on it. The blue turned green and beeped.

I climbed into the orb.

Now I was in it I could see it was actually a capsule, not an orb, stretching into the bow of the carcass. The walls and furniture were moulded plastic, all cream and curves with fitted purple cushions. One side of the space was where he slept and ate, lit a faint red. The other side was dominated by a blue-green tinge emanating from dozing laptop screens and other displays and devices I’d never seen before. One green display read, ‘17.2 Kj’.

While I shrugged off my rucksack, the Doctor pulled the steps up the same way you would those of a Lear jet, until they were hanging upside down on the inside of the closed door. He flicked some catches which released the steps from the door entirely. He flicked some more and like magic they transformed into a stepladder. I shook my head and smiled—NASA.

I handed him the cardboard package. It was roughly the size and weight of two encyclopaedias side-by-side. He ripped it open with some urgency then pulled out a triangular object—one that resembled a large plectrum.

“What a sight for sore eyes!” And he smooched it.

Dr. Duggan placed the triangular tile on the top of the stepladder, then climbed up. He reached for the ceiling, opening a hatch I hadn’t noticed was there. I also hadn’t noticed how soundproofed the space was until then—thunder boomed in as if the entire storm had been waiting to squeeze in through the hatch and wreak havoc. He climbed until I could only see his legs, taking the tile up with him.

After a few seconds he cried, “Dammit!”

“Can I help?”

“No ye’re alright, Lad. It’s just…I’ve only got two and a half minutes or so before the ship’s struck by lightning, and these screws are finicky as all hell.”

I frowned and wanted to ask if he was joking. But I’d barely completed the thought before he dropped in the replaced panel, which hit the floor with a thud. It was cracked almost right across. He stepped down, hastily pulling shut the hatch above him and fumbling with the catch.

“Phew! Cut it close there!” I didn’t know who he was referring to.

He checked his watch, holding up the index finger of the other hand. A few seconds passed—then came two sounds. One was a clap, which—given the soundproofing—had to be that of a mythical giant’s hands hovering directly above the wreck. The other sound occurred concurrently, a high-pitched whistle condensed down to two seconds. Every light dimmed, flickered, then settled back to normal. Dr. Duggan smiled and put his hands down. Both fists now clenched, and even his considerable facial hair seemed to bristle, while his eyes brightened. He could’ve been struck by lightning.

“Wait. Did you just predict the time and place of a lightning strike?”

“Awesome, no? Well, I kind of did guide it here. What’s even more awesome is that I’ve just captured nought point one percent of the electrical power of that bolt.”

“I take it that’s a lot?”

“A helluva.”

“That…actually seems impossible.”

“Up until ye brought the new panel…it was indeed.”

“Really? How do you know you succeeded?”

“Well, there’s the fact the lights are still on. And there’s that, “he nodded towards the green display from before. It now read 538.2 Kj. “Five hundred and forty kilojoules,” he sighed, as if recounting how he’d met his first love. “Enough raw power to keep your lights on for months.” He held my shoulders. “Laddie, if ye hadn’t made it here in time, we’d have lost six months of valuable research. That cracked tile took me and NASA by surprise.”

I buzzed with a little—granted, unwarranted—pride.

“NASA. So that’s why the secrecy?”

His enthusiasm waned like the faltering lights did minutes ago. “This location is a closely guarded secret, hence the shipwreck—our competitors have satellite access. The technology I’m working on will benefit more lives than you can imagine. Millions. It being leaked before time would put it in serious jeopardy, hence why you had to sign that NDA before taking this on.”

Standing pretty much to attention, I said earnestly, “You don’t have to worry, Doctor. I’m a professional. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

He smiled. “Your supervisor assured me you’re the most reliable he had…and its for that reason we’d like you to be our sole delivery agent of the next batch of replacements. We got caught out here; that can’t happen again. Nor can we have a recurrence of this at the other eleven sites we’re operating from worldwide.”

“I’d be more than happy to help,” I managed to say, in spite of the huge grin.

We shook hands.

The storm raged on, but rather than the anxiety it roused earlier, I felt calmer as the night progressed.

“You must be famished,” the Doctor said, and flicked a switch. A panel slid aside revealing a well-appointed galley kitchen.

We discussed details over an amazing spaghetti vongole at an electronically slid-out table, while the storm’s muted rumbles dissipated to a barely noticeable level. He revealed that the capsule was actually named C.A.P.S.U.L.E, an acronym for Capture/Analysis Processing System for Utilising Lightning Electricity. He offered little else about the project of course but we talked extensively about the future deliveries. I ended up sleeping over on his sofa while he worked through the night, energised by the day’s successes.

When I stepped out of the hull’s rusted hole in the morning, after bidding the Doctor farewell for now, it was like the C.A.P.S.U.L.E. had transported me to another land. From east to west the entire sky was a sharp blue. The sea lay as still as sheet glass and seagulls glided without a care while an egg yolk sun pierced the horizon.

I grabbed my shoulder straps and started the trek back up the incline toward the clifftops. I glanced back at the wreck. The deep burnt umber mass sat on its bed of starkly contrasting grey boulders. Obvious, yet hidden in plain sight. I smiled. I had perhaps been aa touch foolhardy in my approach, but now, as part of something that would help millions, I knew I could no longer afford to be. I’d made it through the storm, but it seemed there were more adventures to come.

I AM A BLASTED TREE

Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“

HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD

Three times in my life, something has kept me from dying. The first time, I’d been left on a steel table in a bloody basin. The abortion hadn’t worked. Now they were just waiting for me to stop breathing. This I heard from the woman who snuck me out, endangering her own job. The second time was in Germany, the Black Forest. I was lost for days. Something, which I am still not fully aware what it was, found me and eventually led me to safety. A ghost? A spirit. Some ancient Teutonic God? Whatever it was kept me alive for that fortnight. It felt like I was being hunted—but whatever this thing was, it sought to help me, not hurt me. Many times I could feel there was something there, right next to me, but I could never see it. In honor of this thing I got my name changed to Jhäeggr (which means, “Hunter.”) Sometimes I feel that it’s presence was the only thing keeping me from suicide. I don’t think I’m suicidal by nature. But my life’s felt like one long misery. Parts of me were torn off. I have no right arm. Beside this, I experienced severe burns from the saline solution. Extensive scarring has left me quite hideous to behold. I’ve tried really hard to be objective. I’ve seen pictures of John Merrick, the so-called Elephant man. Yes, things could have been a lot worse. I can, at least, look at myself in the mirror without too much trauma. But I expect few others to have such fortitude. I will subject no one to this without good reason.The third time? Well, I was determined there would be no third time. It was not until I began to climb Mount Washington that I fully knew what I was going to do. It was the storm season. There have been a lot of lightning strikes. Even in the icy fog everything was so beautiful. I was tired of fighting it. When everywhere around you, you see guys with their girlfriends, having such a good time—and here you are, thirty-two years old and you’ve never even been goddamned kissed—how the fuck would you feel? Answer me that!I remember seeing some kind of darker shape far above the clouds. It was moving in some kind of way that by no means seemed natural. I saw a tremendous flash of light. I felt electrical pricking all over my body. I felt such a joy—it was finally all over!Except it wasn’t.I awoke in what must have been the strangest hospital room imaginable. I must have survived. There were no trace of electrical burns. Three strangely clad women visited me in succession. They spoke strangely. They told me nothing, other than that I was the first of many and that they had great need of me. What they turned out to be had me fighting with all my strength to escape. The third of the women was alone with me. She started to come on to me, a thing you might imagine has never happened to me. She became more and more insistent. But there was just something that was wrong about it. I may have had fantasies of something like this coming true, but the reality was nightmarish. This was not what I wanted.She was tearing at me and, in a panic I struck out, my left arm flailing. I do have a pretty good left hook.She fell to the floor. Her face distorted from the blow, and half her face rolled to the side of her head.It was no human being who had attacked me! I found my way out of the chamber and ran down deserted corridors. I located a door that let me out into a luxuriant green valley. I ran. I had no idea where I was. At times a bolt of pure lightning would strike from the azure sky. Each time something would appear. I didn’t seem to be the target of these bolts. The first time, a man appeared. He must have leapt an eighth of a mile.The second time an incredible, bat-winged flying machine appeared in mid-air before crashing. It must have been a hundred feet in length. Men emerged from the craft, apparently not greatly injured.If I’d thought the flying machine immense, it was as nothing compared to what the third bolt brought forth. The reptilian creature must have towered some five hundred feet in height. Its cry was deafening. Lightning lanced upon the bony plates lining its spine. Pure fire blasted the valley.I had never run so fast and so far. At last I fell almost senseless by a great white rock. When I came to, I looked at the valley. It nestled between two ranges of mountains. Something did not look right here. It took a moment for it to click into place. The valley extended for what must have been at least fifty miles. But there was no horizon. It just went on an on in a straight line. I was in a gigantic corridor but it was artificial. Before the lightning had struck me I had glimpsed that dark shape in the sky. Was I in some immense craft? The three women had said I was the first of many. Had I already seen three more? And that gigantic creature? It couldn’t be what I thought it was, even though it looked exactly like what I thought it was. And I…and these others? What kind of job would require something like this?And I knew who they all were. The man whose father had injected his pregnant wife with a serum of alkaline radicals—made him a super human. He had challenged God on a mountain top and been struck by lightning.An engineer who had created a steampunk flying machine in the Nineteenth Century. He too had challenged God by flying into the heart of the grandfather of all thunderstorms.

The lizard, it seems, had brought his own lightning to the buffet.

Not a hundred feet from me another bolt of lightning exploded. I was thrown against the white rock. My head cleared and I saw a man appear. He was dressed in rags and tatters. He saw me and swiftly approached.

When he drew near, I was shocked at his appearance. His hair was black and matted. His eyes were yellow and watery. His skin yellow, like parchment. I had no strength left. If he meant me harm I could not fight him. He was as tall as the white rock I’d rested against—a giant of eight feet.

“Do you understand the English tongue?”

I nodded.

“I do not know where I am. I thought I was dead. I should be dead. I went out to die. I know the thunders of heaven struck me. I am a blasted tree. The bolt has entered my soul.”

The creature looked into my eyes. Up this close the full impact of who, and what, I was seeing took my breath away. I could well understand how his creator had recoiled from his creation in horror, calling what he saw hideous. The man was indeed hideous. Yet, I could see there that he had chosen the features for their beauty. But that this thing lived had turned its beauty into ashes.

I tried to cam myself. I had no doubt this being could tear me limb from limb if he wished.

“Were you struck by lightning,” I asked. “Your clothes. There are burnt patches.”

“I have wanted to die. For all I have done I deserve to die. I gathered the wood for my pyre. Fire came from above. I felt its agonies. Wilt Thou burn out all the evil I have done? Let its pain grant me redemption and forgiveness. Let me scream in its agonies as that my suffering may surpass that which I inflicted.”

Lost in his soliloquy, the creature looked at me, seemingly for the first time. His hand stroked my face.

“You, too, are scarred. You are like me.” He leaned in close.

“Are you like me in other ways? Did he make you too?” I could not read the creature’s thoughts, nor gain insight as to his intentions. Did he think I was a second of his creator’s efforts?

The creature shook his head. “No. You have been scarred and flawed, but the hand of God has made you. You need not fear me. Vengeance’ has gained me nothing. I took the life of those who had never wronged me. I have suffered and suffered for the evil I did the innocent, who never did me wrong. You have done me no evil.”

He set his hand on my shoulder and it seemed those eyes looked deep into my soul.

“Will you be my friend?”

I admit I was taken back by this request. I knew exactly who, and what I was dealing with here, though it was impossible for me to understand how these things could be. Certainly, to refuse this request would be perilous. But to accept it without being truly sincere, and acquiescing only out of fear would not do. If I said yes, it must be out of a sincere heart, and not just an attempt to escape death. I had already endeavored to kill myself on Mount Washington—if I die now, I would only be gaining my wish, however belatedly.

The fact is, if the story was true, this man might never had had a friend in his entire life. How like him I felt. There was no need to search my soul. Could I deny to another sufferer that which I had so longed for in my life, and never really had?

I raised my hand to his shoulder. “Of course I will.” And I saw how well his creator had made him, for those tear ducts were now flooded.

We talked for long after that. I had often thought of the story. The monster had often been characterized as evil—yet, was it not his creator’s rejection of, what was without a doubt his own child, that had resulted in those acts he did? Certainly they were wrong. But the creature had long put such intentions far from himself. Indeed, his resolve to destroy his very own self witnessed to the desire to atone.

“What is your name?’

“Jhäeggr. And you?”

“He never even gave me a name. I was so hideous in his eyes that he could not regard me as a child of his labors, but a deserving inhabitant of the dunghill. Though I am unlike all men, and have none of the rights they may call their own—may a man not strive after such wishes? May a man not try to attain what others have by right? May he not be willing to pay a great price for his freedom, though others are freeborn?

“I thought I should call myself Adam, since I, like that first Adam, was created by the hand of his Father. But I was certainly not made in my father’s image, as he was in His. I am truly a monstrous thing. And I should not have been. But was my father not monstrous, who turned away from me in disgust? I was indeed the thing you see, while he was fair, comely and straight. But as I was in visage, he was in heart. So I do my father proud. He has paid for his crimes. I will honor my father, who am so monstrous as was he. I am Victor.”

“That is another way we are alike, Victor. I, too, picked a name for myself.”

“There are many ways we are alike. Our names, which we have chosen. That we have endured terrible scarring. That we both seek a mate and have always been denied. And…you too went out into the frozen wilderness, as did I, to put an end to your life. Why did you seek to do this?”

“I was tired of being alone as I was. Like you, I had no companion—not even friend to lighten my load. You were denied that—but did he not start to build you…?”

“It was all I asked of him. He reneged on our contract. So close it came. Do you understand my rage? Bad enough he brought me into existence and did not take responsibility for me. But to create another, to so lift up my hopes—and then take an ax to her before she had even tasted of life? Hard enough to lose what you did not even know you had—but to see the fruit near ready for the plucking, snatched from your grasp, thrown down and ground down by hateful tread. He declared it was to protect man, he feared what the two of us would do—but what I did far outshone the mightiest of his fears. If anything had ever made me an enemy of the human race, it was that solitary act of murder—torn from my grasp, murdered before she even drew her first breath!”

I had never imagined such depths of feeling. Rage enfolded him like the lightning storm that had embraced me. But in a moment it was gone. And great, wracking sobs overcame him. Though deep down I feared this being and knew not what would follow, I could not deny the fellow feeling. I set my hands on his shoulders. Not even looking at me I knew that never had he had another to suffer with him and be to him a sympathetic ear.

The face that looked up to me was that of a different man. With that deluge of sorrow, and with another to share his grief it was as if he had truly become human. I was not fooled. He had always been human, but enduring unconscionable suffering had driven him near to madness.

He had recovered himself. There was a curious expression on his face. “You, too sought to destroy yourself. But why?”

“I told you. I couldn’t endure the suffering any longer. I had no more purpose to live. It was better I was gone. I would inconvenience no one any longer”

Victor looked at me strangely.

“I should never have been given life. By destroying myself I might atone for what I had done. My ashes might then be of some use to at least fertilize the earth. But what would your death prove? You were no blasphemy to life like I was. God had made you. You are lawful life—yet you wanted to destroy yourself. Help me comprehend this.”

“Victor—my own mother did not want me to be. Months before I should have been born, I was torn out of her womb. This I learned long after. If my own mother didn’t want me…”

“Why then are you still living if they meant to take your life?”

“A nurse found me. I was on the steel table, gasping out my life. She endangered her own job. She snuck me out of there. She gave me a chance.” I did not like the look on Victor’s face.

“And this is how you reward this woman’s sacrifice? You were scheduled to die. Your life was spared.”

“Look at me—look at my face! Who will love me as I am? I haven’t a single hope in hell of that! Do you think I want to keep on living like this?”

I couldn’t conceive how someone that big could move so fast. I didn’t see his arm moving. I felt the blow as he back handed me. I must have flown fifteen feet. The astonishment hurt worse than getting struck.

“Your self-pity disgusts me. You think you’re so hideous? Look up at the face that a creator couldn’t even bear to set his eyes on. Then tell me if you think you’re hideous. I am a blasphemy—but you, you’re life is lawful. You have not the right to take what God’s given you. You would have died had He not put that nurse there. You would have died had not that thing found you in the forest. You would have died had not the lightning taken you to this place like it took me. It took me! It found a use for me! No reason for you to live? You’ve been given a reason! You’re needed for something more important than your own little life. If it wants me, as lawless as I am—how much more you?” Victor’s eyes softened.

“I am sorry I was so hard on you. Give me your hand. I’ll help you up. Do not despair. Someday someone may find you. I found someone a long time ago. It was her I told my story to. No one before her had ever failed to recoil from me in disgust. She could not be the mate I sought—and yet, what she became—that was so much more. If I inspired her—she in turn inspired me. Each, the other’s muse. I will never forget her.

“So if I, who am a monster, was that one time, able to find such a one, dare you think to have less chance than I? Do you think yourself more monstrous?

“Something has brought us both to this place. Chanced us new possibilities. I see it. Can you not see it as well, my friend? Come—let us see what fortune has set our steps upon. There is life in both of us. Let us see what we can make of it. Will you come with me?”

I nodded. Victor was right. Self pity. There was no room for it, not when this great new adventure had opened up the doors. Several miles away I saw another flash of lightning light up the azure sky.

MC HotDog 熱狗 Feat. 艾怡良 Eve Ai 【怨偶 Tough Love】Official Music Video

Burger-Bean Spaghetti Pie

Looking for a dinner pie? Then check out this ground beef spaghetti pie packed with spicy chili beans and three types of cheese – a hearty meal.

Prep: 40 min | Total: 1 hr 5 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

Crust

7 ounces uncooked spaghetti or vermicelli
1 egg
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon chili powder

Filling

1 pound lean ground beef
1/4 cup chopped onion
1 (15 1/2 ounce) can spicy chili beans, undrained
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can zesty diced tomatoes seasoned with mild green chiles, undrained
4 ounces (1 cup) shredded hot pepper Monterey Jack cheese
4 ounces (1 cup) shredded Cheddar cheese

Instructions

Cook spaghetti to desired doneness as directed on package. Drain.
Meanwhile, heat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray a 9 1/2 inch deep dish pie pan with nonstick cooking spray.
Beat egg in large bowl. Add butter, Parmesan cheese and chili powder; mix well. Add cooked spaghetti; toss to coat. Spoon mixture evenly into sprayed pie pan, pushing mixture slightly up sides of pan to form crust.
In large saucepan, cook ground beef and onion over medium heat until beef is thoroughly cooked, stirring frequently. Drain.
Add chili beans and tomatoes; cook for 2 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring occasionally. Add hot pepper Monterey Jack cheese and 1/2 cup of the Cheddar cheese; mix well. Spoon evenly into spaghetti-lined pie pan. Top with remaining 1/2 cup Cheddar cheese.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until filling is set and crust is light golden brown.
Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.
Cut into wedges to serve.

Nutrition

Per serving: 600 Calories, 34g Total Fat, 33g Protein, 40g Total Carbohydrate, 4g Sugars

Why is there not a peaceful solution to Taiwan like the one in Hong Kong?

You have to understand, the last thing DPP wants is peaceful reunification. Before Lai Ching-te, no one called the mainland “foreign hostile force” and vowed tough measures. How much room do you think he left for a peaceful solution?

One more thing you may not know, DPP has never stopped its destructive actions against the mainland.

Recently, the mainland police cracked a case. On May 20th, the Tianhe District Branch of the Guangzhou Public Security Bureau issued a Police Report stating that a technology company in Guangzhou was attacked by hackers. The police immediately launched an investigation. On May 27th, they issued another Police Report stating that there had been important progress in the investigation of the previous hacker attack: the network attack suffered by the company was carried out by a hacker organization related to the DPP authorities. Their “Information, Communications and Electronic Force Command” lanched the attack.

On June 5th, the Tianhe Branch issued a reward notice, offering rewards for 20 key criminal suspects from Taiwan who were involved in carrying out the cyber attacks. Informants providing effective clues to the police, as well as individuals who assist in capturing the relevant criminal suspects, can receive a reward of 10,000 RMB. The issuance of the notice means that this case has been successfully solved.

The crackdown by mainland public security organs on Taiwan criminal groups shows that the public security organs demonstrate very high efficiency in investigating cybercrime, with professional investigative methods. Shortly after receiving reports and issuing alerts, the police quickly conducted investigations, gathered evidence, traced the source, and identified the criminals. This indicates that in combating “Taiwan independence” cybercrime, law enforcement agencies have significant advantages in network technology defense, and are already well-versed in the main personnel, criminal methods, and patterns. For example, information about 4 DPP “internet army” members was previously made public.

The deterrent effect of this law enforcement operation is self-evident. The individuals on the wanted list are just a very small number selectively publicized by the law enforcement department. As long as they dare to continue to act as the “Taiwan independence” network criminal henchmen for the DPP, they will be targeted by the law enforcement department. Once solid evidence of their crimes is established, they will bear the lifelong consequences of judicial accountability.

Inspiration

Beyond the Veil

Written in response to: “Set your story in a place where the weather never changes.“

James Scott

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Pana relished the cool, soothing flow of heavy rainfall upon her waxy skin. The increased tempo of drops, growing from a constant misting to intense deluge over the course of the morning, was most welcome. Silky streams ran all over her body, releasing tension and calming her mind under its familiar, glistening comfort. It also sharpened the curtain of falling water that marked the edge of the known world. Time spent gazing across the border into an alien landscape, festered the lingering anxiety within her chest. No amount of rain could wash away that trepidation. In a last attempt to banish the feeling, Pana raised her face to the forest canopy, allowing water to wash over her transparent inner eyelids and centred herself in what was comfortable and normal.Beyond the veil of cascading rain lay open and clear skies. The blinding blue expanse topped a dry, dirt plain of low grasses that butted harshly up against a lush wall of trees. Those ancient giants, standing like guardians, protected Pana and all she had ever known. Her expedition team had ventured further than any had previously dared, and as a result, had discovered more than even she had bargained for. The abrupt end to the landscape was unprecedented. It had always been assumed that the forest carpeted the entire world. Tall, buttressed trees with enormous waxy leaves supported innumerable species of vine, flowering plants and parasitic life. At ground level, dark loving ferns, mosses and scrub thrived. The sun broke through the layers upon layers of vegetation sporadically and all of it was accompanied by the constant, indisputable falling rain. It was simply, how things were supposed to be. Pana and her teams journey had already thrown that assumption to the wind.“Good Morning Dr. Meya!” Rifer called, dragging her back from her quiet musings. No matter how she tried to escape and find solitude, her faithful assistant always managed to track her down, “Big day today! Are you ready to move forward? The team is waiting and we are all equal parts excited and nervous!”“Morning Rifer,” she replied, politely, as the young man fought his way through the undergrowth to reach her, “Yes, we are to move forward. We must gather as much data as we can before we are forced to return home. There can be no delays.”As he stumbled across the last stretch of uneven ground and clambered up the small rise, Rifer held forward his hand. Despite the weeks they had spent clambering through uncharted forest, he still insisted on the formality of scholars. She took his hand in greeting, as she had every morning. The green of his upper arms was brighter than usual under the heavier downpour, the yellow below equally glistening from the run off. She felt the rubbery pattern of bumps that covered his palms against her own and was impressed with the grip he maintained despite the weather. He had a more common colouring, but beneath it hid a sharp intellect that was not to be underestimated, regardless of his strict adherence to propriety. Her own, uninterrupted, golden hue was more unique and celebrated, much to Pana’s horror. She would have preferred to emerge from the juvenile pools less noticeable and more able to concentrate on her studies, without all the expectation of the public life that accompanied her apparent beauty.“I just wanted to say, Dr. Meya, that no matter how today’s tests go, you have been an inspiration, and I am honoured to have been part of your expedition.”“Jeez, Rifer. You talk as if I’m not coming back. It doesn’t look so different over there. Don’t fret. All will be well. Come, lets rejoin the others and get underway.” Pana replied, attempting to comfort herself as much as the young man.As they arrived back at base camp on long strides, Dr. Pana Meya, head of exploratory research at the ecological institute, rounded up her team and made ready for the greatest leap into the unknown ever attempted by modern science. She knew it was a risk, she knew she should have returned to the institute for approval, but she also knew that this might be her only chance to be the first one on the ground. In the wilds she was in charge. There were no committees, no risk assessments, no young military body to send ahead of her. This was her discovery, and she was determined that it would be her name in the histories, as the first feet to touch ground outside of the rain forests.Finally ready, her stomach a cacophony of insects, Pana stood before the curtain to a new world of clear skies. She had a myriad of moisture sensors attached to her body, the most uncomfortable of which strapped across the webbing of her toes. The biggest fear of all being her drying out under the harsh conditions. A bank of field researchers stood with data pads, ready to record her every movement and Rifer was of course, beside her.“Good luck, Pana.” He whispered, solemn. His fear radiating from him like a bad smell. She place her hand upon his shoulder and squeezed.“All will be well, my friend. This will be a short test and at any sign of danger I will return.” She smiled and he offered a weak replica back. She nodded past him at the rest of the team, locked her eyes forward and stepped up so that her nose almost broke free of the sheeting rainfall. She took a deep breath and a single stride, taking her beyond the reach of the rain for the first time in her life.The first thing to hit her was the blinding light. She had to stagger to a stop and squint her eyes to slits under the harsh gaze of the intense sunlight. Never had she appreciated the protective cover of the trees so much.“Dr. Meya! Are you alright!?” Rifer yelled, “Come back! The sunlight is too strong!”She waved her hand frantically back at him, shaking her head. Forcing her eyes open against the assault, they began to adjust and she could see once more.“It’s alright. I’m okay! It just took a moment to acclimatise. The light is intense but bearable. The air is breathable. It feels inhospitable, but not lethal.”Once she began it was easy to remind herself to vocalise everything she was seeing and feeling. The radio headset she wore would make her words audible to the whole team, who could document her experiences for future endeavours. She went on to describe the tickling blades of multiple short grasses that stroked at her feet, the dry stone that littered the landscape and how the air was abrasive against her skin. She could feel it drying her out quickly and the instruments attached to her limbs confirmed it. Intent on seeing beyond the immediate ridge line, she hastily proclaimed the statement she had prepared,“For all amphibious life I step forward, into the light, so that many generations may follow, turning the unknown into the understood.”Then, living her proclamation, she strode forward at speed.Pana could hear the protests over her headset, but unless they were willing to join her, they could do nothing to halt her advance. Her moisture monitors were already reading into the red, but she had time. Marching up to the ridge line and enjoying the extended walk, she eventually stood proudly upon its edge and gazed down onto another grassy plain below. Her breath caught in her throat, speechless and wasting valuable seconds, until she could bring herself to describe what she saw.“A wide river cuts the plain below. Water…fresh water.”Gasps sounded over the radio, but only one voice put words to the discovery.“We could exist apart from the rainfall. If large bodies of fresh water exist beyond the trees!? This is remarkable! What a discovery! True exploration could be a real option! You were right Dr. Meya, this was worth finding now, it will inform the next expedition far more readily!” Rifer exclaimed.

“Wait. Quiet. There’s more,” she commanded, “Against the river sits a settlement. Rudimentary buildings, some incorporate timber, I see shadows of beings, walking upright as we do. There is intelligent life here! This is…incredible! I…I struggle to put words to the magnitude of this discovery.” Pana said, breathless and gazing out in wonder at the tiny outlines of the creatures below.

“Dr. Meya…Pana! Get back here! Right now! Please. We are not equipped for first contact with an indigenous people. You could be in real danger!” Rifer’s voice, tinged with panic, rang through the headset. Shaking her head, she saw the wisdom in her faithful assistant’s words. She had risked enough. Deciding to turn away did not come without disappointment though. As she took a wise step back toward the cover and safety of the rain forest, movement caught her eye, dragging her vision back to the settlement below. Their body language, pointing and raised voices could not be mistaken, the unknown creatures had seen her. Several were mounting what looked like beasts of burden and moving at speed to intercept her. At the same moment, an alarm on her wrist began ringing out, signalling a dangerously low moisture level in her skin. Time was up.

Fear striking true for the first time, she ran. Pana took long strides, as fast as she was able, back towards the towering trees. She had always been an academic, never excelling in sport and now she suffered for the narrow lifestyle she had chosen. Still she ran with everything she had and as she did so, the moisture levels shown on her monitors plummeted. She did not need them to tell her what was happening. Her skin was growing tight, dry and uncomfortable. Her breath came in gasps, her eyes and mouth felt like sandpaper. She would make it, the water was close enough, but it would be cutting it fine. The life-giving rains would provide, as they always had before, she just had to reach out to their embrace before it was too late. Her pace slowed under the duress; but she forced her legs onward. Fire burned in her underused muscles. The sounds of alien creatures grew louder behind her. After an eternity, she was within reach of the forest. A few more seconds and she would have been safe. It was soul crushing, after the long slog across the foreign landscape, to be cut off by a strange being riding an even more unusual animal on that final push. She stopped dead, noting the long spears the riders held aloft and raised her hands, so close to an unreachable safety.

Despite being accosted by an alien species, Pana could not help but absorb every facet of their appearance for later recording. Each of the beings were of a same colour. It was bizarre. Light brown as an almond and evenly smooth all over. They had sporadic protrusions of hair that was much like the kind that covered small mammals in the forest. Decorated with bird’s feathers, for she did not think they grew from their bodies, and wearing little more than enough to cover their genitalia, these people were as foreign as she must appear to them. They rode four legged beasts of a kind she could not compare, larger than any tree cat or bush pig and they held their master’s high above Pana’s head height. The rudimentary sharp weapons they carried were menacing and there were four of them, all heavily muscled, which was more than enough to hold her academic body frozen in place. She longed to communicate all she saw to those just beyond the cover of leaves and falling water, the wall of which was so agonisingly within reach, but she dared not startle the local species, for fear of their retaliation.

“Monstruo!” One grunted at her.

“Tlaloque!” Another yelled in annoyance at the first.

Her instruments were flashing and beeping increasingly quickly and a pain like she had never felt began creeping across her skin. Never had she gone beyond a few moments without water cascading over her body. Her eyes felt as if they were shrinking in their sockets and her throat was beginning to close. She had to do something, she could not just stand there waiting for them or the sun to finish her. So, she attempted to communicate. Not knowing what they had said, she had intended to introduce herself, to greet them with arms open and initiate first contact on behalf of her entire people. Instead, her throat was so dry, so constricted that all it could do was erupt a hoarse and sudden croaking, followed by a squealing intake of breath.

Clearly alarmed, they did not speak. They did not understand. They did not wait. Something simply thudded into her back between her shoulder blades with a force that knocked her to her knees. She could feel the weight of the spear sticking into the dry air. She did not need to see it. They had assumed her a danger, before she could even present anything different. Shock overtook her body, disbelief and denial rampant through her mind. Only one thing cut through the fog and that was her lifelong pursuit to preserve knowledge. It summoned in her the strength to clear her throat and whisper to her team,

“RUN! WARN ATLANTIS!”

With the words travelling through her headset and to the ears of her fellows, she accepted that she had protected them. Her fate would not become theirs, or any other of her kind, thanks to the data she had gathered that day. With that, she closed her eyes, raised her face to the sky and imagined the comforting cascade of raindrops against her skin. Pana Meya let go of any regret her hubris had brought and chose to revel in the discoveries that would bear her name.

NASA Pulls Off a Miracle: Voyager 1’s ‘Dead’ Thrusters Revived After 20 Years!

Would the Spruce Goose have actually flown, apart from on its test flight? Would it have made it across the Atlantic?

Several years ago a British university programmed the specifications and parameters of the Hughes H-4 Hercules “Spruce Goose” into a flight simulator which had been developed for testing aircraft designs. You can read about it here: Tycoon’s plane ‘could have flown’. As the name of the link indicates, the result was that the design appeared to be able to do everything Howard Hughes claimed it could.

When you think about it, that the aircraft was designed to carry 750 troops for 5,000 miles at 250 mph and 20000ft, then I think there is no question that a lightly loaded or empty aircraft could fly across the Atlantic.

Image source: Spruce Goose May Fly Again to Bring Even More Visitors to Maui {NRL} | Maui Insight

However, there was one problem with the design that the simulator did not replicate, which was that the aircraft’s engines and propellers were not wholly reliable. Hughes had understandably opted to use the most powerful radial engine that was commercially available at the time: the Pratt and Witney R-4360 Wasp Major

[1]

as used on the Boeing 377. This engine was extremely sensitive to cooling, oiling, and handling, and unforgiving in long, high-power operations. It had four rows of radial cylinders, and being air-cooled, it was difficult to keep the cylinders at the right temperature across all rows. Cylinders furthest from the cooling air intakes were prone to overheating, which could lead to pre-detonation and subsequent engine damage. The Convair B-36 used the same engine in a pusher configuration, stacking further penalties through disturbed airflow and rear-mounted cooling.

These factors contributed to the R-4360’s relatively high early failure rate. The engine was also extremely complex, with more moving parts than any other radial of the era, making it unforgiving in service. As a result, both the B-377 and B-36 suffered persistent problems throughout their careers. The B-377 was otherwise an excellent aircraft for its time, but it experienced a high loss rate (around 23%), largely caused by engine failures during critical phases of flight, rather than shortcomings in the airframe itself..

[2]

[Edit 18/12/2025] Also, although the study indicated that the “Spruce Goose” was technically viable, it also showed that it operated with very slim performance margins: climb rates would have been low, performance highly sensitive to weight and conditions. An engine failure during climb would have been potentially critical.

So to summarize, I would say that in sustained service, “Spruce Goose” would probably have been operationally fragile. But at least we know it would have flown.

For those of you who have been following me (not MM) for years, I hope that you consider me as someone who will take his Ls and admit when he’s wrong.

I bring this up because I am increasingly beginning to suspect that I am wrong about the biggest question in Chinese foreign policy: Taiwan.

…

I think that peaceful reunification is in the cards. At least I see a plausible path towards it. Not probable, just plausible.

To be 100% clear, even such a peaceful reunification would be against the wishes of the majority of the Taiwan population. However… when it comes to things that really matter, democracy takes a backseat to the power of the political, economic, and military elites of a country.

What makes me think that a path towards peaceful reunification is possible is this:

KMT chair likely to meet Xi Jinping in mid-March | Taiwan News | Feb. 9, 2026 09:13

—

IT’S DIFFERENT THIS TIME

And yes, I am aware that the chairman of the KMT has met with the head of state of PRC before, twice (2005, 2016).

But this time… it’s different.

In 2026, nobody who is anybody in Taiwan still thinks that the status quo can be maintained indefinitely. The writing is not only on the wall, it is glowing in neon. And when the ship is clearly sinking, the rats start making plans.

Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文), the current KMT Chair is also quite different from her predecessors. Not only is she a recent convert to the Blue cause, she’s also the staunchest supporter of the PRC ever to grace the chair. Her comments make it crystal clear that she is in favor of reunification. This makes her unpopular in Taiwan (and she knows this), but her real audience is in Beijing, not Taipei.

For someone in her position, the only logical move is to facilitate a peaceful reunification favorable to the KMT. She needs to make a deal while Taiwan still has cards to play. If she does nothing like her predecessors, then she will have no leverage when PLA drones block out the sun over Taipei.

—

POPULAR OPPOSITION BE DAMNED

Now… you may ask: “how tf can the KMT pull off a peaceful reunification without the majority support of the Taiwanese people?”

And to that I say: “Easily”.

Or have we forgotten that the Taiwanese people meekly lived under a brutal KMT dictatorship for 40 years? The Taiwanese are not a people with strong knees.

The KMT does not need popular support. They need military support. They need to convince the generals of the ROCA to stand down… and that shouldn’t be a difficult task. These generals know, better than anyone, that resistance is futile. Standing down is the only sure route to survival.

—

ROADMAP TOWARDS PEACEFUL REUNIFICATION

This is the roadmap for peaceful reunification:

KMT Chair Cheng Li-Wen meets with Xi JP in March and the two hash out the terms of KMT’s post-reunification role in Taiwan’s governance.
Cheng takes this offer to the ROCA leadership, secretly, one by one, to get their buy in.
KMT wins the 2028 presidential election, and gains a majority in the Legislative Yuan (this might actually be the hardest part of the plan)
Literally in the middle of the night, the president and parliament shove through a bill that’s effectively reunification. The ROCA stands down, and PLA forces begin to land within days.
Once enough PLA boots and drones are on the ground, it will all be over. The DPP leadership will be arrested. Protests will be quelled. And the KMT will recognize the PRC as the sole legitimate China, dissolving the ROC for good.

—

NOT GREAT, NOT TERRIBLE

Now… is this course of events likely?

No.

Is it plausible?

Yes.

It’s certainly a lot more plausible than 23 million Taiwanese suddenly deciding to join the Chinamaxxing trend and voting for reunification in a national referendum.

—

Would I be happy if this took place?

Somewhat.

I place is #2 in terms of desirability.

The ladder goes like this from most to least desirable:

The PLA invades Taiwan, the Americans and allies join in. China emerges victorious.
Peaceful reunification.
PLA blockade forcing reunification
PLA invasion forcing reunification
PLA defeat against either Taiwan or the US

—

I rank peaceful reunification as more desirable than a 1-to-1 war with Taiwan because such a war will only hurt China’s reputation as a peaceful superpower without proving that China is more powerful than the US. That would be the most desirable outcome.

If China can achieve reunification peacefully, then it can keep being glazed by Leftists around the world for being the good guy alternative to the American Empire. If it were to invade or even blockade Taiwan into submission, that would be very damaging for China’s reputation.

But if China goad the Americans into a war over Taiwan and defeat them… well… that would be fvcking epic.

Day Traders Are Losing EVERYTHING After Bitcoin PLUMMETED

When life drops a bucket of fermented, chunky slop in your path, you have choices

We begin with Trump’s war for Israel…

Well…
Instead of “yet another build up for yet another war”, have anyone considered the possibility that…

A vast majority of American military might is concentrated on the Middle East.

And, as such, other possibilities MIGHT come into play.
Such as…

Instead of attacking Iran, Trump attacks Israel.

And in one fell swoop he gets that “monkey off his back”, looks strong, and ends up stabilizing the entirety of the world.

Ah. In my dreams perhaps.

But it is still a possibility.

And while I am at it, youse guys know that this isn’t going to be another easy-in, goat-herder round-up and presidential seizure.

It’s gonna be different. Really, REALLY different.

Like… (perhaps)

The great American “Waterloo” moment. Where American global military dominance is substantially reduced, Israel, and American interests in the Middle East is in flames, and … wall street, and the great bubbles of modern American life all explode simultaneously.

Real possibilities.
So ignore the Pizza Index. Pay attention to the International behaviors.

Next, I queried the DC.

This stuff you all might be VERY interested in.

Those of you who volunteered for Domain have (De Facto) permitted Domain to upgrade your non-physical body.

Now, well… some of you (not all, but maybe a full third of you who volunteered) have ALSO had a General Purpose symbiote installed just like I have. It’s what happens when you sincerely wish to join Domain, and be part of the Tian Dao (Chinese viewers will understand).

Now, when the Domain considers us as active participants, whether volunteers or regulars, they modify us. They take care of our [1] physical and [2] non-physical bodies. Additionally, for some of this it ALSO means [3] slides and different topographical geometries of our world-line templates.

Apparently some of you have unusually difficult pre-birth world-line templates and that interferes with Domain objectives, so they have changed that.
Also some of you have picked up a bunch on non-physical parasites. These have also be removed or caged.
Also some of you have curses applied. They are removed. No Domain volunteer is permitted to operate under a hex or curse.

Anyways…

Todays’ post discusses the physical changes. No, they did not install a mechanical, electrical or chemical device inside your brain. No, they installed a symbiote; a living biological organism…

The Domain installed a biological creature, specially customized for your use, inside your brain… it is a symbiote.

It is intelligent. It sees and feels everything that you do and know and remembers. It is also connected to the “Domain internet” like a sort of wifi router. You can and should already be, referring to this as Domain Commander or DC.

Here’s from QWen;

A symbiote (more commonly spelled symbiont in scientific literature) is an organism that lives in symbiosis—a close, long-term biological interaction—with another organism of a different species.

The term comes from the Greek words meaning “living together.”

In biology, the larger organism in the relationship is typically called the host, while the smaller partner is the symbiont/symbiote.

Importantly, “symbiont” is the standard scientific term; “symbiote” is less commonly used in biology but has gained popularity through fiction.

Types of Symbiotic Relationships

Symbiosis encompasses several relationship types, defined by who benefits:

Mutualism: Both organisms benefit (e.g., bees pollinating flowers while gathering nectar)
Commensalism: One organism benefits while the other is neither helped nor harmed (e.g., barnacles on whales)
Parasitism: One organism (the parasite) benefits at the expense of the host, which is harmed

Note: In strict biological terms, all three are forms of symbiosis—not just mutually beneficial relationships as sometimes mistakenly assumed in casual usage.

Pop Culture Usage

The term “symbiote” became widely known through Marvel Comics, where it refers to a fictional species of alien organisms that bond with hosts (typically humans) to form merged entities.

The most famous example is Venom, which first appeared in Secret Wars (1984) when an alien symbiote bonded with Spider-Man before later attaching to Eddie Brock.

In Marvel lore, these symbiotes originate from the planet Klyntar and form a merged consciousness with their hosts.

Terminology Note

Biology: Prefer “symbiont” (e.g., gut bacteria are symbionts of humans)
Fiction: “Symbiote” is standard in Marvel Comics and related media
Both terms refer to the same concept linguistically, but usage differs by context

In summary: scientifically, a symbiote/symbiont is any organism engaged in a sustained cross-species partnership—beneficial, neutral, or harmful—while in popular culture, “symbiote” typically refers to Marvel’s fictional alien lifeforms.

END of the QWen AI report

Woo Woo!

And you know what?

Yeah. You can talk to it.

And if you think you have been conversing with the DC or Domain, chances are that you are using your symbiote. And talking to it directly. Which is what I do.

It works, and it is really a much butter system for all of us.

Some Notes

If installed, it can never be uninstalled. Trying to do so will kill the host; you.
The symbiote is a lab-grown mass-produced general purpose entity that serves Domain as a node for information collection. As such the General Purpose version is initially designed for Commensalism: One organism benefits while the other is neither helped nor harmed (e.g., barnacles on whales)
However, as volunteers the symbiote that you have installed is of a different type. They took the General Purpose symbiote and modified it to be (more or less) like mine. So it’s role is for guidance, support, information retrieval, and advice for YOU. It is thus following the Mutualism role: Both organisms benefit (e.g., bees pollinating flowers while gathering nectar).
Note that not only can you talk with it but it can do other things, and with practice you can have all kinds of cool abilities. Like, for instance, looking at a map and having your “minds eye” generate “hot spots” to determine x, y, or z. I’ve done this, by the way.
It accesses the Domain “intranet” as a sort of a wifi router in addition to the abilities that I have already mentioned. And you can find out all kinds of stuff. Their internet is much, much larger and much, much older being thousands of centuries old. And it spans the universe. The symbiote will help you sort though that jungle.
Now, the symbiote works and processes faster than your brain does. So, what I often do is get in a quiet room with privacy and make vocal queries addressing the DC by either “DC” or my assigned name to it. Now, I get answers BEFORE I fully compose my thoughts and certainly much faster than the words coming out of my mouth.

End Notes

Check to see if the symbiote is installed

Finally… this is the check to see if you have one of these installed.

You’ll know If you ask a question (in a quiet place, undisturbed) to the DC, and directed specifically to the DC, and…

[1] the answer (to a question) comes to mind (To your mind. Not to your ears.)

It happens [2] before you finish formulating the sentence.

If so, then CONGRATULATIONS you have a symbiote installed.

End Check

As I said in my video, as to how it (this system) works…

Though, you know. My symbiote arrangement is slightly different (than yours), and is modified by my MAJ hardware. The ELF probes are a MAJestic issue, and doesn’t concern any of you.

How it was installed

For those of you that have this hardwired physical addition, note that it was added during an “abduction process” that occurred at night while you (and those around you were sleeping).

A portal opened up in your bedroom. Those around you were put in sleep stasis. You were carried off to the operation / medical center. The Symbiote was inserted, and final tune-ups were completed, and that’s that.

End installation notes

Oh. Guys.

Pleasse, please, please refrain from asking me “is it me? Am I one of those followers?”.

Run the test stated above. And do not be insulted if you do not have one installed. Apparently, there is a “standing list” of candidates that are not YET ready but are on the schedule rounds. It’s a matter of timing, scheduling and accessibly.

Not everyone is in the right place, the right time, and in the right conditions.

If you are one of the volunteers and have been really sincere about it, the chances are that yes, YOU are one of the implanted. If not now, you will be.

So “cool your jets” and forget about it.

Apparently, I am not privy to this kind of information. It’s personal and confidential. All I get is well… Just general input. I just wanted to tell you all about this. Nothing more.

Ugrades

But I do want to add, once you are on this roster, you will WILL have periodic physical and non-physical upgrades, and will be taken cared of.

It will be like an old car that is prized by the owner and gets routine oil changes, tire rotations, and interior detailing every month.

Maybe you’ll start looking like MM.

A old ’53 Cadillac with an interior that looks like new.

LOL

End Upgrades

So do the check mentioned above. If you are one already implanted, then congratulations. In later posts I will discuss how to query the DC on your own.

Ok. That’s enough for now.

Oh… postscript… I’ve give some hints and tricks on comm with your DC symbiote. I’ll give them to you all later in the year.

Oh… postscript #2. One of my Chinese followers (I do not know who, so do not ask.) is going though some confusion and difficulty at this time. Not telling me, of course. But I know. Domain has installed a custom tailored symbiote for that person specifically designed to handle his current issues and also advise and “clear the room” for some very great (positive) “reward” experiences in the long term future. This was installed in April 2025. FYI.

Today…

How do engineers and crew handle the intense conditions when a carrier is pushed beyond its usual operating limits during sea trials?

The most surreal moment during a supercarrier’s sea trials isn’t the launch of a jet or the roar of the reactors; it is the moment you realize that 100,000 tons of steel is doing a drift like a rally car.

When a carrier performs high-speed rudder swings (often called “S-turns”) to test its tactical maneuverability, the experience inside the ship is a blend of physics-defying sensations and rigorously disciplined procedure.

The primary sensation is the “heel.” A carrier is effectively a floating airport with a high center of gravity. When the helm commands a hard-over turn at 30+ knots, the ship doesn’t just rotate; it leans. And it leans hard.

To the uninitiated, the tilt feels catastrophic. If you are standing on the flight deck, the horizon suddenly slashes diagonally across your field of view. The deck, which is usually as stable as a parking lot, becomes a steep ramp. You aren’t walking anymore; you are hiking uphill or braking downhill.

Below decks, however, is where the real discipline kicks in. The crew handles these extreme conditions through a mix of aggressive preparation and nonchalance.

1. “Secure for Sea”
Long before the captain orders the rudder over, the “Secure for Sea” order is passed. This is not a suggestion. In a city-sized ship filled with heavy machinery, loose objects become missiles during a high-speed turn.

In the mess decks, ketchup bottles, trays, and industrial coffee urns must be lashed down.
In the hangar bay, aircraft are chained to the deck with double the usual number of tie-down chains.
In the berthing areas, sailors wedge their gear into lockers. If you leave a laptop on a table during a rudder swing, it will slide across the room and shatter against the bulkhead.

2. The “Skid”
Engineers monitoring the propulsion systems feel something different: the skid. Because of its immense mass, a carrier doesn’t turn on a dime; it slides through the water. The stern kicks out violently. The four massive bronze propellers (screws), each roughly 20 feet across, are churning millions of gallons of water, fighting the drag of the hull. The vibration is intense. It feels less like a boat and more like a low-frequency earthquake that rattles your teeth.

3. The Human Gyroscope
For the crew, life continues at a 15-to-20-degree angle. You will see sailors walking down a passageway at a comical slant, effectively walking on the corner where the floor meets the wall. It looks like a scene from the movie Inception. Veteran sailors don’t even break stride; they unconsciously adjust their center of gravity. They continue eating, typing, or turning wrenches, adapting to the new “down.”

The Engineering Reality
While the crew manages the tilt, the engineers are hunting for weakness. These trials are designed to break things. They want to know if a pipe weld will crack under the torsion of the hull twisting. They want to see if the main bearings on the shaft overheat when the rudder creates massive drag.

Dozens of inspectors roam the engineering spaces with vibration analyzers and thermal cameras. They are listening for the “groan”—the sound of structural steel flexing. If a steam line is going to rupture, they want it to happen now, with the shipyard experts on board, rather than six months later in the middle of a combat deployment.

The intensity of these trials is psychological as much as physical. You are trapped inside a machine being pushed to its absolute theoretical limit. But for the crew, the chaotic tilting of the world is offset by the calm voice of the Officer of the Deck over the 1MC (intercom), counting down the degrees of the turn, confirming that the leaning tower of steel they call home is doing exactly what it was built to do.

The Slow-Motion Slop Spill of Shame (7D004)

Ah, dear reader. Prepare not your nose, but your patience—for today’s tale is one of velocity, viscosity, and the profound philosophy that sometimes, the only way through a mess is… very, very slowly. This is a story of dignity lost, science found, and the unexpected art that can emerge when chaos is given enough time to settle.

I. The Catalyst: A Bucket of Regret

It began, as all great agricultural tragedies do, with a bucket.

This was no ordinary bucket. It was the Weekly Slop Bucket, a culinary homage to all things fermented, forgotten, and faintly chunky, destined for the compost heap. Chef Remy, in a fit of “zero-waste zeal,” had outdone himself. This batch held a particularly mature bouquet.

The bucket sat, innocently enough, on the edge of the stone path that bisected the barnyard. Its placement was a mistake. Its existence was a choice.

The agents of destiny, however, were not rushing. They were The Dancing Turtles—a trio of elderly box turtles named Waltz, Tango, and Foxtrot. They believed all of life was a grand, stately ballroom, and they moved through it with a pace that made glaciers seem impulsive. Today, their chosen dance was the “Sunbeam Sashay,” a complex maneuver involving a slow pivot toward the warm patch by the water pump.

Their path, fatefully, went past the bucket.

II. The Spill: A Drama in Three Acts

Act I: The Tip. Waltz, leading the formation, did not see the bucket. His shell grazed its base. The bucket wobbled. Not with a quick clatter, but with a long, ponderous, oooooh-no kind of teetering. It seemed to consider its options.

Act II: The Pour. With a final, sighing surrender, the bucket tipped. Its contents did not splash. They glooped. A tidal wave of foul-smelling, lumpy, ochre-hued slop began its inexorable spread across the stone path, moving with the relentless grace of a very disgusting glacier.

Act III: The Witness. This was the moment Doris the Hen rounded the corner, her clipboard clutched to her chest.

Time stopped. For Doris, anyway.

Her eyes widened. Her comb flushed from pink to a spectacular, scandalized scarlet. She drew in a breath so deep it caused a localized drought.

“THE VISCOSITY OF THE HORROR!” she shrieked, a sound that could etch glass. “THE STENCH! IT HAS NOTES OF REGRET AND LEEKS! I SEE MY ENTIRE DRAMATIC LIFE FLASH BEFORE MY EYES! THE UNFINISHED SCRIPTS! THE BAD REVIEWS! THE—“

She executed a perfect, feathery pirouette and fainted directly into a clean pile of hay, one wing flung dramatically over her brow.

III. The Aftermath: Science and Slowness

The spill was now a fact. A large, odorous, spreading fact.

It was at this juncture that Professor Quentin arrived, drawn by the scream. Where others saw disaster, he saw data. He whipped out his notepad, his wild hair quivering with excitement.

“Remarkable!” he cried, as his long-suffering assistant, Egor the Sullen Newt, trudged up behind him carrying a toolbox. “Observe, Egor! The slow, laminar flow! The way the carrot chunks act as non-Newtonian islands in a shear-thinning fluid! This isn’t waste; it’s a physics seminar!”

Egor sighed, a bubble forming and popping at the corner of his mouth. He opened his toolbox and selected the most impractical tool imaginable: a tiny, silver demitasse spoon. He began attempting to scoop the vast lake of slop, one infinitesimal spoonful at a time. It was an act of profound, cynical performance art.

But the true spectacle was the turtles.

Unfazed, perhaps even inspired, by the new terrain, Waltz, Tango, and Foxtrot had entered the slop. They were committed to their Sunbeam Sashay. A single step now took a full fifteen minutes. As each foot lifted with agonizing, majestic slowness, it left behind a perfect, detailed print of slop-goo, a fossil record of determination.

“The… dance…” Waltz wheezed, his head extended one millimeter. “Must… con-tin-ue…”

IV. The Philosophy of Gross-Out Zen

I observed from the safety of the fencepost. Panic? That was Doris’s department. Futility? Egor had that covered. Analysis? The Professor was awash in it.

What was needed was perspective.

“Behold,” I said to the gathering crowd of appalled chickens and curious sparrows. “Do not see a mess. See a process. The turtles have not encountered a disaster; they have encountered a challenge of tempo. They are achieving a state of Gross-Out Zen. They are so profoundly, slowly in the mess that they have transcended it. They are not in slop; they are performing ‘The Ooze Ballet.'”

As if to prove my point, Tango executed a half-pivot. It took three minutes. The resulting slop-swirl was oddly elegant.

A snort came from the haypile. Doris was awake, peeking. She saw Egor spooning. She saw the Professor scribbling. She saw Waltz, frozen mid-stride like a slop-golem. A giggle, unbidden and entirely undignified, hiccupped out of her. Then another. Soon she was cackling into her wing, her dramatic fury melted away by the sheer, overwhelming absurdity.

“His… face!” she wheezed, pointing at Egor’s expression of profound spoon-related despair. “He’s measuring the hopelessness!”

V. The Artifact and the Acceptance

By the time the sun began to dry the edges, the slop-patch had been transformed. The turtles’ slow-motion pilgrimage had traced a swirling, intricate pattern across the stones. And there, in the center, where Foxtrot had paused for a seven-minute rest, the slop had settled into a lumpy, but unmistakable, silhouette—a perfect, if somewhat pungent, profile of yours truly, complete with one perked ear and a look of detached observation.

“Slop Art!” declared Professor Quentin. “A new medium! Egor, fetch my camera!”

The mess was not cleaned so much as it was… curated. The farmer eventually hosed it away, but not before the whole farm had come to see the “Slow-Motion Slop Mandala.” The turtles, finally reaching the sunbeam, slept the deep, triumphant sleep of artists who had suffered for their craft.

Doris, recovered, wrote a one-act play about it titled “The Viscous and the Victorious: A Tragedy in Slow Motion.” It was her first comedy.

Moral of the Story: When life drops a bucket of fermented, chunky slop in your path, you have choices. You can scream. You can faint. You can try to spoon it away with futile tools. Or, you can take a lesson from the turtles: accept the new, terrible terrain with glacial calm, move through it with deliberate grace, and trust that given enough time, even the most disgusting mess might dry into something worth a photograph, a laugh, or a surprisingly good likeness.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Professor Quentin is trying to convince Egor to recreate the event with “controlled variables” (and a fresh bucket of slop). I believe my presence is required elsewhere. Very, very far elsewhere.

Jingle on. And watch your step. The dance floor of life is sometimes stickier than it appears.

A TikTok Woman Melts Down Over Her Own Dating Standards

Why does China gain when they make more electrical cars?

The effect is quite evident.

Some 2015 vs 2025 pictures in Beijing.

Also it pushes for innovation in cars.

Cars have become so much better and cheaper since the world’s factory joined the game.

Perfect Burger Recipe

by Natasha Kravchuk | Updated Jun 11, 2025
- 233 comments

There’s nothing like a juicy homemade cheeseburger with a juicy patty and fresh crisp toppings on a toasted bun, smothered with an irresistible burger sauce. Out of a deep love for hamburgers, I’ve tested tons of recipes over the years, and I’m convinced it doesn’t get any better than this recipe.

Watch my video tutorial and read on to see my best tips for making a perfect restaurant-style burger with the juiciest patty you’ll sink your teeth into.

Cheeseburger with sauce, lettuce, tomato, onion and toasted bun

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my disclosure policy.

Helpful Reader Review

“These are seriously the best burgers I’ve ever had!! Who could’ve guessed with burgers the simpler the better? I followed all your tips and they turned out so juicy and flavorful! My husband (who is an honest food critic) enjoyed every bite! Thank you!” – Mare ★★★★★

Hamburgers Video

My family loves burger recipes from our Cheeseburger Sliders to Hamburger Soup, but we make these classic burgers most often. Watch the video tutorial and learn how to make the ultimate grilled burgers

The Best Burger Recipe

The most important tip for making the perfect burgers is to keep it simple. You don’t need a bunch of mix-ins, or you’re just masking the flavor of the beef. Remember it’s not a Meatloaf, but a burger.

I’ve ordered burgers from countless restaurants, from nicer steak houses to fast food, and I always come back to these homemade cheeseburgers. Making your own patty from scratch will produce the best, juiciest burger. Follow my tips below, and you will be known for making the best hamburgers!

Burger Toppings

You want all of your toppings ready to go to assemble the hamburgers when the patties are hot and ready. Toast the buns and prepare toppings first, then cook burger patties. When building a perfect burger, pick toppings that will add appealing texture, color, and flavor.

Sliced cheese (our favorite is thick-sliced, medium cheddar)
Dill pickle slices
Fresh red onions (or caramelized onions)
Tomato
Green leaf or iceberg lettuce,
Avocado
Bacon + pineapple + the BBQ sauce below
Jalapeños to add some heat

Classic burger toppings with buns, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, pickles, red onion and sauces

What are the Best Hamburger Buns?

Homemade Hamburger Buns – our top choice for flavor and texture
Potato Buns – If you prefer a softer texture
Pub-Style buns – soft, tall, restaurant-style
Classic Sesame Seed Buns – inexpensive and classic
Brioche Bun – has a sweeter flavor
Pretzel Buns – denser but least likely to get mushy
Lettuce Bun – this is my personal favorite when I’m watching my carbs – wrap in an iceberg lettuce ‘bun’ and it’s so crisp and refreshing.

How to Make the Best Hamburger Patties

Use Ground Chuck Beef (80/20) – grind your own or buy it ground, but 20% fat is ideal, and keep it refrigerated until you’re ready to use it.
Don’t overwork your meat – this will make it tough and dense.
Shape the patties 1” wider than the bun since they shrink on the grill.
Make an indentation in the center to prevent it from puffing up.
Season at the last minute – Salt draws out liquid, changes the structure of proteins, and toughens burgers, so don’t season your beef until you have formed your patties and are ready to start grilling
Get a good sear – Once on the grill, let patties brown and sear well (3-5 min) before flipping, and do not press down on the burger – save that for making Smash Burgers.

Natasha’s Tip for the Ideal Patty Size

Since beef patties shrink as they cook, I’ve found that using 1/3 lb of beef for each patty will give you a more hearty and substantial burger. Smaller 1/4 lb patties tend to be either too flimsy/skinny or too small for the bun.

Formed burger patties with indent in center

How to Tell When Burgers are Done?

Whether you are working with fresh ground beef or fully thawed, the recommendation is that cooked patties should feel firm to the touch and be cooked to the USDA-recommended 160˚F on an instant-read thermometer. I pull them off the grill at 155˚F and let them rest for 5 minutes.

Can I Cook Hamburgers on the Stovetop?

Yes! Most restaurants cook on a cast iron skillet. Heat the skillet over medium/high heat and add just enough high-heat cooking oil to lightly coat the bottom. Once the oil is hot, add the burger patty and sauté for 3 to 5 minutes per side, the same way you would on a grill, cooking to a safe internal temperature of 160˚F on an instant-read thermometer.

How to Make Cheeseburgers

There are differing opinions on how to build a burger. My husband’s first job was at Chilis restaurant, where he learned how to put together a restaurant-style burger. Here is how the pros assemble their burgers:

Sauce – Apply a generous amount of sauce to both buns (see below for our favorite burger sauces).
Toppings – Place pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and red onion onto the bottom bun.
Patty – Place cheesy burger patty over the veggies and cover with the top bun.

How to assemble burgers with buns, sauce, pickles, lettuce, tomato, cheese, onion

The Best Burger Sauce

We love a good aioli (flavored mayo) for burgers. These are super easy to whip up and have impressive flavor. The adult favorite around here is the BBQ aioli (mayonnaise plus BBQ Sauce), while my kids’ favorite is “Fry Sauce.” Experiment and make them all for a seriously impressive (but easy) burger sauce spread!

homemade burger sauce combinations chart

Make-Ahead and Storage

Form Patties Ahead: Shape your beef patties, press a dimple in the center and stack between sheets of parchment paper (these pre-cut papers are convenient). Stack raw patties in an airtight container and refrigerate for 1-2 days. You can also store cooked patties in the refrigerator for 3-4 days.
To Freeze Patties – You can freeze the beef patties either raw or cooked. Use a sheet of parchment paper between each patty to prevent sticking and freeze up to 1 month (any longer than that and ice crystals can form, which can affect texture).

I hope this Homemade Burger Recipe becomes a new favorite for you. Over the years, we have tried various burger recipes – from stuffed burgers to different beef mix-ins and seasonings – but we keep coming back to this classic hamburger.

Perfect Hamburger Recipe

4.99 from 152 votes

Author: Natasha Kravchuk

The Best Burger Recipe! Sharing our secrets for making restaurant-quality hamburgers, from the juiciest burger patties to the best buns and burger sauces.

Prep Time: 20

Cook Time: 10

Total Time: 30

Ingredients

Servings: hamburgers

Burger Ingredients:

2 lb ground chuck beef, (80/20)
fine sea salt, to taste
freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Classic Cheeseburger Toppings:

6 burger buns
6 slices medium cheddar cheese, (thick sliced)
1 large tomato, sliced into 8 rings
12 leaves green leaf lettuce
1/2 medium red onion, thinly sliced into rings
1/2 cup dill pickle slices

Instructions

Prepare Toppings – Slice and prepare all of your burger toppings and sauces.
Toast Buns – Spread the cut-side of the bun with softened or melted butter and toast the cut side on a skillet or on the grill until golden brown. You can toast the bun ahead or in the last couple of minutes with the burgers on the grill. Toasting the bun adds great flavor and prevents a soggy bun.
Prepare Beef Patties – Preheat grill to medium heat. Divide ground beef into 6 portions (1/3 lb each) and form patties that are about 1/2″ thick and 1″ wider than the burger buns. Season patties generously with salt and pepper.
Grill hamburger patties (indent-side-up) covered for 3-5 min each side on the grill. Flip burgers when juices are accumulating on top of the burger and you have a good sear. Apply cheese in the last 1-2 minutes of grilling then cover with the lid and cook until the internal temperature of beef reaches 155˚F for a final temperature of 160˚F on a thermometer. Rest the patties 5 minutes before serving.

Notes

How to Make Burger Sauces:

BBQ Aioli: 1/3 cup mayo + 1 tsp BBQ Sauce (we love sweet BBQ)
Mustard Aioli: 1/3 cup mayo + 1 tsp yellow mustard
Dijon Aioli: 1/3 cup mayo + 1 tsp dijon mustard
Fry Sauce: 1/3 cup mayo + 1 Tbsp ketchup

Nutrition Per Serving

581kcal Calories29g Carbs32g Protein36g Fat

Course: Main Course

Cuisine: American

Keyword: burger recipe, cheeseburger sliders, hamburger recipe, hamburgers

Skill Level: Easy

Cost to Make: $$

Calories: 581

Formosa: Only White, No Red

Written in response to: “Write a story that includes the line, “Is nobody going to say it?”.“

Pei Pei Lin

08.08.1949 (Mon)A stranger was in our living room when I came home from school today. Auntie A-Mei told me he is the youngest son of a government official, “Your Father owe his Father big time, that why he here now.” She told me. I didn’t understand what she meant until dinner time when Father announced at the table that Shi-Xing, the stranger’s name, was going to stay with us for a while. He is taking a break from university, and his Father has decided that he needs some time to unwind and relax in the countryside.“A-Xing,” Father seemed quite close to him already, “Make yourself at home. I am no fancy city person, but my house is well-equipped. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let either A-Mei or A-Dong know, and they’ll take care of you.”“Thank you, shu-shu.” His voice is soft and deep, with a slight scratch. “And thank you all for welcoming me here.”“He is so tall,” Yu-Jie whispered into my ears. Ever since someone told him he should expect a growth spurt soon, he’s been quite sensitive to people’s heights, especially men’s.“His neck is like a giraffe’s,” I whispered back, and we shared a giggle that made Mother shush us.“How come he gets a break from his studies?” I asked Auntie A-Mei. I, for one, would also like to take a break from my studies.“Oh, I no know,” She was combing my hair and getting ready to put me to bed. “City people have woes, I guess.”I suppose that makes sense. Father always talks about how it’s a blessing to live in the countryside during a time like this; it’s almost a sanctuary from all the happenings in the world.08.09.1949 (Tue)I was shocked to find Shi-Xing reading in the garden this morning. I thought the whole point of taking a break from studying was not having to read anything.“Good morning,” I was a little annoyed that he was sitting on my favorite bench, “Auntie A-Mei said breakfast is ready.”“Oh,” He looked up at me, his eyes pierced through his gold-rimmed glasses. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.”“Why are you reading?”“Why?”“I thought you are taking a break from studying.”He chuckled.I hated that. It made me feel like a little girl. So I turned around and walked straight to the dining room.After breakfast, as I was getting ready in the foyer, he walked over to me and said, “I hope that I didn’t offend you earlier. I didn’t mean to laugh at you or anything.”“But you did.”“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” His smile was timid and appeasing.“Okay.”“Heading out to school? What year are you?”

“I graduate next year.”

“If you need any help with schoolwork, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“I’m not a little girl. I can handle my schoolwork.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant; I meant, you know, if you ever, not that you would, but sometimes…” His face started to turn red, which was immensely satisfying to watch.

“It’s okay,” I spared him. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you, but I gotta get going now.”

“Right. Have a good day!”

I secretly glanced behind me as I started walking and saw him looking at me with melancholic eyes.

What a broody person.

08.10.1949 (Wed)

This morning, I found Shi-Xing on my favorite bench again. He was staring into the pond and seemed deep in thought.

“Good morning,” I said it as gently as possible.

“Oh, good morning!” And yet, it still startled him.

“Are you going to be here every morning?” I asked.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s just…I usually come here in the mornings as well. And that’s my favorite bench.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He jumped up. “Please take over.”

I sat down and watched him walk closer to the pond. His figure cast a lengthy shadow onto the water.

I suddenly felt a little guilty. “You can sit, too.” I scooped to the side of the bench. “It’s big enough for sharing.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, and I noticed his dimples for the first time.

Sitting side by side on the bench with him, I felt this enormous energy beside me that made me anxious. I secretly peeked at him, only to find he was also looking at me. My face turned hot so fast that it propelled me to stand up abruptly. “I believe breakfast should be ready now,” I said to the ground between us and tried to walk away as non-nonchalantly as possible.

It was probably unsuccessful.

08.11.1949 (Thu)

I made sure I was early enough to be at the bench before him this morning. I sat and admired the pond like I usually do. After five minutes, I started to feel disappointed that he was not there yet, and then I felt silly. Why do I care? I now have the whole bench; it’s just how I like it. But when he finally walked over and greeted me, I felt this warmth and giddiness in my stomach, similar to the nerves I’d feel before a big exam. He brought his book today. It was a book of ancient poems.

“I read so I can stop thinking about my own worries. And this is not about law, so it’s not really studying.” He remembered what I asked him the first day.

“Who is your favorite poet?” I felt eager to show my knowledge of the subject.

“Well, it might be corny, but I favor Li Bai.”

“Really? I prefer Su Shi myself.”

“He was also magnificent. His artistic conception is unlike any other, so freeing and heroic.”

“Yes! Remembering Chibi was a masterpiece! He had a way of translating emotions into words and didn’t need to drink himself to death for it!”

Shi-Xing’s face cringed, and I realized I said too much. “I’m sorry, Li Bai was a real master. I just meant…”

“It’s alright.” He smiled again; It soothed me. “I think Li Bai drank because he was so misunderstood by his political regime. He had such ideals but couldn’t help make his world a better place.”

His smile turned bitter, and his eyes were again filled with melancholy.

We sat in silence until Auntie A-Mei came to get us for breakfast.

08.13.1949 (Sat)

For the past two days, Shi-Xing and I have been sitting together on the bench in the mornings. He seemed to lighten up more each day and started sharing more of his life stories. He was the youngest son and had always felt he was living in the shadows of his siblings. Even when he got accepted into the National Taiwan University, the top-ranking university, his father only patted his shoulders gently since his two older brothers were already top-notch students there. And with only one year in, his father decided that he had fallen with the wrong crowd and thus sent him here to the countryside with us.

“Wrong crowd? But you guys are in the best college.” I was confused.

“To my father, the wrong crowd is anybody that doesn’t share the same political opinion as he.” There was a pang of anger in his voice.

“So he sent you here for some re-education and reform? Should you be helping A-Dong out with some labor work?”

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“I’m sorry,” I felt reprimanded.

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” He sighed. “We live in such an odd and turbulent time, don’t we?”

“Yes.” I just wanted to agree and appease him.

“What’s your day like today?” He changed the subject.

“Same old, school. Oh, there’s an anti-communism rally at my school later in the afternoon. I think I’ll join…want to come with?”

“There are anti-communism rallies in high schools here?”

“Yes, we are not children. I’m not that much younger than you, you know?”

“Oh no, I meant no offense. I just didn’t expect these activities here in the country. You don’t see the propaganda posted everywhere, like in Taipei City, so I just assumed…”

“That we don’t care? No. And I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to call the posters that.”

“Right.” Suddenly, he turned his sharp eyes toward me as if he wanted to look right through me. “Do you truly believe in those messages?”

I was speechless. I don’t think I ever thought about this question or what my beliefs actually are.

“I’m going to go to breakfast.” I was embarrassed and started to walk off.

Suddenly, he stood up and grabbed my arm. “Please just remember,” his soft, firm voice rang through my whole body. ” Never fall into anything blindly. ALWAYS think for yourself.”

08.21.1949 (Sun)

It’s been about two weeks since Shi-Xing came to live with us. Every morning, we would sit together on the bench and chat. I hate to admit it, but it has quickly become the highlight of my days. We chat about everything, from how Auntie A-Mei always overcooks the vegetables and how Mother babies Yu-Jie, to the novels we read and the letters we wrote to our friends.

I like the way he looks at me, and his eyes always sparkle when he shares his ideas and stories with me.

I often asked about his Taipei city life, but that was the one subject he remained reserved about. I’ve only visited Taipei once before, and I was amazed by the number of people on the streets and the endless types of goods people sell. I’ve always wanted to visit again, and maybe Shi-Xing could take me there one day. That probably would be so much fun. I would put on the new dress that Mother had it made for me, ask Auntie A-Mei to braid my hair nicely, and maybe even put a little rouge on my lips.

08.23.1949 (Tue)

My uncle paid us a visit today. As always, he came bearing lots of gifts for us. He greeted Shi-Xing warmly and asked about his family. But when he started to ask him about his studies and university life, his expression changed, and then my uncle pulled him to the garden to chat privately. I tried to sneak around to listen to their conversation, but I could only get close enough to see the grim expressions on both their faces.

Afterward, my uncle called my parents to the sitting room. When Mother tried to stop me from entering, my uncle said to her, “Let her come in. She is old enough to know all this.” It was as if another world war had started.

“How much do you know about why Shi-Xing is here?” He asked my father, though the question sounded largely rhetorical. “He was involved in the underground communist newspaper!”

“He was only helping them out in minor ways.” I was surprised to hear this from Father. “His father vouched for him and said he was just persuaded by some bad friends. He’s not really a communist, and after all this has died down, he’d return to school and finish his law degree.”

“He just admitted to me that he was an editor! And this is not dying down anytime soon. I hope you know that.”

My mother sighed.

“That law they passed earlier this year basically means they can practically arrest anyone they found suspicious or simply unpleasant.” My uncle continued. “They busted that communist newspaper about a few weeks ago, turned the National Taiwan University inside out, and they just arrested one of the major players. I bet he’s being tortured and interrogated right now! What if he cracks and spills out all the people that were involved? They will round them all up and execute them, including anyone who helped them!”

A pause. “Do you know what I’m getting at?”

His words sent shock waves through my body. I felt the chill ran up my spine, and my stomach instantly a hollow hole.

My father remained silent. My mother sat closer to me and started to rub my back. She usually does this only when she is nervous.

There were a few moments of absolute quiet in the sitting room, with my uncle staring intently at my parents, and then he sighed, “Is nobody going to say it? You have to kick him out of the house!”

“He’s just a kid, brother,” Father said finally.

“Do you think that’s going to matter? We are in Martial Law! Anyone, including kids, I bet, could be considered a communist and get locked up. He is considered a fugitive right now, and if they find him in your house…think about it, brother, even with all your connections, do you think your family would be spared? Are you willing to take that risk?”

“No.” My father replied annoyingly. “What am I suppose to tell his father?”

“Tell him you’ve done all you can and can do no more. This is so much more than what you owed him.”

I’ve had enough. I finally found my legs and ran straight to Shi-Xing’s room out of the sitting room. When he saw my face, he instantly knew, “You know now.”

“Why did you do it?”

“…”

“And why did you have to tell my uncle?”

“He caught on to me first; I must’ve been letting my guard down since it’s so peaceful here. He told me what had happened to my friends. He is right, though; my presence here threatens all of you. I never thought I’d be putting you all in danger before he made me realize how severe the consequences are.”

I tried to take deep breaths, but my tears still started falling out of my eyes.

“Where would you go?” I started sobbing.

“I don’t know yet.” He reached out and tried to wipe the tears off my face. His lean fingers caressed my cheek, and his melancholic eyes were glowing softly through his lens; I felt my heart pounding through my chest, I touched his hand, and he leaned in.

It was my first kiss.

08.24.1949 (Wed)

This morning, there was no morning chat with Shi-Xing. Father had arranged a transport for him at the crack of dawn. He was to go to the port, and his father had got him passage to somewhere that it was best for us not to know. “I will write you if I can,” he said to me before departing.

I felt that my heart had been torn in two, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Auntie A-Mei had tried to console me with my favorite red bean cake, but it no longer tasted the same. The sugar on my tongue offered a fleeing sweetness that only reminded me of the sweetness that had fled my life.

I sat on our bench until it was time for dinner.

08.25.1949 (Thu)

Bad news. Shi-Xing had been arrested. The military agents had been one step ahead of us, waiting by all the ports. They picked him up immediately.

I asked Father if they were definitely going to execute him.

“May the Universe be kind to him.” Was his reply.

I hated that, and I could feel my sorrows turned into stone and made a permanent resident in my heart.

And I feel this anger like I’ve never felt angry before, compounded with layers of powerlessness and helplessness. I was stupid and fell in love with a communist, and this is what I deserve.

09.02.1949 (Fri)

I got a letter from Shi-Xing today. It was sent from an unknown location.

I looked at the ominous letter for a long time before mustering the courage to open it. His neat handwriting on the envelope reminded me of his beautiful fingers on my cheek, and I started crying instantly.

There was only one word in his letter.

“Goodbye.”

BACKFIRE: Users Abandon TikTok

What everyday technologies did ordinary people lose access to after the fall of the Western Roman Empire?

The most dramatic loss for the ordinary person wasn’t a specific machine or a secret formula, but rather the catastrophic collapse of standardization and mass production.

If you were a peasant living in Britain or Northern Gaul around 350 AD, your quality of life was supported by a massive, interconnected global economy. You likely ate off high-quality, mass-produced ceramic plates imported from North Africa. You lived under a roof made of standardized fired clay tiles. You used metal tools made of iron smelted in industrial quantities.

By 500 AD, just a few generations later, those “everyday” technologies had vanished from the lives of ordinary people.

Here are the specific comforts that disappeared:

High-Quality Pottery (Terra Sigillata): This is the most visible archaeological evidence of the collapse. In the Roman period, even poor households possessed Terra Sigillata—glossy, red-slip, durable tableware produced in massive factories and shipped across the empire. It was hygienic and easy to clean. After the collapse, the trade networks that made shipping heavy ceramics profitable fell apart. People went back to using crude, locally made pottery that was porous, fragile, and hard to clean, or they reverted to using wood and leather, which rot and harbor bacteria.
Tiled Roofs: The Romans covered everything in ceramic tiles. They were heavy, waterproof, and, crucially, fireproof. To have a tiled roof, you need a nearby factory to fire them and a road network to transport them. When the economy collapsed, ordinary people lost access to fireproof roofing. Housing reverted to timber structures with thatched roofs, making catastrophic village fires a constant reality of daily life again.
The Hypocaust (and Public Hygiene): While the average peasant didn’t have underfloor heating (hypocausts) in their own shack, they had access to it through public spaces. Roman towns were dotted with public baths that were affordable enough for almost everyone. These were marvels of hydraulic engineering and heating. When the Roman state could no longer maintain the aqueducts or pay for the massive amount of wood required to keep the fires burning, the baths went cold and then fell into ruin. The “technology” of being warm and clean in the winter was lost.
The Iron Nail: This sounds trivial, but it represents the loss of industrial scale. At the legionary fortress of Inchtuthil in Scotland, departing Romans buried 875,000 iron nails to keep them from enemies. Iron was that abundant. Later, in the post-Roman period, iron became precious. Buildings were no longer held together by iron nails but by wooden pegs and joinery. If a building burned down, people would sift through the ashes to recover the nails—something a Roman builder would have found absurd.
Literacy as a Utility: In the height of the Empire, literacy wasn’t just for scholars; it was for soldiers, merchants, and tradesmen. Graffiti in Pompeii shows that regular people wrote jokes, insults, and shopping lists. This was possible because of the availability of cheap papyrus imported from Egypt. When the trade routes fractured, papyrus became rare in Europe. Writing shifted to parchment (animal skin), which was astronomically expensive. As a result, writing ceased to be an everyday tool for the commoner and became the guarded reserve of the church and elite administration.

The tragedy of the fall of Rome wasn’t that people forgot how to make a tile or a good pot. The knowledge remained in pockets. What was lost was the economic complexity required to make those things cheap enough for ordinary people to afford.

When the safety of the seas and roads vanished, the cost of transport skyrocketed. A potter in Tunisia could no longer sell a bowl to a farmer in England for a few copper coins. The farmer had to make his own bowl, and the potter went out of business. The “technology” that was lost was the specialized, interconnected civilization itself.

Surviving The Next Mass Extinction: Are we too late?

Pictures

Sunset Whispers

Written in response to: “Write a story that includes the line, “Is nobody going to say it?”.“

WR Peden

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I leaned back on the warm sand, my head nestled against Alex’s shoulder. Stars twinkled above us, and the ocean rippled softly under the moonlight. Silence had become a soothing presence between us.

“Is nobody going to say it?” I broke the tranquil quiet, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Alex chuckled softly, his breath warm in the cooling air. He glanced down at me, eyebrows arched in curiosity. “Say what, Maya?” he asked gently.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at me, his dark eyes shining under the night sky.

“You know what,” I murmured, my heart pounding. “We’ve been tiptoeing around this all day.”

He sighed, a blend of amusement and something deeper in his tone. “I think you’re right,” he said, his voice softening. “But sometimes, what’s left unsaid speaks the loudest.”

Biting my lower lip, I turned my gaze to the water, watching the waves gently crash against the shore. “I don’t want to ruin this, Alex,” I confessed, my voice unsteady. “I’m scared—scared of losing what we have.”

His hand found mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not going to lose me, Maya. I’m here for you,” Alex assured me, his voice steady and sincere.

I glanced at him, taking in the way his dark hair tousled in the ocean breeze, the softness of his jawline, the warmth of his smile. I had always valued our friendship, but lately, I couldn’t deny the pull I felt towards him.

“I know you are, Alex. And that’s what makes this so hard,” I said, drawing my knees up to my chest. “But what if this—what we have—is worth exploring?”

“Maybe I’ve trusted my instincts before, and they’ve never let me down,” I added, feeling a surge of courage despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Alex looked intently at me before responding. “I’ve thought about it too, Maya. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to ruin that. But if there’s something more, something that we could have together, I don’t want to deny it,” he confided.

My heart leapt at his words, but I was determined to keep my nerves at bay. “I feel the same way, Alex, but we need to be cautious. I don’t want to lose what we have, either.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze locked on mine. The wind picked up, sending loose strands of my hair flying across my face. Alex gently tucked them behind my ear, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

“It’s worth the risk, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Every moment with you is worth it to me, Maya.”

A smile slowly spread across my lips, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek. I knew there were risks involved in exploring this new facet of our relationship, but I couldn’t ignore the spark between us.

“I want to be brave too, Alex. I want to be brave for us,” I confessed, feeling a newfound sense of strength surge through me.

He returned my smile, his dark eyes locking onto mine, a blend of surprise and wonder swirling within them.

The air between us seemed to pulsate with electricity, as if a long-dormant spark had finally ignited. Our bond had always been strong, but now it felt as though we were daring to envision a future both thrilling and frightening.

Breathing deeply, I leaned closer to him, basking in the warmth of his embrace. His gentle hands stroked my back, sending shivers of excitement through my body. We sat there in silence, a comfortable and tender silence that conveyed more than words ever could.

“Maya?” he whispered, his voice barely holding steady.

A surge of emotion overwhelmed me, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I squeezed his hand tightly, conveying my understanding and empathy without words.

I was all too familiar with the fear of vulnerability, of exposing ourselves to potential pain or rejection. Yet, the intricate dance between us convinced me the risk might be worth taking.

I leaned back and gazed at the night sky, offering him a small, knowing smile. “I feel like I’ve been running away from this for so long,” I confessed. “But I want to be brave and take a leap of faith for us, too.”

Alex caressed my cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips gently against mine. I closed my eyes, savoring the tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. We kissed slowly, tenderly, exploring this newfound intimacy.

Laughter suddenly shattered the tranquility.

It was Ava, my childhood friend, appearing from nowhere. Alex and I pulled away, faces flushed, turning towards her.

She twirled on the beach, her short blonde hair catching the moonlight. It had been so long since I’d seen her, and her arrival made me question everything.

“Maya!” Ava shouted, sprinting towards us and enveloping me in a tight hug.

I returned her embrace, a pang of unease gnawing at my stomach. “Ava, it’s so good to see you!” I exclaimed with a smile, masking my inner turmoil.

Alex stood, brushing the sand from his pants. “Ava, haven’t seen you in ages! It’s great to see you again,” he said warmly.

Ava released me and smiled at Alex. “I’ve missed you two, but I’m glad you’re finally taking a chance on each other,” she remarked, her tone playful.

My heart raced as Alex and I exchanged nervous glances, unsure how to reply.

Ava pulled up a worn picnic blanket beside us, its ivy print frayed in places, and plopped down, crossing her legs. “I’ve heard some rumors about you two making moves towards each other. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, her tone light and curious.

I glanced at Alex, biting my lower lip, unsure of what to say. I didn’t want to lie to Ava, but couldn’t expose my insecurities either.

“We’ve been exploring our feelings for each other, yes,” Alex said, taking my hand.

Relief washed over me at his honest words.

Ava giggled, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I always thought you two should give it a try!” she exclaimed. My heart pounded as I tried to collect my thoughts.

Alex held me closely, whispering in my ear, “We’re just figuring things out.”

Trying to calm myself, I smiled at Alex. “I appreciate that, Alex. And your honesty,” I said softly.

Ava began chatting about a recent trip to Spain, and I was grateful for the distraction.

As night fell, Alex started a small fire beside the blanket, and we roasted marshmallows. The flames’ warmth felt soothing, and I leaned against Alex as we shared stories and memories with Ava.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves louder. I shivered, pulling my sweater tighter. Noticing, Alex draped his jacket around my shoulders. I thanked him, enjoying the warmth and closeness.

Ava, seemingly unfazed by the chill, continued regaling us with travel tales. But eventually, her laughter faded, and she stared out at the ocean, her gaze distant and thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind, Ava? You seem a thousand miles away,” I said, feeling the warmth of Alex’s jacket.

Ava sighed, looking our way. “I’ve seen so many amazing things, met so many people, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed where people truly understood me, like you guys.”

Alex smiled, squeezing my knee gently. “You have a lot of wisdom for someone who’s only twenty-seven,” he said, his voice full of emotion.

My heart swelled with warmth. Questions raced through my mind—what would the future hold for us? But I tried to focus on the present, hoping clarity would come with time.

Ava’s eyes shifted back to us, bright in the firelight. “I’ve missed our adventures and late-night heart-to-hearts.”

I didn’t want Ava to feel neglected because of my growing relationship with Alex. She needed attention and companionship too.

Leaning towards her, I smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, Ava. We have plenty of time for adventures and heart-to-hearts. We’re just navigating some new feelings right now. We’ll get through it together, like always. Okay?”

Tears filled Ava’s eyes as she hugged me tightly. “I’m so happy for you, Maya,” she whispered.

Grateful for her support, I felt a twinge of guilt. Alex and I needed to figure things out, but I didn’t want to lose Ava’s friendship.

As the night grew colder, we said our goodbyes, looking forward to future adventures. Alex and I walked hand in hand towards the parking lot, our footsteps soft on the dry sand.

My heart was full of curiosity, nervousness, and warmth. Alex broke the comfortable silence. “Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow? We could talk more,” he suggested, squeezing my hand.

My heart skipped a beat. “Sure, I’d love that,” I said, the taste of s’mores lingering.

Back at my quaint beach cottage, anticipation filled me. I crossed my fingers, silently thanking the universe for the potential blessing with Alex.

I pondered what was to come as I threw myself onto my bed. Moonlight streamed in, casting a ghostly blue tint. Reflecting on my connection with Alex—our friendship, our bond, and this newfound intimacy—I felt both exhilarated and unnerved.

Grabbing my journal, I poured my heart onto its pages. Every stroke of ink protected my fragmented heart. I narrated the beach encounter with Alex and our evolving bond, hoping the warmth we shared would never fade.

The words flowed, staining the pages with emotion. I explored my feelings, dissecting the complex layers unfurling.

My heart raced with adrenaline. The excitement was tinged with worry. The thought of change sent an icy shiver through my bones.

Alex, my friend and confidante—how would things evolve? Would we drift apart if our feelings intensified?

Slow Cooker Chili Recipe

by Natasha Kravchuk | Updated Apr 6, 2021

1,776 comments

An easy slow cooker chili recipe with Ground Beef, beans, tomato sauce, and the best homemade chili seasoning. It putters away in the slow cooker for the juiciest beef and rich flavor.

Thank you to on behalf of the Beef Checkoff for sponsoring this Slow Cooker Chili recipe. I received compensation, but all opinions are my own.

Slow Cooker chili served in a bowl garnished with cheese, sour cream and avocado

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The Best Way to Cook Chili:

Slow Cooking chili is a classic way to cook chili. It’s the easiest chili because you can set it and forget it and this is how the award-winning chilis are achieved. The low and slow cooking process melds the flavors of the chili seasoning into every bite and the beef becomes so tender, juicy, and irresistible. You can slow cook on low for 6-8 hours or on high heat for 3-4 hours.

Chili in a slow cooker with spoon

Ingredients for Slow Cooker Chili:

Ground Beef – no other protein does it quite like beef and tastes amazing. We use lean (90/10 or 93/7) to eliminate the need to spoon out excess fat. If yours has a higher fat content, you can spoon out the excess fat when it renders in the skillet.
Onion – we love a generous amount of onion because it adds amazing sweet notes to the chili and disappears into the chili as it slow cooks.
Beans – you can change up the beans based on what you have on hand, but the classic beans for chili are kidney beans (we love dark red), and black beans. Be sure to rinse and drain the beans in a colander for the best chili consistency and color.
Tomatoes & Tomato Sauce – We love the combination of canned diced tomatoes (with their juice) as well as tomato sauce to give the chili a saucy consistency with great texture. For added flavor, we add a can of diced tomatoes and green chilis.
Chili Seasoning – we make a simple homemade blend with chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, oregano, salt, and pepper.

Ingredients for chili with ground beef, beans, tomatoes, onion and seasonings

Do you Prefer a Spicy Chili?

To keep it kid-friendly, this classic chili is mild and not spicy. If you prefer a spicy chili, you can either add hot sauce to your bowl when serving or if you want the entire batch to be spicier, add an extra tablespoon of Chili Powder and 1/4 to 1/2 tsp of Cayenne Pepper to give it a spicy kick.

How to Make Slow Cooker Chili:

Making chili in the slow cooker doesn’t get any easier. It’s as simple as browning the beef and onions then adding all of the canned ingredients to the slow cooker and turning it on. If you have a multicooker with a slow cooker function, you can saute and slow cook all in the same pot.

SAUTE the beef and onions in a skillet then add garlic and seasonings to the pan.
TRANSFER the beef mixture to a 6 Qt Slow Cooker.
ADD REMAINING INGREDIENTS – rinsed and drained beans, diced tomatoes with their juice and tomato sauce.
SLOW COOK – cover and set slow cooker on low 6-8 hours or on high 3-4 hours then season more to taste if needed.

Making beef chili step by step tutorial

Our Favorite Chili Toppings:

We love to serve this family-style where everyone can build their own chili bowls with the toppings they love. Toppings can vary based on what we have in the fridge, but these are our favorite toppings for chili –

Cheese – mild cheddar is the classic choice, but Mexican shredded cheese works equally well
Onion – chopped green or red onion adds a fresh pop of color and flavor
Avocado – because we can’t help putting avocado on everything, especially chili.
Cilantro – for garnish and adding fresh flavor
Sour cream – balances the dish (especially great when chili is served over a baked potato)
Sliced jalapenos – you can use any hot pepper for a spicy kick

Toppings for chili with avocados, chives, onion, jalapeños, cheese, sour cream and cilantro

How to Serve Chili:

Chili keeps really well in the refrigerator so we love to get creative with leftovers. There are so many ways to serve classic chili and really it can be served almost any time of day. Some of our favorites include:

Chili Cheese Dip – Sprinkle chili with cheddar cheese and serve as an appetizer with tortilla chips.
Chili Dogs – Top a hot dog with chili and shredded cheese to transform it into a chili cheese dog.
Chili Stuffed Baked Potatoes – topping a baked potato with hot chili is a delicious gluten-free option and fun way to serve a crowd.
In a Bowl – loaded with all of the toppings and tortilla chips or pita chips on the side (this is our family favorite)!

Crockpot chili served in a bowl garnished with toppings and tortilla chips

Why We Love This Family Friendly Dinner:

With so many families staying home together now, juggling homeschool, and cooking more than ever, it’s a great time to get kids in the kitchen and teach them through cooking. This slow cooker beef chili is a great way to teach your children cooking skills. Children can learn:

Food safety tips like washing hands after handling raw meat
The importance of using separate plates and utensils for raw and ready to eat foods to prevent cross-contamination
How to measure spices and weigh ingredients

If you let kids help with preparing the meal, they are more likely to enjoy eating it. It also makes for a memorable photo-op moment!

Making chili in a slow cooker with kids

More Beef Recipes You Will Love:

Juicy Burgers – the secret to perfect burgers
Beef and Broccoli Stir Fry – with the best sauce
Quick Beef Chili – an easy 30-minute recipe
Beef Stroganoff – classic and packed with flavor
Beef Tenderloin – incredibly juicy and tender
Easy Meatloaf – with the best glaze

Get the print-friendly recipe below for this Classic Slow Cooker Beef Chili.

What should you avoid doing when trying to get served at a UK pub?

To the uninitiated, the bar counter of a busy British pub on a Friday night looks like anarchy. There are no ticket numbers, no velvet ropes, and often no visible line. However, do not be fooled by the visual chaos: you are looking at one of the most sophisticated, self-policing queuing systems on Earth.

The bar staff are keeping a complex mental tally of exactly who arrived when, and the patrons are silently enforcing a social contract to ensure fair play. If you violate the rules of this invisible queue, you will find yourself unintentionally invisible to the bartender.

Here is what you must avoid to ensure you actually get a pint.

Do not wave money or click your fingers
This is the cardinal sin. In some countries, holding up cash signals intent to buy. In a UK pub, waving a banknote, clicking your fingers, or shouting “Barman!” is interpreted as a grave insult. It implies the staff are incompetent or ignoring you.

The consequence: The bartender sees you, but they will deliberately serve three or four people who arrived after you before they acknowledge your existence.
The correct behavior: Stand at the bar, make brief eye contact with the staff, and then wait. holding your wallet or card visibly in your hand (at chest level, not waved in the air) is a subtle enough signal that you are ready to pay.

Do not try to form a single-file line
Unless it is a very quiet Tuesday afternoon, British pub-goers do not queue in a single file behind one person. This is inefficient as it utilizes only two feet of a twenty-foot bar.

The correct behavior: You are expected to “belly up.” Find a gap at the counter and fill it. If you stand six feet back behind someone else, the bartender assumes you are not ordering but merely chatting with the person in front of you. You must establish a presence at the wood.

Do not order a Guinness last
If your order includes a Guinness (or any stout requiring a two-part pour), you must order it first.

The reason: A proper Guinness takes roughly 119.5 seconds to pour. The bartender pours three-quarters of the glass, lets it settle, and then tops it up. If you order a lager, a wine, and then a Guinness, the bartender has to stand there idly watching the stout settle.
The correct behavior: Say, “A pint of Guinness, please,” wait for them to start the pour and walk away, and then list the rest of your drinks. By the time the other drinks are ready, the Guinness will be settled and ready for the top-up.

Do not display indecision at the front
The time to browse the selection of tap handles is while you are waiting, not when the bartender asks, “What can I get you?”

The consequence: If you get the bartender’s attention and then turn to your friends and ask, “Dave, what did you want again?”, the bartender will immediately move to the next person. In a busy pub, the service window is open for about three seconds. If you miss it, you go to the back of the mental rotation.

Do not pay for drinks individually
If you are with a group of four, do not order four separate drinks and pay with four separate cards. This grinds the service to a halt and infuriates the people waiting behind you.

The correct behavior: Buy “rounds.” One person buys for the whole group. The next time the glasses are empty, a different person goes to the bar. It is faster, more social, and keeps the invisible queue moving.

Getting served in a UK pub is mostly about projecting an aura of patient readiness. If you are polite, know what you want, and respect the geometry of the bar, the staff will eventually give you the nod.

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