Pennsylvania in late summer into early Fall is truly the land of plenty. Not onlya re the farms lush with vegetables, from squash, tomatoes, corn and carrots, but the wild pants are everywhere. Apple trees are seriously everywhere, same with blueberry bushes, huckleberry bushes, Burch trees (great for birch beer), and all kinds of grapes. It’s truly the land of Plenty.

I didn’t realize how great I had it as a boy growing up in the 1960’s.  So today, I will present some images of the glories of late Summer in Pennsylvania.

Today…

Can you rank up to general from private in the US military?

When I was flying VIPs around in the 1980s, one of my early favorite passengers was Army General John W. Vessey, Jr., the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

He enlisted as a private in the Minnesota National Guard in the late 1930s, hit the beach as a senior NCO at Anzio in World War II (where he received a battlefield commission), and rose through the officer ranks to the top uniformed position in the U.S. in the early 1980s.

General Vessey was a pleasure to fly around. He always had an entourage, but he always made it a point to interact with as many people as he possibly could, including his aerial chauffeurs. As a former aviator himself, he always requested a headset so he could be up on the intercom with us even for the short flights between Andrews Air Force Base and the Pentagon — even if he never said a word the entire trip (he was in his 60s at the time, and occasionally the short rides were his only chance to grab a catnap in a long work day), he’d always say, “Thanks for the ride, troops.” Every. Single. Flight.

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Quick anecdote showing why he, like a lot of other enlisted-turned-generals with a similar personal touch, was so beloved by those of us in uniform. One hot summer afternoon we were shuttling him back to the Pentagon. Although aircraft commander-qualified, I was flying as co-pilot for a more senior AC, who by squadron policy was required to make the takeoff and landing with the “code” aboard. We had a moderate wind in our faces as we turned final for the Pentagon helipad; as we dropped below the level of the Pentagon’s roof line, close to touching down, the wind abruptly died and the AC had to try to correct for a sudden loss of lift, with a rate of descent already established and a full load of passengers.

Take that, helipad. Wham.

Dead silence for a moment, then the AC remarked, “Well, that was an f——-d up VIP landing” over the intercom. Cue frantic gesticulating from me and the flight engineer, pointing at our earphones. From the back, over the intercom: “Thanks for the ride, troops.” Crap.

We watched in silence as our charges disembarked and headed for their vehicles. We saw the General’s aide, but not him. Suddenly a grizzled head sporting an ear-to-ear grin popped up between us. Shouting over the rotor noise, General Vessey hollered, “I made a lot of f——d up VIP landings, too!”, waved and departed.

You had to love the guy.

‘All Three of Them Are Dead’

What is the most inappropriate experience you have had with a friend’s spouse?

A few years ago, my ex and I had a friend (couple) and the husband always liked to flirt with me. We became close and shopped together every Christmas Eve. On this shopping trip we were in a lingerie shop and he asked me to try on this black and red chemise. I went to the changing room and put it on, he entered behind me while I was looking myself in the mirror, when I turned he kissed me and I let him finger me to orgasm right there wearing that chemise… I came so hard and so wet. He wanted to fuck me but I said no and I pushed him out of the dressing room and got dressed. I was shaking all over. When we got into the car we both just sat there quietly. I was very very wet still and quite turned on but still shaking. He turned to say something and I said “Don’t,” I leaned over, we kissed and I sucked him off. We got a hotel room and he proceeded to fuck my brains out for nearly an hour and a half. I never told my ex… but I wore that chemise for only him, several more times until my divorce.

How To Ruin Your College Life Instantly

Was the AK-47 really as reliable as it is portrayed?

The most interesting fact about the AK-47’s reliability is the sinister reason behind making it so.

The AK-47 is a rugged gun. Numerous demonstrations, as well as real-world applications, have shown that you can absolutely abuse this weapon and it will still fire reliably. By abuse, I mean that I have seen these weapons thrown in mud and still fire, allowed to rust, and sometimes even survive being run over by a vehicle, get dusted off, and fire immediately after.

Your standard American rifles built off the M-16 platform can’t do that, at least not to this degree. At least, that’s not what it was specifically designed to do.

The AK-47 was. It was designed not for precision, but resiliency. The reason lies in a design approach to the AK-47 that involves lots of internal space between all the parts. This allows dirt, grit, and debris to work their way through the weapon’s working parts, rather than getting stuck and causing jams. The weapon also features a great deal of give between the parts, causing a sound that feels like it’s going to fall apart. Really, this give is part of what allows it to remain functional even after much abuse.

The M-16 and all other variants like the civilian AR-15 or the more modern M-4s are far more delicate. That’s not to say that they are fragile little princesses, (since so many people are getting stupid in the comments about this) but that they handle get dirty worse and are generally more prone to jam from not being cleaned well enough. You can dent them and damage some of the intricate bolt assembly, leaving the whole thing inoperable. Perhaps most of all, the M-16 has very limited capacity for automatic firing—enough that the Marine Corps practiced never using that function. Compare this to the AK-47, which fires not only fully automatically, but also fires a much heavier and more powerful round. All things considered, it’s pretty clear the AK-47 is a vastly superior weapon, right?

Well, not so fast.

The reason why the M-16 is such a princess is that it’s made for a more precise role. The M-16 is designed to have a much greater range and to deliver fire much more accurately. The sighting system, even without modern add-ons, is far better, too. The M16 max effective range for a point target is 550 yards, while the AK-47 caps out at about 300. That means that while the AK-47 might be terrifying up close, if it can’t reach you, it loses. If you must run 200 yards while under well-directed and accurate fire, good luck when you finally reach the point where your enemy is finally within your range. That’s why it loses to the M-16.

That said, the ideal operator of a weapon like the M-16, you must be an educated person, not a PhD, but literate to the equivalent of an American high school graduate. The training involved in using the weapon well involves learning to zero your weapon, which involves a good deal of math and lots of reading, as well as maintaining a complicated data book to measure and adjust your firing. As a Marine Corps Marksmanship instructor who trained Marines during the times of iron sights, it’s pretty friggin hard to hit something five football fields away and next to impossible if you can’t read your data book. Fighting at range requires more skill and capability than what the AK-47 allows.

This is where the AK-47 shows its true colors. The AK-47 was made so robust because it was made for illiterate people who aren’t educated enough to care for or operate the more advanced features of the M-16. It was a weapon designed to be flown to allies of the then Soviet Union: third-world countries where literacy was low, and authoritarian dictatorships were high. There, Soviet spies could make alliances by offloading planeloads of these weapons, and an illiterate goat farmer could be made into a militia warrior in a matter of days.

In the words of Mikhail Kalashnikov himself (the “K” in AK-47).

“Reliability comes from a variety of factors. First, the short distance between the locking mechanism and the chamber. Second, I designed the moving part with more space between them. While all designers sought to tighten things up, I let all moving parts move with absolute freedom. You take a handful of sand, throw it into the chamber, load it, and fire! These factors allow this weapon to march all around the globe.”

—Mikhail Kalashnikov, interview from History Channel’s Tales of the Gun

Where the M-16 needs to be fielded after intense precision training by soldiers who had weeks of experience caring for and learning the weapon, a warlord could equip and field a small army of illiterate peasant soldiers with AK-47s in days. This was in line with Soviet-era geopolitical tactics, and also why this weapon is responsible for more murders than anything since the invention of the spear. And to serve as a final nail in the coffin on that debate, below is a picture of a child soldier. You can’t create a more unsuited kind of “warrior” than that. While I’m sure it is possible to find some images of children holding an M16, if you independently do a Google search for “child soldier,” almost invariably, they are always holding some variant of the same weapon — the AK-47. That’s not a fluke of history. That was always the intended design.

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A Family Tradition in the Sky

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.“

Ralph’s grandfather Jack had long been his hero. More than anything else, he liked to hear of his grandfather’s research when he was at university. Before he retired, Jack had been a high school science teacher, and his area of greatest interest had been astronomy. It still was. His literally stellar research essay that had earned him his Bachelor of Science and the enduring respect of his professors at university, had been on the subject of astronomy, with an emphasis on comets. Grandfather Jack had a special relationship with Halley’s Comet, having seen it when he was 10 years old on March 8, 1986, and had taken its picture, now posted on the front door of his house, for all his neighbours and passers by to see.

As an undergraduate, grandfather Jack had wanted to proceed to a Master’s degree and a PhD, after he had graduated with a Bachelor of Science. His professors had encouraged him to further his education as he showed great potential as a researcher. However, he had married at age 20, and his wife Hazel had given birth to twins the year that he graduated, one of which would eventually be Ralph’s mother. Jack could not afford more schooling, as he had a family to support, but he did have sufficient academic credentials to earn him a job as a teacher at the local high school.

Ralph loved to hear his grandfather talk about Halley’s Comet, how it influenced his career choice, from when he was Ralph’s age, a tradition that he very much wanted to extend to himself. Grandfather Jack has been influenced as well by his grandfather George, who had told him stories about when he had seen the comet himself, as George’s grandfather had as well. It had become a family tradition many generations deep. There was a long-told family story that one of their ancestors had actually known Edmond Halley himself, the man who had formally identified the repeat visitation of the comet in 1705. Not everyone in the family believed that this story was true, more wishful history, but young boys and girls in the family usually did, some maintaining that belief into their adulthood. Grandfather Jack was not sure of its truth, but he never got around to doing historical research of that kind. It wasn’t science.

The Next Appearance of Halley’s Comet

The year is 2061, a year in which the repeat appearance of the comet had been reliably predicted, and very much anticipated. Grandfather Jack (now 83) and grandson Ralph (who had recently had his 10^th birthday, had made plans to see it through a very sophisticated viewing and recording telescope in grandfather Jack’s backyard. It was as tall as the old pine that stood not far away from it. Ralph’s parents did not usually like having their son stay up late, particularly on the school night upon which the comet was going to be seen in the sky.  But this viewing was a family tradition, so they let him do it “just this once.” Of course they would have no say concerning his potential viewing the comet as an old man.

The return of Halley’s Comet was featured in all the media on earth. Some months ago, there had been a significant number of spacecraft shot from earth to get the closest view of the comet ever achieved.  It was a point of great competition between the bigger spacecraft conglomerates.  It was fortunate that there were no humans on board these vehicles. For two of the spacecrafts had actually collided with each other, destroying both of them in a heartbeat, or whatever the mechanical version of that would be. The AI pilots would detect enough to know they were doomed when the crash moment was seconds away.

Grandfather Jack and grandson Ralph waited and waited, knowing that the comet would come, but still impatient concerning its eventual arrival. Then they saw it. There was some concern, as there seemed to be something strange about the way it looked. Somehow it had taken a shape, and distribution of light that was definitely different from what both of them had expected. Then within an hour the light swelled around itself in a circle, followed by the centre of the light suddenly disappearing completely, like it had been swallowed up by the distant sky. It was evident to the two of them that the comet had exploded, that it existed no more. They were both in shock. How could this happen after so many centuries of existence and travelling along the same space path? Then Ralph expressed his belief that it must have been caused by the large number of spacecraft that were in or near the path of the comet, interfering with its flight in some way. Grandfather Jack agreed, condemning the companies that had sent up their spacecraft with the main selfish goal of being able to say that their craft had come the closest to the comet, and thereby would have the very best pictures for people to pay to see.

Ralph’s Future

Grandfather Jack died in his late 80s, only three years after the demise of Halley’s Comet. It was the saddest day of Ralph’s young life. Fortunately, his grandfather had willed his telescope and its comet pictures to his grandson. Ralph went on to have the career that his grandfather had very much wanted many years before. He became a professor at a university with astronomy, particularly comets becoming his research speciality. His greatest triumph was writing what would be called the definitive book on Halley’s Comet, complete with suggestions why it had exploded, blaming devices sent deep into the skies by selfish corporations. The most difficult aspect of his research for the book was trying to find out whether or not an ancestor of his had known Halley himself. Eventually, with the help of a colleague who taught British history, he learned that one of his ancestors had lived in the same town in 1705 as did the famous scientist, so it was at least a possibility that the old family story was true. Ralph wrote that he was sure that it was. The rest of his research was more solid than that.

Eventually the year came when Ralph himself had become a grandfather. His grandson was as charmed by his grandfather’s stories as Ralph had been many years before by his. This was particularly true when the boy was told the story of 2061 while he was viewing the last moments of Halley’s Comet.

Moroccan Tomato Soup

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• 3 tablespoons honey
• 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 2 pounds tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and pureed or 1 (28 ounce) can puréed tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 5 cups water
• 1/4 cup minced fresh dill or 2 teaspoons dill weed
• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
• Fromage blanc or low-fat yogurt

Instructions

1. Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot and sauté the onion and salt over medium heat until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes.
2. Add the honey and cinnamon. Saute, stirring, until the onion is glazed, about 4 minutes.
3. Add the pureed tomatoes, tomato paste, water and 3 tablespoons of the dill. Stir well to blend. Bring to a rapid boil and cook, uncovered, until the contents are reduced by half, about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Remove the soup from heat and add the balsamic vinegar. Puree the mixture in a blender or food processor (you may have to do this in batches).
5. Return the soup to the kettle and reheat gently.
6. Ladle the soup into individual soup bowls and top with the Fromage Blanc or yogurt.

Orange Pistachio Date Bread

Ingredients

• 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup milk
• 1/3 cup orange juice
• Grated zest of 1 orange
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• 3 large eggs
• 1 cup chopped pitted dates
• 1/2 cup coarsely chopped shelled pistachios

Instructions

1. Place a rack in the lower third of oven. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease and flour a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.
2. Mix the all-purpose flour, wheat flour, baking powder and salt together in one bowl.
3. In another bowl, mix the milk, orange juice, zest and vanilla extract.
4. Using an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar in a large bowl until light and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes.
5. Beat in the eggs.
6. Gradually beat in the flour mixture and milk mixture using low speed or by hand, alternating in 3 parts. Stop when the batter has just come together; do not over-beat.
7. Fold in the dates and pistachios.
8. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for about 70 minutes, until a wooden pick inserted in the center comes out clean.
9. Cool in pan on rack for 10 minutes.
10. Unmold and set loaf on rack to cool completely.

Notes

Can be stored well wrapped and refrigerated for 2 days before serving.

The inscription above is in Mao Zedong’s calligraphy. Its content reads:

“The American imperialists are very arrogant. Wherever they can be unreasonable, they will certainly be unreasonable. If they ever reason a little, it is only because they are forced to do so.”

This was Mao’s analytical characterization of the United States.

“You might as well ask how the stars got here.” Char’s dad answered. “It’s just the way we are.”

“But my Frawn personality keeps breaking up with her, and if he keeps it up, I’m going to lose her. She’s at her breaking point.”

“I didn’t say it’s easy. Believe me, there’s nothing easy about being a Binal. There isn’t another species in the entire galaxy like us.”

“I hate him,” Char spat, his fist slamming against the wall, pain shooting up his arm.

“You’ll get used to him. It just takes time. When my Norcan personality developed, I felt the same way—like he didn’t belong. But could you imagine me without him?”

“Well, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it will for me! You two aren’t tearing each other apart like we are—sometimes I feel like I’m drowning.”

Char’s dad chuckled. He had said something similar to his father when he went through his change of life.

“It’s not easy being a teen. I remember the confusion and awkward feelings. But they make us unique. One day, you’ll appreciate Frawn. After all, he’s as much you as you are.”

“But he keeps breaking up with her. How do I stop him?”

“If your girlfriend likes you, she’ll understand. Who knows, maybe she’ll win him over like your mother did with Norcan.” Char’s dad bent over and whispered, “However, when I feel him trying to take over, if I want to, I can stop him by pinching my butt. I don’t know if it will work for you, but you never know.”

“And it works every time?”

“Yes, and he doesn’t know about my trick, so don’t tell him.”

“So, if you can stop him, why do you ever let him take over?”

“Norcan is a hard worker, unlike me. I’d rather sit in my cozy chair and read. So, when it’s time to read, I keep him away with a butt pinch, but when it’s time to mow or your mother has chores for me, I discovered that if I pinch my butt twice, he’ll take over and knock my unpleasant work out of the ballpark. It’s a great arrangement.”

“So, once keeps him away, and twice allows him to take over.” Char thought about Sarcoo. Maybe this could work for him. Maybe a well-timed butt pitch can save their relationship.

Char went up to his room and discovered the butt-pinching technique worked. Armed with this new weapon, he went to school the next day with a newfound confidence.

“Hey, you,” Sarcoo called out to him from across the hall. “Where have you been? I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Oh, I wasn’t feeling good.”

“Is this because of Frawn?” She asked, her voice tight with disgust.

“I’m sorry he keeps breaking up with you. You know it’s not me? And that I love you?”

“I guess so. I just don’t understand why he’s so mean. The other boys are developing more agreeable personalities.”

“Are you blaming me? You know I can’t control it. No one can.”

“I know. I just wish he’d be nice to me, that’s all.” She pouted in that irresistibly cute way Char loved. “Anyway, are we still on for tonight?”

“I can’t wait. Do you know which holo-chamber movie you want to walk through? Possibly an action one?” He crossed his fingers. He was sick of romance.

“I was thinking ‘Hope Hovers.'” She batted her eyes and pouted.

He melted and almost said yes, but Frawn started to take over. Char moved quickly and pinched his butt.

“What was that about?” Sarcoo asked. She didn’t know whether to smile or be jealous.

“Umm, a fungaroo bit me.”

That night, Char and Sarcoo walked through “Hope Hovers.” She enjoyed the holographic love story, and he enjoyed holding her hand and stealing kisses. They began to walk through the credits.

“I’m surprised Frawn didn’t show and ruin our date,” Sarcoo said.

Char nodded. He forced a weak smile, remembering how many times during the movie he’d had to pinch himself each time a romantic scene played. He got the strong impression Frawn hated romantic holo-chamber movies even more than he did.

Sarcoo smiled and kissed him. Not a quick peck like he expected, but a long, passionate kiss. Suddenly, Char felt Frawn angrily try to take over. Char quickly pinched his butt.

Sorcoo pulled back with a coy smile, “Hey, that’s my job,” and pinched his butt faster than he could stop her, turning his single pinch into a double.

“Get off. What’s wrong with you?” Frawn spit and sputtered, wiping his lips with his shirt sleeve.

Sorcoo jumped back, startled by his venomous response. She looked around, embarrassed by Frawn’s scene, and wondered to herself, Did anyone else see that? She could feel tears forming, but she closed her eyes tight and refused to let them fall.

“Frawn, I’ve had it with you. You’re not going to get between us. You hear me!”

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” His face, although the exact same as Char’s, looked hideous and contemptible.

She racked her brain to find a way to deal with this beastly personality, and then it hit her. Maybe there is a reason Char has been pinching his butt. She stared at Frawn with an evil smile, making a pinching motion.

She pinched, then Char would show up for a second. She pinched again, then Frawn took back control. This happened several times before Char retained control.

He looked around and winced when he saw Sarcoo, dreading to hear what Frawn had done. But she answered before he could ask. “You won’t have to worry about Frawn anymore. We made a deal. He won’t interrupt our dates if we don’t go to romantic holo-chamber movies. I guess we’ll just have to go to action holo-chamber movies from now on. The sacrifices I make for you.”

He sighed in relief, then winced in pain. “My butt is killing me.”

Sarcoo pouted, “Sorry, it took me a while to figure out the one pinch, two pinch thing.”

They left the holo-chamber with Char holding Sarcoo with one hand, and rubbing his over-pinched butt with the other.