Question for the audience…
When was the last time you gnawed on a pencil? For me, it was many, many decades ago.
What about you?
When was the last time you smelled mimeographed paper? Again, for me a long, long time ago.
How about this one;
When was the last time when you crumbled crackers into your soup? Probably not so long ago, but then again… not so recent. Most people don’t eat (drink if you are Chinese) soup a lot.
Other questions.
When was the last time you…
- Shined your shoes?
- Took an ice-cold shower?
- Bought a cast iron frying pan?
- Planted a flower?
Ah. Indeed, not so common. But things all of us have done at one point in our lives.
Life is about the experience. Never forget that.
Today…
Why does the U.S. think it can become the world’s factory when people don’t seem interested in factory jobs anymore?
Oh the US is currently a bit delusional in what is happening in the current job market and in manufacturing. The recent Kia factory drama should make that obvious.
People seeming like they aren’t interested in factory jobs is just part of the problem. It is also that factory jobs are more demanding than they used to be “back in the good ol’ days” in regards to who they hire. They want more skills and experience for entry level jobs at poverty wages.
Last summer(2024) when my previous employer announced I was part of the WARN act level layoffs they were doing, I went job hunting. Because my area has several factories, I looked at, applied for, and interviewed for several different factory jobs. These factories make components from wire harnesses to circuit boards to connectors for various types of mechanical and computer technologies.
Now, I had worked in a couple of factories like these back in the late 1990’s. The factory jobs I was applying for were mostly just newer versions of the jobs I did back then. Basically assembling wire assemblies, connector assemblies, circuit boards, etc. The biggest “Skills” required were the ability to identify and recognize different colors, follow assembly diagrams, use basic tools like pliers, heat guns, soldering irons, and wire strippers, and complete the assembly in a timely competent manner. Basic entry level factory work back in the 1990’s, but it is no longer considered that.
What I was told by a couple of factories is that I lacked the “years of experience” they required for their “entry level” assembly positions. They wanted assemblers with 3+ years of factory assembly experience within the last 18 months. This was after I passed the “skills test” that was the start of such interviews. I passed the skills tests, had actually done factory work at some point in my life in the field I was applying for, but lack of years of current experience meant they would not consider me for their advertised “entry level” position.
The one factory that DID offer me a job, offered me such a low pay rate, I would have become homeless working for them. $3/hr less than I was making with health benefits that were 2.5 times more expensive per paycheck. They were offering me cents above the state minimum wage due to my “lack of current factory assembly experience”(their words). Again, this was after I had passed the “Skills tests” at the beginning of the interview.
In 2025, every one of those positions I applied and interviewed for is still open and looking to hire. The HR for the factory that offered a job at poverty wages reached out to me a couple of months ago to see if I was interested in the job, at the same low pay rate, because they have struggled to find, hire, and keep any employees in that position at that rate of pay.
There is also the fact the the labor market is also currently being flooded with people who do have the experience in factory work, but they are competing for the few jobs in a field that is also facing massive layoffs and factory closings, or offering low pay rates for their skills.
What is something that people commonly did in the 1970s that would seem odd today?
I was 10 to 19 years old in the 70s. This entire decade was my preteen and teenage years.
In 1970, my father had just gotten diagnosed with cancer, which would eventually kill him 3 years later.
I remember going to the hospital with my mom so she could visit him. I had to wait in the lobby because signs were everywhere forbidding children under 12 from visiting patients.
I was still in elementary school (4th grade) in 1970. My typical day involved walking to & from school. Usually with a group of other neighborhood kids but not always. My elementary school was a half mile away from home, so this was only a 10 minute walk.
After school, we typically played outside in the street, rollar skating, riding skate boards or bikes. No one knew to wear helmets.
Junior high & high school were further away so I rode the school bus to get there.
I also spent a lot of my free time at my neighbor’s house. The family across the street had 7 children so I played with them frequently.
If the weather was bad, we would stay indoors and watch TV. We also watched TV with our parents in the evening if we didn’t have homework.
We only had 3 channels back then (ABC, CBS and NBC). A fourth station, WBFF TV, came to Baltimore in 1971.
We had no remote control back then. We got up and changed the channels manually. We had terrible reception, too.
Back then, there were no satellites or cable. TV usually got signals from an antenna on the roof or rabbit ear antennas on top of the TV. Everytime you changed the channel, you had to adjust the antenna for optimal signal strength.
TV did not air for 24 hours a day like it does now. At 1 am, programming ended. They’d play the National Anthem and then you’d see a test pattern for the rest of the night.
My favorite shows during this decade were the Partridge Family, Emergency, The Waltons and The Six Million Dollar Man.
I remember my mom watching MASH, All in the Family, Maude, Barney Miller, Mary Tyler Moore & the Odd Couple.
My dad died in 1973 & my mom got our 1957 house upgraded that year. We had red & orange shag carpet put in the living room.
People smoked everywhere back then, too. This included public places. Even hospitals allowed it unless the patient was on oxygen.
People were either unaware of the hazards or simply didn’t care. Second hand smoke wasn’t heard of, or a concern.
I would get into cars with adults who would puff away with all the windows up. We kids were choking in the back seat but that’s just the way it was.
People also threw their cigarette butts everywhere and anywhere when outdoors. The first cigarette I ever tried was from a butt that a neighbor carelessly discarded in our yard.
Fortunately, it was an unpleasant experience for me and I never developed this habit.
I don’t recall wearing seatbelts regularly until I learned how to drive around 1977.
My first car was a 1970 Ford Maverick. It had no air-conditioning and an AM radio only.
I wasn’t into music much until my late teens. Most of the music I listened to came on the radio or we bought 45s to play on the record player.
Back then, I listened to the Doobie Brothers, Michael Jackson, Heart, Bee Gees, The Carpenters and Queen.
8 track tapes were out there but I was too poor to buy a player.
When I turned 18, I was allowed to drink alcohol. Maryland didn’t raise their drinking to age to 21 until the 1980s.
That’s what I can remember from the 70s.
The Collapse of the American Dream is Here
Why do steaks from restaurants taste so much better than the steaks I make at home?
I was ‘the meat specialist’ and saucier in several restaurants. For anything you eat, it is ‘the hand’ and the ingredients that matter most. Method method method.
Additionally, high end restaurants tend to source consistently better meats, with best available storage and handling and have the best tools to do the job, operated by folks who do it every day and taste their work everyday for consistency. In the last kitchen I had little to do with other foodstuffs so I was focused of meat prep and stock building.
Three days to make triple fort chicken stock, used to butter finish an ala minute pan sauce in tens of seconds, per order, that someone was diving into in four minutes. Conserving volatile essences of flavor is critical. Dialing in the cooking temperature is critical.
One big thing often overlooked is tempering or resting a steak properly while getting it to the table at peak flavor.
My personal thing was a ‘doneness scale’ easily understood by the waitstaff; very well done, well done, medium, medium rare, rare, very rare, blue, & badly frightened…
At what point would stealthy munitions be needed and worth the cost?
Back in 1975 a guy you’ve never heard of named Frank Watts was working at a company you’ve never heard of called Wang Laboratories. He was a consultant and his job was to make the sales force at Xerox more effective. Watts realized that Xerox machines have a bunch of highly technical fiddly bits that no one cares about. While Xerox’s latest line of copiers might very well have job collation, an auxiliary paper tray, and a job recovery feature, none of Xerox’s customers had any idea what those things meant. Xerox’s customers weren’t buying Xerox copiers and they certainly weren’t buying the specific features of Xerox copiers. They were buying “not having to worry about how we make copies.”
Watts had invented “Solution Selling:” the sales practice of engaging the problem the customer has rather than selling the feature set of the thing you want them to buy. Everyone from Ratheon, Lockheed Martin, and Boeing use this practice with the US military every day.
Yes, the AGM-158C Long Range Anti Ship Missile (LRASM) is a very cool bit of tech; it does all kinds of amazing things and it is very, very stealthy.
But Frank Watts would tell you that Pentagon doesn’t care how many hours of research went into the radar absorbent coating. They don’t care that the software development team working on the AI hasn’t seen their kids in 3 months. And they don’t care that the mechanical engineer who developed the hyper-efficient turbine engine has a pet name for the process used to grow the turbine blades as a single metallurgical crystal. The Pentagon cares about the problem the LRASM solves.
That problem is actually three problems named Laioning, Shandong, and Fujian. Those are China’s aircraft carriers. If China moves on Taiwan the United States is going to find itself in a sea battle the likes of which hasn’t happened since World War 2. If that happens the difference between crushing Chinese sea-power like a bug and a long, costly battle that sets American sea-power back by multiple decades is how many of China’s aircraft carriers remain afloat on day two of the conflict.
The LRASM solves the Chinese aircraft carrier problem.
The Pentagon isn’t costing the LRASM against other anti-ship missiles. It’s costing it against not having to worry about Chinese aircraft carriers. It’s doing the math that way because the US Navy has been in the business of surrounding aircraft carriers with anti-aircraft hate since just after Pearl Harbor. The Navy knows that sinking a Chinese carrier is going to be a heroic undertaking and they’d prefer an expensive bit of kit take on the burden of that heroism than a couple dozen American aviators.
So the answer to your question is this. When is a stealthy munition, or a hypersonic munition, or a smart munition worth the cost? When the target absolutely, positively, unequivocally has to die and nothing else will do the job.
Is it true that big builders cut corners on home quality to save costs, and what are the signs of shoddy construction that buyers should look out for?
It’s not so much what you see, but what you DON’T see that raises the biggest red flags.
I married a guy who worked as a finish carpenter on the West Coast for a number of years and the stories he would tell me when he got home from work …
Day-labor holding up a thumb and squinting instead of going out and getting the damn level.
“Forgetting” the gravel underlayment when pouring a concrete slab.
Pouring a foundation in the summer and not bothering to keep it damp (it doesn’t rain at all in the summer in a lot of place out west and the uneven dehydration of the concrete made it cure badly).
Using interior-grade materials for exterior details and trim … and painting them before any inspectors noticed.
The list goes on and on and on.
We’ve bought two houses over the course of our marriage and we share one cardinal rule: we never buy ANY house that isn’t at least 10 years old (20 is better). Know why? Because that’s how long a crappy foundation takes to “settle” and show visible cracks. A brand-new home looks spiffy, for sure, but facades are cheap and infrastructure is expensive. You can cover up pretty much anything, but a mispoured foundation is a horror show waiting to happen.
Unfortunately, to really spot the signs of shoddy construction, you’d need to look inside the walls, and most open houses discourage sledgehammers. Profitable building companies know better than to leave half-assery where the inspectors can see it. They hide it, and hide it effectively. It takes years before the cut corners become apparent: in leaky pipes, doors that don’t shut properly, breakers that pop when the fridge cycles, foundation cracks, water seepage, rotting fascia, backed-up gutters, etc. etc.
So my advice to any and all potential homebuyers is: don’t buy new construction and, if you really don’t have any other choice, plan to move out within five years. Because as soon as the inspectors can see the problems with your house, you’re financially liable for them when the sale goes through. Unless the company has built your home out of popsicle sticks and duct tape, you *should* have a good five years before the issues get noticeable.
P.S. I haven’t seen popsicle sticks … yet. I HAVE seen closets without actual studs — just doubled-up sheets of drywall pretending to be structurally sound. Imagine the owners’ surprise when they tried to install shelving and the wall fell apart.
Americans Expose The TRUTH: China’s Infrastructure Makes America Look Like a Third World Country
Journey Back by Staright
Written in response to: “Write a story in which a character navigates using the stars.“
Eva Raynes
Besides a thick coat of mud, Lance Corporal Horace Yule had somebody else’s blood on his boots. He tried to rub it off but was unsuccessful. A plump rat scattered past him, making him reel in disgust. He knew that these things were the least of his worries, because, in an hour or so, it was going to be nighttime, and Horace and other men were going to have to leave the safety of their trench and raid the German trench, which was on the other side of no-man’s land.
Far away, Horace heard cannons firing. It sounded like a heartbeat. Then, as if a chain had been tugged, water fell from the sky. He wanted to stay dry by hiding in one of the funk holes, which were holes carved out of the side of the trench, but they were full. He contemplated ducking into the officer’s dugout but ended up flipping the collar of his beige poncho and hunkering down instead.
Alexander Armstrong came over and sat next to Horace. Raindrops plinked on their tin helmets and splashed each other on the cheek. Horace shifted from foot to foot and felt his cold dog tags tap against his grimy chest
“Amelia had the baby,” said Alexander in a whisper. “It’s a girl.”
“Congratulations, when did you find out?”
“In my wife’s last letter.”
Horace thought back to the letter that Maggie, his wife, sent him. He received it earlier that day. With all the excitement going on, he hadn’t opened it yet. He had an impulse to read it right now, but feared that the ink would smear and the paper would turn into pulp in this weather.
Letting out a breath, Horace glanced up at the sky. There was a naked tree above him. The branches twitched in the wind and creaked softly. Alexander nudged him a while minutes later. It was time.
Horace followed his party along the duckboards to the front line trench and the firing bay. His ears turned to blocks of ice as he waited for his turn to climb up. When it was, Horace glanced at the dented tin sign reminding everybody to keep their heads down and then set his left foot and hands on the rungs of the grubby wooden ladder
Up above, he joined Alexander’s side and unslung his rifle which had a bayonet attached on the end. Horace slouched forward like the rest and then began to walk stealthily. Rain rolled down Horace’s back as he wove around the tangled barbed wire. There were craters made by the Germans, fallen trees, and a dead horse lying on its side. Maggie would burst into tears if she saw this, Horace thought.
When they neared the German trenches, the rain stopped, making the world dead quiet. Horace’s heart knocked against his ribcage and white hot fear zipped down his tongue and landed in his stomach. They crept closer and closer towards the firing bay and on command, Horace cocked his weapon and then woke up inside the trench on his back covered in sweat.
Someone stood over him. Horace let out a cry and tried to crabwalk backward, but his arms were as weak as sticks of gum.
“Calm down, calm down, it’s me!” Alexander hissed.
“W-w-what happened?”
“The Germans aren’t here and everything’s gone. They must have known that we were coming, and you took one look at a dead German and fainted.”
“. . . I’ve never seen a corpse before,” Horace admitted and then got to his feet. He adjusted his bandelier and smelled something. It took him for a moment to realize that there was a wet spot in the front of his trousers. He was so glad that it was dark or else the men would not only tease him for not being able to put on his woolen puddies, but for pissing himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dead German slouched up against shuddered windows that covered a funk hole. The soldier smelled so rotten that Horace could taste it in his mouth. It was a tang that he’d never forget.
Feeling fruitless, Horace and the rest of his party began to slowly return to their trench. The moon and the stars were out now, illuminating no-man’s land. Horace didn’t like what he saw, so he kept his eyes down for a while.
When he kicked an empty bullet shell and heard it ping away, one of the men swore loudly.
“Sorry,” Horace said in a hushed voice.
“What’s wrong John?” Alexander asked.
John turned around. “I think we’re lost.”
“No, we’re not. This is the right way.”
“I don’t remember passing that tank, do any of you?”
There was a chorus of nos. Alexander suggested walking back to the German trench, but it would take too long. The sun would be up in a while, making them easy targets for German fighter planes.
“I know what we can do,” piped up Horace. “We can use the stars.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows. “You know how to do it?”
Horace nodded and began to lead the way, glancing up at the North Star and the twinkling constellations near it when he needed to.
When Horace heard British voices. He grinned and he puffed up in pride. They had made it to their trench. For a moment, he thought that the men in his party were going to compliment him on getting everybody back safe, but they did not. To his surprise, Horace didn’t mind.
After they reported that their raid was uneventful, they dispersed to funk holes and makeshift canopies. Horace squeezed into a little nook with a tarp for the roof, set a lit torch between his knees, and withdrew the letter from Maggie. He put the envelope to his nose and breathed in the lemon verbena perfume that was spritzed onto the paper and was always worn by his wife.
Carefully, he undid the flap with his penknife, slid out the letter, and ran an unclean finger over Maggie’s loopy cursive. Horace leaned back and felt a bit of dirt crumble off and land inside his collar. He didn’t mind that one bit and began to read.
What is one simple cooking technique you learned as a short-order cook that you still use regularly today?
Fire food as soon as the ticket comes in and keep firing food until your grill is full. Never hold checks until you’re “less busy”. You’ll never be less busy.
Keep your grill clean. Don’t let the fond from meats and vegetables build up and burn. It will cause food to stick and charred bits will get embedded into bread as it toasts, making sandwiches look awful.
Reserve a spot for eggs and pancakes. Nothing goes on that spot but eggs and pancakes. If there’s crap on the grill when you drop eggs and pancakes, it’ll get picked up and your eggs and pancakes will look dirty and like crap.
Fire up your grill an hour before you begin cooking. Before you start cooking, oil the grill top and break a few whole eggs, shell and all, onto the grill and spread them all over with your spatula. This is called seasoning the grill and it cleans dirt and pumice from grill bricks from the grill top. After you scrape off the egg, nothing will stick.
Don’t oil the grill top before you drop pancakes. Oil on the grill will create white spots on top of the pancakes. They should be evenly browned and slightly crisp on top, not speckled white or fried on the edges, from too much oil. You put the oil in the batter and the pancakes won’t stick. Pancakes are another reason you season the grill top before cooking. Season the grill and they won’t stick.
If you’re cooking lots of meats, especially burgers, your grill will get dirty. Even if you’re scraping it down after each run of burgers, you’ll get buildup and have to clean it off with water. Try to clear all of your checks before you dump water onto the grill. You’ll cool down the grill and fall behind while you wait for it to recover.
Bunuelos (Fritters) with Sweet
Syrup (San Salvador)
Ingredients
Bunuelos
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- Pinch salt
- 1 cup water
- 1/4 pound butter
- 3 eggs
- Vegetable oil for deep-frying
Sweet Syrup
- 6 pieces piloncillo*
- 2 cups water
- 3 cinnamon sticks
- 1/2 cup brown sugar
Instructions
- Stir together the flour, baking powder and salt.
- Combine the water and butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and bring to a boil.
- Remove from heat and, using a wooden spoon, beat in the flour mixture.
- Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating only enough to incorporate them into the batter.
- Heat oil in a deep skillet over medium-high heat. The oil is hot enough when a bread cube put into the oil sizzles and turns brown.
- Shape the batter into balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Carefully slip them into the oil, being careful not to crowd the pan (work in batches, if necessary). Using a wooden spoon, keep moving the bunuelos around so they will puff up and brown evenly. When golden brown, remove them to a plate lined with paper towels.
- Serve as soon as possible with Sweet Syrup.
- Sweet Syrup: Combine all ingredients in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 25 minutes, until the mixture is reduced to a light syrup.
Yield: about 24 bunuelos; enough syrup for about 24 bunuelos
* Piloncillo is rock sugar. It is called dulce de atado in some Central American markets.
Why can only certain companies manufacture missile parts, and how does this exclusivity affect the pricing?
The current four to six major defense industrial conglomerates owe the structure of America’s arms monopoly to decades of long-term government lobbying. No one can fully explain the entire process, but I can tell you about the price effects it has caused, which is the latter part of your question.
China’s space station has cost a total of around $8 billion.
China’s Chang’e program, which is China’s lunar rocket program, from Chang’e 1 to 5, has cost about $1.1 billion in total.
The development cost of the DF-41 intercontinental ballistic missile is roughly $270 million. The price of a single missile ranges from $20 million to $40 million.
Meanwhile, the US Sentinel ICBM has cost—let me count the zeros: $140,000,000,000 – $140 billion.
That’s equivalent to 17.5 Chinese space stations, 127 lunar rocket programs, or 3,500 to 7,000 Chinese ICBMs.
And its current status is—surprise!—a slide deck.
Since I have show you the data I have, now it is your turn to show me your heart attack.
Otis Taylor – Hey Joe
Is lox marinated salmon?
Former New Yorker here. (Went to school with a Zabar.)
Lox is traditionally wet salt brined and unsmoked salmon belly. Very salty. (Some places have taken to calling it “salty salmon belly.”)
(Russ & Daughters.)
Nova is traditionally from salmon caught off Nova Scotia, wet brined then cold smoked. (It’s become the standard “cold smoked salmon” most people think of.)
Wet brining makes for a moist fish that’s a bit harder to cut thinly.
Gravlax is dry cured with salt and sugar, often with dill, pepper, and a bit of vodka, and pressed, with no smoke. Literally “salmon from the grave,” it was traditionally buried in cold sand while curing. It’s quite easy to make at home. (Pressing out the water makes this more expensive by weight.)
The terms have sort of melded into vagueness, and people play with ingredients, but it’s usually called “cured” rather than “marinated,” and in modern times it’s barely cured. (I think before sushi became so popular, “cured” was more acceptable than “raw.”)
Sir Whiskerton and Meteorologist Molly’s Misguided Forecasts
Or: When a Weather Wizard Gets It Wrong—and the Farm Gets Wild
Introduction
Ah, dear reader, prepare for a tale of sun showers, snowstorms in July, and sleet that falls like confetti. Today’s story begins with the arrival of Meteorologist Molly—a human with an uncanny knack for getting her forecasts spectacularly wrong—at Sir Whiskerton’s farm. Tasked with predicting the weather for the annual picnic, Molly unleashes a whirlwind (literally) of chaos across the barnyard.
As her misguided forecasts lead to comical disasters, Molly learns the importance of double-checking her work—and everyone discovers that even the most unpredictable weather can bring joy. So grab your umbrella (and perhaps a snow shovel), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and Meteorologist Molly’s Misguided Forecasts.
Act 1: The Arrival of Meteorologist Molly
It was a sunny morning on the farm when a shiny red car pulled up to the gate, its horn honking dramatically. Out stepped Meteorologist Molly, wearing a raincoat, sunglasses, and holding a clipboard covered in scribbles.
“Greetings, fine folks!” she declared, adjusting her oversized hat. “I’m here to ensure your picnic has perfect weather. Trust me—I’ve got this down to a science!”
The animals exchanged skeptical glances.
“Doesn’t she look… confused?” Doris the Hen whispered to Porkchop the Pig.
“She looks like she brought all four seasons in one outfit,” Porkchop replied, snorting.
Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle thoughtfully. “Let us hope her predictions are more accurate than her fashion sense.”
Molly cleared her throat and announced confidently, “Tomorrow will be sunny with mild breezes—ideal picnic conditions!”
Little did they know, Molly had accidentally flipped her charts upside-down.
Act 2: The Comical Chaos Begins
The next morning dawned bright and early—or so they thought. Just as the animals gathered for the picnic, dark clouds rolled in, and torrential rain began pouring from the sky.
“Well, THIS isn’t what I predicted!” Molly exclaimed, frantically flipping through her soggy notes.
Doris squawked indignantly. “We’re drenched! My feathers are ruined!”
Ferdinand the Duck, however, seemed delighted. “Finally, some proper swimming weather!” he quacked, diving into a newly formed puddle.
But the madness didn’t stop there. As the day wore on, Molly’s increasingly frantic attempts to correct her forecast led to a series of bizarre weather events:
- Hailstorm of Hay Bales: A sudden hailstorm sent hay bales tumbling from the sky, narrowly missing Mr. Wigglesworth, who squealed, “MY SUSPENDERS ARE RUINED!”
- Snowfall in July: An unexpected snowstorm blanketed the farm, prompting Chef Remy LeRaccoon to attempt making glow-in-the-dark snow cones.
- Sunny Heatwave at Midnight: As if by magic, the temperature skyrocketed just as everyone settled in for bed, leaving them sweaty and grumpy.
Through it all, Molly scrambled to adjust her equipment, muttering under her breath, “Why won’t these thermometers cooperate?!”
Act 3: Learning the Lesson
By the time the sun finally broke through the clouds late in the afternoon, the farm was in disarray—but oddly cheerful.
“This has been the strangest picnic ever,” Sir Whiskerton mused, sipping tea beneath a hastily erected tent. “And yet… strangely delightful.”
Molly sighed, looking genuinely remorseful. “I messed everything up. I should’ve double-checked my forecasts before announcing them.”
Sir Whiskerton nodded sagely. “Even the best intentions require diligence. You cannot predict nature, but you can prepare for it.”
Inspired, Molly vowed to improve her methods. She spent the rest of the evening meticulously reviewing her data, consulting with Ferdinand (who claimed to “quack the sky”), and even borrowing Rufus’s glowing fur as a makeshift barometer.
To everyone’s surprise—and relief—the following day dawned clear and beautiful, with not a cloud in sight.
Act 4: Resolution and Reflection
That evening, as the animals gathered around the old oak tree, Sir Whiskerton addressed the group.
“Today taught us an important lesson,” he began, sipping a cup of moonlit tea. “While mistakes are inevitable, learning from them is invaluable. Whether you’re forecasting weather or solving mysteries, preparation and care make all the difference.”
Molly smiled gratefully. “Thank you for being patient with me. Next time, I’ll triple-check my forecasts!”
Even Chef Remy joined in, holding a tray of suspiciously glowing snacks.
“These are Forecast Fixer-Uppers™,” he announced proudly. “Guaranteed to stabilize your predictions—or cause indigestion!”
The animals exchanged wary glances but couldn’t help laughing.
Post-Credit Scene
Later that evening, Molly sat atop the barn roof, gazing at the stars.
“You know,” she mused aloud, “this whole experience has made me realize something.”
“What’s that?” Sir Whiskerton asked, lounging nearby.
“I’m still smarter than the scarecrow.”
Sir Whiskerton chuckled softly. “Of course you are, my friend. Of course you are.”
Moral of the Story
Even the best intentions require diligence—preparation and care make all the difference.
Best Lines
- “Trust me—I’ve got this down to a science!” – Molly, channeling misplaced confidence.
- “My suspenders are ruined!” – Mr. Wigglesworth, ever dramatic.
- “These are Forecast Fixer-Uppers™—guaranteed to stabilize your predictions or cause indigestion!” – Chef Remy, offering questionable solutions.
Key Jokes
- The hailstorm of hay bales adds slapstick humor.
- Chef Remy’s glowing snow cones spark both curiosity and concern.
- Molly’s increasingly frantic attempts to fix her forecasts provide ongoing comedic chaos.
Starring
- Meteorologist Molly (Well-Meaning Weather Wizard/Forecast Fiasco Extraordinaire)
- Sir Whiskerton (Feline Philosopher/Detective Extraordinaire)
- Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Snacks)
- Ferdinand the Duck (Self-Proclaimed Quack Meteorologist)
Summaries
- Moral: Even the best intentions require diligence—preparation and care make all the difference.
- Future Potential: Could Molly become the farm’s official weather consultant? Or will Chef Remy invent edible thermometers next?
Until next time, may your forecasts be accurate and your picnics dry. ☀️
How was your experience working with super rich people?
I worked in the Clubhouse of a Private Country Club. The members were very friendly and appreciative of being recognized by name. I was fortunate enough to have great recall of faces and names, so my earnings were higher than most club staff. I worked in the Golf Department and I was able to get members entrusted to handle their golf clubs, shoes, carts and even house sat while they were on cruises, etc. Nearly all of them paid me cash. While I worked in the Dining Room and Bar, my knowledge of their preferences was helpful to earn even more.
They were average net worth of $10million to $150million plus. Convincing them to buy a $400 bottle of Opus One with their Tomahawk Ribeye was pretty easy as long as they knew you well. Many members like to hand out Benjamin’s ($100 bills) as a gesture to imply, please come back next season.
Of course, there are some ornery, entitled people who take advantage of everything, but our club had a strict policy of not abusing the staff in any way whatsoever. Members who violated this rule basically lost their entire club privileges.
Pictures
“Moms Can’t Cash Out Anymore!” Divorce Rates Crash After 50/50 Custody Law | The Coffee Pod
Trump claimed that the U.S. could mass produce the magnets currently dominated by China within a year and even suggested production might overshoot so much that the U.S. wouldn’t know what to do with the surplus. Is that realistic, or is he bluffing?
Ask yourself, “Self, what do you really think Trump knows about magnets?” When I ask that question, my self responds “Dave, it’s the same thing he knows about pretty much everything else: not a fucking thing. If you asked about the con game, grifting, rape, business crime, or child trafficking, he might have a clue, but magnets? Come on!”
The typically strongest magnets are neodymium iron boron (NdFeB) magnets, which were discovered in 1984. They’re also fairly cheap, because iron is cheap and you don’t need all that much neodymium.
Another pretty good one is the samarium cobalt (SmCo) magnet, not as strong as NdFeB magnets but they’re better at high temperatures. Samarium is rare compared to neodymium and cobalt is expensive. Most cobalt is mined in the Democratic Republic of Congo, a place with little respect for human rights. Many mines use children as miners, with insufficient protection against the toxic materials they’re mining.
Both are used in EVs… most EVs*.
Neodymium and samarium are both rare earth metals. That’s the 15 elements in the second to bottom row, starting with lantium (La), so these are often called the lanthanides. Scandium (Sc) and yttrium (Y) are also usually included in the list of rare earth metals. Rare earth metals are not actually rare. Neodymium is about as common as copper or nickel, but they’re found in low concentrations, making them difficult and expensive to extract. The extraction processes often use dangerous chemicals, and byproducts can be radioactive materials like uranium and thorium.
Basically, a few countries — China for example — have gone in big on producing such materials, countries that often don’t care much about human rights or pollution. Far as neodymium goes, China has dominated and, at least in the past, priced others out of these markets.
That’s changing, though. The USA has a big operation in California, and other countries that min neodymium include Brazil, India, Sri Lanka, and Australia. Vietnam, Canada, and Russia have notable deposits but do little mining. 95% of the processing, though, is done in China. That’s the weak link.
I did say most EVs. While they’ve moved away from this in recent vehicles, Tesla was launched based on using rotating induction motors — invented by Nikola Tesla, their namesake — rather than permanent magnet motors. Rotating induction motors use electromagnets rather than permanent magnets. The Roadster and Models S, X, and Y use induction motors, while the Model 3 uses a permanent magnet motor.
So at least for this use of magnets, the choice is a design option for electric motors. And in this case, Trump is not incorrect, but that’s largely because MP Materials of Fort Worth, Texas is already making neodymium magnets in the USA. They own the USA’s only major rare earth mine, at Mountain Pass, California. I am discussing this correctly, as most rare earth elements are found with other rare earths, as well as the aforementioned radioactive materials and other elements. So while neodymium might be of most interest for magnets, there are other uses for the other elements mined here. That’s also why it’s difficult to find much about on the specific materials being extracted, or how much of it. They also do the refining at the same location.
Now, the integrated operation just started in January, and they intend to produce over 500 metric tonnes of neodymium each quarter this year, up from 1,294 tonnes in 2024. That’s enough for the domestic EV market, but many other markets for these materials. Given that Apple is a big investor, I’m betting Apple’s interest is in things other than EV motors. In fact, headphones also use neodymium magnets. So I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of all US rare earths being produced domestically in 2026 or 2027… but it’s on the rise.
There have been other companies looking to get into this mining business. For example, US Critical Materials Corp has recently found very good rare earth deposits at their Sheep Creek project in Montana.
US Critical Materials reports highest-grade neodymium deposit in the US
Too-Cute Eclipse
Written in response to: “People have gathered to witness a once-in-a-lifetime natural phenomenon, but what happens next is not what they expected.“
Mary Bendickson
Russell paced. Held the phone close to his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes as he felt the tension rise.
“He’s a grown man. He’ll be alright. I’ll do what I can but it could take all night.”
“………….”
“I know, I know, I KNOW. I can’t be there, you know.”
“…………..”
“I have a job. I have a life. I can’t drop everything.”
“………….”
“I’ll talk to him. It’s all I can do. I’m too far away.”
“………….”
“What’s that you say?”
“………….. ………………… ………………… ……………….. ………………..”
“Well, maybe… I’ll see.”
“………”
“Yeah, you, too. Will do.”
Ugh! That family of his! Won’t they ever survive without his intervention. He lives a thousand miles away from them yet they still expect him to solve all their problems. Yet, maybe this time he could turn this catastrophe to his own advantage. If what they said is true just maybe…? Oh, but he would never get Chrissy to agree to something so outlandish. She is much too sensible. A stable sort of gal. She doesn’t have her head in the clouds. She is firmly grounded. He searched for someone like her his whole adult life. Would he go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like…? Oh, but what a kick it would be if…! Should he risk it? Could turn out to be a lot of fun. Besides being beautiful and smart, Chrissy is fun loving.
Russell Koolridge, ‘Mister Cool’ to his seventh and eighth-grade science and math students, felt lucky getting to know his fellow teacher, Chrissy Merriman, better since Christmas time when they collaborated to help find the parents of five-year-old Carlson Conover after his grandfather suffered a fatal heart attack while at the same restaurant as Chrissy and her nana, Anna.
He cherished the quality time they spent together since. He knew in his heart that if he could ever be sure of her overcoming the one time resentment she felt toward him for the immature teasing he once aimed her way she would be the one. The only one he would ever want to settle down permanently with to start that perfect family he envisioned for his future. He adored helping with Carlson when they were pressed into service as temporary caretakers. He and the little tyke flew down a steep hill on a flying saucer sled, created snow angels and redecorated a pink room into a masterpiece space odyssey. Since then, Chrissy and he enjoyed the privilege of playing with the energetic little boy several times whenever Chrissy met with Carlson’s publishing icon mother, Nora Conover, as they put the finishing touches on Chrissy’s debut romance manuscript.
That life-time goal book was due to launch soon. Ooh, could that be the hook to get her to accept this wild notion he was hatching? He enjoyed success as a YA author that she was intent on matching. A travel opportunity could be exactly the spin and she would be all in. Careful, careful planning finesse would be needed to keep everything a surprise. He did wonder if that would be wise. Maybe he should conspire with Anna. She could be their chaperon. Chrissy would never go away with him alone.
~~~
“Oh, Russ, what a charming idea! Getting to meet your family, who you never talk about, and combining it with a promotion for my book. But the timing is all wrong.”
“Oh, not really, Chrissy. It would only add a day to our spring break that is a little off kilter because Easter is so early this year. And each of us can get the other same-grade teachers to cover for us since not a lot of productive work will get accomplished anyway on that particular day considering the special activity. So what do you say we get away. It’ll be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Almost cosmic. You’ll make me so happy if you say yes. Please! Anna can come along to be sure we behave appropriately. Besides, we’ll be surrounded by family.”
“I would love that. But will they love me?”
“They couldn’t help but love you. Please remember they can be…difficult.”
~~~
So as scheduled the three of them jetted away on the two hour flight to a warmer climate on a bright sunshiny spring day. They were met at the airport by two members of Russell’s family, Rocky, his father and Conway, his older brother. They drove into the rolling hills, through the piney woods, passed by beautiful calm, crystal lakes and arrived at the Koolridge family campground where they were ushered into cozy cabins that would be their accommodations for the duration of the visit.
“Russ, you never mentioned your family owns such a relaxing retreat.” Chrissy exclaimed.
“It’s been in the family for generations. There are lots of traditions and rituals that must be observed. I have been reluctant to follow the expected path and that’s why I moved so far away. I hope you won’t think less of me once you experience some of these customs.”
“Russell, it is time.” His mother, Lollie beckoned. “Your sister, Crystal, has been urging him to come out but he’s insisting it will be too dangerous. It’s going to take all of your scientific know-how voodoo to convince him otherwise. He is hiding in the basement of the lodge with a blanket over his head. Listening to the song…again.”
“Sorry, Chrissy and Anna. This shouldn’t take long. We’ll need to get to the stadium soon. It’s my younger brother, Little Rock. He is suffering a bad case of loss love. He continually listens to a song that captures the essence of love’s complexities. It reflects the universal human experience of longing, vulnerability, and the desire for emotional connection. There’s a ceremony today at Arkansas Tech University involving virgins and nuptials that embodies the sentiment. We have to get him there to let him know there is hope.”
For whatever reason Anna had convinced Chrissy she should wear her white flouncy dress with the white sweater embroidered with spring flowers today. Chrissy was amazed at how many other women were wearing white flowing dresses at the event. But then as the light of the sun dimmed the light in her mind came on.
Russell, in his dark suit, got down on one knee, extended an antique ring and popped a very important question. “Chrissy Merriman, you light up my world like the moon and the sun. As they become one this hour, would you do me the honor of becoming one with me in a total eclipse of our hearts? I desire a deep emotional connection with only you. I pray you have the same longing for me.”
“Oh, Mista Cool, you really know how to make heaven and earth move for me!”
A kind of hush embraced the crowd, the temperature cooled as passions heated, birdsong ceased and stars came out while the earth stood still for four minutes. Along with 299 other brides and grooms, including his younger brother reunited with his newly re-found love partner, Russell and Chrissy universally pledged their hearts to one another as the moon totally eclipsed the sun in Russellville, AR, USA on April 8, 2024. A day not easily forgotten because of a too-cute eclipse.
If you could only choose one specific dish from any Chinese dialect cuisine to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Four dishes, is that okay? Please, I beg you!
One dish really won’t do!
I thought about this almost twenty years ago, haha.
I think four dishes are acceptable.
The first one:
Tomato and egg noodles!
My wife loves it, I don’t really like it—I prefer dishes without soup.
My kids are great, they’ll eat anything.
The second one: Muslim hand-pulled noodles!
There’s a Muslim noodle shop right next to my home, and I’ve been eating there for 19 years.
During those 19 years, they’ve raised the price only three times, and every time they told me, apologetically: “The pressure is just too much……sorrry……”
Such kind people—honestly, with normal inflation, after 19 years the price should have gone up, right?
The third one is my specialty: stir-fried red chili with anything.
Pork, beef, tofu, eggs—doesn’t matter.
As long as I have red chilies, I’m confident I can cook up a fantastic dish!
Unfortunately, my wife and kids don’t like it—they say it’s too spicy.
I always say: Chairman Mao said: No red, No revolution; No spice, No revolution!
And yet… T_T
But when it comes to spicy food, I’m probably in the top 0.01% of China.
I can handle it.
Back in college, once I ordered noodles, and the cook gave me very little chili. I lifted my bowl at the window and said: “More.” He added some. I said: “More…” and more and more and more ……
Pretty soon, people started lining up behind me.
Finally, he lost his temper and dumped in enough chili to destroy an average person.
I happily took the bowl and went to eat. From the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me the whole time, waiting for me to embarrass myself.
But nope—I ate it with great delight.
When I returned the bowl, he gave me a thumbs up. 🙂
In short, as long as I have chili, salt, and carbs, I can survive. No big deal.
The fourth dish is tofu.
I’m really good at making tofu dishes.
Lots of different styles—and honestly, they’re delicious.
Really delicious.
Tofu is high in protein, and if you know how to cook it, it’s incredibly tasty.
Some say tofu is China’s fifth great invention—I agree!
Believe me, I can turn tofu into many delicious, nutritious dishes that don’t require killing animals. Truly.
EDIT
Alright, I have to confess. More than 20 years ago, our office was always troubled about what to eat every day. I suggested, why don’t we all write down our favorite dishes, then I’ll make a random wheel, and everyone can spin it? Everyone thought it was a good idea. So I wrote a little program…
The problem was, I never had their dilemma… so I secretly made the program detect if the employee ID was mine—then it would only pick dishes with chili for me!
Chicken Pot Pie with Corn Crust
(Pastel de Choclo con Pollo – Chile)
Ingredients
Chicken Filling
- 1 1/2 pounds bone-in chicken breasts
- 1 pound chicken thighs
- 1 small yellow onion, peeled
- 2 cups homemade chicken broth
- 1 bay leaf
- 1/4 cup golden seedless raisins
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 medium yellow onions, peeled and minced
- 1 medium clove garlic, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon dried powdered oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
- Salt, to taste
- Freshly-ground white pepper, to taste
- 2 hardboiled eggs, each cut into 8 wedges
- 12 medium pitted black olives, coarsely chopped
Corn Topping
- 5 cups fresh or frozen (defrosted) corn kernels
- 1 cup milk
- 1/2 cup butter
- 1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper, or to taste
- 1 teaspoon sweet paprika
- 1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar, or to taste
Instructions
- Put chicken breasts and thighs, the whole onion, chicken broth and bay leaf in a large stockpot; bring to a low boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat, cover and simmer until the chicken is tender, about 30 minutes.
- Transfer the chicken pieces to a large plate. When the chicken is cool, remove skin and pull the meat from the bones. Discard skin, bones and bay leaf. Dice the chicken meat. Reserve the chicken cooking liquid and onion.
- Soak raisins in a small mixing bowl with enough warm water to cover so that they soften.
- Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté minced onions and garlic, stirring occasionally, until just brown, about 10 minutes.
- Drain raisins and stir them in along with the diced chicken, 1/2 cup of the reserved chicken cooking liquid, paprika, oregano and cumin. Cook for 5 minutes.
- Taste and season with salt and white pepper, as needed. Remove the filling from the heat and keep warm.
- Corn Topping: Puree corn kernels and milk with the reserved onion in a food processor or electric blender until smooth. Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Stir in the corn puree and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until it is as thick as oatmeal. Taste, then season with salt and black pepper as needed.
- Butter a shallow 2-quart casserole with 1 tablespoon butter. Spread the chicken filling on the bottom of the casserole. Press the egg wedges and chopped olives into the filling. Spread the corn topping over the chicken and smooth it with a rubber spatula. Sprinkle the top of the pie with the paprika and then the confectioners sugar.
- Bake the pie in a preheated 350 degree F oven until the top is firm and light golden, about 45 minutes.
- Broil the pie under a preheated broiler about 4 inches from the heat until the top has browned, about 4 minutes.
- Serve at once.
Serves 4 to 6.
Do oncology doctors give cancer patients a false sense of hope even when they know that there is no hope for them?
“You could die in the car on the way home from this appointment, it’s happened before” – a consultant oncologist.
The quote above was near the end of my mum’s life, but she didn’t die on the way home. First I’ll give some context.
My mum was diagnosed with lung cancer which had metastasised to the liver (we thought). It had indeed metastasised to the liver, but no-one told us that it had also metastasised to the brain and bones until we found out after my mum had been hospitalised for a few days due to severe upper right chest pain. I thought maybe it was another pulmonary embolism (clot in lung) or pneumothorax (collapsed lung). We didn’t really know what it was even after a few days of hospitalisation – and we were in a newly built £1B+ NHS ‘superhospital’.
One day a junior Dr, who clearly didn’t know we hadn’t been informed, said “this medication will help with the pain from the bone mets” then walked out the door like it was nothing. One of the first things I was taught in med school was to not use medical jargon when talking to patients. So my family had no idea what that meant. But I did.
I had to explain that she meant bone metastases, specifically clavicular (collar bone) metastases, which was causing her awful pain. That was tough, and it sealed the deal for me in already knowing my mum was most likely terminal.
When out of the hospital and all the scans had been completed, she got an extremely quick outpatidng appointment with a consultant oncologist, who said the words at the beginning of this answer. He also said it had metastasised almost everywhere and that her prognosis was literally at the point of dying any moment, or a few weeks/months from then at the very most. She died a few weeks later at home and the brain metastases essentially gave her dementia prior to that, even though she had no impaired cognition when diagnosed. From death to diagnosis was less than four months. She was 65 and hadn’t smoked a single cigarette for at the very least ~35 years. My mum and I around a week before her diagnosis:
I remember asking the GP/family dr who diagnosed the lung cancer – along with numerous potentially deadly clots in the lungs – if he could show me the initial X-ray (this was at the very first appointment when she was first diagnosed). He knew I was a medical student, and I could tell he was extremely reluctant to show me, but he did. And the tumour in her right lung was huge – it must have been developing for years to get to the size it was. I think at that point I already knew what was going to happen, but was in a bit of denial and my mind was simply broken. The picture below of course isn’t an X-ray, but the primary tumour shown is about a quarter or one-third of the size of my mum’s when diagnosed, and the metastatic spread shown is exactly what happened over the following months.
To answer the question, I would say that in general most oncologists don’t give a false sense of hope to their patients, especially in countries that have ‘free’, tax-payed public healthcare where there is no financial, or really any other, motivation to give a terminal patient false hope. My story is just an anecdote, but there certainly will be cases where false hope is given. Especially considering how difficult it is to tell someone they’ll be dead soon.
Americans EXPOSE the TRUTH: China Makes America Look Like A Third World Country! 🇨🇳🇺🇸
