When I was young, I used to play with Tonka Trucks.  These were durable steel and metal toy trucks that were so rugged that they lasted forever.  And in those days, I had this big yellow dump truck, and my paternal grandfather gave me a big red oil truck with the logo of Texaco.

Stuff like this…

Yeah. I don’t know what happened to these toys. My guess is that they are now rusting away in the bottom of a landfill somewhere in an old strip-mine landfill. Ah, you know, life moves on and we discard the things that were once meaningful to us.

Today…

Why is China unwilling to become a vassal state of the United States like Japan and South Korea?

There’s an old Chinese poem that goes:

“We cannot see the true face of Mount Lu,Only because we are ourselves within the mountain.”

Sometimes, when you grow up within a certain culture, you unconsciously fail to realize that other cultures and peoples see things quite differently from you.

For example, I think I once mentioned that I used to imagine that, in the eyes of Southeast Asian countries, China was a fat, gentle pushover — kind, honest, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses, a total nerd constantly taken advantage of by its ten neighbors. I used to feel indignant about that.

But a friend of mine, who has done business in Southeast Asia for many years, told me that actually, in the minds of Southeast Asian people, China is more like a muscular giant — a hot-tempered quarterback type.

He said, “Think about it: back in 1950, you dared to fight against the UN army led by the United States — seventeen countries — in Korea, and you fought them to a draw. Later you were even preparing for a full-scale war with the Soviet Union. To Southeast Asian nations, that’s almost unimaginable.”

Besides, they haven’t forgotten the past two thousand years of history. Otherwise, when the People’s Republic of China was first founded — at a time when China was poor and weak to the extreme — two countries still followed the old custom and sent the sons of their rulers to Beijing as hostages. (China declined, explaining that this was no longer ancient times — under socialism, all nations are equal.)

Thinking about it, I had to admit it made sense.

Another time, I was chatting with a netizen from a small country. I spoke of China’s “century of humiliation,” gnashing my teeth and nearly in tears, but he didn’t understand.

After I explained, he said, “That doesn’t sound like humiliation at all! China seems very strong. Britain and France invaded you twice and failed; then eight countries — Britain, the U.S., France, Germany, Russia, Japan, Austria-Hungary, and Italy — invaded together, and you still didn’t lose your nation. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

Me: “……”

Different countries have very different national mindsets.

So when I see a question like, “Why can’t China be an American vassal state like South Korea or Japan?”

—I pause for a while before realizing what that even means.

The Sino-Soviet split, after all, happened because Khrushchev completely failed to understand China. He even said, “You don’t need to build nuclear submarines; that’s too difficult for you.”

Chairman Mao, furious, wrote a famous inscription: “Nuclear submarines — even if it takes ten thousand years, we must build them!”

In fact, it took less than ten.

Among Soviet leaders, Stalin was the shrewdest. He proposed: “In the European direction, it was led by the Soviet Union; in the Asian direction, it was under China’s responsibility.”

Mao humbly replied, “It’s better for the Soviet Union to take the lead both.” (At that time, China couldn’t even produce rifles, so this response was reasonable.)

But Khrushchev — what an idiot.

Mao said, “China can be the Soviet Union’s younger brother, but never its son.” (Meaning: never a vassal state.)

Americans are proud — talking about “American exceptionalism,” “a city upon a hill,” “manifest destiny,” and all that.

The Chinese, in their own way, believe in something similar.

For example, I still can’t understand why the U.S. hasn’t seen the situation clearly and chosen to cooperate with China. Why keep stirring up the Taiwan issue? Why keep trying to suppress China?

So foolish.

Welfare Check Leads To Horrifying Discovery

In this intense true crime video, a routine welfare check takes a chilling turn when authorities make a horrifying discovery. What was supposed to be a simple visit turns into a nightmare as secrets are uncovered, and the truth behind this unsettling situation is revealed.

From shocking moments to twisted revelations, this story will leave you questioning everything. What happened when the welfare check was conducted? Who was involved? And how did this terrifying discovery unfold? Stay tuned as we dive into the full details of this mysterious case that has stunned everyone.

Why should we insist that goods be made here in America, when they can be made more cheaply somewhere else?

Trump wants heavy industry to return to America – iron foundries and steel mills. He even thinks that America can make its own aluminum. As if.

Those industries haven’t been active in the US for fifty years. They ceased to be profitable then. US Steel left Gary Indiana fifty years ago and took 60,000 jobs away from Americans. Gary’s population peaked in 1960 at 178,320. It currently stands at 66,747. There are over 13,000 abandoned structures in Gary Indiana.

Have you ever heard of the rust belt? This area saw the abandonment of a plethora of industrial sites before and during that time.

You must be wondering, just what was there before those industrial facilities were abandoned? You kind of have to imagine what it used to look like. Here’s a small sample to wrap your head around..

Donald wants to rehabilitate all those industries and return manufacturing to America. He wants to make American cars using American steel in America again. Okay, but forget about exporting them, because they are going to be out of reach of far too many people in the USA who won’t be able to afford to buy them, let alone people in foreign markets.

Fugeddaboudit. Trump is a dreamer who really has no clue.

Mhallabiyyi

Ingredients

• 1 cup cream of rice
• 7 cup skim milk
• 1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
• 1 tablespoon rose water

Instructions

1. Combine cream of rice, milk and sugar in a medium saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until mixture starts to thicken. Lower heat, and allow mixture to simmer until it attains the consistency of a cream filling.
2. Add rose water, turn heat up. Bring to a fast boil, and remove from heat immediately. Pour into bowl or individual serving bowls.
3. Serve warm or cold. If desired, drizzle with honey and garnish with pistachios.

As an auto mechanic, have you ever met someone who was clueless about cars beyond belief?

More than I can remember, but here are a few:

A lady went to the gas station and checked the oil level in her new Cadillac with the new Northstar V8. No oil in it, so she went in and bought a quart. Still no oil, so another. She kept repeating this until the cashier questioned her about the capacity. These engines took a lot of oil, I want to say nearly eight quarts. But starting from full and adding so many quarts, she had to have her car towed and the oil drained. [EDIT: I forgot the most important part of the story… she thought the oil should be up to the bottom of the oil fill hole on the valve cover, and had added at least 5 quarts when the cashier stopped her.]

A customer tried to change his oil himself, but couldn’t get the filter off, even with pliers. I know he used filter pliers because the filter was crushed and had a little pinhole that was shooting oil out. It wasn’t even that tight, I only used pliers so I didn’t cut my hand on the jagged metal.

We have a few customers who keep bringing their car in for “the engine rattles”. Same people, same cars. They don’t listen. Every time, 4–5 qts of oil fixes their rattle. Every time someone explains to them how important it is to not let the oil get more than a quart low. One of them is proud of the fact he doesn’t have to change his oil since it burns and leaks so much. I didn’t bother correcting him on that. He won’t fix his leaks that are dumping oil in our rivers and lakes, he has the money, seems to spend it on beer. But he’ll replace the engine when it goes out, and to me, that’s a win for the environment.

A guy put new front pads, rotors, and calipers on his jeep. He actually did an excellent job – grease where there should be grease, no grease where there shouldn’t be grease. Everything cleaned up to where it looked like I’d done it myself. Just one tiny problem, the calipers were on the wrong side which put the bleeder screws at the bottom, which dumped the brake fluid out when he tried to bleed the brakes.

An employee at AutoZone argued with me for a solid five minutes about the rear calipers on my F-250. I told him “rear pads, rotors, and one caliper”. These, like several other models, use the same rear caliper on both sides, it’s on the rear of the axle on one side and the front on the other, which puts the bleeder screw at the top both ways. He insisted the left and right were different, and would not look it up without knowing which one. I asked him if he could give me the part number for both, which he was happy to do. And to his great surprise, it was exactly as I told him. I wasn’t trying to be a dick, I was trying to make sure they didn’t have a listing for different calipers, because at least one would have been wrong. And I like Duralast Gold, only for brakes, otherwise I would have hung up.

So many people tried fixing fuel leaks with duct tape, epoxy, fiberglass wrap, muffler cement, or whatever they thought would be a great fix. Several rusty tanks “fixed” this way. Brake and fuel lines patched with compression fittings.

There’s a guy who likes to be a big man when he takes his cars in. Talking about turning wrenches… saying how easy a job is, he just doesn’t have time… Always asking for, and never receiving, a discount for no reason other than he’s a cheap-ass. He finally had time to do a job on one of his vehicles. His battery was completely dead, so he replaced it himself. The truck still didn’t start, so he called up and wanted a service call. We had time, so I went out. Truck was parked in his unlit garage, but I found the problem before I put my bag of tools down. Dumbass had left the negative battery terminal cover on. I removed it, reinstalled the cable, and the truck started.

And every summer, we get probably a dozen people with serious issues like brakes grinding, steering/suspension parts that are clunking and about to fall apart, oil (one time even fuel) leaking on the exhaust manifold(s). I’m not even taking about the ones that have knocking engines or big car-ending problems. I’m talking about ‘kill yourself and whoever happens to be near you at the time of failure’ problems. So what do these morons want? They want their A/C fixed! They want to be driving in comfort right up to the point their car veers off the road, bursts into flames, or smashes into the back of a semi at 80 mph. And fixing the A/C is almost always more expensive than brakes or a couple steering/suspension parts.

7-Year-Old Girl Reveals Mom’s Horrifying Secret

https://youtu.be/vXlt7HT74SE

What do the Chinese eat in their daily lives? Is it true that they always have instant noodles?

This is mostly home made by Chinese Malaysian, no buying outside, I’ll upload more what my mother in law cook in daily’s with our maid helped but still Chinese Malaysian Hakka mom cooking style menu.

This is everyday menu we eat👇🏻

Steam minched pork with salted egg, you must be never have it, this are what all chinese kids childhood food, my mom cook this, my mother in law also cook this.

Chinese kailan with abalone & steam chicken, with pure chicken soup, no any celebration, we’re just in the mood having this.

This is Chinese new year eve menu, from left top Chinese kailan with abalone, tiger prawn, steam chicken, roast duck, stir fry noodle, lettuce & fish maw chicken soup.

Theres noodle there but Home made stir fry noodles, theres a lot going on here, all home cooking, see yourself. This is Chinese new year family gathering.

The Wagyu beef no ocassion, my husband request this so he buy & ask his mom cook it.

Chinese new year days we make this ourself

This is home made by my sister in law none ocassion, we’re just on the mood wants having it for dinner.

Pork trotter

This is from my sister in law restaurant pardon of the lemon slice position they moving by themself in a car journey.

Chinese peach gum dessert, home made one.

This is a gift we’ve got every year from random relatives & friends

Im sure you never eat all of those are you❓

For instant noodles we’re having it once every 3 month or every 6 months, rarely eating it for someone in mid 30s like me who’s can cook.

Except for the dessert

All Of It Eat With Rice 🍚

What are the (seemingly) dumbest military tactics used that actually worked?

Anti camouflage.

No, this is not some crazy art project funded by Picasso, dazzle camouflage was an actual military camouflage for thousands of ships during WWI and WWII. It actually increased chances of the ships getting spotted… But helped the ships survive.

The trick of this camouflage was to create an optical illusion that would confuse potential “hunters” in terms of the heading and exact speed of the ship, causing shells and torpedoes to miss. The extreme contrast between black and white used on most “dazzle ships”, against each other and the blue sea, helped with the illusion, which utilized these high contrasted stripes to completely fool the eye at certain angles, and at others throw it off course.

Source: Wikipedia.

Observe that the ship is exactly the same, but the optical illusion confuses us, and the bow of the left ship appears to be pointed straight at us, while in reality the ship would be steaming in a different direction. Though the effects of this illusion seems small, remember that ships are almost always firing at each other from miles away, and a small misjudgment could result in a gap of many hundreds of meters. The effectiveness of dazzle camouflage in WWI is undoubted.

Dazzle ships were attacked in 1.47% of sailings, compared to 1.12% for uncamouflaged ships, suggesting increased visibility, but as Wilkinson had argued, dazzle was not attempting to make ships hard to see. Suggestively, of the ships that were struck by torpedos, 43% of the dazzle ships sank, compared to 54% of the uncamouflaged; and similarly, 41% of the dazzle ships were struck amidships, compared to 52% of the uncamouflaged. These comparisons could be taken to imply that submarine commanders did have more difficulty in deciding where a ship was heading and where to aim. However, the ships painted in dazzle were larger than the uncamouflaged ships, 38% of them being over 5000 tons compared to only 13% of uncamouflaged ships, making comparisons unreliable.

Article on the effectiveness of dazzle camouflage from Wikipedia.

Source: Wikipedia.

Here’s a gallery of ships wearing dazzle camouflage.

And my favorite:

Sources: Wikipedia, Reddit, Pinterest, Missedinhistory.

Here’s a bonus:

Source: Wikipedia.

This is a ship with a false bow wave. Nothing much, but the wave makes the ship seem like it’s moving even when it’s still, or faster than it actually is. Interesting, no?

MAELSTROM

Written in response to: “Write a story that includes someone swimming in water or diving into the unknown.“

HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD

The Aqua-Marine was the greatest hero that ever came out of World War Two. Strong, golden, looking like a young Sea-God, a youthful Poseidon. It sure didn’t surprise me when Timely Comics based their Sub-Mariner on him in 1939, and National did the same thing with with Aquaman, in 1941.But none of them could hold a candle to the real thing. Man—the adventures we used to have! Anything from fighting the Sea-Witch, to fending off the Mu Empire’s invasion, back in ’42!Best buddy a kid could have—Prince Thag, come all the way up from sunken Atlantis because the Nazis were setting off these bombs in the North Atlantic and he had left his people to stop them doing it. He offered his services to the navies of every one of the Allied powers, and they were grateful to have his help—heck, if they’d let him, he might have won the war by himself, all by his lonesome!But the world doesn’t know what happened to him in 1949. They just figure out he went back to his own people, since all the trouble was over. But I know the truth. He’s been with me, here in the Bunker, recovering in that giant tank of his. And I’ve been right here, keeping an eye on him.1950—that was the year it all came down—World War Three. That’s when the flying saucers strafed the skies. But they didn’t count on good old American know how. We used up our stock of atom bombs but we saved the Earth!Of course…there wasn’t too much left of the Earth after that. That’s when Captain Nefartat locked me up here in this Bunker.The Aqua-Marine was recovering his strength. I’m the only one who can wake him up.Been here so long I’ve got no idea what things are like out there. Total radio silence, communication blackout. It’s got to be at least five years. But I’m sure they’ll be able to fix it, no matter how bad it might have gotten. This is America! We ain’t never lost a war yet and we ain’t gonna lose this one! And I’ll just keep up my lonely vigil until the Captain comes to let me out—or the time comes I have to wake up Prince Thag.

Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve got the biggest collection of serials you ever did see. One of the rooms down here filled with hundreds of canvas and wood boxes holding dozens of film reels. I’ve got all the great ones—The Adventures of Captain Marvel, Flash Gordon, Captain Midnight, The Blue Meteor, the Raptor—

But they all pale before the 24 Aqua-Marine serials Balaur Studios produced from ’39 to ’49. I never get tired of watching them. And why should I—I was there! We spliced actual newsreels of Aqua-Marine in action into the made-up parts of the story.

Revenge of the Sea-Witch? Raiders from the Deep—great stuff! But for now I need to find out where I misplaced my Oxynite. It’s a medication Captain Nefartat impressed on me the necessity of taking three times a day. Enriches the oxygen content of my blood. Haven’t been sick a day since I’ve been taking it. But it’s not like me to misplace something like that.

“Looking for these?” It was the soft mellifluous tones of a woman’s voice coming out of the shadows of my playhouse. I spun around. There’s no way anybody can get in here. And why did that voice seem familiar, as if I’d heard it before…?

The woman’s of medium height, long black hair billowing down her shoulders over the straps of some silken evening gown. She holds the pill bottle in her hand. It takes me a second to recognize her. It all comes rushing back.

‘Julia? Julia…Chandler?”

“Long time, Jackie—you’re looking well.”

“So…are you.” Can’t help myself but I start feeling really, really awkward. I’m sure she never picked up on it, but I was so in love with her back in ’43, when we both starred in The Aqua-Marine and the She-Wolf, the ninth Aqua-Marine serial. She played Ursula, the She-Wolf, this gorgeous pirate maid, more ruthless than the Dragon Lady from Terry and the Pirates. I played myself, Jackie Harkins, like I always did, Prince Thag’s kid sidekick. Well, partner is more like it, since I wasn’t just a kid anymore. I’d just turned sixteen. I never found out how old Miss Chandler was, but she always had a lot of the guys around her in attendance and I figured, what could she see in a kid like me?

But she doesn’t look like she’s changed a bit. She’s just the way I remember her. But if that was back in 1943, and I’ve been in here since 1950, and…how long have I been here? She would have to be in her fifties now…

“It’s me, alright, Jackie. If I tell you somethings that only I would know, would that convince you?” She proceeded to do just that. There was no doubt about it. This was Julia Chandler, there was no doubt about that. But something started nagging at the back of my mind, something that should have been obvious, but whatever it was I just wasn’t quite getting it.

“Look, it’s great to see you, but could I have those pills? I need them to…”

“You mean the Kheft?” She shook the bottle in her hand and slowly approached me.

“Kheft? No—this is Oxynite.”

She smiled and held the bottle sideways in her two fingers. “I know what Nefertat told you. You need it to enrich your oxygen levels while you’re down here. But that was only so he could keep you dreaming down here all these years. You have no idea how long you’ve even been here, do you? Or even what you really are.”

She had gotten really close by now. The closer she got the more uncomfortable I was getting—not because there was this beautiful woman two feet away from me, a woman I’d loved for years, but because the feeling that something was just not right wouldn’t go away.

“In some ways, you’re still like a young boy. Not been around too many women.”

“Well…” I was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot though the room was cool enough. “…there hasn’t been too much time for girls, what with all the…adventures.”

“And saving the world like the two of you used to do. You’ve given up a lot…but I know how you really feel.”

And suddenly, so suddenly I didn’t even register how, she was in my arms.

Or rather I should say I was in her arms. It all happened so quickly and, not that I didn’t like it—I had fantasized about that woman ever since the first time I’d seen her. Something magnetic in her eyes. But up close like this, that wasn’t how I’d pictured something like this happening.

I needed to think this out and I started trying to push her back. This was all happening too quick for my comfort. I couldn’t budge her. I could feel the cords and tendons in her arms. They felt unyielding as steel. Her voice whispered kissing soft.

“Relax. Just close your eyes. I know you want this…” I felt her lips touch my neck.

It felt like tiny needles piercing my skin. I’d been gripped by octopus suckers before, it felt like that. I pushed against her, hard as I could but her grip was too strong.

Suddenly I knew why this had all felt wrong. From somewhere inside me came a surge of strength I could not have imagined I actually had. I broke her grip on me. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see a series of small round marks, like those an octopus’ suckers make on skin.

The woman crouched like some predatory beast. Her fingers became curled claws. But it was her mouth that shocked me most. Something like teeth jutted out of her mouth, but they were too long and thin and sticking out at right angles to her face.

And her face. It was no longer that of the actress who had played Ursula in the serial. How could it be? Julia Chandler had died in the same shipping accident that had taken out the Aqua-marine in 1949.

“What…are you?”

She still had Julie Chandler’s face, but it was like it was some kind of liquid mask and was now slowly rolling off her face. To my horror I saw hers was not the only one. It’s like there was a whole host of them, fighting for their place on her head. It was almost like watching candle wax drip.

Her voice hissed out. “Not exactly the seaweed draped corpse you might be expected to find. I’m surprised you found your strength. I took the Kheft away from you too quickly. Your human self was the weakest link and you’re waking up too quickly.”

“What the hell are you?” I’m not used to using profanity but all this was too much.

“”Follow me to your Prince Thag if you’d find out.” And then she whipped out the room. I’d already had an example of her speed. She had tried to kill me! There was no way I should have been able to fight her off. But I knew where she was going.

The tank Thag floated in was vast—fifty feet by fifty and a thousand feet deep. The outer airlock door was open. No—torn open. How could any living thing be so strong as to tear steel like that? Of course, my friend could do it easily.

The inner door had a window, three feet thick, but clear as crystal. The woman—whatever she was—had gotten in somehow. Her skin was covered by fish scales, fins sprouted from her arms, legs and back. A dark figure floated in the middle of the tank.

It was my friend, Prince Thag of Atlantis, just as I remembered him, completely human, silvery hair moving with the motion of the waters. A face, movie star handsome, just the way I remembered from all our times together.

But even as I watched it was like looking at an image made of smoke and watching the smoke blow away. Julie had said that the kheft made me dream. By God—was the dream fading and was this the reality?

He was no longer the man I remembered. Fish scale. Fins. Armor plate. This couldn’t be Prince Thag of Atlantis, my friend! He looked exactly the way he did in the film, that accursed film!

The woman-thing was attacking him. Her claws was tearing at him. I don’t know what was happening. I didn’t know why Thag was looking like that. I had no idea what had changed him, but he was still my friend, and I had to help him, somehow.

But how?

In fury I punched at the inner door. Futile. Even if I could smash the door open I’d drown. I wasn’t an amphibian like Aqua-Marine. Nonetheless, I kept on punching. It was the only thing I could think of to do.

And suddenly I felt like I was floating. I opened my eyes and saw a face. But what looked at me through hate-filled eyes was only human in the vaguest fashion. There was a lust there that was more dangerous than any I could have ever have conceived. I moved suddenly, striking at her, defending myself to the best of my ability. The woman-thing drew back. I had won a brief breathing space.

But I wasn’t breathing! The shock hit me immediately. Water was coming into me through the sides of my throat. I looked at my arm. My hand raised before my eyes. Scales like a fish. Skin hard as a rock. I was in the water tank! Somehow I had awoken in the body of my friend. This was Thag’s body!

But Thag was completely human in appearance. He couldn’t look like this! Webs between his fingers. And still the She-thing kept attacking me. Why was Thag so helpless? Why was I in his body. If I was in here, where was he? No time to think, this woman was intent on murdering him—me—and all I could do was fight. Waves of her hatred washed over me, and her thoughts—such malice and loathing!

“The only one of your kind. The only male. Oh, how long we’ve hunted you, you would have brought death to the Siren Race. They finally bred you, nothing but a killing machine. Killed your fifty brothers in battle, mindless, brainless.”

All the while these insane thoughts flowed from her mind to mine, she kept on striking, ripping and tearing but Thagimasidas’ armor held.

“But you had to develop a soul—needed to be weak, vulnerable, learn humanity. Spawned a human from your side. Developed a mind, feelings, emotions—a soul!”

Her madness was worse than her physical attack. And I had had just about enough of it! I was taught to never hit a woman—but this was no lady!

“Captain Nefartat lied to you, boy—told you a comic book story. Kept you locked up here for over a hundred years. You’ll never get to see what they’ve done to the world—I’ll see to that!”

Killing machine. Despite the swiftness of her attack I seized her in an iron grip. I could feel the cracking beginning in her armor. Was that panic showing on that fish-like face. With a great surge of strength she suddenly broke free and darted toward the airlock door. She had manipulated the lock from the outside but in her panic tore through the steel door. Three feet of reinforced steel!

I followed her out but she was gone, probably out the same way she had somehow found to get inside. Thousands of gallons of water poured out from the ruined doors. The entire bunker might be flooded. But at least I had escaped her madness.

The human body I had lived in for I had no idea even for how long had been washed into a corner. Dead. There would be no returning to it. I hadn’t believed the story she had mentally thrown at me. How could I look at it as anything but a psychic attack?

But I looked at the face—formerly my face—of the man I’d once been. The truth was even now fully seeping in. I had been the Aqua-Marine, no hero, but a mindless killing machine who had spawned a human body to learn kindness and compassion. But it had served its purpose. I had kept young for decades and not even known it. But the body before me had attained its true age. A man that must have been over a hundred fifty years old.

How did China manage to develop clean energy so quickly?

One significant and important global infrastructure project that need global cooperation is green / renewable energy using renewables wind, solar, geothermal, hydropower, etc to lead the way to a low-carbon, zero emissions future which China is the leader of the renewable energy hosting nearly half of the world’s total operating wind and solar capacity.

Rational and civilised Chinese don’t believe nor waste time in protest to solve global issues like climate change but will use their precious time to take real necessary actions accordingly to solve the issue no matter how long it takes.

The international community have crystal clear eyes to see that with more than 5,000 years of history, civilisation and culture, China / Chinese are peace loving people after enduring and suffering from centuries of civil wars, WWII from Japan, opium war and century of humiliation from US and the West.

China is always consistent to constantly focusing more on the economy and do what is vital, necessary and essential for the good sake of the world and mankind in a civilised, mature and responsible manner based on justice, righteousness and equality including utmost efforts to cut carbon emission unlike the US / Trump to withdraw from the Paris Agreement to combat climate change.

US President Donald Trump with a letter to the UN withdrawing the US from the Paris Agreement during the inaugural parade on Jan 20.PHOTO: AFP

Pictures

Sir Whiskerton and The Heirloom of Deceit

 

Ah, dear reader, the farm is a place where one must constantly adjust to new realities. We had just grown accustomed to Ian Fleming the milkman treating two percent milk like state secrets, and now, we had a new theatrical emergency. Doris the Hen, a creature whose life was already one continuous dramatic episode, had discovered Fields of Passion, a daytime soap opera featuring long, drawn-out stares and unexpected inheritances.

Doris now viewed every barn event through the lens of high-stakes, low-budget melodrama.

The crisis began with a simple, yet catastrophic, loss: Sir Whiskerton’s monocle was missing. The detective cat was attempting to maintain a stoic appearance while squinting at the world with one naked eye, a condition he termed “unilateral visual deficiency.”

Suddenly, the barn doors burst open. Doris entered, gliding across the floor, her small, dramatic feather boa (made from a repurposed kitchen duster) trailing behind her. She had clearly just watched the episode where the villain stole the ancestral necklace.

Her eyes, wild with dramatic conviction, fell instantly upon the easiest target.

Porkchop the Pig was enjoying a peaceful afternoon, strategically positioning himself in his favorite mud puddle for optimal back-rubbing friction. He looked up, puzzled, as Doris slowly approached, her head bobbing with indignation.

Doris stopped directly at the puddle’s edge, fanning herself with a tattered piece of parchment—her ‘script’—and delivered her line with the full weight of a seasoned actress.

“It was you! You stole the Monocle of Mirth to prevent Sir Whiskerton from seeing the truth!” she screeched, pointing a wing, trembling with accusation, at the bewildered hog. “Confess, foul pig, before I succumb to my vapors!”

Porkchop blinked, mud dripping from his snout. “I just needed to rub my back, lady! Get out of my mud! And what’s a Monocle of Mirth? Is it edible?”

Sir Whiskerton, hearing the commotion, approached slowly, his single working eye narrowing. “Doris, my dear, while I appreciate the dramatic tension, the monocle simply rolled under the watering can. And Porkchop is many things—a wallower, a snorter, and a connoisseur of slop—but a jewel thief is not one of them.”

---

Doris did not hear him. The truth was far too mundane for the magnificent screenplay she was composing in her head. She had spotted the missing item! Half-submerged in the edge of the puddle, just beside Porkchop’s snout, lay the monocle. It was not a grand diamond; it was merely mud-stained and slightly dented.

For Doris, this confirmed the villain’s malice. She snatched the item, her wing trembling.

“Ah, the tainted heirloom!” Doris cried, spinning away toward the largest container of water in the barn—the livestock drinking trough. She declared the trough the “River of Tears,” the place where all secrets must be ritually drowned.

Reginald the Dramatic Pigeon, who had been watching the scene from the rafters, saw his opportunity. Believing he was witnessing the climax of a tragic opera, Reginald puffed out his chest and began to narrate the moment with a high-pitched, warbling song about betrayal and muddy lenses.

Doris, finding the tragic gravity necessary to resolve the scene, grabbed a loose piece of lettuce lying on the ground. This would serve as her dramatic glove.

“I challenge you, Porkchop!” she squawked, slapping the pig across the nose with the damp leaf. “For the honor of the Monocle!”

Porkchop, wiping the lettuce from his face, was more confused than offended. “Did you just slap me with a salad?”

Sir Whiskerton finally intervened, gently removing the monocle from Doris’s grip. He cleaned the lens on his own perfectly groomed chest fur.

“Doris,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “The evidence suggests this was not an act of deceit, but an act of physics. It simply rolled. There is no villain, no heirloom, and no need to dispose of my visual aid in the River of Tears.”

Doris deflated instantly. Her glorious plot, the betrayal, the final showdown—it was all gone.

But then, she looked at Sir Whiskerton, her Leading Man, who had saved the moment with quiet dignity and a clean lens. The true, simple emotion of the scene—love, acceptance, and a bit of exasperation—washed over her.

With a tearful sniff, Doris declared him her hero and attempted to give him a tearful, feather-boa-assisted embrace. Sir Whiskerton, though slightly annoyed by the dust duster, felt a genuine, unexpected warmth.

“Thank you, my Leading Man,” she whispered, her voice husky.

Her part was done. Her emotions, spent. With a final, magnificent gasp of exhaustion, Doris the Hen fainted perfectly onto a waiting bale of hay—a soft landing, a final flourish, and a perfect end to her dramatic scene.

The barn returned to its normal level of quiet absurdity.

The End.

---

 

Moral:

 

Life is less complicated and often more beautiful when viewed through your own eyes, not through the drama of fiction. Clarity over melodrama.

 

Best Lines:

 

• “You stole the Monocle of Mirth to prevent Sir Whiskerton from seeing the truth! Confess, foul pig, before I succumb to my vapors!”
• “I just needed to rub my back, lady! Get out of my mud! And what’s a Monocle of Mirth? Is it edible?”
• “Doris, my dear, the monocle simply rolled under the watering can.”
• “Did you just slap me with a salad?”
• “There is no villain, no heirloom, and no need to dispose of my visual aid in the River of Tears.”

 

Post-Credit Scene:

 

Reginald the Dramatic Pigeon, still believing the monocle was a diamond, tries to interview Porkchop the Pig about the scandalous affair. Porkchop offers to sell Reginald the lettuce-glove as a treasured “artifact of the betrayal.” Reginald begins to compose a 12-verse tragic poem about the price of muddy truth.

 

Key Jokes:

 

• Sir Whiskerton’s monocle being mistaken for the “Heirloom Diamond” of the soap opera.
• Doris accusing Porkchop, the pig, of being a sophisticated jewel thief.
• Doris threatening to “succumb to my vapors” if Porkchop doesn’t confess.
• Doris declaring the water trough the “River of Tears” for a dramatic prop.
• Doris slapping Porkchop with a piece of lettuce as a symbolic glove.

 

Starring:

 

Sir Whiskerton as The Chief Deductive Officer Who Prefers Physics Over Passion

Doris the Hen as The Feather-Boa-Wearing Actress Who Found a Monocle Too Mundane

Porkchop the Pig as The Confused Swine Accused of High Treason

Reginald the Dramatic Pigeon as The Self-Appointed Operatic Narrator

 

P.S.

 

If you’re going to faint, make sure there’s a perfectly positioned bale of hay nearby. It’s called planning, not melodrama.

What is one small detail on an Airbus aircraft that you believe significantly enhances passenger safety or comfort, even if it goes unnoticed?

Hello Anon,

As far as I know, there is one such small detail on Airbus aircraft, and it is on them alone. And, in my opinion, it is as brilliant as it is beautiful.

May I present the….

So, what does it do? So, what’s the big deal? Well, let’s find out, shall we?

As you might imagine if a crew is having to ditch an aircraft – especially in the open sea* – the stress level is going to be quite high, and the margin for error is quite small. One of the really critical items the crew needs to remember is preparing the cabin for evacuation after the aircraft enters the water. Example: did you close certain valves to keep water from getting in, and depressurize the fuselage so you can open doors and get out? On most aircraft those actions involve several and separate (time consuming/distracting) steps just as you are approaching ‘splashdown’. Question? If YOU were in that scenario, how’d YOU like it if all you had to do was push a SINGLE, SMALL button, and viola (sorry) those rather critical steps were taken care of! And now, you can go back to stressing on how to successfully convert you flying machine into a boat…before it becomes a submarine!

Hope that helps. Take care.

*at night, in bad weather, on fire, with maybe a damaged aircraft – which is why you’re ditching maybe?

Pleased as a Peach

Written in response to: “Write a story that includes someone swimming in water or diving into the unknown.“

Daniel Rogers

Why is this alien city obsessed with picking the perfect sacrifice? Wouldn’t any schmoe do? I mean, all he has to do is climb a ladder to the Ladder God’s abode, and die, or live happily ever after, or whatever happens up there. But, no. They have to put on an elaborate tournament to find just the right one.

 

And now Bob is not telling me anything about the next elimination round. I didn’t want to get this far in the first place, and now I’m forced to tackle the semifinal without a clue about what to expect. Alora keeps hearing whispers about a mountain, but the details are sketchy, and apparently, that’s the point. This round tests our faith.

 

Bob, the Shaman leading this year’s Pick-a-Sacrifice tournament, pulled me aside, looking around, trying not to be seen, and whispered, “The semifinal is outside the temple grounds.”

 

My jaw dropped. Had he forgotten about the Elite Guard waiting for me outside these walls? They’ll arrest me before I’m halfway out the gate. “I can’t. You know what will happen. I’m just going to have to quit the tournament.”

 

“No!” Bob’s eyes widened like he had just seen a ghost. “You’ll be excommunicated.”

 

“And that’s bad?” It sounded good to me—anything to get out of this ridiculous tournament.

 

“Yes. Very bad. I’ll have to throw you out.”

 

Talk about a rock and a hard place. If I do, the Elite Guard will arrest me. If I don’t, the Elite Guard will arrest me. “So, tell me, Bob, what scenario ends with me not getting arrested?”

 

“I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

 

He told me, and now my eyes widened like I had just seen a ghost.

 

The remaining forty-four hopefuls lined up for the celebrated March of Faith, a round so difficult that only two will go on to the final.

 

Near the end of the line, Alora and Bob gently tried to coax me into an oversized saddlebag. I didn’t really mind the bag so much, but the beast carrying it bothered me very much. I’ve met one before, and the encounter left me with a small traumatic experience.

 

The tiger-like body with a mane like a lion would make any sane human pause, and the claws and sharp teeth would make any sane race from any planet throughout the entire galaxy pause–except for this planet. They think it’s cute and cuddly.

 

“Lemmox wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Alora said. “Stop being a baby and hop in.”

 

“Just because you two are besties, doesn’t mean he won’t eat me when no one is looking.”

 

Alora rolled her eyes. “Dignits don’t eat meat. They’re kind and gentle, and the locals use them like horses.”

 

“This is no horse.”

 

“Either get in or face the Elite Guard.”

 

Alora has such an annoying way of being right. I obviously have no choice. The beast looked at me like I had lost my mind as I reached out with both hands in a gesture of peace. Alora helped me get inside the saddlebag and tie it shut.

 

The only thing I remember about the march is the smell of leather, the feel of leather, and the sight of leather. After what felt like an eternity, Alora untied my saddlebag and helped me out. Her saddlebag ride didn’t have the same effect on her as it did on me. My back ached. My arms and legs were stiff. And I was grumpy.

 

The march ended on top of a mountain. Not the peak, but definitely high up. Cold winds and thin air welcome us with annoying arms.

 

Bob stood there looking as pleased as a peach. “Good morning. You all have probably noticed by now that you have a companion with you.”

 

Now that I think about it, why is Alora with me?

 

“They are your sherpas. They will guide you through the challenges ahead. You must do what they say to succeed. The first two who complete the course will be our finalists. May the Ladder God give you favor.”

 

“You knew about this?” I asked Alora.

 

“Bob approached me yesterday. He thought you’d want your sister to be your sherpa.”

 

“My sister?” I said with indignation.

 

“Well, it was either that or your wife.”

 

“Sister is good.”

 

“I took advantage of my navigation pod to map out the quickest route.” Alora pulled it out and double checked.

 

“Wait. Let’s just hang back and let these idiots try to win. You know I don’t want to go through with this.”

 

“I do, but you want off this planet, don’t you? You need to make up your mind. If you want to stay, then fine. I won’t stop you. But if you want to go home, then stop whining and let’s get started.”

 

Why is she always right? “Fine! Lead the way.”

 

Alora whistled, and Lemmox raced to her. “We ride.”

 

“Oh, no! You’re not getting me on that thing.”

 

“It’s the only way.”

 

“You know I hate these things.” It was more of a plea than a statement of fact.

 

“Hop on.” Alora held out her hand for me to take.

 

I hopped on.

 

Lemmox walked slowly. Picking his steps carefully. I looked behind and saw several hopefuls waist-deep in the snow. Apparently, the field we started in contains snow pits. Now I understand why we had to ride. Lemmox sensed where the pits were and avoided them. Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones on dignits. I noticed several others nearby.

 

We arrived at a massive cave entrance. I like caves about as much as I like dignits, so, knowing my luck, we have to go in there.

 

“We have to go in there,” Alora said.

 

Of course we do.

 

We dismounted Lemmox and went on foot since dignits hate caves as much as I do.

 

“We’re looking for a tunnel that looks like it goes straight down,” Alora said.

 

“So if it doesn’t go straight down, where does it go?”

 

“To the finish line. Well, after we swim for a bit, but my navigation pod shows it’s the fastest way.”

 

She must have seen the panic on my face.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m an excellent swimmer.”

 

It didn’t take long to find the dreaded hole. The other hopefuls had already taken one look and moved on, which, now that I think about it, is a brilliant idea.

 

“You know navigation pods can be wrong,” I said.

 

“We jump.” Alora walked to the edge. A blast of cold air came from the abyss.

 

“Let’s throw a stone in and see if we can hear it hit the bottom before casting ourselves into certain death.”

 

“On the count of three.” Alora ignored me.

 

“Now listen to me. I’m the captain, and the captain gets to decide when…”

 

Alora grabbed my hand and yanked me into the darkness. We didn’t fall long before hitting water. The icy cold took my breath away. It’s a good thing Alora can swim, because I was in shock, unable to move. She grabbed me and swam faster than humanly possible, which makes sense, since she’s an android. We made it outside the cave and saw Bob and several priests cheering and bowing at our arrival. We were the first to finish. Yay me.

 

We made it back to the temple the same way we left. The Elite Guard never knew we were gone.

 

Alora and I had a moment on that mountain. I might be the captain, but she’s the one in charge. I’m sure I only got the promotion because the company doesn’t allow androids to advance the corporate ladder. I’m not fit to lead. Alora has been trying to get me to see that we must win this tournament to get the dylanium, but I’m afraid of the unknown. I want certainty, not risk. In short, I’m no leader.

 

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. And just like being hit with a ton of bricks, it hurt. I really thought I was in charge. But it was only an illusion. Well, I might know the truth, but there’s no way in the world I’m going to let Alora know that I know.