I asked QWen MAX, AI to…
"Amuse me. Please write me a story about 'A cold day in Hell'".
I thought it was pretty good, so I am reproducing it here…
A Cold Day in Hell
It was so cold in Hell that Satan wore mittens to stoke the fires. The demons huddled around the thermostat, arguing over whether 666° was Fahrenheit or Celsius. Souls wrapped themselves in extra layers of guilt just to stay warm. Even the lake of fire had a thin skim of ice—slick enough that Beelzebub wiped out trying to do a dramatic entrance and landed face-first in lukewarm brimstone. “Is this global warming?” moaned a sinner, shivering in his third layer of regret. “No,” sighed Satan, blowing warm breath into his clawed hands. “It’s just Gary from Accounting messed with the furnace again.” Turns out, Gary had accidentally set the eternal damnation system to “Eco Mode.” Hell’s Yelp reviews that week: “0/10 – My soul didn’t even sizzle. Bring a parka.”
LOL. Today…
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.
Is it possible that if North Korea wants to be annexed by China rather than be unified by South Korea, the UN and the US will approve it and won’t attack China?
Firm No. China doesn’t want it a few reasons.
- Development gap, the development gap requires a huge amount of investments into it, the Chinese aren’t willing to pay. Let me use Xinjiang as an example, the investment went to Xinjiang was about 3.3 trillion rmb(0.5 trillion usd) every 5 years. Neither China nor South Korea is willing to pay that amount of money.
- Buffer zones are beneficial, because they allow countries to pay less for their own defense. Annexing buffer zone will increase the amount of military spending which defeat the purpose of buffer zones. Annexing North Korea means China had to pay for North Korea’s developing cost and their military budget together. Their tiny territory isn’t worth it. The same reason why China wouldn’t annex Mongolia.
- Bargaining chip against South Korea. The Chinese were willing to bargain with South Korea, however North Korea turned itself into an entity, it is hard for South Korea to swallow it. This might be the root cause of North Korea’s nuclear program. They want to be on the table, instead of being used as a bargaining chip.
- North Korea doesn’t want to be annex by China. Their nukes aren’t just for the US or its allies. It is also used to bargain with China. That’s how fucked up the situation is. For now, China has no choice but to cope with it, at least their nukes aren’t pointing at China at the moment.
10.9K views
US PANICS As China KICKS Out American Giants ONE By ONE, Microsoft FLEES as Biggest Market COLLAPSES
Did castles have something like a septic tank?
Castles had a primitive toilet called a Garderobe.
This was a small room or cupboard that could be as basic as a hole or chute.
The name garderobe derives from these small rooms being used to store robes or heavy clothing as the smell of toilet waste was thought to deter certain insects like moths, it is I believe still the French word for wardrobe.
Moss would have been used to clean ones self after defecating
then everything went down the chute.
Garderobes were situated high within a castle so wind and breeze could help take the smell away.
Ideally the chutes would empty into a body of water, such as a moat.
If not ‘Nightmen’ would dig out the dung at nightime from the emptying point of a garderobe.
Then the waste would have been taken to a cesspit or set aside for use as fertiliser.
During the later medevial period these nightmen became known as Gong Farmers.
A very anti social job ( by law these men had to live at a distance from their neighbours ) sometimes dangerous due to disease, they were also very highly paid, for what was a extremely unpleasant job
In 1204 the castle Château Galliard in France was taken by French King Phillip II by a small number of soldiers climbing a gardrobe to lower the drawbidge
Thanks for reading.
Sliced Oranges with Dates (Morocco)
Yield: 4 to 6 servings
Ingredients
- 4 large oranges, pared and sliced
- 1/3 cup pitted dates, quartered
- 2 tablespoons toasted chopped almonds
- 1 to 2 tablespoons orange flower water
Instructions
- Arrange orange slices on serving platter.
- Sprinkle with dates and almonds.
- Drizzle with orange flower water.
- Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.
- Garnish with fresh mint leaves if desired.
Trial 47
Written in response to: “Center your story around a character who can’t tell the difference between their dreams and reality.“
Bri Starr
7 AM
I check the charts before rounds. In room 204, we have a new patient. Male, 78, severe dementia. I underline severe, even though the precision scares me. I am running out of time to prove something, to cure this, to fill in the blanks of research. The air smells like coffee gone sour and antiseptic, the scent of mornings I don’t remember leaving.
Adorna, our charge nurse with hints of shadows under her eyes, waves to me from down the hall. “This is Willow,” she says softly, “she will be shadowing you today.” Willow smiles like she’s already sorry. Something about her smile tells me she won’t know me for long. I give her a quick nod, and then I make my way into room 206, where charts and test results paper the walls like mold that learned how to spell.
The smell of ink, urine, and sanitizer has settled into my skin. I stopped noticing when that happened. The man in 204 is awake when we enter. That’s unusual; mornings are slow for this ward. Though I do not participate in name-calling, I have heard the research subjects on this ward referred to as “the moon keepers”. I glance down at my clipboard, and I notice the scratches and dents from the hands before me.
“Good morning, Mr Elias,” I say. The name scratches at me, familiar in a way I can’t place. He doesn’t respond. His eyes flick once toward me, then back to the window. I jot a note down about delayed recognition, though I’m not sure whose delay I’m describing. Willow lingers by the door, hands folded. “He looks calm,” she whispers. Her voice sounds far away, like she’s speaking through the intercom.
I nod, listening to the hum in my ears. I ask the patient a few standard questions, “Do you know where you are, do you know what time it is, do you know who you are?” The words hang between us like echoes waiting for a source. He begins to speak softly, loud enough to be a whisper traveling in my ears, and I jot it down on my paper. My pen bleeds through, I’m not sure when I got this color.
I flip the page, but there’s no new sheet beneath; the notes repeat with the same handwriting, looping like static. It must be a filing error. “You alright, doctor?” Willow asks. “Fine”, I say. It sounds rehearsed. The subject blinks slowly. His lips part, and with a rasp voice, he whispers, “you….wrote this already.” My heart drops and I freeze. “Pardon?” He gestures weakly toward the clipboard. “It’s all written,” he gets louder and more irritated by my confusion. I look, but there’s nothing on the page expect my own name sprawled across the top. I must’ve wrote it when I came in.
7 PM
The hallway smells sharper now, more chemical. I note the change on my pad. Possible issue with ventilation system. Willow’s gone, most likely on break, but the other nurses move past me like shadows. None of them look directly at me. In the staff lounge, the coffee pots full again. Steam curls from it, even though I never saw anyone refill it. I pour a cup anyway. The handle burns my fingers, but when I check, the coffee’s cold. I find myself back at room 204. I don’t remember walking there.
Inside, the beds empty. Charts cover the mattress in neat, clinical piles. I flip one open. The patients name reads “Dr. Elias Ward, Male 74. Severe dementia.” I laugh. It’s just a filing error. I’ve told them before the database here is ancient. Still, my pulse climbs. The notes describe my schedule, my medication dosage, my responses to testing. I want to keep reading, but the letters won’t stay still. They slip, the ink trembling like it’s afraid of me.
A voice comes from behind me, “you should rest, doctor.” It’s Willow. She’s holding a small paper cup with three blue pills inside. I can feel my eyebrows furrow and, “I don’t take these,” slips out of mouth like routine. Willow lets out a sigh, and it feels oddly familiar when she gently says, “you do, honey,” while she nudges the cup of pills towards me, “every morning.”
I sit down before I’ve realized that I’ve moved. The chair groans, the same way it always does in my lab. My lab? My office. No, wait.
“Dr Elias, it’ll help with the confusion. Please allow me to help you,” Willow speaks with honey and confidence. I catch a glimpse of her badge while she hands me another cup of water. It says “visitor”.
The lights dim without anyone touching them. I tell myself it’s the facilities energy protocol, automatic timers. I jot it down. I have to record these things, what what scientists do. Somewhere down the hall, a voice calls my name. It’s low, slurred. I follow it, shoes squeaking. Every door is half open, and every room looks exactly the same; same charts, same coffee cups, same stains.
When I reach 204 again, the bed’s no longer empty. There’s a man lying there. Tubes, wires, eyes open. I step closer. He blinks.
I do, too.
Our movements sync, perfect mirror. He whispers, “you’re late again.” My clipboard slips from my hand. There’s a crisp thud while I catch my breath. I begin to pick up the scattered papers, when I notice something that doesn’t quite make sense; they’re all blank except for the last.
“Trial 47: Patient remains unaware of condition. Recommendation is continued observation and healthy sleep habits.”
I look up to ask who wrote it, but the bed is empty again. As a wave of exhaustion hits me, I climb into bed just to rest my eyes.
6 AM
The morning shift forgot my coffee again. Small thing, but patterns matter. We have been over this plenty of times; consistency keeps the mind from slipping.
7 AM
I check the charts before rounds. In room 204, we have a new patient. Male, 78, severe dementia. I underline severe, even though the precision scares me. I am running out of time-
Cops Discover An Evil Mother’s House Of Horrors
Jesus! H. Christ.
Sir Whiskerton and the Good Vibration Machine
Ah, dear reader, and welcome back to the farm, where the sun dapples the hay bales and the air is usually filled with the gentle sounds of clucking, mooing, and the occasional philosophical debate with a piñata. But today, a new sound echoed from the old potting shed—a sound like a thousand angry bees wrestling a malfunctioning dishwasher. It was the sound of progress, or so claimed its creator, and it was a sound that would soon test my patience, my whiskers, and my very understanding of what it means to be truly, deeply, chill.
So, find a comfortable spot, perhaps with a nice cup of chamomile tea, and join me for the tale of Sir Whiskerton and the Good Vibration Machine.
The Hum of High Ambition
The source of the cacophony was Professor Quentin, a squirrel of such intense and frenetic energy that he made a spinning top look lethargic. He had recently taken up residence in the potting shed, declaring it his “Institute for Advanced Agrarian Axioms.” His latest project was a contraption that looked like a junkyard had a very vivid dream about flying.
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“Behold!” the Professor squeaked, gesturing with a wrench. “The Good Vibration Machine!”
It was a spectacle. A car battery hummed ominously next to a toaster with wings crudely soldered on. Wires sprouted everywhere, culminating in a large, upside-down metal colander that was spinning slowly and emitting a low, worrying buzz.
By his side, my ever-faithful (and ever-echoing) apprentice, Ditto, and his new friend, Echo, stared in wide-eyed wonder. They wore tiny, perfectly fitted safety goggles.
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“Good Vibration Machine!” Ditto chirped.
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“Good Vibration!” Echo repeated, tapping a tiny foot in time with the buzzing.
I, however, was less than impressed. “Professor,” I said, cautiously circling the device. “It appears you have successfully created a machine that smells vaguely of regret and overripe papaya. What, pray tell, is its purpose?”
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“Purpose?” he exclaimed, his tail twitching with excitement. “Why, to quantify joy! To bottle bliss! If I can measure the exact frequency of ‘Irie,’ I can replicate it! I shall call the result… ‘The Elixir of Tranquil Productivity!’”
Before I could point out the numerous logical fallacies in bottling a state of mind, a calm, melodic voice cut through the mechanical din.
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“Professor, you can’t bottle the soul, man. That’s like trying to catch the scent of a mango with a fish net.”
It was Jah-Mew. The Rastafari cat had arrived during a blizzard some weeks prior, a walking sunbeam of tranquility in a world of farmyard frenzy. He sat serenely on a sack of potting soil, his brightly colored tam a stark contrast to the rusty metal, his ceremonial bongo drum resting beside him.
The Experiment Commences
Professor Quentin, undeterred by this profound wisdom, adjusted a dial made from a bottle cap. “Nonsense! All things can be measured! Observe!”
He swung the spinning colander until it was aimed directly at Jah-Mew. The machine whined, the toaster wings rattled, and a single spark shot out, singeing a nearby petunia. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a series of clunks, a strip of old ticker tape began to slowly emerge from a slot near the car battery.
The Professor snatched it, his eyes scanning the text. He deflated like a week-old balloon.
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“It… it just says, ‘Chill out, Bwoy. Go eat some callaloo.’”
Jah-Mew simply smiled, a deep, knowing look in his eyes. “See? The machine, it speaks the truth. But you were looking for a number, not the message.”
It was then we noticed the secondary effect. The machine’s erratic, rhythmic buzzing had taken hold of Ditto and Echo. The two kittens, still wearing their safety goggles, had begun to tap-dance uncontrollably. Their tiny paws beat a frantic, chaotic rhythm on the dusty wooden floor.
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“Tap-dancing!” Ditto squeaked, mid-shuffle.
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“Uncontrollably!” Echo added, performing a surprisingly graceful spin.
Professor Quentin’s eyes lit up again. “Aha! A side effect! The rhythmic output! This is still a breakthrough! I shall patent the synchronized tap-dancing of kittens! We’ll call it… ‘Feline Percussive Therapy’!”
I placed a paw on my forehead. The shed was a mess, the kittens were possessed by the ghost of a flamenco dancer, and our resident genius was now a talent agent for underage performers.
The Power of Quiet Presence
Just as I was about to suggest we all take a long nap and forget this ever happened, I saw Jah-Mew rise. He didn’t yell. He didn’t unplug the machine. He simply walked over to his bongo drum and began to play.
It wasn’t a loud or complex rhythm. It was a slow, steady, deep thump… thump… thump-thump. Like a heartbeat. The sound didn’t fight the machine’s noise; it simply absorbed it, soothing the frantic energy in the room.
The kittens’ frantic tapping began to slow, syncing with the bongo’s calm pulse. The Professor’s frantic scribbling on a “Patent Pending” form slowed to a stop as he listened. Even the machine’s angry buzz seemed to lessen, as if embarrassed by its own lack of rhythm.
Jah-Mew spoke softly, his voice blending with the drum. “You see, Professor? You want to fix the farm’s stress. That is a good heart. A righteous heart. But you cannot fight noise with more noise. You cannot find peace with a machine. You must feel it.”
He looked at me, and I gave a slow, understanding blink. For all my detective logic, I knew he was right. The Professor, in his own bizarre, wire-filled way, was trying to help. He just needed a different kind of tool.
A Heartwarming Resolution
The Professor looked from his chaotic machine to the serene cat and the now-calm, yawning kittens. The fight seemed to drain out of him.
-
“My Elixir of Tranquil Productivity…” he murmured, looking at the tangled wires.
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“Is right here,” Jah-Mew said, tapping his own chest. “And it is free.”
A small, genuine smile appeared on the Professor’s face. “I suppose… the data is inconclusive.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the shed. The Good Vibration Machine was retired to the Disneyland of Debris, where it now sits next to the singing soda cans, a monument to noble failure. Professor Quentin, instead of inventing, helped Jah-Mew plant a small patch of callaloo near the compost heap. And Ditto and Echo, exhausted from their performance, fell asleep in a sunbeam, their tiny safety goggles still perched on their foreheads.
As the sun set, painting the sky in peaceful shades of orange and purple, the farm was quiet once more. The only sound was the gentle thump… thump… thump-thump of Jah-Mew’s bongo, a rhythm that seemed to slow the whole world down to a perfect, irie pace.
The Moral of the Story
Some of the best things in life—like happiness, peace, and soul—cannot be scientifically analyzed, replicated, or bottled. The power of a quiet, patient presence is a more effective remedy for chaos than the loudest, most well-intentioned invention in the world.
The End.
Moral:
Some of the best things in life (like happiness, peace, and soul) cannot be scientifically analyzed or replicated. The power of quiet presence is more effective than any loud invention.
Best Lines:
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“Professor, you can’t bottle the soul, man. That’s like trying to catch the scent of a mango with a fish net.” – Jah-Mew
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“Behold! The Good Vibration Machine!” – Professor Quentin
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“I believe Professor Quentin has just achieved the impossible: he has successfully created a machine that smells vaguely of regret and overripe papaya.” – Sir Whiskerton
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“It… it just says, ‘Chill out, Bwoy. Go eat some callaloo.’” – Professor Quentin, reading the ticker tape.
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“You cannot fight noise with more noise. You cannot find peace with a machine. You must feel it.” – Jah-Mew
Post-Credit Scene:
A week later, Professor Quentin is seen showing his “revised” invention to the farmer: a simple, hand-cranked music box that plays a gentle lullaby. The farmer, who was talking to Bartholomew the Piñata about the merits of different squash varieties, nods absently and puts a single acorn in the tip jar the Professor has set up.
Key Jokes:
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The absurd description of the “Good Vibration Machine” (colander, toaster with wings, car battery).
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Ditto and Echo’s uncontrollable, safety-goggle-clad tap-dance as a “side effect.”
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Professor Quentin’s immediate pivot from failure to trying to patent “Feline Percussive Therapy.”
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The machine’s profound output being a simple, commonsense Patois phrase on ticker tape.
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Sir Whiskerton’s dry, skeptical commentary throughout the entire ordeal.
Starring:
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Sir Whiskerton (Detective and Sceptic of Dubious Science)
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Jah-Mew (The Rastafari Cat and Keeper of the Vibe)
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Professor Quentin (Mad Scientist and Aspiring Kitten Talent Manager)
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Ditto & Echo (Lab Rats with Rhythm, Safety First)
P.S.
Remember: If your solution requires more batteries than deep breaths, you might be overcomplicating the peace.
What are the expected capabilities of China’s J36 sixth-generation fighter?
Role declared by PLA: J-36; Long range deep penetration strikes.
Radar Cross Section (Stealth) 0.0001-0.0005 Sq.m
Combat Radius 3500km
3 Weapons Bays (1 Main, 2 Side)
Carries 8 Long range Air to Air Missiles Internally:
for example: (PL-16/PL-17,YJ-15) / The YJ-15 (Ying Ji-15, or “eagle strike 15”) is a Chinese-produced supersonic anti-ship cruise missile powered by a ramjet engine. It is designed to target large naval vessels, such as aircraft carriers.
[Source]: PLA Twitter account
J36 size compared with J20:
Very cool twilight video of J36:
The J36 can co-operate with the GJ-X carrier capable drone to extend operations.
The GJ-X can operate as an unmanned stealth bomber, but is also able to act as a tanker using the hose and drogue method:
By receiving a hose and drogue air to air refuel from the GJ-X drone uploading up to 8,000kg of fuel.
By this method J36 combat radius doubles. Naturally the J36 can also refuel from other conventional aircraft like Hong-6 bomber:
[updating GJ-X information]
Source: PLA Twitter account
Previous screenshot information from Millenium Falcon /Youtube, which gave the drone’s payload as its Maximum Gross weight. I’ve decided to leave the conflicting information visible so readers can understand the conflict of sources.
What appears to be a torpedo in the main weapons bay suggesting an anti Submarine ASW role
Test flights flown from Lop Nur air base.
By contrast , the J-50 below is designed to be a 6 Gen carrier fighter:
5.4K views
China has been colonized by European powers since the around the 19th century. Why are the Chinese so bitter towards the Japanese till today? Why the double standards?
The colonists came here to enslave the Chinese people to make profit for them. Just like what they did to other colonies, their plan was to take the gold and profit back home, so they needed slaves to work. They came to enslave and exploit. Britain, Russia, Japan, France, Germany, America, Italy, Austo-Hungary, 8 powers, sent over around 200,000 soldiers to invade China, to help them sell opiums for tea, silk, minerals. And they defeated China, robbed the forbidden city, burned the royal garden and demanded Qing government to pay massive reparations.
Then the Japanese wanted more, they wanted to stay in China forever and to replace everything in China with everything from Japan – language, culture, history and ultimately the people. They came to genocide. During 1931 – 1945, they caused a casualty of around 1/10 of the Chinese population, including over 18 million direct death. Hirohito sent 35/51 army divisions to China, that was 70%, and the total strength of approximately 2.3 million (some says over 4 million by 1945 including the navy, airforce and logistical support).
So among the colonist bastards, some were greedy, others were evil. But all of them were detestable.
Double standard? Well, debt is debt. But Japan owes China more blood than gold, even from long before WW2. And, they didn’t truly regret for what they did, some are still actively seeking for their next chance to step on the continent.
Doctors Are SICKENED By What She Did To Toddler
https://youtu.be/J8PXTUUEwU4
What is the most interesting crime story you have heard recently?
It sounded totally unreal to me. This news ran around Japan a couple of days ago.
26 years ago, a 32-year-old woman was stabbed to death at home in Nagoya, Japan, in front of her 2-year-old son. Her husband was out for work. The son witnessed, “Mom fought an aunt and was killed.” Husband kept paying the rent for the apartment, which was the crime scene, for 26 years, to preserve it as it is with bloodstains and footprints. The landlord let him do so and offered a discount. The husband campaigned for the abolition of the statute of limitations on murder and helped make it a reality. As a result, the investigation was continued. The suspect had been unknown until just last month.
In April 2025, a detective took up a post in the police station in charge of the case. He met with the husband and said, “I am sure we have already had the information about the suspect. She must be someone among the women in our file. I will recheck them one by one in detail, and I will definitely catch her.”
An optional DNA test was offered to one of the women in the police file by the detective. Shortly after that, she turned herself in to the police. She was the husband’s high school classmate.
Before the murder, there was a class reunion. She confessed her love to the husband when they were high schoolers. But it didn’t work out, just like most young romances. The husband told her, at the reunion, that he had been married, and the suspect was also married. No further conversation, negative reaction, pestering approach, or anything from her, at all. But one day, decades after her heartbreak, the woman broke into her old crush’s home and killed his wife, whom she had never even met before.
Can it be even possible that someone kept such intense hatred, love, or whatever, for decades, put it into the most critical action, suddenly without any milder contacts?
The officer who told the husband about the result of the DNA test was crying, apologizing to him for keeping him waiting for such a long time, 26 years, the husband said on camera.
Everything was so dramatic that I couldn’t help suspecting I was reading a novel. But it’s what actually happened, where a young woman lost her life for no reason.
Pictures
Have any of the countries sanctioned with tariffs by the U.S. actually started paying their share of such imposed tariffs? Has the U.S. seen its trade accounts flooded with the moneys derived from these tariffs?
Let’s talk a common product like honey.
Let’s assume that U.S. beekeepers are selling honey for $10 a pound.
Let’s assume that Mexican beekeepers are able to sell honey in the U.S. for $9 a pound.
If the U.S. government decides to alter this equation, they can impose a tariff on honey from Mexico to make U.S. honey more competitive. Let’s say $5 a pound.
When Mexican honey appears at the border, the amount that the Mexican suppliers have to charge has gone from $9 to $14.
This means that if U.S. producers can produce all the honey people want, almost no Mexican honey will be sold. If U.S. producers can not fill the need, then U.S. consumers will buy all he U.S. stock and then buy the Mexican honey to fill the extra need.
U.S. consumers will pay the $14 for the Mexican honey, and they will also find that U.S. Honey will increase in price since there are no cheaper alternatives. In the past, they couldn’t raise prices or more Mexican honey would flood the market. Now that Mexican honey is more expensive, U.S. honey will raise it’s prices because there are no cheaper alternatives.
So, Mexican beekeepers will find that they have a smaller part of the U.S. market. They will have to explore other buyers. The U.S. producers will be able to expand their market slightly and raise their profits.
The Mexican suppliers will have their share of the market shrink but U.S. consumers will pay the extra cost of both Mexican and U.S. honey. Also some consumers will decide maple syrup is close enough and stop buying as much honey.
When Trump says that other countries pay the tariff, he’s misinformed. He’s been corrected so often now that he now understand that and wants U.S. middlemen (Like Walmart or Amazon) to cut their profit margin to make up for the extra tariff costs. From all accounts, there’s been a little bit of this, but look at the cost of coffee each month and you’ll see the cost to U.S. consumers to goods that Trump has added a tariffs to.
Oh, and if you liked the way I explained this, feel free to give me an upvote.
What makes GDP PPP a better metric for comparing the economic power of the U.S. and G7 versus the BRICS countries?
Gross Domestic Product is a measure of economic size rather than economic power
It is a metric / statistic to gauge an economy in terms of resource creation
Economists use the Gross Domestic Product metric to gauge the economy and chart out monetary policy
Governments use the Gross Domestic Product metric to demonstrate the success their governance and monetary tools
An Economy like India creates 4 Trillion Nominal Dollars of resources in a year
An Economy like Japan creates the same 4 Trillion Nominal Dollars of resources in a year
However the Japanese economy generates resources of far greater value than the Indian economy
Gross Domestic Product in Nominal Dollars is an accurate representation of the value of resource output of an economy
Resource output is the value of products and services generated by the working population of a country & their position along the value chain
Migration from Low Value to High Value of a workforce automatically increases the Gross Domestic Product
G7 Nations have higher nominal Gross Domestic Product values
This is because their resource output is high value such as Licensed Technology for Aircraft , Life saving drugs, Processors, Computing Equipment and even basic consumer products like Chocolate, Detergent and Toothpaste
BRICS Nations with the exception of China have low value resource output
Raw materials like Cotton, Agricultural products, Gemstones, Metals, Low value consumer goods etcetera
Among these nations, China alone has began to License Technology for Electric Vehicles, Green Energy and other stuff and deliver a medium value of resource output such as Ships, Machines and sufficient volume other finished products.
This is termed Transitioning into a High Value Economy (China has some way to go for this to happen)
This is why despite a 4 times larger population, BRICS nations barely match the economic size of the G7 nations on a nominal basis
The G7 nations also have a middle class population between the 70th and 80th percentile.
BRICS nations have a middle class population between the 7th and 17th percentile for most members with only China, Russia and Malaysia having a middle class population exceeding the 25th percentile
I don’t mention energy here (Crude Oil and Gas) because there is already an organization OPEC that owns and operates this domain
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Purchasing Parity is merely a correctional factor to account for the relative difference in pricing and standards of living
It has nothing to do with resource output
For instance Indias economy by purchasing parity is almost 12 or 13 Trillion Dollars
That doesn’t mean India is a high value economy or creates resources that are more valuable than Japan or Germany
It only means the Per Capita Contribution to the Gross Domestic Product of India is bigger than the nominal numbers indicate
It is essentially a ‘Feel good number’ for developing economies.
A sort of Consolation prize.
It is a headline at best with no significant importance to the economic potential of a country
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So it is clear that G7 economies are far more high value than BRICS economies
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Economic power is different
It is a measure of ‘Economic Leverage’
It is the measure of an economy and it’s ability as a source of credit
It is the measure of an economy and it’s trustworthiness
It is the measure of an economy and it’s ability to help raise credit
It is the measure of an economy and it’s ability to utilize discretionary spending or disposable income
It is the measure of an economy and it’s ability to export deflation
Only the States and China can be termed as Economic powers. They are Apex economies.
The European Union as a bloc might be termed as an Economic power , Although distinctly more than a couple of shades below China and the States
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The G7 wields economic power through the States
BRICS wields economic power through China
As on date, the economic power wielded by the G7 is considerably more than that wielded by BRICS
China has the strength to protect itself and it can protect a resource rich economy like Russia or Iran, but it still lacks the strength to protect a dependent economy like Pakistan if the G7 decided to impose irreversible sanctions
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So to conclude
- Nominal measurement of Gross Domestic Product is the best way to assess the value of an economy relative to it’s size
- BRICS is mainly low value economies with China being the only transitional medium to high value economy of the group, whereas the G7 is a group of high value economies
- Purchasing Parity measure is only a correctional value which mean very little
- Economic Power is a measure of Leverage and economic power of the G7 dissemnates through the States and that of BRICS disseminates through China
- As a bloc, G7 wields more economic power than BRICS
Why doesn’t the US have more passenger trains?
The US does not perceive itself as a failed European state. Or a successful European state. If you want to understand the why the US is not like Europe, you should always, always consider these things:
- Long Distances: Distances in the US are much, much larger than in Europe; the longest direct drive in the UK is shorter than the longest direct drive in California.
- Big Population: The population of the US is huge, about 340 million. Sure, the EU is a bit larger, but there are 27 nations in the EU.
- Low Density: The difference in area is much larger than the difference in population; the contiguous US has a population density of 43 people per square km.
- Cheap Energy: Energy is cheap, typically about 17 cents per kWh. Even in California, it’s cheaper than in the UK and Germany.
- Cheap Fuel: Gasoline (petrol) is cheap, averaging about $0.85 per liter. Even in California, where gas prices are outrageous by American standards, it’s about $1.45.
- High Wealth: America is wealthy. Yes, high income inequality (probably not as high as you think), but there is nonetheless exceptional wealth. The GDP per capita is almost $90,000.
- State Autonomy: US states have extraordinary autonomy. The federal government only controls a few things (currency, national defense, international relations).
Any time you want to understand why the US is different than Europe, just pick the relevant items from this list. Note that they operate in conjunction, not isolation.
Considering the rarity of intercity passenger rail, it’s a function of long distances, low population density, cheap gasoline, and overall wealth (which in this case means lots of cars per capita).
Some people will note that China, which is roughly the same size as the US, has extensive passenger trains, including high speed rail. And this is true. But Chinese people are buying cars and increasing their driving by staggering amounts.
And please note that I enjoy travel by train. But it takes 9 hours to get from Salinas (near me) to Los Angeles via train, vs. 5 hours driving or 90 minutes by air (plus 15 minutes for security). And there’s one train a day. It’s too long.
ETA. Apparently I’m quite stupid or a shill, and the correct answer is Big Corporate, Americans stupid, and evil politicians. Sorry I was so egregiously incorrect.
I’ve noticed that, much like fantasist conservatives, fantasists at the other end of the political spectrum look backwards and see an ideal society…
Have you ever seen an employer fire someone without realizing what a crucial role the employee played?
Yea, that happened to me. I was the inventory control manager at a small company. The company was losing money due to poor inventory control when I was hired and after 3 years and 2 COEs being fired, the company was in the black. The new CEO decided that he did not need me to do inventory control. (Had a friend who wanted the job.) Called into the office of the CEO and was told my services were no longer needed. The new woman taking my place would need 2 weeks to learn the job, so it was my job to show her what to do. The first week, she did not listen and decided I was not agressive enough in shipping inventory to purveyors. Funny thing but if you ship inventory to purveyors and they did not order it and they can not sell it, they don’t pay for it. She took the company from a profit to a major loss in 1 week. Next Monday I get a call from ownership if I would stay on to handle inventory and teach her the business for 6 months. I asked, “6 months is what you are offering for employment?” That was the offer with the possibility for longer. This was not a time of low unemployment and jobs were hard to find, so I told them I would stay for now. Next day the company’s chief competitor called me and asked if I had a noncompete clause in my employment contract. I said “no I don’t”. He said “You have to be kidding me, How could they be that stupid. I want to retire and I want my company in good hands. I’ll sell you my company for no dollars down and delayed payments until you get our volume up to the company you are working for now.” Resigned the next day, but I kindly did give them 2 week’s notice. Good move from inventory manager to owning the competitor. Oh and original company, never showed a profit again and it no longer exists (of course the whole industry went down the tubes so the business I was buying didn’t survive either).
How do you feel about Dr. Anthony Fauci confessing that he ‘made up’ covid rules like 6 feet social distancing and masking kids?
In 1665, a wave of bubonic plague swept through London. In the months that followed, a full quarter of the population of the city was killed. The dead were piled up outside houses until they could be carted away and tipped into plague pits – in some cases, more than a thousand to a pit.
The scared population tried to flee, in an exodus to the surrounding towns and villages. Many were turned away, but enough made it out of London to spread significant outbreaks to Norwich (at the time, one of the most significant cities in England) and Derby, among other places.
One place the plague did not take hold was in the north of England. And much of that is due to the residents of a small and otherwise insignificant village in Derbyshire, called Eyam (pronounced ‘Eem’).
Plague arrived in Eyam, carried by fleas in a bolt of cloth shipped from London to the local tailor. Within days, the tailor’s assistant was dead; his family followed soon afterwards.
The village turned to their rector, the Revd William Mompesson, for leadership. Under his guidance, families were ordered to bury their own dead to avoid the need for anyone else to handle the bodies (an unfortunate mother named Elizabeth Hancock buried her husband and six children within eight days, but somehow survived herself). Church services were relocated outdoors to a natural hollow called Cucklet Delph, where families stood apart from each other. Other gatherings larger than families were banned.
The Riley graves, where the Hancock family are buried – image source.
Most famously, the village voluntarily isolated itself completely from its neighbours. Boundary stones were established, with none entering or leaving. Visitors left bread and other food by the stones, and took payment in the form of coins left in vinegar, in hollows in the stones. These stones still stand, and can be visited – it’s a pleasant walk.
Over the course of 14 months, more than 270 villagers died of the plague; depending on which numbers you believe, this was up to 83% of the population. But the disease was contained, because the villagers knew and accepted their fate, for the sake of their neighbours.
Large gatherings banned. Outdoor meetings only. Social distancing. Isolation. If a churchman in the 17th century – when infection science was still in its infancy, germ theory was theorised but not widely accepted, and diseases were thought to be spread by ‘miasmas’ and dirty air – could work it out, I think Dr Fauci was in a fairly safe place.
Of course, what was actually ‘made up’ was the number 6 feet. Why 6? Why not 4? Or 8? Or 20? I suspect that was a carefully considered balance between efficacy and compliance. Further apart would be safer but less likely to be accepted. 6 feet was enough to make a big difference, but simple to remember and easy enough to follow. And make a big difference, it did – where it was followed.
In the long history of China, was the country ruled by Northerners or Southerners most of the time?
The history of China can be extremely simplified into a model that looks something like this.
Please note, I already said it’s an extremely simplified model — the level of simplification is this extreme:
(real Chinese history)
(my version)
The traditional Han heartland consisted of thirteen provinces — seven in the south and six in the north.
In this model, the south provides the money, and the north provides the lives, fighting along the borderlands.
Throughout Chinese history, national defense pressure almost always came from the north. The south rarely saw large-scale wars, and even when it did, those wars were quickly crushed.
My guess is that in ancient times, warhorses were an extremely important resource, and China’s geography was rather awkward — like a Japanese adult film: “there are horses, but not many.” (This is a pun in Chinese: the words for “horse” and “mosaic” sound the same.)
In the southeast, where horses were scarce, China could rely on sheer manpower to resist or even dominate its neighbors.
But against nomadic peoples raised on horseback, the struggle was much tougher.
所以中国北方，大规模征战几百次，是非曲折难以论述，但史家无不注意到，正是这个古战场，决定了多少王朝的兴衰盛亡，此兴彼落……
（Thus, northern China saw hundreds of large-scale wars — their causes complex and tangled — but every historian notes that it was this very battlefield that determined the rise and fall of countless dynasties, one after another)
(This part is a joke — my fellow countrymen would get it.)
All of China’s powerful dynasties had vast numbers of cavalry.
For example, the Tang dynasty owed much of its strength to its heavy cavalry.
During the Han dynasty, the government encouraged horse breeding through policies such as exempting horse breeders from minor crimes, imposing the death penalty for horse theft, and requiring men aged 15 to 60 who didn’t raise horses to pay an annual fee instead.
During Emperor Wu’s reign, the state itself controlled about 400,000 warhorses.
When the founder of the Ming dynasty defeated the Mongols, the exact number of cavalry is unclear, but given frequent records of fielding 150,000 to 200,000 mounted troops at a time, I estimate there may have been close to a million horses in total.
To ensure that the south could continuously send resources to the north, the ancient Chinese constructed the Grand Canal — a massive project that remains, even today, the third-largest inland waterway system in the world (the first and second, the Yangtze and the Pearl River, were dug by God, not human being).
When this model functioned well, China was generally prosperous. When the south could not or would not fund the north, the country typically fell into crisis — as in the cases of the Song and Ming dynasties.
In both those eras, the southern landlords were extremely wealthy, and they not only had no desire to satisfy but also had the power to refuse demands for financial support from the central government.
Even today, on the Chinese internet, some netizens from the more prosperous southern provinces still grumble about the vast fiscal transfers used to support border regions. These people are too shortsighted.
That said, southern Chinese have traditionally been very capable — economically and otherwise. Of the 400-plus zhuangyuan (top scorers in the imperial examinations) throughout Chinese history since the Tang dynasty, 129 came from just two southern provinces, over 25% of the total. Even today, about half of the members of the Chinese Academy of Sciences come from those same two provinces.
Now, as transportation improves and population mobility increases, the traditional north–south divide is fading.
During the War of Resistance Against Japan, some southern regions such as Sichuan — which were not directly invaded — nonetheless made tremendous sacrifices.
（During the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression, Sichuan Province dispatched 3.4 million troops, with 640,000 casualties and countless civilian laborers, undoubtedly exceeding 5 million people. The province supplied nearly one-third of the total military provisions and funds.）
I’m optimistic that the north–south tension that has plagued China for thousands of years is no longer a real problem. The regional discrimination and banter one occasionally sees online are, for the most part, just jokes.
With the Whole World Watching
Written in response to: “Center your story around a character who can’t tell the difference between their dreams and reality.“
Michael Crone
Yeah, sleep was the right choice.
He slid into the room as the isolation pod hissed open. He struggled getting into it without gravity, but eventually managed. The lid slid over his face, and the silence enveloped him. He knew there was still chaos out there, but in here was a sanctuary.
The only thing able to plague him was his thoughts.
He touched the keypad next to his head, and a small hexagonal window opened. The room shimmered turquoise as he stared out into the vastness of Centurai-14. At least it was the color of home.
He wondered if they were looking for him, or if they had given up all hope. He wanted to believe someone was trying, but deep down, he knew – he was a grain of sand in an endless desert, and they would never find him.
His eyelids raised slowly- the turquoise had transformed to a seaweed green- and he scanned the window beside his bed. The colors of the galaxy changed before him, like a kaleidoscope. The green faded to an aquamarine, indigo, and a fantastic blue. Then suddenly, it began to darken. As the ship plummeted toward the center of the galaxy, the colors nearly vanished. The navy turned to a dark purple, and then an all-encompassing black.
The room descended into darkness, and he was left with one flickering lamp in the hall. Fear gripped the edges of his being. He tried to move, but realized he was frozen inside the isolation pod. Something wrenched at his heart- guilt and fear- and all he could do was watch.
Staring out the window, he could sense it- there was something out there, resting in the depths of space. Something ancient, older than the universe itself. It was calling to him- watching- constantly letting him know he was never going to escape.
His eyes grew wide as a dark outline- massive, even in the pitch black- came into view. It approached the window and wrapped itself around the ship. As the metal was wrenched apart, he was sucked into the endless pitch black.
The warning lights flashed, and Jared startled awake, nearly smacking his head against the window of the isolation pod- turquoise and a shiny white now coated the room. He punched a few numbers into the pad next to him, and the window closed.
He couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming.
The isolation pod hissed open, and he sat up, cringing at the screaming siren. The shadows were warped and twisted as the lights flickered on and off chaotically. He bumped around a bit- still feeling disconnected from his body- as he floated. The cool metal of the crawl handle reminded him he was indeed awake.
Climbing his way through the ship, he moved as fast as he could toward the cockpit. Nearly jumping into the captain’s chair, he scanned the panels, and his heart sank- the grav-boost had fractured, and a piece of it was lodged into the oxygen support.
He didn’t have much time.
He shut down everything and let the ship hover. Once all the power was diverted, he raced toward the airlock. The corridors seemed to grow longer as he moved, and the flickering lights twisted the darkness into odd shapes.
He struggled getting into the cumbersome spacesuit. It felt like a million eyes turned to him, and were now laughing as he struggled. The helmet dropped, and the hiss- along with a breath of static-flavored air- signaled he was locked in. As he stepped into the airlock, he felt something calling to him- that same feeling from his dream.
No, there was nothing out there. Just the vast emptiness of infinite space.
Somehow, that seemed worse.
He slid into the stars, holding the outside of the ship as he clipped on. He closed his eyes and took one deep breath, letting go of the side of the ship and giving himself some slack- a few yards was all he needed.
The line went tight, and the worst part was done.
He hung in space for a moment- always amazed at how inferior he truly was. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus. A little blue dot- almost disappearing into the tapestry of color- blinked back. It steadily grew, as if he were being pulled toward it. The sphere filled his viewfinder, the reflection of its beautiful waters casting a large blue glare across his helmet. A large swath of clouds crossed one side of the blue marble, while the other was coated in darkness.
He recognized the planet- Earth! He gasped and nearly cheered. He was home. No, wait, that made no sense. He was in the Centurai galaxy, not the Milkyway. All of a sudden, a giant comet- coma streaking green- appeared from within the turquoise galaxy. He could do nothing but watch as it approached.
It smashed into the dark side of the globe, and the whole planet shuddered. The crust rippled like a wave. Tiny explosions- all over as volcanoes erupted. Debris flew into the atmosphere, and a plume of dust, dirt, and fire climbed towards the heavens.
He didn’t realize he was screaming until he snapped awake, covered in sweat.
Captain Jared Monsanto sat up in his bed and looked around. The ship creaked and groaned around him, and the door to his bedroom slid open. Melly entered carrying a tray of breakfast- poached eggs and ham- and stopped in her tracks as she saw him.
“Everything okay, Captain?”
He barely glanced at her. “Everything is fine. Leave the tray, please.”
She nodded and placed his breakfast on a small end table. “You sure you don’t need to talk? It’s a big day, and I can only imagine the type of pressure you’re under.”
He was staring off into space, still processing his dream. They always happened like this- multilayered and confusing. No, it wasn’t confusing at all. He knew exactly what he was running from.
“Sir?”
He snapped out of it. “I appreciate it, Melly.”
“Yes, sir. We’re here for you. You have to know that. At least, I am.” She stepped closer to him, but froze as he flicked his eyes her way. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I just- I can’t imagine what you’ve got on your mind.”
Everyone always wanted to know what he was thinking. Could he trust her? No, if he told her, she’d never trust him again. “Thank you, Private. I am thankful you are part of the crew. You’ve always been a grounding presence.”
Melly looked disappointed at his professionalism. “Thank you, Captain.”
He stood, turning away from her. “Well, I’d better get ready for today.”
“They didn’t pick you for nothing.” She shuffled a bit, trying to find the right words. “The whole world is watching, and after this, you’ll be history. How does it make you feel?”
He thought about it- for the first time, truly thought about it. He’d been so focused on the mission, on the crew, he hadn’t really contemplated what came after.
The thought of it brought him misery.
They’d given him this mission as his last. The Department of War told him it was time and that he didn’t have a choice. He tried to convince himself it would be an honorable retirement: He’d accomplish the first space walk under the new United Earth, go on a press tour afterwards, be written into the history books, and disappear.
But the truth- he didn’t want it, and he wasn’t ready. He deserved a hero’s death. A military death. Something, anything, other than dying alone- living the rest of his days, isolated, with nothing more than a legacy that everyone would eventually forget.
It was no way to live- or die.
“It makes me feel honored.” He went with the stoic answer. The one they all expected. “Now, if you don’t mind, I must get ready.”
Melly nodded and paused at the door. “It’s an honor to be a part of this as well, Captain.” She postured up and saluted before retreating.
He took his time, watching the darkness of space pass by, and trying to eat his breakfast. His dreams made it so much more beautiful. Up here, there was nothing- infinite darkness.
All eyes were on him.
The crew saluted as he passed. He thought about offering a smile or a handshake, but instead kept his head down. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart against his ribs, but nothing would block out the sound.
He’d felt this before- during war, but something was different this time.
It felt more… definitive.
The helmet hissed into place- just like in his dreams. He sucked in a large breath of static air as Melly gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded inside the helmet and turned to the airlock. He could hear command in his ear- they wanted him to narrate and entertain the public- so he turned them off.
This was going to happen his way.
He clipped himself to the ship and walked out into empty space. The weightless feeling from his dream took over, and he lingered above the planet- one tiny speck amongst the darkness.
The giant blue sphere cast a comforting blue and turquoise reflection across his viewfinder as the com-light blinked red. White clouds covered a quarter of the globe- a distant flash of a thunderstorm somewhere within. The sun illuminated one side as the other laid in darkness. If everyone could see Earth from this point of view, they’d realize how truly inferior their problems were.
And then suddenly, it all became clear- a true epiphany. He was only one speck in the infinite universe. There was something greater out there, and he’d been avoiding it his entire life. This is where it was always leading.
With the whole world watching, he unclipped himself from the shuttle and drifted off into the void.
Which actor did Steven Spielberg not get along with at all?
Five Actors and Directors Who Refused to Work Together Again After a Bad Experience
1. Steven Spielberg and Julia Roberts
In 1991, the film Hook (Captain Hook) was released, starring redhead Julia Roberts and Dustin Hoffman, under the direction of Steven Spielberg. On 60 Minutes, Spielberg revealed that the most difficult part of filming was working with Julia Roberts, and that he would not want to work with her again, although he was pleased with her performance. At the time, the actress was going through personal problems that affected her work. She would lock herself in her trailer for hours, which put the entire crew on edge, especially the director. At one point, Spielberg considered replacing her, but financial constraints prevented it.
2. Kevin Smith and Bruce Willis
It’s often said in Hollywood that working with Bruce Willis is difficult, and Kevin Smith was no exception. According to him, the actor’s behavior and self-centeredness contributed to the unconvincing film Cop Out. Before this collaboration, Smith admired Willis and dreamed of working with him. But after the experience, his opinion changed. He called their work together “devastating to his soul.” Smith felt that Willis, not he, was directing the production process, as the actor constantly deviated from the script. At one point, Willis lost his temper, yelling at the crew and calling Smith “a talentless director with two obscure projects under his belt.” After such an experience, it’s no surprise that Smith refused to work with Willis again. However, when Willis’s illness and departure from the film industry were announced, Smith apologized for their past differences and wished the actor and his family the best.
3. Tony Kaye and Edward Norton
Tony Kaye initially had disagreements with the production company New Line Cinema over the final version of American History X. Screenwriter David McKenna recounted that the director, coming from an advertising background, made the film look like a commercial. Edward Norton, whom Kaye did not want for the lead role, intervened in these disputes to save the film. This caused a conflict that culminated when, furious with the actor, Kaye punched a wall, breaking his hand. He also called Norton a “narcissistic dilettante” with whom he would never work again.
4. John Carney and Keira Knightley
Keira Knightley starred alongside Mark Ruffalo in John Carney’s film Begin Again (New York Melody), unaware that the director would later publicly criticize her work. In an interview with The Independent, Carney criticized Knightley for not understanding her character and for constantly surrounding herself with a “court.” He added that he no longer wanted to work with “supermodels.” “I don’t want to disparage Keira, but being a film actor is difficult, it requires a certain level of honesty and introspection that I think she wasn’t ready for, and I certainly don’t think she was ready for this film,” he said. Years later, Carney apologized, admitting that it was easier for him at the time to shift the blame to someone else to mask his own professional struggles.
5. Michael Bay and Megan Fox
Michael Bay spotted Megan Fox at the age of 15 and invited her to star in Bad Boys II. Years later, she appeared in the first two Transformers installments as the main hero’s girlfriend. However, in the third installment, Shia LaBeouf’s character has a new partner, as Megan Fox was fired. Many believe Megan “blew it” during an interview with The Daily Telegraph, where she compared Bay to a famous German dictator. She also criticized his demands, such as gaining weight and getting a perfect tan, and denounced the objectification of her character, reduced to a “beautiful image” in the film. Bay, who was authoritarian on set, abused his power over the other actors, she claimed. Interestingly, it wasn’t Bay, but producer Steven Spielberg who fired Fox, believing his comments could not go unpunished. Despite these tensions, Bay and Fox made peace and collaborated again on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Turkish Roasted Eggplant Salad (Baba Ganouj)
Ingredients
- A little olive oil (for the baking sheet)
- 1 medium eggplant (7 inches)
- 2 to 4 medium cloves garlic (to taste), minced
- 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 cup sesame paste (tahini)
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon black pepper (to taste)
- 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne (to taste)
- A little more olive oil and some freshly
- Minced parsley (garnish)
Instructions
- Heat oven to 350 degrees F (or for more authentic taste, roast directly over hot coals, wrapped in foil). Lightly oil a baking sheet or foil.
- Slice the eggplant in half lengthwise, and place face down on the foil or baking sheet.
- Bake or roast for about 30 minutes, until very tender.
- Remove from cooking source and allow to cool until it is comfortable to handle.
- Scoop out the eggplant pulp, and discard the skin. Place the pulp in a bowl or food processor or blender.
- Add the garlic, lemon juice, tahini and salt. Puree or mash until almost smooth.
- Transfer to serving dish, cover tightly, and chill.
- Drizzle the top with olive oil and fresh parsley before serving.
- Serve with pita or flat bread or endive for dipping.
Yield: 4 appetizer or 6 side dish servings
When in combat, what do you do if you want to surrender the battle because you know you’re going to lose but the rest of your squad or other soldiers don’t surrender?
⚔️ The Last Decision: Surrender or Keep Fighting
I don’t care how you feel about it; the second a soldier allows himself to have the thought of quitting while someone else is still pulling the trigger; the fight is already lost. The mental barrier has been breached. You cannot survive a modern war with antiquated notions of honor and basic human decency. That is finished. The Geneva Convention is reassuring to read about, but irrelevant if the enemy doesn’t care.
In reality, surrender does not mean safety out there — it means you are done. You are not a prisoner of war; you are a message. You are soon to be utilized for propaganda, fear, and revenge. You have relinquished control over your own fate, and mercy will have no place in this transaction.
Here is the harsh truth:
If you go out fighting — it is mercifully quick. The alternative is that you go out standing and maybe buy your squad a couple more seconds until they take you out too. At least you accomplished what you originally signed up to do.
If you surrender, you have handed over your life to someone who sees you as nothing.
There is no time to waste. War does not reward hesitation. Your fear will tell you that calling it quits makes sense, look to your left, look to your right. The guy next to you is still firing. That is your reason to keep going.
In the end, courage is not about living longer. Courage is about not
How did Germans feel right after World War 2?
They were, quite frankly, done. In fact, there was a game that children in Berlin would “play” right after the war, called “Raip.” If they happened to see a soldier… (Read Full)
The Devil’s Bible and the Nazi Hole to Hell
The Devil’s Bible and the Nazi Hole to Hell
Sweden’s National Library protects the Codex Gigas—165 pounds of vellum featuring the complete Bible and a terrifying portrait of Satan. Scholars estimate the work should’ve taken thirty years.
Herman the Recluse finished it in one. The traditional story involves a desperate bargain with darkness.
The real story connects this manuscript to a limestone crack in Bohemia where creatures emerged nightly, a duke who sent prisoners into the depths, and a fortress built to seal Hell’s gateway.
When the Nazis occupied the site in 1940, they brought excavation equipment and Himmler’s personal occult division. What they found made them destroy everything and flee.